Date: Fri, 25 Aug 2023 01:00:00 -0700 From: John Henry Subject: Wish You Were My Dad Chapter 10 (Gay/Adult Youth) DONATION: Nifty is a not-for-profit organization that heavily relies on our donations to keep the site free and accessible. Your donations pay for web hosting fees and other day-to-day activities for the wonderful staff of editors/publishers. You can donate on the website at http://donate.nifty.org/ Every little bit counts. DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction, and contains explicit, sexual content involving adults over the age of 21 and minors under the age of 13, If viewing this material is illegal where you live, OR you're a minor under the age of 18, please stop reading this. If you're not sure about this legatilty, please stop reading until you have looked into your own, local laws. Any likeness or similarity between persons, places, products or concepts are purely coincidental. If you would like to leave any positive feedback, please let me know. Thank you. Chapter 10 It was a long weekend. Thanksgiving was okay. As much as I love my grandmother, I hated her nursing home. The place smelled of cleaner and urine. It was also too quiet, and not in a good way. When Mom and I walked into the building, we could literally feel something bad had happened. Grandma told us that someone on her floor had died during the night. She sounded somber during her brief retelling. Mom and I could tell that it was hard on her, but there wasn't anything we could do. Grandma had been in the facility for just over two years. Grandpa's cancer had been hard on her, and the stress of his death contributed to her stroke. She was paralyzed on her right side and needed constant care that Mom and I couldn't do nor could afford. Luckily, Grandpa's military benefits and work pension was enough to have her in a good nursing facility, but it definitely wasn't home. Grandma was the first person to figure out I was gay. I'm still not sure what I did to set off her gaydar, but she had approached me about liking boys when I was 9. At first, I was completely in denial and embarrassed, then she told me a story of her brother, David, who was gay, and how he had to hide it from everyone, except her. Uncle David died in an accident in college. She had met his boyfriend and kept in touch with him. Come to find out, the boyfriend was bisexual. "And that's how I met your Grandfather," she'd say with a smile. Grandpa and I never talked about it. Grandma said she wouldn't say anything until I was ready. Unfortunately, by the time I was ready, he had passed away. Grandma asked Mom to get her something from a vending machine. Once Mom was gone, she asked, "Do you have a boyfriend yet?" "Grandma!" I whined, more playful than anything. No 13-year-old boy wants to discuss his love life with his Grandmother. "Don't 'Grandma!' me, Michael. I don't have a life here, so I need something more than Days of Our Lives." I rolled my eyes then blushed. "I'll take that as a yes, then. So come on, now, what's his name? We don't have a lot of time." "His name is Todd," I lied. The last thing I needed was for Mom to overhear anything, but it did feel good to finally talk about Dylan. I told her that I met in school and that we hang out all the time. That's kind of where the lies ended, as I went on to tell her how amazing "Todd"/Dylan was, how well he treats me and how I can't stop thinking about him. "He sounds like a wonderful, young man," Grandma said. "He's the best. I couldn't have asked for anyone better." "That's wonderful, Dear. Are you using protection?" "Grandma!" I was both shocked and embarrassed. "You have to be careful, Michael. You don't want to get the AIDS." "What?!" I tried not to shout. "Nobody has AIDS." "Have you been tested? I've heard they're doing that now." "Who's getting tested?" Mom said, and I could've died. "Nobody is getting tested," I said. "Then how do you know if they have the AIDS?" Grandma asked. "Who has AIDS?" Mom asked. "Nobody has AIDS. There is no AIDS!" I demanded. "Did they finally find a cure?" Grandma asked, sounding hopeful. "I don't think they did," Mom asked, taking a seat and handing Grandma her snacks. "Oh my God," I said, "Nobody is getting tested, because nobody has AIDS. There is a test, but there's no reason to have a test." "So you are using protection then?" Grandma asked, sounding both relieved and concerned. "Are you having sex?" Mom demanded. "No, I'm not," I said, then realized my mistake a little too late. "Why not?" Grandma added, sounding scandalized. "You can't tell someone has the AIDS just by looking at them. Not to mention you can get all kinds of other things from sex, like herpes and gonorrhea. Condoms aren't just for birth control, you know." "Who are you having sex with?" Mom snapped, ignoring her mother. "Michael Andrew, you better answer me right now!" "I'M NOT HAVING SEX WITH ANYONE!" I shouted. "I'M STILL A VIRGIN!" "Good for you," some old man said from his wheelchair just outside the door. I was fifty shades of red from humiliation. "Mom," I said in desperation, "I'm not having sex. Sex has not happened for me, and at this rate, it probably never will. Grandma, it's called HIV, not 'the AIDS,' and I'm fully aware of how to use a condom because they taught us about them and other STIs in school, okay. I don't need to get tested, because I haven't had sex yet, and I don't plan to anytime soon. And, on that fateful day a million years after you both have died, I will use a condom, okay? Is everyone happy now?" "Well," Mom said, and I readied myself for the tongue lashing I probably deserved, "do you have a boyfriend then?" Again, Mom and I have never discussed my sexuality and I was certain she had figured it out; however, it was still a shock to have been asked so directly by her. "No, I don't have a boyfriend." I replied, sounding very nervous and unsure. "Maybe you should get one, then you can spend time somewhere else than at Dylan's." "Who's Dylan?" Grandma asked. "Oh, he's the neighbor I told you about. Michael's babysits for him, but Michael is at his house all the time, even when the guy's daughter isn't there. They're practically inseparable, and this one here doesn't ever stop talking about him. It's always Dylan this, Dylan that. It's like they're dating or something." I felt the icy cold chill of anxiety and fear run down my spine. As Mom told on me about Dylan, I caught the look of understanding in Grandma's good eye, as she pieced things together. Due to her stroke, I couldn't tell what she was thinking. "He sounds like a nice fellow," Grandma said, after Mom stopped going on about Dylan. "I guess, but there's something wrong about a man that age wanting to hang out with a 13-year-old like that." "Clare, would you be a dear, and get me a bag of potato chips from the machines?" "Mom, we're going to be having dinner soon," my mom protested. "I know that, Dear, but they'll be for later when you and Michael leave, since I can't get them myself." Mom agreed and left the room. Once Grandma felt we had some privacy she asked, "Is Dylan the boy you called Todd?" "Yes, ma'am," I said, already expecting a lecture. "You know it's inappropriate for a man that age to be with a boy your age, correct?" "Yes, ma'am." "But you can't help who you fall in love with," she said with a relenting grin. "I don't approve of the age difference, mind you, but I also can't stop you, and telling on you would only make things worse. But," Grandma added, just as I was about to break my face from smiling, "you can't expect this to end well. I know you can't imagine it, because you haven't experienced it, but this crush you have on this Dylan person, whether he feels the same way or not, isn't healthy and not likely to end well. Either he'll find someone else, tell you he's not interested, or worse, he could go to prison, and I have little doubt your mother would make sure of that last one. "If you pursue your feelings for this man, and make no mistake he is a man and you are still just a boy, you're looking at a world of hurt and heartbreak. I'm not going to tell you to end things with him, but you need to be prepared for things to go bad in the end." "Yes, ma'am. I get that Mom wouldn't be happy about it at all, which is why I haven't said anything to her about any of this. And you're right, I don't know if Dylan feels the same way, but he might, and I don't know what will happen because of it. I just know that I'm not ready to let go of him yet, and so far, there's no reason to." "You're rather mature for your age, Michael, and that's why I'm not very upset with you about this, but maturity doesn't necessarily equal wisdom. No matter how safe and cautious you think you're being, you will make mistakes and someone, including you, could get hurt." Grandma gave me a lot to think about. I loved Dylan with all my heart. The wet dream was kind of the last sign I needed to convince myself of that. I basically jizzed in my pants, while laying on top of the guy and he didn't freak out. If that wasn't love, I didn't know what was. But, I also didn't want Dylan, Tiffany or Mom to get hurt because of my choices, and these were my choices. Everything Dylan and I had done up to that point had been with my and (to my knowledge) Dylan's consent. I never felt pressured to do anything, though I definitely wanted to do a whole lot more. But Mom and the cops would never, ever see it that way. I was still a kid, and an adult fooling around with a kid, consenting or not, was still very illegal. Unlike most kids in my situation, I didn't take Grandma's words of warning as permission. She made it clear enough that she didn't approve, but she wasn't in a position to stop me short of telling my mother. And she was also right in that, should Mom ever find out, it would probably drive me further into Dylan's arms. I decided that there was only one thing I could do at that point: I needed to tell Dylan how I really felt, and I needed to know how he really felt about me...even if it meant risking everything. ***Coming Soon, Chapter 11***