This is gay love story between two boys Some chapters may contain references to sexual activities involving them and others.. If you object to this, you are urged not to read it. If reading this causes you to violate any laws in your community, please do not do so. The author does not condone the violation of any laws. This story is copyrighted 2002 under the pseudonym Omnius. You may not copy or distribute this story in part or in whole without the consent of the author.

This is primarily a romance. There will be some sexual scenes later in the story, (and some of these may be rather intense), but if that is your primary purpose in reading the story, you might be disappointed.

I wish to thank all you have written to compliment my story and to encourage me. I appreciate it very much. I also wish to thank Richard Lyon for listing my story on his site "Gay Writing on the Internet" at . There are many fine writers represented there and I urge you to check it out. If you would like to comment on my story, please email your comments to .Thank you for reading my story!

Cottonwood Park

by Omnius

Chapter Seven

The cool October breeze blew the now short curls across Trevor's forehead as he and Timothy stood over the picnic table outside the Cottonwood Park rec center. Eric Lindstrom was resting his head in boredom on his hand as Mike Torino stared in vain at the chess board, desperately trying to find some way of averting the checkmate that was certain to come in two more moves. Timothy shivered and zipped his windbreaker as he looked across at his friend. Trevor had been bitterly unhappy that first day in the sixth grade at North Park Elementary when Mr. Dixon, the principal, (or, as Trevor now referred to him, Mr. Dickman), sent him home for a haircut. Even Allen's angry protests to the school board and impassioned letter to the editor of The Fremont Chronicle had failed to save Trevor's locks. No one, (except Trevor), had mourned those locks more than Timothy. But, as the other's attention was held by Mike Torino's attempt to stave off the inevitable, Timothy stared at his friend's delicate lip, the cheeks which grew pink in the late afternoon chill, the high cheekbones, the soft brown eyes, the long eyebrows, slightly darker than what was left of the dishwater blond hair above. The now familiar Feeling came over him again as Trevor's eyes turned and met his. They both smiled.


They turned and Mike was sitting back, a look of disgust on his face.

"Come on, Mike," said Eric sadly. "Don't talk like that."

"I'm sorry, it's just... man, I never win. You always beat me."

"Come on, Mike. You always kick my butt in football. Everyone's good at something."

Mike sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Another breeze kicked up as Mike and Eric put the game back in its box.

"Man, it's late. I need to get home or my old man's gonna skin me," Mike declared.

"Yeah," said Eric as he picked up the box, "there's a lot to skin there!"

"Oh, yeah, beanpole?"

Trevor stood up. "Yeah, I need to get home, too. I need to write my speech for tomorrow."

Timothy looked at his friend in amazement.

"You haven't written your speech yet?"

Trevor grinned. "I know what to say. I just have to organize it. Don't worry. I'll kick your butt."

"So what are you two talking about?" Eric asked as he placed the chess set in the basket of his bike.

"Aren't the 6-B's having a mock election?" Timothy asked.

Mike rolled his eyes.

"You know Mr. Smith is the laziest teacher at North Park. We don't do shit."


"Sorry, Eric."

Trevor and Timothy grinned at each other.

"Well, the 6-A's are having a mock election," Timothy continued. "All the Democrats in the class had a convention and nominated Trevor to be Hubert Humphrey and all the Republicans had a convention and nominated me to be Richard Nixon."

"So who's George Wallace?" Eric asked.

"Jimmy Blankenship," Trevor responded. "His convention just had him and Rodney Porter."

"That figures," said Eric. "So, who's gonna win?"

"Nixon," said Timothy as Trevor said, "Humphrey."

Eric grinned.

"Come on Trevor. Everyone in Kansas is a Republican. Everyone's going to vote for Nixon."

Trevor jammed his hands into the pockets of his Levi's as he declared, "They haven't heard what I'm going to say. Dad says people are intelligent and they just need to be educated. Once they understand all the facts, they'll vote for Humphrey."

"Well, ya'll have fun," said Eric as he mounted his Huffy and pedaled off.

"Yeah," yelled Mike as he did the same.

Timothy shivered slightly as he looked across the picnic table at his friend. The fragrance of burning leaves filled the air as dozens of red maple and brown cottonwood leaves scattered across the concrete patio of the rec center. He looked down at the table.

"What's the matter, Tim?" Trevor asked as he came around and sat next to his friend. "You look funny."

Timothy shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I just don't like the idea of going up against you. You're my best friend and I don't want to beat you."

Trevor sat down.

"How do you know you're going to beat me?"

Timothy grinned ruefully.

"Everyone in Fremont is a Republican. Nixon's going to win. Besides, everyone knows you're not from here. You don't sound like us and you don't look like us. They're not going to vote for you. I hate to say it and its not right, but thats the way it is."

Trevor looked downward and replied softly, "So, I'm an outsider."

"No! It's not that. It's not you. It's just the way it is."

Timothy put his arm around Trevor's shoulder. His friend, stiffened at first, and then leaned against him.

"Besides, I think I've got some pretty good arguments in my speech."

Trevor grinned. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Timothy grinned back. "I'm not going to tell you. Are you crazy?"

Trevor chuckled and then the two just sat, arms around each other, watching the setting sun and the blowing leaves.

"I admit," Trevor said softly, "that I wish we both were for the same guy. I was really disappointed that you went to the Republican side instead of coming over with me. It would have been real fun working together."

Timothy squeezed him tighter. "You're my friend, Trevor. I love you. You know that."

"I know. I love you, too."

But, just as Trevor lay his head on Timothy's shoulder, from behind them came, "Oh, gross!! You two are fags!"

The boys jumped and found Daniel Weinberg at the corner of the rec center with a thrilled yet disgusted look on his face.

"You gonna kiss each other now?"

"Go to Hell, you stupid jerk," Trevor yelled as he stood up. Daniel saw the anger in Trevor's face and stepped back.

"I saw you hugging," he whined.

"So what? We're friends. Ever wonder why you don't have any friends?"

"I'm not a fag," Daniel replied defiantly.

"Neither are we," Trevor responded menacingly as he stepped forward. Daniel turned and ran around the rec center, but not before yelling, "I'm telling everyone at school tomorrow!"

"Stupid git," Trevor spat as he turned back toward Timothy.

Timothy looked worried.

"What's a fag?"

"Nothing," Trevor replied heatedly. "And, we're not fags. We're friends. And, I don't care what that stupid jerk says. You're my friend and I love you."

Timothy looked down at his lap.

"Maybe," he said softly, "it isn't normal for boys to love each other."


Timothy started at Trevor's language.

"There's nothing wrong with friends loving each other," Trevor continued. "Its not like we're boyfriend and girlfriend."

With guilt, Timothy realized that he did feel that way about Trevor. He loved to hug Trevor. He loved to spend time with him. They understood each other. They finished each other's jokes. Trevor was the cutest boy in the world.

And that is when Timothy looked at Trevor with shock and surprise as the meaning of what he was thinking suddenly dawned on him.

Trevor said nothing as he saw the look of recognition on Timothy's face. He knew what was going through the boy's head, for it had been going through his own as well for quite some time.

Timothy turned around back to the picnic table just as another gust of wind sent a shiver through his body. Trevor sat down beside him, his legs outside the table. He looked around and, seeing they were alone, put his left arm around the front of his friend and pulled him to him. The two boys looked into each other's eyes. Timothy knew what was going to happen and he could not stop it. Nor did he want to. Slowly, their faces came together. Timothy closed his eyes, as did Trevor. When their lips touched, a thrill flowed through his body. His penis was stiffer than it had ever been.

It was almost a minute before they pulled apart.

"I love you, Timothy."

"I love you, Trevor."


Timothy felt a tightness in his stomach as his class made its way back into the room from afternoon recess. It was time for the campaign speeches, after which would come the voting. During the entire day, Trevor had maintained his usual smiling confidence and tried to shake Timothy's anxiety, but with little success.

"Tim, man, you're going to do just fine," he said as they took their seats by the window. "Don't be so worried."

"Trevor, I know I'm going to do fine. That's the problem. I don't want to beat you."

Trevor's face softened. "Come on, man. It doesn't matter. Just do your best and do what's right. If you win, great. If I win, great. It doesn't matter. You're still going to be the best friend in the whole world."

"Isn't that sweet?"

Standing a dozen feet away and listening to the entire conversation with a hateful sneer was Jimmy Blankenship.

"The boyfriends are making each other feel better!"

Trevor stood up.

"What are you taking about, Blankbrain?"

Jimmy scowled.

"Weinberg told us all about you two holding hands at the park yesterday. What are you, a couple of fags?"

"No, we're good friends. And, do you really believe anything that moron would say? He doesn't have any friends and all he wants to do is irritate everyone else."

Daniel was outraged.

"I SAW YOU!" he screamed.

Several others in the class started laughing at Daniel and, suddenly, Timothy realized that Trevor had deflected the attention from them to their irritant. He felt guilty, in a way, as they had been holding hands. Not only that, they had been hugging and kissing. But, Daniel was such a jerk.

"What is going on?" Mrs. Swan demanded as she entered the room.

"Daniel's being a dip again," Jimmy responded as he sat down.

"Jimmy, don't use that language in this class," the teacher admonished. Jimmy simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Now, its time for the campaign speeches. Is everyone ready?"

Trevor nodded happily. Jimmy shrugged. Timothy took a deep breath and smiled wanly.

"Good. Ladies and gentlemen, after drawing three numbers earlier from the fish bowl, we will begin with the Democratic Party's nominee for President, the Vice-President of the United States, the Honorable Hubert H. Humphrey."

Trevor stood up and walked to the lectern.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began with confidence. "America is in a terrible war in Vietnam and we must stop it as soon as possible. I pledge to you that if I win, I will do everything I can to negotiate peace with North Vietnam and bring our troops home!"

The class erupted into applause, except for Jimmy and a couple of his friends. Timothy clapped as well.

"But, its not just the war that we need to worry about. We have to end poverty and discrimination and bring justice to everyone in America no matter if they are black or white or rich or poor. President Johnson has started a war on poverty and we have to finish it! As long as children go to bed hungry in the richest country in the world, we have to fight poverty! And we need to have the best schools in the world for ALL kids, not just white kids, but ALL kids!"

The applause were not as loud, but still polite.

"Vote for me, Hubert Humphrey, and we'll end the war in Vietnam and win the war on poverty!"

About a fourth of the class stood up and cheered. The rest booed or made catcalls.

"Very good. Ladies and gentleman, we will now hear from the nominee of the American Independent Party, the Governor of the State of Alabama, the Honorable George C. Wallace."

Jimmy stood and hammed up his waves as he walked to the lectern. But only his close friends, cheered. Trevor and Timothy both applauded.

"You need to vote for me, George Wallace, because we need to quit pussy-footing around in Vietnam and beat those gooks who keep killing American soldiers. We're Americans! They can't do that to us!"

Several kids cheered, but Trevor shook his head and Timothy looked in surprise at the reaction around the class.

"And, we need to stop all this rioting around the country. We need to call out the army and start shooting rioters. If you don't like living in America, then MOVE!"

More kids cheered. Timothy was shocked.

"Vote for me, George Wallace, and we'll take America back from the Commies and the niggers!"

More kids cheered, but Trevor stood up indignantly.

"You can't say that! Mrs. Swan! You can't let him say that!"

"Jimmy," Mrs. Swan declared with anger, "you can't use those kinds of words in this class."

"Hey, I'm just giving a campaign speech and telling it like it is!" he responded.

"James Blankenship! And anyone else in this room! If I ever here that word spoken in this classroom again, I will waste no time in sending you home and asking the principle to suspend you! Is that understood?"

Jimmy scowled and looked down at his desk, muttering, "It ain't fair."

"Well, now. Let's move on to the final candidate."

Timothy felt a tightness in his chest and his hands were shaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Republican candidate for President of the United States, the former Vice-President, the Honorable Richard M. Nixon."

Several kids started chanting "Nixon's the One! Nixon's the One!" as Timothy walked slowly and unsurely up to the lectern. He looked out at the classroom, gripping the sides of the lectern nervously. His eyes met Trevor's and his friend smiled and nodded.

"Ladies and gentlemen. America is at the most dangerous time in its history. We are in a war that seems like it will never end. College students are protesting all over the country. Afro-Americans are rioting and burning down cities. People don't trust each other. We have to bring everyone together. As President, I, Richard Nixon, will end the war in Vietnam and bring all of our soldiers home. Humphrey can't do it because he was Vice-President when the war began. He helped President Johnson start the war. And, remember. Every war that has started in the Twentieth Century has been started by a Democrat President. I was the Vice-President when we ended the war in Korea that Harry Truman started and I will be President when we end the war in Vietnam!"

The class cheered.

"And, when the war is over, we will be able to spend more money on schools and putting poor people back to work and cleaning up the environment. So vote for me, Richard Nixon and we'll end the war!"

The class stood and cheered. Despite his misgivings, Timothy smiled and in a moment of spontaneity, raised his hands in Nixon's trademark "V for Victory" salute. The kids went wild.

Trevor was shaking his head as Timothy sat down.

"Thirteen to seven! I don't believe it!"

Trevor and Timothy were standing in front of the school watching the afternoon traffic on Twelfth Street pass before the crossing guard gave them the right-of-way. Timothy could barely look at his friend.

"I was sure they would see what I was saying. But, I guess not. This really is a hick town."

Timothy looked up at his friend with tears in his eyes.

"Trevor! You're mad. I knew it. I didn't want to beat you. I knew this would happen. You're my friend. Please don't be mad."

As they walked down Sunflower Street toward Eleventh, the street on which Trevor lived, passing houses festooned with Halloween skeletons and jack-o-lanterns, Timothy tried to keep up with his friend's quick, angry gait. When they reached the corner, Timothy stopped and watched his friend turn and march up Eleventh. Sadly, he turned around and headed north again, to his own house.


"Daddy, I need to talk."

His father was seated once again before the workbench in the basement, once again smoking a Pall Mall, trying to fix the motor on one of Andy's trains. The transistor radio was playing the Paul Mariot Orchestra's "Love is Blue." His little brother was perched on his stool and glared jealously at Timothy as he walked in.

"Daddy's helping me! Come back later!"

"Hey, Andy Pandy!" his father admonished. "That's not nice. I can help everyone." He reached across and hugged his younger son while Timothy stood nervously at the door.

"Come on, Timmer. You've been like a bump on a log all evening. What's up?"

Timothy slowly walked forward.

"Well, we had our election in class today and Trevor was Humphrey and I was Nixon and after our speeches, I won thirteen to seven to three. I didn't want to beat Trevor but I had to do my best and he told me that he understood and that he wanted me to do the best I could and when I won he was upset and he said he wouldn't be upset and I'm afraid I've lost the best friend a guy could ever have and I just want to die."

His father smiled warmly at his, set the train engine down on the bench and put his arms out to his son.

"Come here."

Timothy came over to his father, who wrapped his arms around him.

"Look, Trevor is your best friend. He's a good guy. He's not going to let this ruin your friendship. It probably does hurt him that he lost. But, I know Trevor and he's a good guy and a strong guy and his friendship with you is a lot stronger than you might think."

"I should have done a bad job and then he would have won and he wouldn't be mad at me."

His father pushed him away and, holding him by the shoulders, looked into the boy's eyes, and declared, "Timothy, I don't ever want to hear you say something like that again. You always have to do the right thing, even if you know it's not popular. You always have to stand on your own two feet and be a man. Would you have any respect for yourself if you just threw away the election and let your friend win?"

"He'd still be my friend."

"Would he? Maybe the reason he's your friend is because he knows you're a good and decent person and you have strong principles. If you threw the election, do you think he would still respect you?"

Timothy looked down at the floor in misery.

"Look, a long time ago, the Chicago White Sox got into the World Series. And, lot's of boys around the country were rooting for them because Shoeless Joe Jackson was their hero. But, they threw the Series to help some gamblers win some money. And, there's a story about a boy who asked Shoeless Joe, `How could ya?' That boy was heartbroken because his hero let him down."

"I'm not Trevor's hero."

"Yeah, you are."

Timothy looked up. It wasn't his father speaking. He looked at the door to the workshop and saw Trevor standing there, tears in his eyes.

"Tim, if you hadn't done the best job you could, I would have thought you were a woosie. You're not a woosie. You stood up there and did the best job even though you were afraid of losing me as a friend. That took a lot of guts. I know I told you that I wouldn't get mad, and I did, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Tim, man, you're the best friend in the world."

The two stood looking at each other. Timothy said nothing, but Trevor could see in his eyes all the answer he needed.

"Oh, man, I'm gonna upchuck," Andy declared. His father bopped him on the head.