Date: Wed, 11 Dec 2019 14:48:22 +0000
From: J. Forrester <niftyencomiums@gmail.com>
Subject: Anthology: It's a Wonderful Lust

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, places and
events is unintentional. Please enjoy in safe and legal manner.


ANTHOLOGY

You are travelling into an alternate dimension. Do not adjust your
connection to reality. Here we find a universe of infinitive possibilities,
of extraordinary powers and incredible circumstances. Welcome to the
Anthology...


Anthology (I) - It's a Wonderlust Life

A man stands on a bridge. In one direction is the life behind him and in
the other is the life ahead. However, George is looking in neither of these
directions for he is looking over the side and is getting ready to jump.
"I'm at the end of my rope," mutters George. What could make a man feel
that way? What could persuade him to walk back to the life he left... or
forward to something new?


TO SAVE A LIFE

FRIDAY 20TH DECEMBER 2019

George could barely see the man splashing in the dark but he heard the
voice shouting "help," over and over. Eventually, his eyes adjusted and the
edges of darkness slid against each other until he could tell things apart
- a man was in the water and he was drowning.

George had intended to sink rather than swim but he couldn't leave the man
to drown, so George jumped in feet first, swam towards the sound of "help,"
and pulled him to the shore. The current of the river was stronger than
George had expected and it carried them downstream a little but luckily it
also pushed them towards the embankment where they now sat side by side.

Sopping wet. Cold.

"You were on the bridge. Why were you up there, were you going to jump?"
asked the stranger.

"I... I got real low," George trembled.

George was trembling not only from the wet and the cold but also from the
feeling that had taken him to the bridge in the first place.

"You certainly did," remarked the strange man looking up at the bridge
towering over them.

It was a long way up (and down, obviously).

It struck George as strange: not only that the man would be so blasé and
facetious but also that he wasn't trembling. It was cold and they had both
just been in the freezing water. The man had splashed around and shouted
for help because he couldn't swim and George had jumped in to save
him. They were both wet and sitting on the bank of the river yet the
stranger seemed quite content.

It really pissed George off.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" George asked angrily.

"I guess it was. I apologise," the stranger replied; "My name's Angelo. And
you are...?"

Angelo offered a hand to shake but George stood up instead.

"I'm going," George replied.

He stood up and squelched his way up the embankment, panting by the time he
got to the top; when he got there, George looked to his left and saw Angelo
had effortlessly scaled the slope and was stood beside him with a smile on
his face. It was after sunset five days before Christmas - the depths of
winter - and here was George stood beside a man who was really starting to
irritate him.

"Thank you for saving me but... Why were you really up on that bridge? Why
were you going to jump?" Angelo asked.

I got real low.

George softened as the man asked him again - it was the first thing Angelo
asked him when they reached the shore. When George took a second look he
realised Angelo was quite handsome; tall, brown eyes, black hair and olive
skin (Italian if the name and complexion were anything to go by) but his
accent was regional.

"What do you care?" George replied miserably as he set off on feet that
squished out water every time he stepped.

"I care because I'm your guardian angel," Angelo replied.

George laughed.





From the bank of the river, up a steep embankment and up a steep hill, the
men had reached a road that would eventually lead back to town.

"You don't believe in angels?" Angelo asked.

"You sank like a stone. Aren't angels meant to be able to fly?" George
asked sarcastically.

"Ah, well, I don't have my wings yet," Angelo ruminated; "Angel second
class, you see."

"Sorry," George said as he cast a look at Angelo; "What I meant was, aren't
angels complete bullshit?"

"Nope," Angelo responded.

If Angelo was insulted he didn't show it. He was still pissing George
off. George shivered and quivered from the cold and wet - he was exhausted
and weighed down with water and no matter how much George tried to pick up
speed, Angelo proceeded effortlessly to keep pace.

"Angelo the guardian angel?" George asked.

Angelo smiled and nodded emphatically.

"You don't think that's a little bit on the nose?" George asked.

Angelo smiled and shrugged.

It irked George and his mood swung back from piss-taking to angry. George
felt angry a lot lately. And depressed and hopeless.

"If you're an angel, why were you on that bridge?" George asked.

He didn't believe the nutter, obviously. But since he couldn't escape the
man George might as well indulge him.

"I was there for you, George," Angelo responded keenly.

George stopped and turned towards Angelo - for the first time taking what
the absurd man had to say seriously.

"George?" he repeated with surprise; "But I never told you my name."

Angelo just tilted his head and grinned.

"So you were on the bridge because I was there?" George clarified slowly.

"I was on the bridge because you were going to jump off it," Angelo
corrected.

"I did jump off it!" George exploded; "To save your dumb ass because you
were drowning."

"A minor detail," Angelo flapped his hand around dismissively.

It was a stroke of irony really. George was going to kill himself by
jumping off the bridge and into the water below; his body would have
floated as helpless and as hopeless as a feather. Instead, George heard a
splash and then looked down to see Angelo drowning in the water. So what
did he do? He jumped off the bridge into the water below.

George wasn't sure if this said more about his own misjudgement of bridge
jumping as a suicide method or Angelo's misjudgement for making him jump
anyway.





"Well you're the fucking guardian angel... would I have died if I'd jumped
like I planned to?" George asked hostilely.

"Yes, George. You'd have hit the water head first and become concussed,"
Angelo replied informatively; "You'd have blacked out for a few seconds,
long enough to inhale water and you'd have drowned as you were carried
downstream."

"But I didn't drown," George said fatter-of-factly.

"No. You hit feet first, swam over and saved me and here we are..." Angelo
said excitedly; "Hey, where the hell are we?"

Just ahead were streetlights and the beginning of civilisation. Or George's
hometown, which was almost civilisation.

"Come on," George half answered. Unenthusiastically, he added; "You can
come to my place."

A half smile appeared on Angelo's face. George couldn't help but notice
Angelo's caramel skin and tasty lips, his sweet eyes; a great physique
going by the way his wet clothes clung to him and... What the fuck was
George doing? He tore his eyes away from the handsome man who obviously was
not an angel and focussed on the route home.

George unlocked the door to his building and on the first floor he unlocked
his own modest home. It was a two bedroom flat he shared with a philosophy
enthusiast who might have won his Business degree in a competition; he
worked for his dad and remained employed for the same reason. George also
shared the flat with a misanthropic cat.

His flatmate was called Billy (because that's the name his mother gave him)
and the cat was called Kant (because he kant stop wrecking the furniture).

George and Billy each moved into the flat during their first years at
University - each to get away from home. They hadn't known each other
before moving in but they mutually hated their landlord and took turns
buying the milk.

Kant meowed the moment George entered the flat and when the feline saw it
was George instead of Billy, it turned contemptuously on his paws and
skulked away while rolling its eyes at him. The sarcastic cat paused before
leaving George's sight - perhaps philosophically rationalising that George
could at least make himself useful and feed him - then turned back and
meowed again.

"Yea ok," George said irritably.

"Nice cat," Angelo said.

"He's kind of an asshole. He's my flatmates cat... it lets me live here,"
George managed to joke.

Angelo sniggered at the joke and George liked the sound of his
laugh. Angelo got some curious affection from Kant while George put foot in
the bowl and a few minutes later the cat was eating and George took Angelo
to his bedroom.





"I'll get you a towel," George said.

"We've got water all over the floors," Angelo remarked.

"Yea, that's what happens when you jump in a river. Your clothes are
soaking wet," George answered.

George kicked off his shoes and socks and dumped his jacket in the hamper
by his bedroom door and then left the room to get a towel from the
bathroom. When George walked back into his room, Angelo was half undressed.

Angelo was stunning - his skin was light brown and his physique comparable
to a Greek sculpture. Angelo was topless which revealed a small nest black
hair in the centre of his chest that descended down to a treasure trail
that disappeared into his underwear.

Angelo had already peeled off his shoes and socks and without even noticing
George was watching him, unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them to his
ankles. Would Angelo drop his boxers too? George was single and the
prospect of seeing more of the gorgeous angel was tempting but felt wrong
so he announced his arrival.

"Angelo. Take this to dry off," George offered Angelo the towel.

George realised he's caught himself thinking of Angelo as a real angel, but
only for a second. He decided to test Angelo's delusion while undressing
himself.

"So you're a guardian angel who doesn't have his wings yet?" George asked
doubtfully.

George was nearly stripped himself before remembering he was wearing briefs
- and the water had been cold. He was embarrassed by the downstairs
shrinkage but if Angelo noticed, he didn't show it.

"That's right. To get them, I have a mission: to save a life. To save your
life," Angelo answered.

Angelo shamelessly dropped his underwear, stepped out of them and then
proceeded to dry his hair with the only towel in his hand. George could not
help but look at the perfect penis dangling between Angelo's legs - dark
hair above it and furry balls beneath it. His thighs parted just enough to
make a welcome invitation to cock-hungry men. George tore his eyes away
from the penis and testes of the stranger and focused on his own wetness.





Angelo had moved the towel from his head to his hip and looked at George
expectantly. George tried to remember what Angelo had just said while he
was looking at the angle's cock. Something about a mission to save his
life.

"I'm alive, aren't I? So why haven't you gone Tinkerbelle yet?" George
asked as he tied a towel around his waist to cover his groin.

"Because I haven't saved your life yet," Angelo responded softly.

Angelo's big brown eyes were kind and filled with understanding. Angelo
tied his towel around his waist too and approached George how kept his eyes
downcast with shame.

"You know I don't believe in this crap, right?" George muttered - hoping,
but doubting,

"It's ok," said Angelo gently, putting his hands on George's biceps.

Angelo's compassion was crushing and invasive and made George irrationally
angry.

"What would you know about it?" George spat.

George had been single for over a year and his ex- was an asshole who'd
turned stalker; he'd been interviewed for a promotion at work and was
likely to be overlooked in favour of his less qualified colleague who
happened to be his boss's son; he'd lived with a life of criticism from his
parents, his mum in particular, and tonight her disapproval had been the
final straw. He'd been thinking about that bridge for nearly a year when,
after work and then dinner with his parents he'd gone to end it all.

"About why you were on that bridge contemplating the long way down?" Angelo
asked; "I know everything. But why don't you tell me anyway?"

George felt weary as he thought about it - why was he even thinking about
telling this stranger about his problems? George's eyes were still closed
when he felt the gentle nudge of Angelo tapping his forehead and he toppled
back into his memories.





DINNER INTERRUPTED

FOURTEEN MONTHS EARLIER

OCTOBER 2018

George was lying on his back and wearing black briefs - well almost wearing
them, they'd been pulled down to expose his buttocks. The rest of his
clothes were somewhere on the floor, mingling with those of Henry, his
boyfriend. They'd been out to a Halloween party, dressed as Fred Flintstone
and a sexy pirate, but left early when Henry got horny and frisky.

George would have liked to be on top - they talked about it but it rarely
happened - but Henry took charge and once clothes were discarded, George
was pushed face first onto the bed in just his underwear. George had been
dating Henry for three years and he was the fest fucker George had ever
had; in that respect, George had no complaints about always being bottom.

Henry had pushed George's face into the mattress and pulled his underwear
down, hitching them under his buttocks. George felt Henry's hard cock
pressing against his buttocks, still contained within his tight boxer
briefs - but not for long.

"Get on the bed, doggy," Henry told him.

George scrambled obediently onto the bed, on all fours, and Henry reached
under him to tug the front of his underwear down. George's dick popped out
and Henry pulled the underwear down to George's knees.

Henry slapped George's ass, making him yelp and making Henry laugh. Henry
gave another slap of George's ass and they both got hard at the fleshy
sound of contact. George's ass stung but in a good way. A few more swats
and George's cock was hard and his ass was red.

Henry rubbed it soothingly, grabbing a fistful of glutes, and then kissed
the excited red globes.

"I love your ass, George," said Henry.

"I love your everything," George replied.

"Just for that you get another spank," Henry teased.

He swatted George again but not too hard.

"Lift your knees," Henry instructed.

George lifted his knees one at a time until his underwear were removed from
each leg and tossed away but he remained on all fours with his tail pointed
towards Henry.





Henry knelt on the bed behind George, who remained on all fours, and began
to hump his ass. Henry still had his underwear on but he was otherwise
undressed - Henry's frottage was but a prelude to penetration.

Henry's thick and meaty cock firmed up inside his underwear as he rubbed
and humped George's bare ass. Henry reached around and started to stroke
George's cock while still humping away. George was starting to leak pre-cum
and the sloppy sound of Henry's fist around cock meat was making them both
horny.

Henry finally tugged the front of his underwear down and rubbed his
erection up and down George's ass crack. Then Henry grabbed George's hair
and pulled his head back; George turned to offer his lips which Henry
seized on with a passionate tongue.

Henry let go and he pushed George down onto the bed, his chest pressing
into the mattress while his ass thrust up in the air even higher. At last,
Henry pulled his underwear down and off - releasing his cock and taking
them a step closer to sex.

Henry had a glorious physique that he was rather vain about. George didn't
mind the boasting because Henry had the physique of an athlete and a seven
and a half inch cock that pounded him in just the right spot.

George could have done without the criticism of his less glorious build,
but he ignored that for the same reason. "It's just a bit of fun, can't you
take a joke?" Henry admonished when George had complained about being
called "puny".

George wasn't puny anyway, though his arms were less muscular and his chest
and abs left defined. His legs were magnificent and even Henry acknowledged
them, though mostly for their ability to squat over his rigid pole during
more adventurous sexual positions.

"Fuck the mattress like it's me on your birthday," Henry said with a smirk;
"I'll get a rubber on."

While Henry got wrapped and lubricated, George pumped his hard cock into
the mattress. The sheets were fresh and soft and slid against the exposed
head of his cock. The shaft glided over the sheets and George alternated
between hard and gentle strokes in order to vary the sensations against his
dick.





Silvery snail trail streaks of pre-cum smudged the sheets while George
fucked the mattress until Henry was ready to fuck him. Once Henry was
wrapped and lubricated, he put his hand on the nape of George's neck,
squeezing it with playful aggression.

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" Henry asked.

"Yes," George replied.

"Turn over, let me look at you," Henry demanded.

Henry let go of George's neck so he could flip over, his nakedness exposed
in the privacy of his bedroom yet George felt scrutinised by Henry's
gaze. Henry's hard, toned and arrogantly sculpted body met George's average
physique; Henry grabbed George's fleshy pectoral and squeezed it
playfully. Then Henry pinched George's nipple before sliding his hand down
George's shaved chest and stomach. Henry pulled George's dick, jerking it a
few times as he shuffled down the bed.

"Pull your knees up," Henry ordered.

George bent his knees and parted his legs to fully expose his asshole. It
was ringed by feathery dark hair that started at George's scrotum, spread
over his perineum and surrounded the muscular anal ring.

Henry put his index finger in his mouth and slicked it with spit and then
pushed it into George's ass. George had prepared himself earlier in the day
so his arse was clean, the sphincter dilating as the finger entered and
then squeezing around the digit. A second finger joined the invasion,
twisting and massaging the entrance of George's hole.

George moaned and grabbed his cock, jerking it for himself - he really
wanted to wank Henry's dick but it was out of reach. George felt Henry's
big dick replace the fingers and he trembled at the impending thrust.

George grabbed a pillow because Henry liked to go hard and deep and
although Billy - George's roommate - never complained, George was aware of
the noises he made when he got going. The head of Henry's cock pressed
slowly until the sphincter parted and the length of the shaft also began to
slide in.





Henry pulled back and pushed in deeper, then out and in deeper again;
George could hear the slapping noise as his butt cheeks met Henry's thighs
while Henry gripped George's knees to steady his thrusts.

As the speed and rhythm built up, George knew what Henry was going to
do. Henry thrust in deep and hard, pounding George's hole so he had to bite
his pillow to suppress his cries. George moaned as the hard fucking
continued and he got into the rhythm of Henry's pushing and pulling.

"Fucking hell, I love your tight ass," Henry complimented.

George lapped up the praise and concentrated on tightening his sphincter
around Henry's plunging cock. George loved the sensation of contraction
around his cock and paused at the deepest part of his thrust to enjoy the
feeling. Henry was taller than George with dark hair scattered across his
chest and legs, dark eyes and the hair on his head that was short at the
back and sides. In contrast, George was fair - with ginger-blonde hair,
blue eyes and pale skin. The hair on his arms, legs and chest (which today
was freshly shaved) was almost invisible against his white skin which was
marked by a scatter of freckles across the back of his shoulders.

Henry pulled put completely so he could grab George's ankles. George knew
what Henry wanted and began to raise his legs until they were straight and
raised in the air. Henry rested George's calves on his shoulders and held
his cock steady as he eased into his lover's hole again.

Henry had a swimmers build and as he was a personal trainer, he was
obsessed with calories, protein and exercise. In comparison, George had an
under-used gym membership but enough disposable income to eat healthily and
buy organic. It helped that Henry pushed George physically, building on an
average physique that was only average in comparison to Henry.

Henry's seven and a half inch cock resumed its rhythmic stabbing of
George's ass and he entertained himself by gripping George's ankles again
while fucking with determined plunges.





George reached for his cock again, which began to release a steady stream
of clear ooze; a little shot of cum leaked like piss from his George's
cock, letting him know he was close to cumming and would ejaculate too
early if he wasn't cautious.

Henry's ass fucking was almost too much and again George moaned until he
had to clamp his hands over his mouth to stop from getting obscenely
loud. He could taste his own pre-cum and dick sweat on his palm and licked
it off his hand - much to Henry's delight.

Henry watched George cover his mouth and gazed into the concave under his
lover's arms. Henry loved the exposed pits and leaned over George while
deep inside so he could sweep his fingers through the damp pits. Henry
pressed his fingers into George's mouth - feeding George a combination of
pit-sweat, pre-cum, lube and ass.

Henry was getting tired and very close to cumming but he gripped George's
bicep; Henry's big hands wrapped around George's upper arm - his fingers
almost able to meet his thumb. With Henry inside and leaning over George,
their chests met and Henry could feel the pulsing erection of his lover
underneath him. He'd have loved to just lie on top of George and hump him
like he'd watched George hump the mattress. However, fucking his boyfriend
was even better and Henry held George down for a few more pumps of the ass
and then let go, easing himself up again.

"Jerk your cock for me," Henry demanded.

Henry usually got his way and George liked to make him happy so he
complied; besides, it was cumming time and George's balls were ready to
burst from the prostate stimulation and anal excitement. Henry rather
enjoyed watching George masturbate - especially while he was deep
inside. George gripped his dick, which was over half an inch smaller than
Henry's, and began to stroke it.





"Oh fuck, yea," Henry encouraged.

George's legs were back down on either side of Henry, his feet flat and his
knees bent at forty-five degrees. Henry took a hold of George's thighs and
used them to steady himself while thrusting faster and deeper. Henry came
first, spilling his seed inside the condom covering his cock. Henry liked
the warm spread of sperm that coated the head of his dick until he withdrew
to take the condom off.

Henry was too exhausted to continue and pulled put so he could concentrate
on watching George self-pleasure himself.

"Keep going," Henry demanded.

With a self-satisfied grin, Henry removed the condom and he dumped the
contents on George's chest and abdomen, the sloppy stuff inside mingling
with sweat and dripping off onto the sheets beneath. Henry leaned over and
put his hand over George's cock so he could take control; his lips touched
the head of George's dick, licking and then sucking the knob.

George knew he was going to cum at any moment, especially as Henry started
to give him a blowjob. The blow didn't last long because Henry had other
ideas.

"I'm gonna make you shoot," Henry told George once there wasn't a cock in
it.

Henry once again moved between George's legs put his face in George's
perineum. His nose sniffed and snorted against the shaft of George's cock
while his tongue lapped across George's balls and perineum. Henry's tongue
inches towards the sweet spot between the balls and the ass and then,
lifting George's legs again, the tongue set about rimming his lover.

"Oh fuck! Fucking hell," George exclaimed.

In his final act, Henry drew his tongue all the way from George's ass, over
his balls and up to the shaft. Henry's tongue flashed repeatedly over the
frenulum until George finally sprayed cum into the air.





Henry pushed George's cock into a new trajectory - the first spurt of cum
having shot up his nose - and subsequent squirts of spunk shot over
George's milky body. George and Henry's jizz mixed into a single marsh of
sludge, congealing and dribbling and filling the air with sexual odour.

George's breath was hot and laboured and his heart racing after firing hot
and sticky goo. Never one to let sperm go to waste, Henry leaned over and
sucked George's cock until pleasure and pain of over-stimulation became
indistinguishable. The cum-coated shaft slid in and out of Henry's mouth,
his tight lips pouting once the sweet seed was gone.

Henry ran his hand over George's chest, scooping up a mix of spunks and
sweat, then delivered his hand to George's face. His big hand smeared and
slathered the ejaculate muck all over George's face and a second scoop
found Henry pushing his fingers into George's mouth.

George licked the fingers and when they were clean, Henry wiped the
spit-slick fingers in George's hair. Finally sated, Henry hopped off the
bed and found a towel to wipe his sweaty chest, groin and underarms. He
tossed the towel to George next and he used it to wipe most of the spunk
from his own chest.

George moved over and Henry lay beside him.

"You really are a good fuck," Henry said.

"I also make a good soufflé," George replied.

Henry chuckled and rolled onto his back - he put his hands behind his head
and lay back; enjoying the blissful obliteration of his thoughts. George
lay beside him and kissed his cheek and they both drowsed in the fug of
post-intercourse. They didn't sleep, the just checked their eyelids for
holes while the excitement abated.





A while later Henry nudged George playfully.

"That was great," Henry said.

George turned to look at his boyfriend and kissed him, which was the best
form of agreement.

"I was thinking we could go out for dinner tomorrow," Henry said.

"Oh, sorry," George replied quietly; "I promised mum and dad I'd go to them
for Sunday dinner tomorrow."

"I could come?" Henry suggested.

George didn't reply right away - this had all the hallmarks of an argument
and they'd just had such a good time. Fucking was always good with Henry
but relationships should be about more than that. George was a happy gay
man but his parents would not approve, so he hadn't told them. Henry was
unhappy with this decision and had tried, multiple times, to pressure
George into telling his parents he was dating a man. However, this was one
of the few places where George stood his ground.

"You could," George agreed; "But you don't want to be introduced as my
friend."

"Of course I don't... because we're not just friends, I'm your boyfriend,"
Henry said.

"I know you are," George agreed.

"We're been dating for three years," Henry added.

"I haven't forgotten," George said.

"Then why..."

Henry usually got his way but not always.

"Because I don't want to fucking come out," George interrupted before Henry
could make his case. Again.

The same case he made last time and the five times before that.

"I do not want to tell my parents I'm gay, ok?" George said very clearly.

Henry pulled back from the closeness they had been enjoying and sat up,
barely looking at George.

"No, it's not really ok," Henry said; "I've been really patient,
George. But it's time you were honest."

"I am honest," George replied.

"I mean with your happy clappy parents," Henry said disdainfully.

George huffed - not because he was religious himself, because he wasn't,
but he was conditioned to be offended on their behalf. He had spent his
childhood under intense doctrine that made clear his homosexuality wouldn't
be accepted. For that reason alone, George refused to tell them about his
boyfriends - not even the man he'd been dating for three years.





"I don't have to come out, Henry. I don't owe it to them," George said
hotly.

"No, you owe it to me," Henry answered; "Your parents are important to
you. If I'm going to be a part of your life, you'll need to introduce me
eventually."

"I am not coming out to them," George said forcefully.

It surprised Henry - who was used to getting his way and wasn't used to
George standing up for himself. He found it sexy in a way and looked at
George - who was still naked and uncovered - with sexy eyes. The feeling
didn't last - it was overridden by disgust and pity.

"Don't be so spineless, George..." spat Henry.

"In that case, you take no for an answer," George retaliated. "I've said
no. I get to choose if and when I come out to my parents, not you."

Denied three times, Henry pulled on his jeans and grabbed his shirt.

"You're such a fucking coward," said Henry as he stormed out the bedroom.

A few minutes later, the door to the flat slammed.

George sat feeling quite miserable in his room - he and Henry argued from
time to time but the biggest problem was that Henry wanted to be in
charge. Henry was used to getting his own way, he was used to taking over
George's life and it was a long time since Henry had been told "no".

George sat naked for a while, though he was starting to get cold. His cock
was still plum from sex and his the remnants of cum were tacky to touch and
his ass remained dilated from Henry's cock - not long ago they had been
having sex and now Henry was storming off and George felt foolish and
alone.

George pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and emerged from his bedroom. His
flatmate, Billy, saw him shuffling awkwardly and he'd clearly heard the
argument. Billy was wearing pyjama bottoms that showed off a cute little
arse and a vest that displayed stringy arms and a furry chest. Billy was a
good guy - honest and decent but eccentric and gawky. George and Billy had
lived together for six years - they hadn't known each other before moving
in but they hosted a flat-warming party before mutually agreeing loud and
busy parties in their flat wasn't their thing. They hadn't had one since,
which suited them both fine.





George had moved out of his family home because his parents were
suffocating, he couldn't come out to them and he wanted some freedom -
also, boyfriends. Billy had moved out of the family home because his dad
thought it would teach him the art of husbandry (in the archaic sense of
the word - the care of a household).

"Are you alright, George?" asked Billy.

"Fine," George lied.

"I made you tea," Billy said, not making eye contact.

Billy was the sort who thought tea fixed most things.

"Thanks Billy," replied George.

George took the proffered cuppa and drank a few sips - immediately feeling
a little bit better. George sat on the sofa in the living room - his long,
fair-skinned, fluffy legs propped up on the coffee table. Billy checked
them out - he'd spent years checking George out, silently cultivating
feelings for his flatmate. He might have acted on them except every time he
worked up the courage, George found a boyfriend.

"I think I've fucked it with Henry," said George.

"He's asking too much of you," Billy replied.

George had talked to Billy about the problem the last time he and Henry had
discussed it; that time had not been so heated but the disagreement has
still resulted in Henry storming off. Henry didn't like it when he didn't
get his way.

"You don't want to come out 'cause you don't think your parents will accept
you. They're a big part of your life and Henry wants to be a part of your
life too..." Billy said; "But he can't be if your parents reject you when
you come out and your life falls apart. Billy should listen to your fears
instead of thinking about himself and what he wants."

Billy was of the opinion that Henry was too controlling and worried about
George - but he couldn't voice his opinion without sounding jealous.

"See, you get it. Why can't Henry?" George asked.





Things must have been bad because Kant arrived and purred at George,
leaping into his lap and curling up - allowing George to stroke him for a
while.

"Be honest, what do you think, Billy? I love my mum and dad, even though I
don't think their beliefs would be compatible with me having sex with
men. But Henry and I have been together for three years," George reasoned;
"Is it me whose being unreasonable?"

Billy blushed - George and Henry might have been dating for three years but
they had lived together for six years. Had George never noticed... how much
Billy blushed? Billy was embarrassed that he hadn't had the courage to talk
to George so sympathised with the fear George felt. The "what if" question;
what if George doesn't feel the same way/ what if my parents don't accept
me?

"It's not about reasonable. It's about Henry not listening to you and not
respecting your feelings," Billy said.

"I don't mind that he likes to take charge," George said - an understated
acknowledgement of how much Henry dominated their relationship. "But I
don't want him telling me how to cope with my parents but I don't want to
lose him either."

"You know, Nietzsche said," Billy began; "One must first be firmly set in
oneself, one must stand securely on one's own two legs otherwise one cannot
love at all."

George contemplated this - was it his fear of being single that kept him
with Henry despite the obvious problems? He felt like he was already quite
independent yet Billy had a point - Henry was controlling.

"How many times have you told him you're not ready to tell your parents?"
Billy asked rhetorically; "He doesn't listen to you."

"You listen to me," George said absently.

Billy wished George knew how much that meant to him. George sighed heavily
and Kant looked at him, huffed and leaped onto the floor. George stood up
and passed Billy on the way to his room.

"Thanks for talking to me, Billy," George expressed; "And for the tea."





The next night, George arrived at his parents for dinner. They criticised
him for being late but said nothing when his brother arrived ten minutes
later. George was well used to their pass remarkable nature and learned to
live with internalising his resentment about it.

"We have a list of names but nothing is decided yet," said Harry during
dinner.

Harry was George's big brother, a station manager in the fire service, and
his wife (Mary) had come down with a case of twins. Harry's interest in
fire had nearly killed him when he was twelve and George was ten when a
fire had broken out in school outbuilding; it was after school and they
were playing on the football pitch when Harry had seen the smoke.

Running to the rescue, he insisted they check no-one was trapped. George
begged Harry not to go, but he did, and George followed. Good thing too
because part of the ceiling collapsed and knocked Harry out - George
dragged him free but if he hadn't been there...

Afterwards, the firemen told Harry that being brave is great but they were
safely equipment because fire is unsafe. Harry never made such a foolhardy
error again.

"Do we get to approve these names?" his mother asked.

"Of course not. It's out baby, not yours mother," Harry replied.

Harry got away with saying things George never would but even this was a
bit far. Mum pursed her lips and was about to respond when the doorbell
rang.

"I'll get it," said dad and left the boys with their mum.

"They have a bunch of nice names mum, don't worry," George reassured her.

Harry nodded gratefully with a mouthful of broccoli in his mouth.

"And what business of it is yours?" mum asked; "Why have you seen the list
and not me?"

George was getting the blame for seeing his brother's baby names!

"We were having lunch together and Harry asked if I thought the name Satan
was nice," George replied.

Harry burst out laughing, choking on his final morsel of food.





"Very funny. Maybe instead of jokes you could get a wife of your own?" mum
said testily, though there was the ghost of a smile.

Harry laughed harder - he knew George was gay and agreed mum and dad were
better off not knowing. Harry was about to jump back into the conversation
when dad came back into the room.

"You didn't tell us you were bringing a friend," dad said to George; "We'd
have waited if we'd known."

George had time to look confused before Henry walked into the room behind
dad and smirked. Dinner interrupted, George's confusion turned into an
expression somewhere between anger and supplication - he knew what Henry
was about to do and there was no stopping it now. He tried anyway.

"Henry, please don't," George beseeched.

"Actually, I'm not a friend," Henry said; "I'm his boyfriend."

George cringed and Harry looked like he wanted to punch Henry; George's
parents both looked shocked and then humiliated.

"You... don't be ridiculous," his dad said.

"We've been dating for three years, George has been too scared to tell
you," Henry informed them.

"Henry..." George warned.

"Oh, c'mon. Things aren't going to move forward with this hanging over us,"
Henry told him.

"Maybe you should go," Harry told Henry flatly.

Henry ignored big brother.

"My son is not... that way inclined, young man," his mum said.

"Jesus, you guys can't even say the word gay in this house?" Henry
complained.

"Please don't blaspheme in our house," dad said.

"George, tell us this man is being absurd," mum asked.

George couldn't say that - now that the truth had been spoken, he couldn't
deny it. He saw the glint in Henry's eye as he too realised this - he'd
won.

"Mum, just leave it. Dad, please sit down," Harry asked his parents.





George was grateful to his big brother for the intervention - this was only
the beginning and he'd need Harry's help if his parents were ever going to
accept this.

"Did you know about this?" mum exploded at Harry - which almost never
happened.

"Mum, of course I knew," Harry said.

"I'm gonna go," George said quietly, hoping to extricate himself.

George knew there would be tough times ahead as his parents turned anger
and guilt against him but they'd have to wait because he felt too drained
to begin justifying his existence tonight.

"Great, we can go back to my place," Henry said with a wink.

George's mum and dad looked like they might faint or burst into flames.

"No, Henry. You're fucking dumped," George replied hotly.

His parents did not like the swearing but Harry almost hooted with delight.

"I'm what?" Henry answered.

"Get out of my face, stay away from me and go fuck yourself," George said.

"George!" his mum warned.

"Son, we don't use that kind of language. This man has obviously corrupted
you," dad said; "We're glad you're taking charge and casting him aside. Now
you can go back to normal..."

"Normal? For god sake, welcome to the twenty first century. Being gay is
normal," Henry told them.

"No. No..." George's mum answered.

"He hasn't corrupted me!" George shouted.

Everyone went quiet.

Despite his hope of postponement, George found himself justifying his
existence but he was used to not getting what he wanted.

"George, it's ok, mate," Harry reassured him.

George almost raised a grateful smile for his brother's support.

"I'm gay. I am gay, ok?" George told his parents; "I haven't told you
because I knew you wouldn't like it and I enjoy not being harassed and made
to feel guilty or dirty or wrong every time I'm here."

Although, on reflection, his parents were already critical of his life. How
much worse could it get?

"I need to get out of here," George with a heavy sigh.

"You finally did," Henry said; "I'm proud of you."

Henry had taken hold of George's arm and was holding him in place. Harry
pushed back his chair and set Henry with a livid expression. Henry might be
athletically endowed but Harry could still kick his ass and he was sorely
tempted to do just that. Instead, Harry remained very still and watched
things very closely - he was getting ready to punch Henry in the face if he
overstepped things farther. What hurt the most was that Henry's words ("I'm
proud of you") had been spoken with full sincerity which was what made it
hard for George to say what he had to say next.

"I don't want to be with you. I told you I didn't want this and you
betrayed me," George said; "I can't trust you so stay away. Stay a long way
away..."





THE RIGHT DIRECTION

FOURTEEN MONTHS LATER

FRIDAY 20TH DECEMBER 2019

George felt a little dizzy.

He stirred from his narrative, feeling groggy and Angelo was now gone. Had
he been dreaming?

If it was a dream, the question was: which part was a dream? Saving the
guardian angel or the trip down memory lane?

The events had felt so real, so vivid. They unfolded just as they had last
year but it was like George had been inside himself watching them all over
again. History repeating itself or observing the past?

George heard voices in the living room of the two bedroom flat. He pulled
on a pair of boxers but also kept his towel securely around his waist and
left his bedroom - the heating was on so it was pleasant enough to wander
around shirtless in the flat.

Angelo was also still wearing just a towel and was chatting animatedly to
Billy. Billy seemed excited and bright and happy and George felt a stab of
something. Surely it wasn't it jealousy (but of whom, Billy or Angelo)?
Angelo laughed in response and looked over to notice George watching them.

"Sorry about that, George. Chronal cognition can be... disorientating,"
Angelo explained.

"Chrono- what?" George asked.

"Chrono is Greek for time," Billy supplied.

George looked surprised while Angelo smiled approvingly.

"The Greeks have lots of interesting philosophers," Billy added by way of
explanation. "Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend."

"Theophrastus," Angelo said wistfully.

Billy beamed that his reference had been understood.

"Look, it's been a long day," George said bluntly; "Angelo, are you
planning on going away soon?"

"Chronal cognition is the ability to see through time," Angelo answered
George's original question.

"Right. Thanks. Except I already knew all that stuff because I was there, I
remember it," George answered sarcastically.

"I thought it would help ease you into the things you haven't seen yet,"
Angelo said casually.

"Do you two want to be alone?" Billy asked softly.

"No, please don't," George said.

Billy was happy George wanted him to stay around.

"Don't leave me alone with this nut job who thinks he's an angel," George
groaned.

"Guardian angel," said Angelo and Billy at the same time.

They giggled at their synchronicity but George rolled his eyes.

"There's no such thing as angels," George said slowly as if talking to
stupid people.

"Obviously," agreed Billy.

"You don't believe I'm an angel?" Angelo asked.

"Oh, you've been serious?" Billy asked - for the first time looking
perturbed.

"Of course I'm serious," Angelo responded.





Half an hour ago, Billy had gotten the fright of his life when the
handsome, brown-skinned babe had emerged from George's bedroom. Angelo had
been completely naked and very casual about his nudity.

Damn! Angelo was smokin' hot!

He was brown, with dark curly hair, his legs were lean but muscular; his
chest and abs were sculpted and his penis was about the most perfect thing
Billy had ever seen. It was flaccid but three inches long and plump. The
head was exposed and the soft penis dangled over two big fuzzy balls. His
scrotum was tight, nestling Angelo's testes close to his body. The penis
was magnificent soft and Billy idly wondered what it would look like erect.

Billy had felt a familiar stab of regret and jealousy that George was with
someone that wasn't him but he still checked out Angelo. Then he blushed
because he had been caught staring at a stranger's penis.

Angelo smiled and extended his had to be shook, exposing dark hair in the
nook of his armpit.

"I'm Angelo, George's guardian angel," Angelo said.

"Oh... that's... unexpected..." Billy replied.

They stopped shaking hands which was a shame because Angelo's skin was soft
and he was hard now. Billy hadn't meant to look, but his gaze had dropped
for a sneaky peek and were now glued to Angelo's fully erect penis. If it
was beautiful before, it was even more so now. It was absolutely
magnificent - perhaps eight inches long, throbbing, a vein tracking up the
long shaft.

"You're kind of..." Billy squeezed his eyes closed and looked away. "Hard,
dude. You're hard."

"Oh, sorry. I thought you liked penises," Angelo said.

Angelo reached into George's room and grabbed the towel he'd been wearing
when he'd sent George to sleep. Even with the towel on, there was a lump
that looked thick and meaty.

"I do like penises. Dick's. Cock... those things..." Billy stammered.

Angelo just grinned and then chuckled at Billy's stumbling.





"You are adorably awkward," Angelo commented.

"Right, thanks," Billy replied; "Are you here for... Have you known George
long?"

"No, we just met tonight. It's complicated but I'm here to help," Angelo
replied.

Angelo went on to explain that George was "sort of sleeping" and when Billy
peeked in at his flatmate, sure enough he was dozing. He was sat on the
edge of his bed, his towel hitched up to expose a knee, the inside of a
sexy thigh and any higher Billy would have seen George's dick.

Billy left the room and Angelo launched into conversation.

"Don't worry, I'm not a lover of George's. He's not been in a relationship
for over a year," Angelo said knowledgably.

"Not since he broke up with Henry. Best decision he ever made," Billy
added.

"Yes. But it's been a tough year for George and he was feeling very low
tonight," Angelo explained.

"I know. I've tried to be there for him but Henry was a jerk and he was
practically stalking George until Harry intervened. The asshat thought he
could get George to take him back. And his parents keep making it hard for
him..." Billy went quiet.

Wait, what did Billy really know about this mysterious man? Nothing!

As disturbed as Billy was by George's parents not being accepting and Henry
trying to bully George back into a relationship, it was not going to be
helpful to spill private details to a stranger.

"Oh, don't worry. You're not breaking any confidences or telling me
anything I don't already know. I'm George's guardian angel," Angelo said;
"I was sent to help him, to save him and to set him in the right
direction."

"The right direction?" asked Billy.

"There are two directions: the life behind and the life ahead," Angelo
said; "Assuming George wants either of those options, it's my job to help
him see the way."

Assuming George wants either of those options?

This phrase struck Billy - what other option was there? Unless: had George
decided to choose an option that didn't involve being alive?

"You've known George a long time, you must know him well," Angelo said.

This began an excited and animated conversation about George which was when
George arrived.





"There's no such thing as angels," George said slowly as if talking to
stupid people.

"Obviously," agreed Billy.

"You don't believe I'm an angel?" Angelo asked.

"Oh, you've been serious?" Billy asked - for the first time looking
perturbed.

"Of course I'm serious," Angelo responded.





"Angelo the guardian angel? You don't think that's a little bit on the
nose?" Billy asked.

George chuckled at the reply, appreciating Billy's mutual scepticism.

"That's what I said," George told Billy with a grin.

"That is literally what he said," Angelo delightedly agreed.

"Great minds think alike," George said.

"But fools seldom differ," Billy completed the aphorism.

"We'd be fool to believe his idiot," George indicated Angelo.

Billy thought about this and realised he hadn't asked an obvious question.

"Why are you both wearing towels?" Billy wondered.

"I..." George found he didn't want to tell Billy the truth.

"He saved me from the river. I fell in and he jumped in to save me and then
brought me back here," Angelo said truthfully.

"What were you doing in the river?" Billy asked.

"Drowning," Angelo answered.

Billy thought about this and turned to George; "What were you doing at the
river?"

George felt ashamed of himself, embarrassed by his own depression and low
self-worth.

"I was at the end of my rope," George confessed.

"Oh, George..." said Billy with a tremble in his voice.

Angelo watched them both - something special was on the edge but George
looked away and it was broken and Billy remained restrained by his own
fears of rejection.

"It doesn't matter," George said dismissively.

"Why would you do that?" Billy asked.

"Nobody cares," George said.

"Somebody does," Angelo said knowingly.

Billy looked at him sharply and Angelo just smiled and shrugged, miming
zipping his lips shut. George had a sense, just for a moment, that he
should ask who: who cares enough to summon an angel? However, George's
effort to pursue this was interrupted.

"That's not true, George. When the chips are down... and you're at the end
of your rope, you need someone you can count on," said Billy; "And you can
always count on me."

George turned away and felt tightness in his chest then hot tears on his
cheeks. He wiped them away, wishing no-one had seen them.

"I need a minute," Billy said when George didn't reply.

Billy just needed time to think so he left the room with haste - running
away to the kitchen and leaving George and Angelo alone together.

"He's a good friend," Angelo commented neutrally.

"The best," George agreed and then chuckled; "You know, two months after we
moved in here, I got the worst flu I've ever had. Seriously, I felt like I
was dying. Billy looked after me; he bought me soup and made me hot drinks,
he got me cold towels and pain killers. He didn't even know me."

"He's a very good friend," Angelo commented neutrally.

"Is Billy ok?" George asked Angelo - as if he'd know - while looking
worriedly towards the kitchen.

"Are you?" countered Angelo.

George shook his head.





"I feel like I'm letting everyone down," George replied; "The last year and
a bit have been really difficult. My parents have always been hard on me
but now... they don't want me to be gay. Every time I see them they make
that clear, they want me to change and I'm letting them down."

"You can choose to hate and resent. You can choose to love and support. But
you can't change who you are, George. You know they love you, right?"
Angelo assured him - though George wasn't so sure.

"They love me as long as I'm not gay. As long as I'm single and miserable,"
George said; "Billy has been great and so has my big brother."

"Harry," Angelo said with great significance.

"Yes, Harry. He's tried to tell my parents to accept me as I am and if he
can't persuade them nothing can," George told his guardian angel. "But
every time I see my mum and dad they make it clear that Harry is the golden
son. Harry is married with children. Harry rescued fourteen elderly people
from a fire last week..."

His parents had saved clippings from every newspaper they could find and
screen shots of every online article that had covered the story. George
loved his brother and was proud of him and was obviously relieved that
elderly people hadn't died but his parents were becoming unbearable.

"I suppose Henry hasn't made things easy for you either?" Angelo prompted.

"No," George replied sharply; "I dumped him over a year ago and he keeps
coming back. He tells me I'm nothing without him and he's a stud while I'm
average. He reminds me that he's out of my league but he wants me anyway
and I should consider myself lucky he still wants me. He says that with my
family not accepting me, he's all I have..."

"Not all," Angelo said with a smile - looking towards the small kitchen
where they could hear Billy moving around.

George's brow knotted, not understanding - not really.

"Well Henry is gone anyway, I think. Harry had a word with him," George
said.

George didn't know exactly what had been said but Harry made it clear that
if Henry wanted to remain attached to his testicles, he was to fuck off and
stop bothering George.

"Sometimes... Sometimes I wish I'd never been born," George said.

Angelo's eyes flashed brightly.

"That's an idea. Would you like to see what that world looks like?" Angelo
asked him sensuously.

"What? You can show me a past that didn't happen as well as a past that
did?" George asked.

His vision from fourteen months ago had felt so real.

"Yes, actually. It's called parachronal cognition," Angelo said. "If
chronal cognition is the ability to see through time, parachronal cognition
is the ability to see time adjacent to the current timeline."

George didn't really understand sci-fi speak. He preferred when they didn't
even bother trying, like Groundhog Day. Seriously, not one line about how
that time loop started or why it stopped?

"How does it work?" George asked.

"Like this."

Last time Angelo had nudged him but this time the angel slapped the palm of
his hand on the centre of George's forehead and the whole world toppled
over.





A STEP TO THE RIGHT

SATURDAY 21ST DECEMBER 2019

"Shit, sorry. I didn't see you there," said a lad with beer in each hand.

There was a little less in his right hand having spilled it when he bumped
into George. There was loud music, a throng of people, junk food, some
vomit and every surface in the kitchen was covered with booze of one sort
or another.

George glanced at the clock and saw it was after midnight. The time had run
away from him but that seemed about right. It was disorientating that one
moment he was in his quiet flat and the next he was surrounded by a din of
activity - barely a second had passed between the two moments.

The lad with the beer moved on and George checked himself out - he was
relieved to be wearing more than just a towel and underpants. He was
wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt and black boots but as he looked
around he didn't seem to recognise anyone. The music was so loud he could
nearly see the walls bounce and he fully expected his neighbours to
complain.

"He's behind you," said a familiar voice.

George turned to see Angelo, who was also dressed but he was wearing white
jeans, t-shirt and white shoes.

"Where are we?" George asked.

Although the volume of the music hadn't changed, there was a strange
atmosphere between them that seemed to allow them to talk without shouting.

"We're in your flat," said Angelo.

"Are we?" George asked; he cast an exaggerated look around the
unrecognisable place that was very much recognisable as his flat.

"More or less," Angelo admitted; "Think of this as an echo of the place you
know."

"An echo?" George repeated entirely innocently.

Angelo laughed, assuming George had echoed his word as a joke.

"Everything is more or less the same except here, except you were never
born," Angelo explained; "And the world, like an echoing voice, is a little
reduced for it."

"Yea right," George scoffed.

"You'll see," Angelo said; "Think of it as an adventure. Like The
Adventures of Tom Sawyer."

"To make a man or boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make it
difficult to attain," George said.





Angelo smiled approvingly.

"And happiness, of all things, it the most difficult thing to attain,"
Angelo said.

"So now I'm here, what do I do?" George asked.

"Take a look around and see what you think of this world. Let it see what
it thinks of you," Angelo answered; "The echo will fade with time and once
it's faded, it's gone."

"So this isn't time travel? I don't need to worry about stepping on a
butterfly or killing Hitler as a baby?" George checked.

"No, it's not time travel; we've just taken a step to the right. Also,
there aren't many butterflies in December and murder is bad," Angelo noted.

"Right. So, what did you call it... parachonal cognition?" George reminded
himself.

"This world is in your mind, George. The echo surrounds you; you have no
worries, no obligations, there are no consequences," Angelo told him. "You
are only here to see how the world got on without you."

"My head hurts. Can I go to my room?" George asked.

"You don't have a room. That guy has your room and he's about to use it
with that girl and her boyfriend," Angelo explained.

"Oh great, there's a threesome in my room and even in this world I'm not
invited," George joked.

Angelo laughed but George found his headache grow worse, the noise and the
people pushed against him and he was driven toward the other bedroom in the
flat. On the door there was a "do not disturb" sign. Below that was a sign
that read, "Seriously, fuck off. Keep the party out of here."

George thought he had found his fortress of solitude and pushed his way
into the room. The door had to be forced open against the weight of
something on the other side but inside the room was dimly lit and
blissfully quiet.

A silhouette sat up in the dark and George realised he was intruding - the
barricade had been too subtle a hint, apparently. A lamp snapped on and a
furious face turned surprised and soft - it was Billy. George guessed it
made sense that Billy still lived in the flat even though he didn't.

"No offense, but the sign on the door says keep out and the chest of
drawers is supposed to discourage people barging in," Billy said.

"The sign doesn't say keep out, it says do not disturb," George
replied. Then a moment later, he added: "Maybe semantics isn't the winning
argument I thought it was."





Billy sniggered, charmed by the intruder and feeling slightly less pissed
off.

"It's good to see you, Billy," George admitted.

"Do I know you?" Billy replied.

George looked around for Angelo to help him explain the... the
echo-verse... but Angelo hadn't followed him into the room.

"No... yes... one of those two..." George answered.

"Ok," Billy said - drawing the word out to several syllables.

"I just needed somewhere quiet to think. Can I stay?" George asked.

"At least lock the door again," Billy responded.

George pushed the chest of drawers against the door and hovered at the foot
of Billy's bed. Billy looked good - in a sleeveless vest and shorts that
showed off his skinny legs. Although George's type had tended towards the
buff and athletic, he realised that Billy's gangly physique was quite cute.

Billy swept his legs up, crossing them and watched George with curiosity.

"You can sit down, I guess. What's your name?" Billy asked.

"George."

Billy's smile made George feel warm inside as he sat on the edge of the bed
next to Billy.

"Do I know you or not?" Billy asked.

"I'm not sure," George replied; "It's hard to explain."

George looked away, embarrassed by himself.

"I don't wanna talk if it makes you feel sad," Billy said.

"Abba?" George laughed, "And I was expecting a philosophy quote."

"Oh, maybe we have met," Billy said; "You know I like philosophy? Do you
like philosophy?"

"I like that you like it," George replied; "Don't you have a cat called
Kant?"

"Yes, but he likes parties even less than I do. He's out stalking the
streets like a..." Billy didn't want to say a hooker but it's what he
thought.

"Like a cat?" suggested George, though he too had thought hooker.

"Exactly," Billy beamed back.

"I don't like parties either," George said to keep the conversation going;
"I don't have parties like this in my flat."

"Are you looking for a roommate?" Billy joked.





"I don't think I'd be very good company," George confessed; "I've had a
rough year... it's been rough for over a year, I guess. I just hadn't
noticed until..."

"Are you ok?" Billy asked softly.

Billy had moved, reached over and put his hand on top of George's. George
looked into Billy's kind eyes, causing him to blush. Billy was the same no
matter what world he was in - wearing his heart on his sleeve. Indeed,
right before George had stepped to the right into this echo world, Billy
had been upset to find out George wanted to end his life, upset he hadn't
known George was at the end of his rope, upset George hadn't said goodbye.

George appreciated Billy's compassion and he leaned over to kiss Billy
softly on the lips - just a peck - a gesture of thanks and friendship.

"What's troubling you?" Billy asked; "Do you want to talk about it?"

"My religious parents have always been hard on me but especially since my
ex-boyfriend outed me. My ex- stalked me until my brother... eh, encouraged
him not to. I'm going to get passed over for a promotion that I deserve
more than my boss's son. My brother is a cool guy but my parents treat him
like the sun shines out his arse," George felt bad about resenting his
brother for his parent's act of favouritism but there it was. "I'm trying
really hard but... I'm just so unhappy."

Billy was quiet for a moment before he answered.

"Kant says the rules for happiness are; something to do, someone to love
and something to hope for," Billy quoted.

"Your cat said all that?" George joked spontaneously.

They both laughed and Billy swatted his arm, moving back across the bed. He
had enjoyed the closeness to the stranger but he really didn't know the
man.

"Most parents want their kids to be happy," Billy said; "I work for my dad
and he loves me even though I'm pretty useless."

George didn't say anything - the same was true of his Billy - because Billy
was well-meaning and tried hard.

"My last boyfriend was over three years ago... I'm rounding it down from
four years," Billy continued and chuckled self deprecatingly.

George recognised how similar his Billy was to this man and was surprised
how attracted he felt.

"I'm not sure what my point was," Billy confessed.

"Everybody has something," George said.

He heaved a sigh.

"I need to pee... do you still want to hang out when I come back?" asked
Billy.

He sounded like an excited kid with a new best friend.

"I'm not going anywhere, Billy."





Billy unlocked his door by shifting the chest of drawers - the noise that
had been dulled by the door, intruded the room like an unwelcome guest. As
Billy disappeared from sight, Angelo's handsome face appeared in the gap
between the door frame and the door.

"Making progress are we?" Angelo asked.

"Not really, Billy is exactly the same whether he meets me or not," George
said.

It was depressing to think his life had had so little impact.

"Billy is very unhappy here," Angelo said; "He's barricaded himself in his
own room in his own flat less than a week before Christmas."

George mulled over this - he hadn't thought about it that way.

"Is he ok?" George asked.

"He likes his independence but his roommate isn't you so he's thinking
about moving back home," Angelo said; "But he's worried he's already a
burden on his dad."

"Has he ever wanted to move out from me?" George wondered.

"No, he loves you," Angelo answered.

A few hours ago, George wouldn't have thought twice about the word "love"
and now he found himself wondering. He wondered about Billy's feelings for
him and moreover, his feelings for Billy.

"What about my mum and dad?" George asked to escape those thoughts.

"They're separated," Angelo told him.

"What? Why?" asked George.

"Your brother died," Angelo revealed; "When you were kids he ran into a
burning building and you saved him. Without you here, he died from smoke
inhalation."

George had no reply to that. He knew his Harry was still alive in the real
world but had never really considered he was important to his brother's
life.





"Your dad and mum couldn't cope and divorced," Angelo said.

"Divorced?" George said with amazement.

George's parents were of the kind who disapproved of divorce - just as they
disapproved of homosexuality.

"Faith can be rocked by anything, George. Sometimes faith changes for the
people we love and sometimes it gets broken," Angelo reported.

"Harry must have been very important to them," George said, mitigating
himself.

"George, your life touched others and those lives touch others. You've done
a lot of good," Angelo explained. "Maybe your parents would still be
together if they'd lost Harry but still had you? Consider this, fourteen
elderly people died in a fire last week because Harry wasn't there to save
them because you weren't there to save Harry. You have a wonderful life
George. Don't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?"

George understood what Angelo was getting at. He had saved Harry and Harry
saved the old folks - without George, Harry didn't save grandfathers and
grandmothers. Maybe without a grandfather, a girl didn't get inspired to
join the army or a boy never decided to be a nurse. On and on, the presence
or absence of people topples the world like dominos.

George was important to his corner of the world and Harry was important too
and so on and so on.

"And you've made a difference too. Your work at the bank exposed fraud last
year that would have cost millions. People would have lost their homes or
pensions. Money lost and money stolen, held to random, and that was foiled
because of you," Angelo pointed out.

"How do you know all this?" George asked.

Everything that had happened since the bridge felt totally unreal but if it
was happening, George didn't know how to explain any of it. He didn't
believe in god or angels or leprechauns or dragons or unicorns or ghosts or
demons or magic...





"Because I'm your guardian angel," Angelo twinkled.

"I don't believe in angels," George protested again.

"I know... but I'm here to help you anyway," Angelo replied.

"Who sent you?" George asked.

"Someone who loves you," Angelo told him; "And a lot of people love you,
George. The Choir was watching anyway and knew you needed help."

"Angels watch me all the time?" George asked.

"Sure. When you're depressed because your ex-boyfriend is stalking you or
when you're on a bridge... and sometimes in the shower," Angelo joked.

George chuckled and then realised the music outside had faded.

"Where did the party go?" George asked.

He was a little freaked out; it was like suddenly being deafened by
silence.

"The echo is fading," Angelo said.

"Is Billy..." George worried.

"Billy is still here," Angelo assured him.

"When this place fades... he won't think I abandoned him, will he?" George
worried.

"This place is an echo and you are the voice," Angelo told him; "This
glimpse of another life is like breath on a mirror. "

"Will I remember all of this?" George asked.

"Wouldn't be much good if you forgot," Angelo replied.

"But Billy won't?" George clarified.

"No, but he'll be with you until the very end," promised Angelo; "He always
is, no matter what."

George looked past Angelo and saw the rest of the flat was now not only
quiet but devoid of partying people. The room was gloomy, lit only by the
moon outside the window. Angelo stepped back and George saw Billy crossing
the living room and coming towards him. He smiled - his limbs were
illuminated in the pale moonlight and casting him in a ghostly white shade.

"I don't normally invite guys I've just met to stay the night but..." Billy
blushed and bashfully rubbed his arm; "Do you want to stay the night?"

"Yes."





Billy brushed past him as he re-entered his bedroom and George turned to
ask Angelo one last question but he had vanished from sight. George turned
back and watched Billy tuck himself into bed.

"Sorry, I've gone cold all of a sudden," Billy said and his teeth
chattered.

Before closing the bedroom door, George saw the space beyond seemed to have
vanished - like someone had stolen the room beyond and left darkness in its
place. George closed the bedroom door and walked to the bed.

In all the years he'd lived with Billy, George had never seen him as a
prospective lover. Now that the thought had imbedded itself, it wouldn't
leave him alone. Over the seven years they had lived together, Billy had
had two boyfriends - each lasted a year, plus or minus a month. George had
had three boyfriends; one had lasted six months, one had lasted 18 months
and Henry had lasted three years.

It was over a year since either of them had had a boyfriend.

George sat on the edge of Billy's bed and pulled off his shoes and socks,
then tugged the jeans off too; he slipped his legs into bed and lay beside
Billy in a t-shirt and boxers. George turned on his side to face Billy and
then they each inched closer until their chests were nearly touching.

Neither of the men was hard (yet) but the lumps in their shorts felt
electrified. George felt like a teenager again. He remembered the first
time he'd been in bed with a boy...

George had been fifteen, his best friend had revealed he was gay and there
was a look of expectation that George would do the same. He didn't - he was
too scared. But that night they had gone to bed, slipping under the covers
and slowly coming together. Every touch felt scandalous and exciting; their
bare feet touched and then stroked each other's legs. The boys arms touched
and hands found hard places. Fingers felt teenage stubble and wiry hair.

...George moved his leg until it slipped between Billy's. They both had
soft skin and downy hair and although they were cold, heat was
building. George felt his breath grow hot and his chest quickening.

Billy closed the distance until their chests and stomachs touched and he
put his arms around George and held him. George felt safe and special in a
way he never had before. George brought his lips to Billy's and kissed him.





The kiss was soft, gentle and tentative - like the time George kissed his
best friend when he was fifteen. But George wasn't fifteen anymore, he was
twenty four and falling in love. He kissed Billy with greater passion and
Billy too felt himself melting into the passionate exchange.

When lips parted, neither of them felt cold anymore and they panted in the
dark. George could feel Billy's hot breath and see the outline of his
friend in the dark, his features picked out by wane light.

"I've never done this before," Billy said and then laughed at himself; "I
mean I've done... you know... I mean I've never had a strange man in my
bed."

"Who are you calling strange?" George teased.

Billy sniggered and in the dark George could see interest and reticence in
equal measure.

"You're a really nice man, Billy," George said; "I know you better than
anyone and I don't know how I missed you."

"And you wonder why I called you strange?" Billy said ironically.

George sniggered this time and leaned his head forward, tucking it under
Billy's chin to rest it on his chest. George lifted his head and looked
around the room which had entirely vanished now, withdrawing into the
shadows. Only the bed and Billy remained so George kissed Billy on the lips
and reached for his t-shirt.

George didn't know if Billy would let the strange man in his bed undress
him, but there was one way to find out. To George's delight, Billy lifted
his arms for George to remove the t-shirt and then Billy reciprocated the
gesture. They each sat up in the bed, legs under the covers, now shirtless
and feeling for each other. They each twisted to face the other; Billy
caressed George's stubbly chest, shaved over a month ago and starting to
grow in again. Billy meanwhile had a skinny chest with bony ribs and
surprising thick spread of hair from nipple to nipple and descending like a
triangle down to his bellybutton.

Billy traced George's nipple like a blind man feeling Braille. While Billy
explored George's chest, George buried his face in Billy's long neck and
kissed it. He sucked on the skin and kissed up and down the length of his
neck, then along the clavicle. Unlike his chest, Billy's collar and
shoulder was surprisingly smooth - like porcelain.





Billy had an otter-like body style and George tried to recall the number of
time's he'd noticed Billy with his shirt off. After a shower occasionally
and one time at a beach party but that was before George had even dated
Henry so it must have been a long time ago.

George decided he liked Billy's body a lot and it was exciting to learn,
notice and explore new things with a familiar person. The comfort of
familiarity blended with enthusiasm to begin something new. Billy's hand
had moved from George's chest to his abdomen and his fingers slipped into
George's underwear. Billy's fingertips could feel trimmed pubes and he
looked into George's eyes for permission before continuing.

Billy was such a contrast to the sexually aggressive relationship he had
with Henry. Things had always been consensual and safe with Henry but his
ex-boyfriend had been a very controlling lover. Breaking up with him had
revealed an unhealthy relationship beneath the one George had enjoyed for
three years.

George nodded at Billy and Billy slipped his hand into George's
underwear. Billy felt George's penis get fat but not fully hard. For better
position, George and Billy pushed the sheets aside and into the void beyond
the bed. They knelt on the bed facing each other and kissed while reaching
into underwear and feeling the contents like experimental teenagers.

"Take my underwear off," George whispered.

Billy pulled either side of George's underwear so his ass and penis flopped
put into the open air; he pushed them down to the mattress where George
knelt and George lifted each knee, wrestling with his underwear to remove
them completely from his legs.

Billy did the same with his own underwear, blushing as he held them in his
hand and revealed himself naked to George for the first time. Like his
chest, Billy was quite (but not extremely) hairy in his groin; his dick
jutted out from an impressive bush and George felt a swell in his dick as
he looked at the man.





George reached for Billy's hand, covering it with his own and taking
Billy's underwear under his influence - together, they tossed the boxers
into the void beyond the echo. George reached for Billy's testes and
caressed them in his hand like medicine balls.

Billy put his hands on George's shoulders and stroked up and down his bicep
with loving touches. His hands swept to George's sides and George wriggled
ticklish when Billy's hands reached his armpits. The giggle was a beautiful
sound, relaxing the nervous tension so George took the moment to hold
Billy's dick and pull it until it was hard.

Billy's dick was about six inches long with a nice head that revealed
itself as his foreskin peeled back. George moved so he could bend over and
put the cock in his mouth. Gone was the sudden realisation that Billy felt
like the right person and in its place was the feeling that this was the
way things were meant to be. Billy reached over George and stroked his bare
back, the bumps of his spine popping under Billy's touch.

Billy's cock tasted good. It swelled and leaked and mixed with George's
spit to create a slick pole of hard meat. Billy's touch on his bare skin
excited George enormously until he lifted his head to kiss Billy's lips
with penis breath. Their tongues met and swirled around each other; wet
lips and smacking noises filled the room until the only other sound was
breathless panting and the beating drums of their hearts.

"Sixty-nine?" Billy said eagerly.

George nodded in agreement and slumped to his right, head towards the foot
of the bed, while Billy slumped his head towards the head of the bed. Billy
sought not a pillow but access to George's cock. They shuffled until their
faces found the other's love organ and George renewed his phallic adoration
with lips and tongue, kissing and sucking.

Billy had the enviable task of kissing George's flaccid dick. It wasn't
totally soft, it had filled out enough so as not to be embarrassingly
shrunken but it was only a few inches long and tucked inside the turtleneck
of foreskin. Billy kissed the dick and licked the three inch shaft;
instantly it was three and a half inches.





Billy used his hand to peel back the foreskin, trapping it behind the head
of George's rising cock. Billy set his wet tongue to the task of licking
the head and shaft and coaxing out a full erection; he could have just
jerked it and the cock would have been hard in seconds but he wanted to
take his time and enjoy it.

Billy suckled the semi-hard cock, pulling it into his mouth and feeling it
harden in the warm cave of his orifice. George was in heaven as his dick
was sucked into an erection and he sucked on Billy's dick at the same
moment. He switched to licking and then sucking each of Billy's balls,
smelling the sweat of the day which was intoxicating rather than
malodorous.

Billy was surprised how big George's dick was; just under seven inches
which was plenty for pleasure. They each sucked on cock for another few
minutes, stroking thighs and arms and backs in a tactile exploration of the
other's body that brought them closer and closer. The only closer they
could get was fulfilled by George who removed Billy's dick from his mouth
and sat up. His body was twisted around to gaze at Billy who also stopped
sucking. George resolved his position with a gentle nudge of Billy's
shoulder so his flatmate lay on his back and George swung his leg over to
straddle Billy across the middle.

George lowered himself on top of Billy, their groins and chests meeting and
finally faces reuniting. They kissed and George felt his and Billy's
engorged cocks sandwiched between them. George could feel the rough but
pleasing thatch of Billy's chest hair as rubbed himself up and down Billy's
body, smearing spit and dick juice between their bodies. When he rolled
off, he pulled Billy with him and Billy went on top.

There was a beautiful reciprocity to their exploration that George hadn't
realised was missing from his previous love making. Henry might have been a
generous and exciting lover that made George feel good but his ex-boyfriend
had also been a selfish lover. It had been about his pleasure and his
control; in contrast, George and Billy were united in mutual gratification.





Billy brought his leg between George's legs so that as he humped, their
cocks smashed between them and Billy's thigh put just a tiny amount of
pressure on George's balls. George grunted and his arms reached up to grab
Billy again, pulling his head down and holding it so their kissing could
continue forever.

It didn't last forever, but George hoped when he left this echo of a world
that Billy would want to do this in the real world. Was this what Angelo
had led George into an echo of reality for - to discover that there was
someone who loved him and who he loved in return?

Angelo's part in this story felt like a long time ago.

George had wanted to be happy; he had sought a sense of wonder and knew now
that they were the same thing. George's wonderlust was fulfilled by finding
happiness with Billy. George owed Angelo for showing him that - if Angelo
really was an angel seeking to earn his wings, he had earned them tonight.

Billy rolled off and tucked himself beside George; George remained on his
back and he could feel Billy's chest against his right arm and dick against
his right hip. They lay beside each other in contentment and George
wondered how this echo would end.

"Make love to me," whispered Billy.

George turned to see wet eyes in Billy's face and his own shone with a
similar desire for closeness. Billy rolled onto his back and spread his
legs. Neither George nor Billy acknowledged the need for protection -
neither would have unprotected sex under normal circumstances. These were
not normal circumstances: Billy wasn't real and George was in an echo world
where he didn't exist.

George stroked himself while manoeuvring into position, holding the head of
his cock which he then pressed against Billy's hole. He pressed, seeing and
feeling the spongy head of his dick remould against the sphincter; as
Billy's hole relaxed and eased open it seemed to suck George in.

Little by little, George pushed harder until his cock popped into Billy's
ass and the warm confines surrounded George's shaft. George pushed in and
when he began to pump back and forth, he felt his balls swing and heard
slapping noises when they made fleshy pats against Billy's skin.





George felt filled up with delight as he filled Billy's ass with
pleasure. He reached for Billy's dick and jerked it for him while
continuing his own pulling and pressing. Billy recovered from the initial
penetration and reached for his own cock which allowed George to put his
hands on Billy's knees and then to stoke Billy's legs.

It was an act of true lovemaking that was quite unlike the fucking George
had been used to with Henry. Billy shifted on the bed as George pushed in
and out; each could see delight on the other's face.

Kissing, holding each other, caressing skin and stroking cock and sucking
and now sexing each other - it had all happened so fast. Billy moaned
beneath George, who felt the need to cum building inside him. George pushed
deep inside his lover, but not hard. Billy loved it and the sphincter of
his ass, tightened its ring around George's cock as if refusing to let it
go. George pulled back, feeling the tightness and longing to release his
seed inside Billy.

Billy was getting close to cumming and George too was reaching climax -
he'd never cum inside someone without a condom before and the bareback
sensation was indescribable. Billy shot his load, launching spunk against
the headboard and then all over himself. George took a few more moments
before his dick caught up to Billy's ecstasy.

George shot inside Billy's ass, filling it with milky spunk that leaked out
when George pulled his cock free. George watched the lazy dribble of his
own seed trickle its escape and saw fit to press his cock against Billy's
hole to push it back in. He pressed and shot again, poking Billy's ass with
his rod and pulling it out only to squash his cum in again.

Finally satisfied with the result and unable to take the stimulation in his
cock or his empty balls any longer, George stopped. He scrambled up the bed
to lay with Billy and they entwined together in a close embrace.





Billy's chest was sticky with cum and when George put his arm over his new
lover, he cared not for the sloppy mess that transferred to himself. George
grinned in the dark - wondering if Billy's chest needed to be dry-cleaned
or not. The feel of Billy's cum matted in his chest and spreading onto
George's arm as he wrapped Billy in an embrace was like a warm sun on one's
face in summertime.

"That was... I don't believe it," Billy said.

"It was... unbelievable," George agreed.

They chuckled and appreciated that each was holding something back.

"Billy..." George said.

"George..." Billy replied.

"Me too," George said, cowardly avoiding saying what was really in his
heart.

George knew it was in Billy's heart too. He was addressing the unsaid and
yet the feeling in his heart was wonderful. George's wonderlust, his quest
for happiness, was fulfilled.

"Ditto," Billy replied, also avoiding admitting his feelings.

Billy wasn't about to say it either but it must have been obvious.

George wasn't sure he believed in love at first sight - besides this was
not first sight - but he was starting to. George was starting to believe in
his own self-worth and the idea of standing on a bridge dropped like a
stone into a river, sinking away forever; George could never do that to
Billy. More than that, he could never do that to himself.

Angelo had succeeded in showing George that he mattered - to himself.

George and Billy remained naked and uncovered, drawing warmth from each
other. George's cum trickled out of Billy's ass, running along the cleft of
his buttock as he lay on his side and wrapped in George's arms. They were
still naked, fleshy penises touching but they remained flaccid. The embrace
was intimate and comforting.

"I'm tired," Billy said, his voice seeming to echo in an empty space.

"Me too," said George but his voice was swallowed by nothingness.

What George felt next was no small step but a giant leap.





THE LEAP HOME

SATURDAY 21ST DECEMBER 2019

"...And hoping each time that the next leap, will be the leap home."

Some vaguely recognisable 90's TV show was on the barely audible TV as
George came around. The dizziness was familiar - like when he awoke from
his trip down memory lane. As George stirred from his narrative, feeling
groggy, he saw Angelo dressed in dry clothes and lazily reading a book -
The Greatest Gift, by Philip Van Doren Stern.

The echo, as Angelo had called, it was already slipping away - losing
details but the shape remained. The feelings for Billy remained and the
knowledge that Billy felt something for him abided too.

"All those things that happened... did they happen?" George enquired
doubtfully.

"The universe is change, the world is what our minds make of it," Angelo
answered.

"Marcus Aurelius," George said, surprising Angelo - "I do listen to Billy,
you know."

Angelo nodded his agreement.

"I should hope so," Angelo replied.

"This is a big step for me..." George started to say.

"A giant leap for George kind," Angelo interrupted.

George grinned happily - the irreverent angel was growing on him.

"I feel something for Billy that wasn't there before but it doesn't feel
new. It feels... familiar," George reported.

"Billy's feelings for you in the echo are the same as they are here,
except..." Angelo paused briefly; "They've matured with age, like a fine
wine."

"He's in love with me?" George asked.

Angelo didn't like to speak for Billy, so he didn't.

"There is something I want to know..." George asked.

"I know. I mean, I know what you want you know... y'know?" Angelo jested.

"You said you came here to help me. Someone who loves me sent you," George
recalled.

Angelo nodded.

"Billy?" George asked.

"Not Billy, though it's true he wants what's best for you," Angelo
answered. "It's hard to explain how a guardian angel is called, George."

Angelo couldn't explain it so he lifted his hands and cupped one over each
of George's ears. Then George heard his mother's voice.

"Please, God help my son George. He's been having a very tough time lately
and... and I haven't made it easy for him. I've always been so hard on
him..." mum's voice cracked.

"We struggled to accept him for who he is... because I've always known,"
his dad's voice joined in.

"I want mum and dad to listen to me. To accept George for who he is before
they loss him," said Harry.

"I've been punishing him for being that way inclined..." his mum cried.

"We can't punish him for being the way he is. You made him the way he
is..."

"Please help George, I'm worried about my little brother..."

"I tried to be a good Christian and a good mother... I don't feel like
either with the way I've hurt my George."

"I want my boy to be happy. Please help George, God... I want him to be
happy... Please, God..."

"Please help by brother. If you're busy you could send the tooth fairy or a
policeman or..."





As long as George lived, he never thought he would hear his mum so
vulnerable or his dad so desperate. Harry's desire for George to be ok was
less surprising than the fact he still prayed. Someone had been listening -
god or fate or time or just the Choir of Angels.

"Your mum and dad were praying together as you were walking along the
bridge. I was watching and... well, how could I resist?" Angelo asked.

"They were praying to god, does that mean... Is there a god? Did he send
you?" George asked.

Angelo smiled enigmatically; "Do angels make more sense if there's an
invisible sky magician directing them?"

George could hear the good humour in Angelo's voice - he was joking and
poking fun and making no attempt to elucidate.

"Ask Billy if there's a god. Philosophy and religion are, after all, two
words which are different... in spelling," Angelo sagely revealed.

"Plato?" George asked facetiously.

"Eddie Izzard," Angelo said.

George laughed, bringing emotional tears to his eyes.

"Thank you, Angelo," he said, wiping his eyes.

"You're welcome, George."

George hugged Angelo tightly - somehow he knew he'd never see the angel
again.

"Will you get your wings now?" George asked.

"Maybe. But I'm only two hundred and ninety three so if I have to wait a
little longer..." Angelo began to say.

A sound like a bell sounded and George turned towards it but it was only a
text message arriving on his phone. When George turned back to Angelo, the
angel was gone.

Perhaps, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings, George thought.





George checked his phone - a message from Harry was on screen.

Harry: [Are you ok? Billy messaged to say you were feeling down?]

George looked at the clock - it was late so his brother must be on night
shift.

George: [I'm ok now. I was feeling... not great. But I think something
wonderful has happened.]

Harry: [Ok. I'm glad you're feeling ok. What's happened?]

George: [I think Billy likes me and I think I like him.]

George: [Well aware I sound like a fifteen year old. Lol.]

Harry: [Finally. Penny in the air... the penny drops.]

George: [Why am I not surprised you knew this already?]

Harry: [I'm very insightful.]

George: [What does your insight tell you about how I tell mum and dad?]

Harry: [It's been over a year since you broke up with Henry. I've been
telling mum and dad to get the fuck over the whole "George is gay"
thing. It ruined last Charismas. It's been hurting you.]

George: [It's really hard being around them. I know they believe something
I don't but they're hurting me. I can't be around them when they're like
this.]

Harry: [You should tell them how you feel. If they're not going accept you
and cut out the guilt trip, I don't think I want to be around them
either. You can always count on me, bro.]

George: [I know, Harry. I'll leave mum & dad a message and let them think
about what they want to do.]

Harry: [Good luck. Love you.]

George: [Love you too.]

No time like the present, George called his mum's phone - knowing it would
be switched off this late at night. His call went to voicemail and George
realised he had to speak.

"Hi mum and dad. It's George. I'm calling because..."

It was hard to articulate. Fourteen months ago his asshole ex-boyfriend had
outed him and his parents had spent every week and month since trying to
persuade him to not be gay, to change, the pray it away. They'd always been
hard on him but they loved him and that was what Angelo had allowed him to
glimpse - his parents loved him. They loved him in spite of what they
viewed as his flaws, rather than because of his quirks or individuality.

"The last year has been really hard. I don't know if I'd have ever told you
I was gay but I didn't get the choice so I'm glad, in a way. No matter
what, I'm glad you know because this is me. I feel like you want me to
change and maybe you think being gay my test or... it doesn't matter. I'm
not going to change. I'm not going to stop being gay. I won't change. You
change. If you want me in your lives, you'll have to change because I
can't."

George thought about just hanging up then, but he added:

"I love you both. But I won't feel guilty for being who I am anymore. I
think I've met someone and he makes me happy and I hope you can be happy
for me because of that," George said; "You can let me know if that's
something you can accept."





George hung up and tossed his phone on the sofa and tugged the towel from
around his waist - he still had his boxers on underneath but remained
shirtless. It was cold in the flat now - George hadn't felt it until now
but now that Angelo was gone and he wasn't concentrating on his family, the
need for physical warmth beckoned him.

George went to Billy's bedroom and pushed the door open. It was dim inside
but George was able to make out the shape of Billy in the bed and soft
sleeping noised from him too.

George listened to the snuffling noises - they were cute and relaxed.

George crossed to the bed and slipped under the covers. He pulled the
covers up to his chin and shivered - his body was cold from his toes to his
ears. George continued to listen to Billy sleep and when he felt warmer,
turned on his side to face Billy's back.

Billy was in shorts and t-shirt for sleeping. In all the years they had
shared a flat, they had never shared a bed. They had hugged and cuddled as
a friendly gesture but never intimately. George moved closer to Billy and
spooned into his back.

The change in Billy's breathing signalled that he had probably woken;
George put his arm over Billy, his hand resting on the lower part of
Billy's chest. He could feel Billy's chest rise and fall and the warmth of
his body spilled into George.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" George whispered.

Billy took George's had in his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Where's your guardian angel?" asked Billy.

Facing away from George, the question felt like it was posed at a distance;
it was posed with a hint of jealousy and ironically, it sounded like an
echo. George had been with Billy in the echo world, but here they were
still just flatmates.

"Angelo is gone. He made me realise something," George answered.

"What's that?"

"How important you are... and how blind I've been to not see you," George
replied.

Billy turned now, George's arm remained draped over him when they came face
to face. Billy extended his arm and draped it over George - completing a
half-hug. However, there was a gap between their chests. The gap between
them was the width of doubt.

"I've always seen you, George. I've always hoped you'd see me," Billy
admitted.

"Instead I wasted my time with men like Henry," George realised.

"Henry didn't deserve you," Billy agreed.

"You deserve me," George said; "And I hope I deserve you."

Billy leaned in and gave George a little kiss on the lips. It was not
lustful or passionate, it was chaste and compassionate.

"Am I dreaming?" Billy asked, half seriously.

George smiled in the night. The echo Angelo had shown him had been a dream
and making that a reality was his, and Billy's, best hope for happiness.

"A dream come true," George said.

"That's mawkish... I mean nice," said Billy with a giggle and then added;
"Happy thoughts."

"Kant says the rules for happiness are; something to do, someone to love
and something to hope for," George recalled.

George was recalling not only the echo but also the hundred times Billy had
quoted Kant or some other philosopher. He wanted Billy to know he listened
and valued Billy's interests.

"Yes," Billy agreed; "So, have you found happiness?"

"I found something to do, hugging you; I found someone to love, I love you;
and I found something to hope for... that you love me too," George said.

"I do. I have for a long time," Billy said.

There were no more words after that. They didn't fall into throes of
passion or lust, they fell asleep like that; in each other's arms, warm and
happy.





It was the day before the shortest day so although the sun rose just after
8AM, it was still gloomy until midmorning. No alarm woke George and Billy,
but they stirred almost at the same time and found themselves still close.

Legs and arms were tangled, they were comfortably warm and each smiled at
the other. Today was the beginning of something new. They had known each
other for seven years but today they woke up in the same bed for the first
time and hoped they would never sleep apart again.

"Good morning," George whispered.

"Why are you whispering?" Billy asked.

"I don't know," George chuckled. "Maybe I'm, not whispering, I'm just
speaking softly?"

George pressed his lips against Billy's ear.

"Ok," Billy replied softly.

"I hate to ruin the moment, but I need to go pee," George said.

The men disentangled and George walked to the bathroom. After urinating, he
showered and returned to his own room. It was strange to acknowledge a huge
change in his life and yet return to a familiar routine. George emerged
from his room dressed and could hear Billy in the shower.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

George registered the doorbell after the second ring and when he opened the
door he was surprised to find his mum and dad on the doorstep. George could
count on one hand the number of times they'd been to his flat.

"Are you ok, son?" his dad asked.

"I'm fine," George answered.

"We were worried. We got your message in the middle of the night," his mum
said tightly but filled with concern too; "We were... we were worried
something was wrong."

George wasn't sure how to take it. Was she criticising him for calling so
late? That would be his mum's style, yet it sounded more like concern. She
was worried he was up so late, calling so late, thinking about things at
such small hours of the night.

"I was at the end of my rope," George admitted.

He had no intention of telling them he had planned to jump off a bridge but
there was a look across his dad's face as if he knew.

"We've been unfair to you," his mum said.

George was surprised she said it but her tone was reluctant. She sounded
loathed to admit she was wrong. She sounded conflicted too - over forty
years of religious observance competing with her love for her son.

"I just want to be happy," George said.

"We want you to be happy too, George," dad said.

"I'm gay," he reminded them; it felt like coming out all over again.

"Son, why didn't you tell us sooner?" dad asked.

"I pretended... because I didn't want to disappoint you," George said
shyly.

"You're not a disappointment," dad said.

"And are you happy, now?" his mum asked as tersely as usual.

"I'm ok," George answered.

"You'll come to Christmas dinner next week?" dad asked.

"Can I bring someone?" George replied.

His dad looked at mum and she silently huffed.

"Of course you can," dad replied cheerfully.

His parents coming to his door was a good sign - a sign they were willing
to start accepting him rather than blame him for who he was. It wouldn't be
easy setting aside things they had always believed but if they loved
George, they'd try. It wouldn't happen all at once - beliefs like that
couldn't be transformed in a day.





THE GREATEST GIFT

CHRISTMAS DAY 2019

George was sitting in the back of his brother's car with Billy; in between
them were the twins Janie and Tommy. George's niece and nephew were already
nine months old and he doted on them shamelessly.

Harry was driving and his wife (Mary) sat up front conversing quietly while
they had the chance. Harry had been well pleased when George had told his
big brother their parents were starting to come around. George had further
managed to ingratiate himself by revealing he was getting a promotion at
work.

"I thought you said you weren't going to get it?" his mum had said two days
ago.

Her usual brusque tone was edged out by surprise and pride.

"I didn't think I would because my boss's son also applied," George
answered; "But my boss said I was better qualified and deserved it."

George didn't even mind his mothers surprise - he'd been surprised that
merit had won out over family too.

"Well done, little brother," Harry said with a nudge.

"Yes. Congratulations," mum added; "You earned it."

Mum moved on to check on the immense amount of food cooking in the kitchen.

"Congratulations you earned it?" Harry said in awe that their mother had
just praised George; "Wow, miracles do happen at Christmas."

George laughed and looked around the happy home. Harry's wife was playing
games with the twins and Billy was setting the table with dad. Dad was
talking about god and Billy talked about ancient philosophers - each just
sharing the coolest stories they could think of about their respective
heroes.

"Talking of miracles... or maybe mysteries... this was on the doorstep,"
Harry said.

George took a small rectangular package from Harry and tore the paper
off. He laughed when he saw what was inside; laughed so hard it brought
tears to his eyes. Mum, dad, Mary, Billy and Harry were gathered around the
room watching happy tears spill of George's face.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I'd like to make a toast," George said, ignoring the question.

Everyone lifted glasses to partake in the gesture.

"To friends and family," George said; "And to the greatest gift;
happiness."

"To happiness."

His mother tilted his glass to him and then dad hugged her
affectionately. Harry went to Mary and gave her a kiss and Billy lifted his
eyes from playing with the twins to offer George a vibrant and heart
bursting smile. George crossed the room and leaned over Billy, kissing
him. His parents looked away, but that was ok; Harry and Mary smiled and
the babies gurgled happily.

"What have you got there?" asked Billy, nodding at the unwrapped gift.

George looked once more at the present in his hand. It was a book, just a
book - The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. A bookmark with a little bell on it
was slid into the front page, it rang as George opened the cover. Written
the inside page was a quote from the book and below it a message...





Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had
discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it -- namely, that
in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make
the thing difficult to attain.





Dear George, I hope you enjoy the greatest gift. Maybe happiness wasn't so
difficult to attain after all?

Thanks for the wings, Love Angelo.





*******

THE END

*******







To my lovely readers; Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Seasons
Greetings. If you love these stories, consider a donation to Nifty:
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

This stand alone story was loosely based on It's A Wonderful Life, itself
based on The Greatest Gift by Philip Van Doren Stern. I hope you enjoyed
it; I would love to hear your thoughts and comments, they are the greatest
gift (couldn't resist): niftyencomiums@gmail.com

For updates on all my work in progress, take a look at my blog:
https://niftyencomiums.blogspot.com



I'm developing another Anthology story which I hope to complete in the
first half of 2020. It's based on a readers request for a story about a
public strip search in an airport climaxing (literally) in front of
everyone. I've taken that idea and turned it into a dystopian political
story of humiliation for a father and son in an airport. The working title
is: Anthology (II) - Assport Control



I've also written four multi-chapter stories:

School Exhibitionism -
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/school-exhibitionism

The Symposium - http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/the-symposium/

The Embarrassment of Riches -
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/the-embarrassment-of-riches/

Do As You're Told -
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/do-as-youre-told/