The sudden ear-piercing shriek from his wife had nearly given Peter a heart attack. When he had been sent to go and sleep in the basement he thought he would at least be safe until morning, and for a brief moment he even considered ignoring her and pretend like he was already fast asleep. Of course, with a noise like that, pretending he hadn't heard her would easily have become the last mistake he ever lived to make.

Trying to prepare himself for what was to come, Peter kept his head low and stared at the steps as he climbed the stairs. However, regardless of what Brittany was going to say, she couldn't change how he felt. He was right, and he knew it. The only thing that she had accomplished earlier was making him look like the bad guy in front of James; the ignorant one with the closed mind. But she hadn't seen what he saw, and she could never even begin to understand the pain that homosexuals force on others.

The fact that Brittany couldn't see the dangerous path that Mark was choosing hurt much more than any words she could use against him. If he could only find a way to make her see how wrong it is. And, to that end, he was insulted and infuriated that his experiences, his own childhood serving as proof, was not enough to convince her that all fags are evil, convoluted monsters.

Now at the top of the stairs, Peter stood at the door to collect himself. He had decided that he wasn't going to take it anymore. If he wanted to be a good father, then this passive parenting had to stop. He had to put his foot down now, or he would risk failing his most important of duties, which was protecting his child from harm.

With that thought in mind, Peter reached for the handle. He could already feel his anger and frustration building inside of him, and he wasn't going to allow himself to cower away any longer. He was going to say what needed to be said, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Finally feeling ready, Peter turned the doorknob and opened the door. He could feel his cheeks already filling with blood as the adrenalin surged through his veins, and he stepped out into the hall.

The moment Peter laid eyes on Brittany, every thought in his mind crumbled into nothingness. Her eyes were bloodshot and cheeks stained with tears, and the expression on her face was unlike anything he had seen on her before. It was empty; she was empty, and her pain seemed to radiate like the heat from a fire, penetrating deep within his pores and strangling his heart.

"What is it?" he asked in a dry, scratchy voice. "What's wrong?"

Staring at her husband, Brittany couldn't find her voice. Only moments ago she was ready to throttle him with her bare hands, but now she couldn't find the will. "The boys," she finally said. "They're gone."

Brittany had left Peter at the house to look after James and was now driving from park to park with Natalie. They had already been to three of the closest parks, but with every failed search their chances of finding the boys seemed all the more impossible. Now, it was already approaching two in the morning, and the sky was threatening to rain.

"Where could they have gone?" asked Brittany for the fifth time in the last two minutes. "This whole thing is my fault. I should have paid closer attention."

Natalie glanced at Brittany, while keeping her eye on the road. "Brittany stop. This isn't anyone's fault, okay? They're thirteen and..."

"And what?" Brittany interrupted, "gay?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

Brittany rolled the window down a bit and adjusted herself in her seat. "It's more than that though. I should have seen it sooner."

"Sooner?" said Natalie, stopping the car. "They've only known each other for a few weeks."

"Time has nothing to do with it," replied Brittany. "Those boys need each other. You can see it in their eyes."

"See what?" asked Natalie, feeling naive.

Brittany looked into Natalie's eyes in seriousness. "Mark has always been - well, quite the handful. He's a good boy - don't get me wrong, he's just never shown much interest in things for long. Quite the excitable lad, to say the least. But when he met your Brady, it was like something inside of him came to life." Brittany paused as she tried to assess what she had said to make sure she was making sense. "I suppose it's one of those 'opposites attract' scenarios." Brittany attempted to study Natalie's reaction, but the woman's expression didn't change. "Are you opposed to homosexuality, dear?"

"What?" Natalie shook her head as if she had just been insulted, "me? No, not at all. It's just..." Natalie sighed and turned her head to look out the window, "I just don't understand why he wouldn't talk to me about this or why I didn't see it... I mean, I may have seen it, but it didn't register."

"Stop trying to blame yourself, dear. It's not your fault," said Brittany.

Unexpectedly, Natalie smiled. "Who's consoling who here?"

"I suppose we both are," replied Brittany, just as she realized she had just told Natalie what Natalie had been telling her all along. "We're not going to find them tonight, are we?"

Natalie shook her head. "I honestly don't think so."

"So, now what do we do? Go home and call the police?"

Natalie shook her head again. "No. They're teenagers now. The police won't even take a report until it's been at least 24 hours, maybe even 48, I'm not sure anymore."

"That's disgusting! What if they've been abducted? What if they're in danger? Are you telling me the police won't do anything?" Both Brittany and Natalie fell into an uncomfortable silence as they tried to block their minds from the intruding negative thoughts. "I suppose this means we'll just have to trust that our boys smart enough to know what they're doing - for tonight, that is."

Shifting the vehicle back into drive, Natalie turned the corner. "If they were smart enough, they wouldn't have run away to begin with."

"You never know, dear," started Brittany. "Things often happen for a reason."

Natalie rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, Brittany, but I haven't believed in fate for a long time. Not since..."

"Since your husband died?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"I understand. Maybe, sometimes, things just happen. Regardless of that, our boys are good for each other, and they're out there, somewhere, right now. And they're alone and scared, and there's nothing you or I can do about it. So please don't be offended by my belief. At the very least, it lets me know that someone is watching over them when we can't."

Brady slowly opened his eyes and looked around in brief confusion. Above him he could see the glowing blue polyester as it reflected the Sun's morning rays. Outside he could hear birds happily chirping next to the calm flowing of water from the creek. To his side he could see Mark, who was still sleeping. His shirt looked as if he had made an attempt to pull it off as one of his arms had escaped through the bottom, revealing his bare chest. It was then that he realized how tired they must have been the night before.

Sitting up, Brady looked down at his sleeping bag, which was still zipped closed without him inside, and Mark seemed to have done the same thing. Briefly laughing at himself, he rolled over toward Mark and draped his right arm over his shoulder.

The sudden contact caused Mark to shiver, and he slowly opened his eyes. At first he looked lost and alarmed, but then his expression grew into a relaxed smile. "Good morning," he said happily and rolled onto his side, facing Brady. "Does your back hurt as bad as mine?"

Brady giggled and nodded his head. "Yeah. The first night is always the worst. It'll get better."

"Ugh, I hope so," he replied, and rolled back over to look up at the tent. "For a minute there I forgot that we did all this. It was really weird."

Brady absentmindedly twirled his finger on Mark's chest, recalling the familiar sense of displacement that occurs when you wake up somewhere unfamiliar. "Yeah I know, but then you distracted me," said Brady, lowering his head and resting his cheek on Mark's chest.

"I don't even remember falling asleep."

"Me neither."

Kissing Mark's chest, Brady slid his right hand up Mark's torso, from his bellybutton to his collar bone. Once again, Mark shivered and wiggled his body in an attempt to shake them off. As soon as Mark stopped moving Brady raised his palm off of Mark's chest and slowly traced his fingers back down toward his belly.

The gentle rise and fall of Mark's stomach as he breathed fascinated Brady. It made everything that was happening finally feel real, which up until this point had seemed like a strange dream that he would soon awaken from. Now, though, he could feel Mark's warmth against his cheek and feel his smooth, perfect skin below his fingertips, and nothing else mattered.

Looking down, Brady noticed that Mark's sleeping bag was still draped across his legs, so he reached for it and slid it off of him, discarding it at their side. Then, the moment Brady looked back, his eyes locked upon Mark's shiny-white shorts, where a small, protruding lump could be seen lying flat and pointing right at him.

Brady's first reaction was to reach out and grab it, but his mind wouldn't allow it. Somewhere deep down he was afraid, and the more he thought about it the more real the fear became. It was like once he did it there was no turning back; that was it. And it wasn't that he didn't want to, nor did it have anything to do with being ashamed - mostly. Something inside of him wanted him to wait until the time was right.

All he wanted was that moment. A moment where he knew that he would not forget and he wanted that memory to be perfect. But then, to make things more confusing, he was afraid that when he did give in to temptation he'd find out that Mark didn't really want to, which scared Brady the most.

Just then, Mark placed his hand on Brady's head and randomly began twirling his hair. "My mouth's so dry it feels like my tongue's gonna catch fire if I sneeze," he said through a scratchy voice.

"What?" asked Brady, while trying to look up at Mark's face without sacrificing the view of his shorts.

"Yeah, I know. And the worst part is I think I'm gonna..." Mark closed his eyes as he breathed in, "gonna..." unable to finish, Mark's entire body raised upward in a V-shape, and his head snapped forward, releasing a loud, violent sneeze.

In the commotion, Brady had backed away and rolled to the other side of the tent, and now he was staring at Mark, trying not to laugh. "Jesus Murphy!" said Brady, sitting up.

Mark tuned his head to face Brady, with a big grin on his face and a long, wobbling thread of gooey snot dangling from his nostrils. "I, uh, I think I need a napkin."

"Dude, you're outta luck," chuckled Brady, making sure to stay as far away from Mark's dangling-booger as possible. But I'll make sure to put that on our grocery list."

Just about giving an affirmative nod, Mark stopped himself and, very carefully, rolled onto all fours. "In that case, I'll be right back."

Every so gently, Mark crawled toward the door of the tent and carefully unzipped it. Looking back at Brady one last time and trying not to laugh, he slowly stood up and stepped outside. The moment the morning air touched his skin Mark shivered, unfortunately causing him to shake his head from side-to-side. "Ahh!" he screamed. "That's bloody gross!"

Hearing Mark's call, Brady rushed outside the tent to see what had happened. "You okay?" he asked, as Mark slowly turned around.

"Uh... I'm gonna need to rinse my hair..." he said, pointing to the string of sparkling snot that was now decorating the side of his head.

"Oh, dude - that's really gross."

"That's what I said!" replied Mark as he turned around and walked toward the creek. "I really hope there aren't any disgusting creatures in here."

"Why?" asked Brady, stepping out of the tent. "Afraid they might mistake your slimy head as their slimy new life partner?"

"Not until now I wasn't!" chuckled Mark. "I was talking about something touching me or getting stuck in my hair."

"Kinda like your snot?"

"Okay, shut up, meanie!" Mark said playfully as he lowered himself onto all fours and leaned down toward the water. "Oh man, this is gonna be cold!"

Sucking in his breath and closing his mouth tightly shut, Mark dipped head in the water. Quickly discovering that it wasn't quite deep enough, he lowered himself onto his elbows so that he could splash water through his hair. "Oh crap, oooooh-hu-hu-huuu crap that's cold. Oh man... oh-kay! That's enough!" Mark swung his head back, causing a large trail of water to shoot up into the air and land several feet behind him, and all down his back. "FaAACK!" Mark squealed and jumped up to his feet.

"What?" asked Brady, who had been making sure the fire had smouldered to ash.

Mark tore off his shirt, while his body twitched and shivered erratically. "That s-s-sstuff's as c-cold as ice," stuttered Mark.

"Well then why did you take off your shirt?"

"'Cause I needed something to dry my hair! It's dripping all over me!" explained Mark as he wrapped the shirt around his head and sighed in relief. "Ahhh, that's better."

Brady grinned, looking at Mark's erect nipples and goose-bump-ridden body. "I'll say," he teased.

"So..." started Mark as he approached Brady. "What time does the store open?"

"I have no idea. Probably around nine or maybe even ten. But it's probably only eight right now."

Using his shirt to dry his hair, Mark walked back over to the tent. "So what are we gonna do until then?"

Brady shrugged and followed Mark toward the tent. "I dunno. Maybe there's a water fountain around here somewhere. I think there used to be, but I'm not completely sure on that."

"Oh man, I hope so. My mouth feels really gross, and just so you know, I don't think it was the best of ideas to drink a milkshake last night, either."

"Yeah..." agreed Brady, "and we definitely should've taken a bit more time to think of some supplies, too - a cooler would have been great."

"Well, maybe the store will have one on sale or something. Besides, it's not like we had a bunch of time to pull this off," said Mark as he crawled into the tent to retrieve a dry shirt. "We're the victims of circumstance!"

"I dunno. That's not exactly on our budget," said Brady, referring to the cooler. "I mean, we're not sure how long we're going to be out here, so we're going to want to try and make the money last as long as we can."

"I guess you have a point," decided Mark. "What are we gonna do when we run out of money, though?"

"Then I guess I'll have to start pimpin' you out," teased Brady. "I'm sure we could find a few lonely farmers around these parts."

"Ewww, dude, that's gross - wait, why me?"

"Because I'm your pimp. It's my job to protect you," explained Brady, smiling.

"Ummm, yeah, okay. The problem with that is you can barely keep up with me on a jog," Mark pointed out, while sliding into a clean shirt.

"Exactly! If I can't save you, you'll be able to run away."

Mark rolled his eyes and walked toward the hill. "How about we just start looking for a water fountain?"

"Chicken," giggled Brady as he turned to follow Mark.

On the other side of the hill the boys got their first look at the field they had crossed the night before. On either end, adjacent to where they stood, stood two identical goal posts that were designed to be used for both football and soccer. Beyond that they could see the road that led back to town.

"Do you see anything?" asked Mark, carefully studying the field. "'Cause I can't."

"No, not yet," replied Brady. "We should walk up along the tree-line, though. If there's one here then it will probably be off to the side, so that it's out of the way."

"Okay," agreed Mark. "I'll take left, you right?"

"Sure," said Brady, "doesn't matter to me."

The two boys quickly split up and slowly walked the field's length toward the road. While paying close attention to what he was touching, Mark gently moved branches and peered over bushes. No more than twenty feet away from where he had started looking, Mark's insides jumped in excitement over a bush. "YAY!" he yelled, unintentionally getting Brady's attention.

"What is it!?" Brady hollered back to him and started to walk across the field.

Diving out from behind a couple of trees, Mark reappeared, waving a long, sturdy stick in the air. "I found the best walking-stick ever!" he announced.

"Oh," Brady rolled his eyes and turned back. "You got my hopes up for nothing!"

"What!?" Mark stomped the stick on the ground. "Did not! I was gonna use it for a devouring rod!" he explained and then held the stick out in front of him.

Brady giggled and turned back around. "You mean divining rod, right?"

"Yeah, that thing!" said Mark with a nod, as he began to follow in behind the stick.

"Uh - you do realize that divining rods look more like a fork, right? Kinda like two handles," Brady tried to explain.

"Meh," shrugged Mark. "It'll still work," he promised as the stick led him into the field.

"I highly doubt that."

Suddenly, Mark smiled and his eyes widened. "Oh yeah? Then what is that?!" he yelled, pointing across the field at a small metal pipe behind the goal post.

Brady turned his head to look where Mark was pointing, and sure enough, the stick had actually found water. "Okay - that was just a fluke!" he decided, as Mark ran past him.

"Who cares!?" he yelled, leaving Brady in his dust. "As long as we can drink it..."

Unable to argue with that reasoning, Brady quickly ran after Mark toward the fountain. By the time he arrived, Mark had dropped his 'divining rod' on the grass and had already turned on the tap. Suddenly, however, Mark jumped back in disgust. "Ewww, it's brown!"

"That's okay," said Brady. "It probably hasn't been used in a while. Just let it run for a while."

Mark continued to step away from the running water. "I dunno - I don't think I'll be able to drink it now," he said and picked up his stick.

"That's fine," replied Brady as he stepped toward the tap, "more for me then."

Mark watched as Brady lowered and tilted his head to the side until his lips met with the cool, running water. "Dude, I can't believe you're drinking that!"

"It's not yellow anymore."

"It wasn't yellow to begin with! It was brown!" said Mark, feeling queasy at the sight of watching Brady drink that nasty goop. "If you get sick it's not my fault!"

Brady cupped his hands together and placed them under the water. "Look," he said, showing Mark the now-clear water in his hand, "it's fine now. Tastes a bit weird, but all country water does."

Mark stared at the water in Brady's hand sceptically. "I dunno, mate. Still seems a bit grotty."

"A bit what?" asked Brady.

"Grotty," he repeated. "It means really freaken' gross!"

Brady shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said and dipped his head under the water.

While watching Brady soaking himself under the cold, refreshing water, Mark caught himself licking his dry, cracking lips. "Okay, fine!" he said, declaring his protest over. "Lemme have it!"

Brady grinned and, only slightly, backed away from the tap. "All right then. I'll let you have it..." he said in a slow, deviously sing-song tone, just as he splashed a handful of water in Mark's face.

"Ach!" squealed Mark as he fell backward and onto the grass. "Cut it out!" he demanded.

"Or what?" teased Brady, while collecting more water in his hand.

"Or... or... I know where you sleep at night!" struggled Mark, who then frowned. "Come on, let me get a drink first!" he begged and rolled onto his knees. "Please?"

"Aww, okay," agreed Brady, unable to say no to those beautiful blue, puppy dog eyes of his.

Mark didn't wait for Brady to change his mind, and quickly crawled over to the stream of falling water. The moment his lips met with the ice-cold liquid, his entire body shivered in delight, and the very second it touched his tongue, he greedily attempted to inhale it as fast as his lips could draw it in.

Within what felt to Mark like seconds, the boy's stomach began to ache, and he fell back and sprawled out on the grass. "Ahhh," he sighed to the welcomed feeling of a bloated tummy. "That's better. A little wet, but better."

"Well..." Brady began to chuckle, "it's a little wet because you're lying in a huge puddle."

Mark opened his eyes wide, suddenly feeling the coolness of the water absorb into his clothes, and rapidly rolled away from the tap. "Oh shit that's cold!" he yelled in a high-pitched squeak. "Damn - I just wasted another clean shirt!"

"And shorts," added Brady. "Hope you brought a lot of them."

"Shit, I don't even know," realized Mark. "I just kinda threw everything in my bag."

"Well, I guess we could always rinse them off in the water and hang them somewhere to dry."

"Yeah, we could..." Mark grinned and sat up, "but there's a slight problem with that."

"What?" Brady asked innocently.

"You're - not," Mark rolled onto his knees and bent forward as he reached toward the puddle of water, "...wet enough!" he screamed slapping his palms down in the water.

A large spray of water burst into the air in all directions, as Mark drew back his arms and cupped his hands. "No!" shouted Brady, "Stop!"

Thrusting his hands forward, Mark scooped a large handful of water and flung it at Brady. Gasping from the cold, wet liquid Brady lunged forward and slapped his hands through the falling water, which immediately caused Mark to shriek and fall backwards.

"Hey! No fair!" he whined as he struggled to climb back up to his feet.

Standing back up as quickly as possible, Mark jumped high into the air and stomped his feet down into the puddle. Through the massive spray of water, Brady sprung forward and grabbed Mark by the waist and pulled him back down to the grass.

Water splashed and sprayed in all directions as the two boys laughed and giggled in the, now incredibly muddy, water. Attempting to keep Mark on his back, Brady sat on top of him and held him down by pushing down on his shoulders. However, the slippery circumstances soon allowed Mark to wiggle free.

As soon as he detected Brady's grip loosen, Mark rolled over and crawled away as fast as he could. "Hey!" shouted Brady. "Get back here!"

Against his better judgment, Mark turned his head to see how far away he had made it, only to discover that Brady was right behind him. "Noooooo!" he cried, as Brady grabbed his ankle and pulled him back toward the mud.

Brady quickly crawled over top of Mark and flipped his body over. Mark's entire face was covered with a thin layer of soupy mud, and he was laughing so hard that he was having trouble catching his breath. Lowering himself down, Brady wiped the sludge off of Mark's face and kissed him on the nose, causing Mark's laughter to slowly diminish.

"What are you doing, silly?" asked Mark, staring up at his filthy companion.

Brady just grinned and then kissed him gently on the lips. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Mark looked shocked and confused, which caused his right eyebrow to rise. "Nuh-uh," he finally said, pushing Brady off of him. "No way, Mr!" he continued, while trying to crawl away from the mucky grass. "There's no way I'm losing my virginity in a cesspool!"

"A what?" Brady looked down at the drowning grass. "It's not that bad. Besides, I wasn't gonna..."

Mark turned his head to face Brady, while still crawling away. "Liar! I'm on to you!"

"Umm, okay - sorry?" said Brady, as he spun around and turned off the water and then followed Mark out of the mud. "So, now what?"

"I dunno," replied Mark. "I was contemplating getting cleaned up, though," he said with a giggle.

"Good idea," agreed Brady as he slid his hands down his forearms in an attempt to squeegee off the mud. "I guess, after that, we could walk into town to see if the store's open yet."

"Hmmm," said Mark, appearing to have fallen into a deep thought. "Do you think we have enough money for some cookies?"

"Yeah," replied Brady. "We should anyway. But only on the condition that we also get a big bag of marshmallows."

Mark smiled and nodded. "Oh! And some wieners, too!"