Date: Thu, 31 May 2018 16:05:00 -0400
From: footboi <footboi@protonmail.com>
Subject: 'The Messiah' Gay/Young Friends (bb) a story by footboi

This story is fiction, written by an author over the age of 18. All names,
places, descriptions, and events are purely fictional and any relation to
any real person is purely coincidental. This work contains intimate acts
between boys if that scenario offends you, please discontinue reading any
further.

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_________________________

Rumours are like viruses, left unchecked and they spread like wildfire. The
news that a new boy had joined St James's mid-term was fairly unusual and
attracted considerable attention. However, this was no ordinary new boy,
and he soon became the topic of the Senior House. What was learnt depended
upon who was repeating it. Some said that his parents had died in a tragic
accident. Others, that he had been left a billionaire's fortune. Some were
even convinced that he had never been to a British school before and had
spent his whole life traveling with nannies and servants and could speak
four languages, but no English! The most outlandish, that he had never worn
clothes before! Like all rumours there were grains of truth behind them
all. However, the wilder speculation about his linguistic abilities and
personal habits were rather fanciful and perhaps, wishful thinking. The
object of all this excitement went by the name of Tom Carrington. Yet,
there was one boy in the Senior House who took little interest in his
arrival. That was David Woolley, and he had other things on his mind. Or to
be correct, just one thing, and that went by the name of Cory Kerrin.

For the last four months, David had become so preoccupied with his single
encounter with this boy he had begun to live a detached existence. He was a
year ten pupil at Wiltshire's finest boys boarding school, and his parents
only child. They had invested everything they had in him and more
besides. Yet, to those who knew him best, they may as well not have
bothered. This world no longer meant anything to him.

David was once a model pupil at St James's, which made his decline all the
more painful to witness. His school uniform, once kept meticulously smart
and clean, had become progressively dishevelled and unloved. He allowed his
brown hair to become tousled, thick, and greasy and he no longer took pride
in his work. The repeated detentions for failed assignments and for lack of
effort in sport had no affect. Nor did he care much about the opinions of
others and was no longer bothered to participate in the usual class
banter. With each passing day he became more distant, his mind dominated by
the memory of his encounter with Cory Kerrin.

They met by chance via a chat forum. Cory was a couple of years older and a
rebellious hacker, and David, the naive public schoolboy. He was soon under
his spell, especially when the conversation turned to sex. They had spent a
single erotically charged night together only to part, never to see each
other again. Yet, it transformed David forever.

Now, each waking moment David relived that meeting, and only with great
difficulty did he accept that he probably would never meet his vision of
perfection again. This only intensified his sense of loss. It was a feeling
he could not share with anyone and it distanced him from the world around
him. The School, its rules, family, friends, and even those who loved him
had become completely meaningless to David. Only Kerrin could make his
world whole again. Or, so David thought until the day Tom Carrington
arrived at Wiltshire's finest.

"Woolley! Mr Bridges wants to see you sharpish!"

The voice belonged to Chris Perret (known as 'Parrot' to all the boys). As
David lounged on his bed after school he looked up at Parrot and in
annoyance at being interrupted, replied, "Okay! Okay! There is no need to
shout!"

Five days younger than him, David had shared half his life with
Parrot. They joined St James's as seven-year olds at the same time. Now
both fifteen, they shared a four-bed senior dormitory with two other boys
they both also knew since the beginning. The school's policy of keeping
pupils together throughout their entire school career was considered good
for morale, it also encouraged mutual support and kept what ought to remain
secret among boys very secret. No boy was expected to kiss and tell on a
friend.

David regarded his friend as he disappeared around the door and thought
about why he no longer found him attractive. He had seen him naked often
enough to know every curve and peculiarity on his body. He thought about
Parrot's feet. His second and third toes were webbed together like a duck's
and were once objects of David's fascination. As were his non-uniform
testicles; one resting a good inch lower than the other in its sac, as was
his birthmark just under his left nipple, both of which he had kissed a
thousand times. Yet, he knew exactly why his passion for Parrot had waned.

Like the school as a whole, he was simply too plain and predictable for
David. He was just like any of the other 253 boys at St James's. He behaved
no differently, thought no differently and even kissed no differently. To
David, Parrot had come to typify how boring his life had become at this
place. Cory Kerrin, though, was quite the opposite. Yet, what concerned
David the most was the fact that he was exactly like Parrot. Maybe that's
why Kerrin had disappeared leaving him lost, he thought.

"Hey David! You were supposed to be there, like two minutes ago! It's about
that new little kid, Carrington!"

Parrot's insistent voice brought David's thoughts to an abrupt halt. His
excitement made David realise that perhaps he should take this summons
seriously.

David only held Mr Bridges eye momentarily. The rest of the time he looked
down at his scuffed shoes. He felt awkward in the presence of his maths
teacher and Head of Year. David knew he had once been his favourite
pupil. That was until he had met Kerrin. After that maths, along with
everything else, did not seem to matter anymore. He knew his recent
performance in class had disappointed Mr Bridges more than most and he
guessed that this Carrington business was probably his idea. After all, he
had tried everything from punishment to even pleading in an attempt to
persuade him to take his life at school more seriously again. David felt a
pang of guilt as he briefly looked up at those disappointed eyes once more.

"I called you at least thirty minutes ago. What took you so long?"

The Master's voice was as strained as the atmosphere in his office. He did
not wait for an answer but, instead, continued, "I want you to do a job for
me. There is a new boy in 'Callahan', the Junior House. We put him there
because he is younger than we were led to believe."

David was puzzled by that detail. Why bother telling him that?

As if he read David's mind, Mr Bridges added, "His schooling up to now has
been excellent. He is at least three academic years ahead of our
twelve-year olds in Year Seven. Although he is only twelve himself, it
would be a waste to place him with those boys. Instead it has been decided
that he should join your Year Ten class and that you would be responsible
for him."

"No," said David flatly. He didn't want to do this. He did not need this
distraction.

"No! What do you mean by, no?"

Mr Bridges was now on his feet, his face dark with anger.

"I do not recall giving you a choice in this matter! Do you realise that I
chose you for this task in the face of advice from all the Senior Masters
and Mr Rowe the Headmaster!"

The emotion in his voice rose as he spoke. "I have tried to protect you
while you have been on your self-indulgent rebellion! But I can accommodate
you no longer. They want you out of this school and if you fail in this
task you might as well go for all I care because you will have let me down
for the last time!"

As Mr Bridges paused for breath his words still echoed around David's
head. He knew the Master had said far too much and should not have revealed
a private staff room discussion. It had never occurred to him that he had
upset the teaching staff to a point that he was near expulsion. It also
hadn't occurred to him how much Mr Bridges had liked him.

"Carrington," Mr Bridges continued, "will either be your nemesis or your
messiah. That choice is yours. Now get out!"

Mr Carter's monotonous voice had the ability to make the last fifteen
minutes of Geography seem like fifteen years!  So, when he could, David
stole a glance at Tom Carrington. He could still barely believe what he saw
when that small kid strolled into the form classroom for the first time
after morning Chapel. All 25 pairs of eyes, including David's, were on
him. He just stood there, all blue-eyed cool, next to Mr Bridges who
introduced him to the whole year group.

"...And Woolley will be responsible for Carrington for the rest of Hilary
Term. Is that understood Woolley?... Woolley?... David!"

"...yes ...Yes, Sir!"

"Come on David, wake up!"

David reddened at the use of his first name. Normally Masters and boys use
the formal second name to address each other. To use the informal first
name implied familiarity and closeness between a Master and pupil;
something frowned upon at St James's. David felt, rather than heard the
sniggers of his classmates around him.

"I am sorry, Sir. I understand, Sir." David added for good measure to
re-establish the formal relationship.

As Carrington stood there in front of them he directly challenged
everything a new pupil aged twelve at Wiltshire's finest could and should
be, according to the senior boys. The length of his white blond hair broke
school regulations. Yet, David knew instinctively that no one would force
him to have it cut. Though he wore the official school uniform it looked as
though it had been personally designed for him. New boys always stood out
because they looked awkward and embarrassed by a uniform that hung off them
as if it were three times too large and made of stiff cardboard. The
jerseys were always too big, the shirt collars oversized, while the
trousers looked like you could lose two boys in them at the same time and
never even notice. It usually took a boy about a half a year to grow into
his uniform, if he was lucky. Carrington did not require any such good
fortune.

What was even more shocking was the blatant way Carrington broke two of the
most sacred of fashion rules held dear by all boys. The first was that no
boy, no matter how young or small, should ever wear shorts when they joined
big school. While this remained an option for Junior House pupils, no boy
would dare to take it. Obviously, no one had informed Carrington.

There he stood in a pair of shorts that David suspected had not been
supplied by the School Shop. They fitted him so snugly that they emphasised
the shape of his still sun-tanned thighs. This was reinforced by the way
they rode indecently high up his legs. From where his shorts ended and his
knees began, there must have been at least five to six inches of exposed
bronzed flesh. They were also gathered neatly around his crotch to ensure
the outline of his hidden jewels were apparent to anyone who cared to
look. To David, the whole scene was indecently sexy. When he looked at the
other boys, he knew they thought so too.

True, Carington's jersey was slightly large for him, but this only had the
effect of underlining how feminine he looked. His long blond hair cascaded
over the collar of his white shirt and just kissed the top of his
shoulders. If he did not know better, David would have thought he was
looking at a girl, so delicate were the new boy's features. The sandals he
wore merely reinforced this effect, and these broke the second hallowed
rule of fashion at St James's.

Carrington's sandals were not even the standard T-bar kind that a few poor
unfortunates had to wear. They were the old-style open toed leather
kind. It was Hilary term, it was freezing, and at that moment a February
gale thundered outside, which only made this choice seem absurd. Yet the
sandals, along with the very short grey socks so thin one could easily see
his bronzed toes within, were Carrington's deliberate choice. If he
intended to attract attention, he had certainly succeeded.

His socks were folded low enough to expose his ankles as well as most of
each Achilles heel. They seemed to merge with each single thin strap that
struggled to hold his sandals to his heels and only served to emphasise his
vulnerability. From his ankles to his exceedingly short shorts there was
only naked, hairless, sun kissed flesh. It made Carrington look obscenely
erotic and there were 25 pairs of eyes that were extremely grateful to him
for breaking St James's rules.

The bell signalled the end of Geography and David was already out of his
chair. He had to put himself physically between Carrington and the scrum of
senior boys who wanted to chat to him. It was no surprise to David that
Parrot led the charge. Shielding Carrington, he guided him out and away
from the building and sat him down in relative peace on the grass verge.

"Wow, what a crush!"

Carrington's accent was strange to David's ears. He had heard American,
Australian, even South African accents often before. This was nothing like
any of those. It was flat but sang sweetly when spoken in that high-pitched
voice only a pre-pubescent boy possessed. It was what a rootless accent
would sound like, David supposed.

"Where are you from," David asked.

"Everywhere, and nowhere," came the reply.

"Sorry, I expect everybody asks you that," said David, slightly
embarrassed.

He did not allow Carrington to answer because he was too curious about this
boy.

"Aren't you cold," he added as he gestured towards Carrington's legs.

Carrington followed his gaze and then looked back up at David with a smile
on his face.

"No way am I cold," Carrington retorted, "I have been to places ten times
colder than here," and then added with a devilish smile, "why, don't you
like what I am wearing?"

David loved what Tom Carrington was wearing. His erection attested to that
fact. Being in such close proximity to the boy only made his dick ache the
more.

"Well, here it's not cool to wear those," David replied. He felt his face
redden as he pointed towards his charge's shorts and sandals. He feared
that even naming either item would tip him over the edge and ejaculate.

But Carrington was insistent. "You didn't answer my question. Do you like
what you see?"

David bit hard into his lip until he tasted blood.

"Well," enquired that beautifully melodic voice impatiently.

"Yes," David whispered slowly through gritted teeth, "you look fantastic."

"Good," said the younger boy in a matter-of-fact tone, then added, "so you
are my bodyguard? Hadn't you better start guarding?"

 With that Carrington was back on his exquisitely sandaled feet and had
begun to walk towards the science block. They both had double Chemistry to
endure next.

It was nearly mid-night and not one of the boys in David's dormitory could
find any sleep. For the past two hours they had been discussing just one
topic, 'the new boy'. David knew that two of his dorm mates were near
climaxing from their not so private exploitation of their dicks. So often
had he heard the familiar sound of beds creaking to the regular beat of
members vigorously rubbed in the senior dormitories. Parrot, the most vocal
about his opinions and intentions towards the new boy, remained still. This
was strange because when Chris masturbated he was never shy about anyone
knowing. It was then that two thoughts occurred to David like a one-two
from a heavyweight boxer. As he lay there irritated by his erect dick, he
realised that he had not thought about Kerrin since he had first laid eyes
on Carrington. The second was the realisation that Parrot was waiting for
him.

Since his encounter with Kerrin, David had been totally disinterested in
Chris Perret. Sex with Chris had been a habit for as long as he could
remember. Despite his attempts to hide this fact from him, he knew that
Chris had been badly hurt by his recent behaviour. That he never took him
into his confidence must have been especially hard for his friend, David
surmised. Yet, somehow, Carrington's arrival had awakened David's yearning
for his oldest and best friend. Boldly, in front of his two near-climaxing
dorm mates he slipped naked out of his bed and timidly raised the quilt on
Chris's bed and slid in next to his friends warm and equally nude body.

He felt Chris tense as he slid his hand across his smooth flat chest, at
the same time he pulled away the quilt to reveal their naked bodies. He
lightly pressed down on Chris's lower abdomen to indicate that he wanted
him to lie still. In the half-light he could see Chris's ramrod-stiff
five-inch dick point at a 30-degree angle towards him as it twitched to the
beat of his heart.

David curled his fingers around the base of Chris's dick, pausing to stroke
the mop of pubic hair that surrounded it. He played with Chris's feathery
tuffs, flattening them against his pubis before slowly moving on to those
testicles he had once so adored. He took hold of the higher one and rolled
it between his fingers and thumb for a while. It felt like one of those
small high-bounce rubber balls that the younger boys liked to slam against
the bicycle rack wall during break time. He then took its twin and gently
squeezed them together within their ball sac. This elicited a soft moan
from Chris's lips. The teenager's fists were clenched white-tight on either
side of his body and his dick glistened in the half-light as seminal fluid
dribbled freely from its tip. David had always enjoyed Chris's testicles
and their owner's response to his manipulation of them. However, what he
enjoyed even more was the fact that Chris possessed a dick to match his
own.

It always surprised him how smooth his friends dick was, even in its
aroused state. David loved to curl it in his fist and feel its soft skin
glide like a silk glove across its stiff rod within. As he held it firmly
in his hand he enjoyed its weight and sensation. Impatiently, his friend
began to rock his hips as if trying to copulate on David's hand. With that
signal, David tightened his grip and began to pound, up and down, along
Chris's heated shaft. The teenager tensed, gasping with pleasure, his
right-hand hovering over David's preoccupied fist, tapping it slightly
either to urge him on or to slow him down depending on his state of
ecstasy.

David soon tired of being led and began to pound Chris's dick as fast as he
could. Chris soon gasped at the shock of his ejaculation and David became
aware of two other faces in the dim light. This did not bother him as he
rubbed Chris's spilt milk into the boy's chest and abdomen. After all, it
was his turn now and he rolled over to present his equally engorged dick
for Chris to seize what he had so badly missed these passed months. David
knew that he would not get much sleep that night.

Hilary Term had only two weeks left in it. David could not believe how
quickly time had flown or how much his life had been transformed by the
arrival of just one boy. Carrington had charmed everybody, as David had
guessed he would. Masters and boys, alike, had fallen under his spell, even
'Old Musty' as well. Gone was his ancient plaid jacket he used to wear to
every boring History lesson, Now, and totally out of character, he was seen
in a different new brightly coloured jacket every week.

That was not all. Musty's History lessons were revolutionised as well! Mr
Musto, long known by the nicknamed 'Musty' by the boys, had decided to
revisit the Ancient Greek that David's class had learnt back when they were
ten year olds in Year Six! Much to everybody's pleasure, Old Musty insisted
on Carrington modelling the 'Chitoniskos'. This was an exceedingly short
smock that was the very basic form of clothing customarily worn by boys and
men in Greece during ancient times. For three glorious double history
lessons Carrington sat there crossed legged and barefoot in nothing but
what looked to all the hormonal teenagers like an exceedingly short white
dress. What was more, it was slit to the waist and barely held together by
a loose cord draped around the preteen's very thin hips. It was a vision
that would live with David for the rest of his life.

Musty himself had also been changed. The most miserable and decrepit Master
in the whole of St James's used to deliver excruciatingly boring History
lessons. Now, he was reinvigorated. Gone was the sarcastic bully that all
the boys loathed. In its place they discovered a witty, imaginative, and
considerate man who began to take a real interest in all the boys in his
charge, both in David's class and beyond. Within a term, the longest
serving Master at St James's had become the most popular, and his lessons
the most anticipated and fun for David and his classmates. However, he was
never quite sure what Carrington thought about all of this.

The crowning moment came on the daylong Geography field trip. Until that
day Carrington had remained an enigma to him.  As his guide, protector and
mentor David had an official excuse to seek out and spend as much time as
he wanted with this very attractive twelve-year-old. This would have been
impossible for a senior boy if these exceptional circumstances had not
existed.

Carrington tolerated his presence, but he did not appear to value it
either. Indeed, he seemed to take David completely for granted. It is true
on occasions he did flirt with him. At teatimes, for example, Carrington
would occasionally put his bare-feet on David's lap as they lounged around
the senior common room. He appeared oblivious to David's reddening
complexion and rising erection caused by the sensation and proximity of his
naked feet. Nor did he pay any attention to the envious and disapproving
glances from the other senior boys in the room. Yet, David did not know
whether this meant that he was special to Carrington or just the victim of
a cruel joke.

Carrington did not seem to need one special friend, although he had many
willing suitors. Instead, he had the ability to befriend everyone.  He was
even happy in the company of the least popular boys in the School. One such
was Peter Dunkfield. Overweight, unattractive, this lazy twelve-year-old
shared dormitory's with Carrington in Junior House. Dunkfield was always
the last to be chosen for any sports team and had contributed little or
nothing to the House events. Yet, Carrington chose to make a friend of him.

One day David found the two of them in the empty gym late one a Saturday
afternoon. He watched as, hour after hour, Carrington, dressed in nothing
but a white and exceedingly tight pair of leggings, patiently helped
Dunkfield, dressed in a ridiculously large pair of gym shorts, sweat
painfully through his gymnastic moves to achieve his school
certificate. Carrington's leggings hid nothing and looked like they had
been painted onto his body.

With a prepubescent cry of excitement, Carrington pulled Dunkfield to him
when he finally completed the last discipline to achieve his
certificate. The sight of his adonis kissing a totally embarrassed
Dunkfield full on the lips as a reward for his struggles, left David as
shellshocked as Dunkfield. Who could only stand there in disbelief with his
erection tenting his ridiculous shorts.

The scene seemed to confirm David's worst fears. There was no one special
in Carrington's world. Indeed, David felt that Carrington only saw him as a
source of amusement, and nothing more. However, the Geography field trip
would prove just how badly mistaken he was.

David felt a pang of envy as the boys paired off at the foot of the hill to
go about their assigned tasks. The sun had barely risen when they had
arrived at the nature reserve. Although it was now May, there was still an
icy chill in the air and the hedges and fields were coated in ice.

Carrington defied Mr Carter's strong protests and insisted on wearing his
shorts and sandals. He even removed his socks to prevent them from getting
wet in the melting dew. As a concession to his Geography master, he did
accede to his wish that he wear a thick jersey under his fleeced waterproof
jacket.

His white legs stood out in stark contrast to everyone else's, dark green
wet weather clothing. Yet, he made it look like the most natural thing in
the world to be dressed that way. So, when Carrington chose Deaning to be
his partner, rather than David, the wound was keenly felt. David began to
resent lucky Deaning, who looked totally shocked to receive so much
attention from the adorable Carrington.

Most of the morning David remained in a sullen mood. He had hoped that just
for once Carrington would publicly acknowledge him as a special
friend. Instead, he had not even acknowledged him at all, as he and the
unremarkable Sam Deaning bummed around together all morning.

"I'm sure he likes you really," said Parrot half mockingly, "just not in
this life time, Woolley." Parrot chuckled, congratulating himself on his
well-crafted joke. David thought about planting his knee into Parrot's
delightful groin. Instead, he replied, "You are lucky I only hated you
during your last lifetime. Back then you were a virgin Saxon maiden and I
was an invading Viking, and you know what happened next... "

David was stopped mid-sentence by the sound he would not forget for a long
time. It was a sound only a boy who had reached the advanced stages of
puberty could manage. The other boys had already gathered in a semicircle
at the meeting point by the time David and Parrot had arrived. They had
been watching Mr Carter struggle in the drizzle to light the gas fire that
was meant to cook their lunch. Now everyone looked to see what the cause of
the commotion was at the top of the hill.

The noise had come from Deaning who now frantically waved, stumbling and
ran down the hill. In the wind, it was hard to make out exactly what he was
saying.  As he got closer, there was no mistaking the panic in his voice.

"It's Carrington! He fell! It's not my fault...! it broke clean off! Oh my
god I think he's hurt bad," he shouted in his breathless teenage voice.

It did not make much sense but the message was quite plain.  Something
terribly bad had befallen Tom Carrington.

As Deaning lay on the grass panting to recover his breath, a deathly
silence fell over the party as the enormity of his words sank in.  As
expected, it was Mr Carter who snapped the spell.

"Right, you lot," he gestured toward the group of boys with a sweep of his
hand, "get back down to the Park Ranger's Office and explain what has
happened. Once there, stay put until I return, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," came the reply in unison from twelve teenage voices.

"OK, Deaning, show me exactly where Carrington is. Let's see if we can sort
this out."

"No, wait..." said Deaning, as he still fought to regain his breath, "he
doesn't want you... um, Sir."

"He doesn't," exclaimed Mr Carter in disbelief.

"No, Sir, he wants Woolley," replied Deaning as he looked up at David's
disbelieving face. "Yes," he repeated, pointing at David, "he wants you!
And we had better hurry I think he is hurt really badly."

Now all eyes were now on David.

"In that case," said Mr Carter, his voice rising to regain control of the
situation, "David, you come too. The rest of you get going and get help
quickly!"

With that, the two groups parted. David and Mr Carter, lead by Sam Deaning
headed towards the hill while the rest of the party, at a steady jog, went
to raise the alarm at the Ranger's Office that was three miles away.

The cliff over which Carrington had fallen surprised David. While he had
known there were treacherous sections in the Park; he never thought that
they were this dangerous. The path they followed had very thick foliage on
either side even though winter had barely ended. It ran right to the top of
the limestone hill that was edged by a rocky cliff.  He could see how
someone might easily take a misstep and fall through the foliage and over
the south-facing cliff. Below the path was a seventy-meter drop. Carrington
had been playing tag with Deaning, and in his desire to escape his clutches
he had taken one step backwards too many and had fallen over the edge.

They peered down and could see the boy draped awkwardly but face up on a
ledge about thirty-meters below their vantage point. His face was a grey
white and blood smeared his nose and mouth. His jacket was undone and
spread wide open to reveal his jersey through which blood also seeped. The
force of the fall had rearranged his clothing and revealed his ribs and
stomach as well as the shorts he wore. His naked legs were spread out over
the edge of the small ledge and the sandal on his right foot was
missing. Worst of all was the state of his left arm. Even from their
vantage point they could see that it had been badly broken. It protruded
out from Carrington's body at a grotesque angle and made David feel
physically sick just to look at it.

"Sam, David, which of you would like to try and climb down to Tommy with my
jacket? It will help keep him warm until assistance arrives."

David had noticed that Mr Carter had switched from the formal to the
informal way of speaking to the two boys. This began the moment
Carrington's wish for David's presence had been made known.  Although he
was still plainly in charge, Mr Carter now treated the two boys as partners
and equals rather than just pupils.

"I think I can make it Sir," David volunteered with no confidence that his
actions could in anyway match his words. He had to try for Tom's sake.

It took David a fraught twenty minutes to find a way down onto the
ledge. All that time Sam Deaning and Mr Carter shouted a mixture of
directions and encouragement to David. They even hugged each other when
David finally got onto the ledge. It was a journey he had no wish to repeat
ever again.

"You are so rubbish at protecting me, bodyguard!"

David saw a spark in Tom's eyes the moment David reached him as he slowly
turned to greet at his saviour. All too soon, it went out once more.

David was appalled at the state he found Tom in. His blond hair was
streaked with dark blood as it was splayed across the rock that had become
its pillow. The rose colour of his cheeks that David knew so well had gone,
replaced by a dull green and grey hue. The patch of blood on his jersey was
thick and growing. This, and the state of Tom's left arm really scared him.

"Don't die Tommy, please don't die!"

"I can't die, my hero's here," came the halting reply.

David took Tom's hand in his. It was deathly cold. He draped Mr Carter's
jacket gently over him and then, with utmost care, snuggled under in a
forlorn hope of putting warmth back into those frozen limbs. He looked back
up at the two heads above, and with tears in his eyes he shook his head
slowly to answer their inquiries.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the helicopter arrived...

As Mr Bridges' car turned into the hospital car park David felt a pang of
rising anticipation in the pit of his stomach. It was two long weeks since
the incident at the Nature Reserve and school term was about to end. This
was his first opportunity to visit Tom Carrington since he was well enough
to have visitors from School. He had been to see him twice before with Mr
Stanhope, the Deputy Headmaster, but on each occasion, Tom was not strong
enough to see anyone.

"Well, David, it is good to hear that your messiah is now back on his
feet," Mr Bridges remarked as their footsteps echoed down the Hospital
corridor on the way to the Children's Ward.

David looked at the man who walked beside him. His smiling face told him
that he had remembered the conversation they had what seemed like an age
ago. The day that his fate was bound to Tom Carrington's. A great deal had
happened since then.

He thought about the moment they were both hauled into the helicopter, its
blades beating so loudly it felt like his insides would turn to jelly. He
remembered the pride he felt when Tom refused to let go of his hand
throughout the duration of the flight, and how he had kissed it as the
paramedics and doctors finally parted them at the door to the Accident and
Emergency Department.

He also remembered how embarrassed he felt after his arrival back at the
Senior House. It was very late and he was cold, hungry and exhausted. He
was still in his damp wet weather hiking clothing too. As he turned towards
the stairs that led to his dormitory, he was surprised to be greeted by the
applause from the entire Senior Year group; all the boys, the Matrons and
Masters alike, led by Mr Carter and Mr Bridges.

"I'll be in the Canteen David," said Mr Bridges as they reached the door to
Tom Carrington's private room in the Children's Ward. "If you need me,
you'll find me there, otherwise you have an hour."

"Cool, my bodyguard is here to save me again," greeted Tom with a delighted
giggle. He immediately dropped the comic he was reading and swung his legs
off his hospital bed and on to the floor. Then he invited David to join him
on his bed.

"Thanks for coming, I have really missed you," he added in a low serious
voice.

Throughout the car journey David had fantasised about exactly what Tom
would look like when he saw him. He was half right. Tom was dressed in only
a tiny pair of gym shorts, while on his feet he wore a pair of thin red
flip-flops. The sight made David feel overdressed in his
uniform. Nevertheless, he followed the boy's gesture and sat on the bed
next to him, close enough to feel Tom's warmth.

What he underestimated was how much the extent of Tom's ordeal was still
apparent. His blond hair was shorn to his scalp. Although it had begun to
grow back, it could not hide the ugly wound that marred his head just above
his hairline. Yet, Tom still retained that familiar feminine air about
him. Also, his chest remained bound in white bandages that supported the
three ribs that had fractured. Along with his punctured lung, they were
healing slowly. Tom's left arm was still encased in a green cast, from his
forefinger to almost his shoulder. Although supported by a sling, the three
bolts protruding out of it made him look very vulnerable.

Once he had sat on the bed, Tom immediately swung himself back onto the bed
too, letting his flip-flops fall to the polished floor, and settled with
his back to David letting the weight of his body fall on to his back. Every
warm movement was now shared between the two boys, and neither said a word.

It must have been ten minutes before anyone spoke, and it was David who
broke the silence.

"Tom," David enquired cautiously, "Did you mean any of that stuff when I
helped you after you fell," he asked.

Through his back he could feel, as well as hear Tom's giggled response.

"You are such a dork sometimes bodyguard. Of course, I meant it! I would
have killed Sam if you hadn't come to save me," Tom replied. His voice
quivered slightly as he relived the fall all over again.

This really puzzled David. "So... you really like me? I mean... do you like
me especially... more than the other guys?"

David watched Tom wince with pain as he stopped leaning on him and swing
his legs back around again.

"You are such a thick," he whispered as he put his right arm around David's
neck and pulled his lips down to his.

Their kiss was as passionate as David had ever experienced. A male nurse
entered the room and stood in silent surprised at the sight of the two boys
until David noticed that Tom had waved his hand at the man to shoo him
away. Obediently, the nurse left. When he had gone, Tom rested his head on
David's knees and chuckled, "That will upset him tonight."

By now David's mind began to race. He could not believe that the object of
his desire had felt similar feelings for him all along. He began to see his
life at St James's quite differently now that Tom would be his friend. His
heart sang. Looking down at the young face now resting on his lap David was
just about to speak when Tom silenced him with a finger pressed lightly
against his lips.

"You will not see me again after today, bodyguard," Tom said. The sadness
in his prepubescent voice was clear.

The words hit David like a train. In an instant, his world was shattered.

"But why not," he asked forlornly.

"I am leaving St James's, David," he replied, "now that I am strong enough,
I will leave tomorrow for a place in Switzerland to get my arm fixed up."

David did not want to hear any of this. He had just found, both, the love
of his life and himself once more. Now, both were slipping through his
fingers again.

"No! I will not allow it! You cannot go! You have to stay here with me!" He
stopped himself abruptly, startled by the strength of his anger.

Tom, with his head still on David's lap, simply smiled at him sadly. Then,
with a sigh, replied, "You are such a silly bodyguard. I am not your real
friend, and you've known that all along, haven't you?"

"No," denied David vehemently. "Who is it, if it's not you," David's heart
turned cold. How did Tom know about Kerrin?

"Parrot, of course, silly," said Tom in answer to his question.

The mention of Chris's name caught David by surprise. He had not realised
that this was the reason why Tom had kept him at arm's length.

"Tom," he said gently, as he reached down and stroked the younger boy's
cheek, "you should have told me. There is nothing now between Chris and
me."

Tom simply shook his head.

"That is not true, bodyguard," he said forlornly, "he has been your best
friend all your life, and cares about you more than I ever could."

Tom took hold of the hand that tickled his cheek and continued, "I am a
little butterfly that flitters here and there, sampling honey whenever I
choose. I flash my beautiful wings, and then I am gone, never committing to
anything, never to be seen again."

Tears welled up in Tom's eyes as he spoke, and David willed him to stop,
but knew he would not.

"David," Tom continued as tears flowed freely down his face, "I love you so
much. That is why I must leave. My world is a dark place and I care about
you too much to allow you to enter it. Stay with your Parrot."

David struggled to acquaint these words with the young boy in his arms. Not
even Kerrin, had spoken to him like this. He realised that Tom had been
protecting him all along or was it the other way around? Was he was
protecting him from himself?

"Anyway, I do not fit in at your school, and besides, it is boring staying
in one place all the time," Tom added with an unexpectedly revitalised
giggle.

Reluctantly, David knew Tom was right. He hardly knew anything about him
and, yes, if he was honest, Chris, and not Tom or Kerrin, was the love of
his life. He was amazed that it took a boy so young to point this out to
him. For that, he would be forever grateful to Tom Carrington. So, at last,
he conceded to Tom's logic and asked, "Where will you go?"

"I don't really know," replied Tom, his eyes focussed a long way beyond
David's. "When I am stronger, Old Musty has invited me to Greece. So, I
think I had best get used to being in a Chitoniskos every day!"

The two boys laughed. Then David lifted Tom gently off his knees and began
to kiss him once more until Mr Bridges quietly slipped into the room.

"We'll all miss Tom Carrington," Mr Bridges said breaking the silence in
the car as they returned to St James's, "he's been good for the School. I
also see that he has been good for you too, David."

"What will happen to him, Sir," David asked.

"It is hard to say, David," replied Mr Bridges, his brow furrowed as he
spoke. "He is a very wealthy young man with a good brain. He's in good
hands as well despite the death of his parents," Mr Bridges responded
reassuringly.

"Musty... um I mean Mr Musto is taking him to Greece soon, Sir."

"Yes, I know," replied Mr Bridges, "actually Mr and Mrs Musto were invited
by Tom's Guardians to accompany him. They are quite fortunate."

"Sir," David asked, "do you think I could go too?"

He had not given up on Tom Carrington quite yet.

"That is an interesting idea David, and I am sure Tom would think so as
well. I'll investigate and let your mother know if you can during the
holidays."

David was realistic enough to know that he might not be allowed to go. Yet,
he was pleased that there was even the faintest chance.

As the car slowed at the front gates of St James's, Mr Bridges turned and
put his hand on David's shoulder.

"Welcome back David," he said simply.


	25