Date: Fri, 8 Sep 2023 01:00:00 -0700
From: John Henry <niftyjhenry1988@gmail.com>
Subject: Wish You Were My Dad Chapter 11 (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 11


I spent the next couple of days after our visit with Grandma psyching
myself out to talk to Dylan about my feelings for him. Clearly, I was
nervous as fuck. I mean, who wouldn't be? Dylan said I could talk to him
about anything and made that clear more than once. This is the guy, after
all, who carried me from a corn maze, covered in my own piss and didn't
complain once, so I felt that I shouldn't be nervous...but I was.


I tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone as young as I
was to Dylan confess their love to me...but that person wouldn't have
been born yet, so I had to think of things from a different angle.
Instead, I remembered in 4th grade when Jenny McIntyre told me I was cute
and she wanted to be my girlfriend. I had figured out that I liked boys
and not girls before then, and I was very weirded out by it. I remember
saying, "Thanks," and walking away; she's hated me ever since.


I didn't want Dylan to hate me, and I thought that, even if Dylan
rejected me, I could never hate him. However, I needed to know how he
felt about me, and our time apart was making that feeling grow with each
passing moment.


On Sunday, I was so full of nervous energy and anxiety, I could barely
hold still. Mom was at work, making up for having Thanksgiving off; plus,
her store was having sales all weekend, and they couldn't afford to do it
without her, apparently. With no-one to talk to, I spent my time cleaning
the apartment. I did all the dishes, laundry (including folding),
vacuuming, cleaning out the fridge, and I even cleaned and rearranged my
room. I was a boy on a mission!


Dylan got home about mid-afternoon. I gave him a few minutes before
heading over, so it wouldn't seem like I was stalking him, though I
definitely was. I knocked on the door and was greeted with a smile and a
hug.


"I was wondering when you were going to show your face," Dylan said,
letting me.


"Here it is," I said, all smiles.


Dylan closed the door and pulled me into another hug, but this time, it
came with a kiss...a long one; still no tongue, though. "I've missed
you," he said, still holding me close.


"I've missed you, too," I said, feeling my resolve start weakening. I
looked around and asked, "I Tiffany taking a nap?"


"Um, no," Dylan said, sounding hesitant. "She's with my parents
still."


"Oh, so it's just you and me, then?" I tried sounding casual, but I
don't think I pulled it off.


"Yeah, just you and me, Mikey." Dylan sounded nervous, which only set
off my own nerves. "Hey, come and sit with me. There's something we need
to talk about."


I didn't want to move. I recognized that tone, and I've heard words and
phrases similar to what Dylan had said. Several of Mom's boyfriends used
that tone before telling me I'd never see them again. I instantly started
to silently cry before I got to the living room.


Dylan sat down first. When he looked at me, he looked shocked and
concerned before saying, "Whoa, Mikey, what's wrong?"


"You're moving away, aren't you?" I began to sob and hyperventilate. It
never occurred to me that Dylan might leave me, but here we were, having
"the Talk" I always have with the guys I liked.


"What? No! I'm not moving away!" Dylan exclaimed as he pulled me onto
his lap, hugging me. "Why would you think that?"


I hugged him as tight as I could. I was shaking and trying desperately to
catch my breath. I don't think I had ever cried that hard, including when
we saw the spider in the corn maze. Dylan was a saint. He held me and
gave me the time and emotional support I needed to calm down. I
repeatedly whispered that he loved me, that I was safe, and kissed my wet
cheek several times.


Once I was calm enough, still in Dylan's arms, I finally replied to his
question. I explained the tone and how, every time a guy had used it,
they were telling me goodbye for good. Dylan hugged me tightly, again,
and I hugged him back in kind.


We pulled away a bit, and Dylan wiped my face dry with his shirt. I
inhaled his scent fondly. If I hadn't just had a near-total meltdown, I
might have gotten hard from it. He then brushed my hair back from my face
lovingly and said, "My sweet son, I'm not moving away, so you have
nothing to worry about." Dylan kissed me on the lips again to make his
point. I totally melted.


"Then what do you want to tell me?" I asked, remembering what sparked
all of this.


"Oh," Dylan said, clearing having forgotten himself. "I have taken a
job out of town and will be gone for the next two weeks."


I was in shock. A part of me was glad he wasn't moving, but most of me
wanted to start crying again. Three days was bad enough. Two weeks was
torture! I could tell from the look on his face that he definitely saw
the panic on mine. "Don't worry, Mikey! I will video chat with you
everyday. Here," he said, as he sat me on the couch. He got up, went to
his room and returned with a wrapped present. "I know your birthday is
coming up next week, and I'm sorry I won't be there for the party;
however, I got you this, and I promise, we'll have a family outing when I
get back; just you, me, Tiffany and your mom...if she wants to go, too."


I took the small package from Dylan, while also noting his hesitation at
the mention of Mom. I unwrapped the back and nearly screamed. Dylan had
bought me a brand new smart phone. The one I had was one of Mom's old
ones, and I could barely do much with it. "Oh my God," I said, not
knowing what else to say.


"I hope you like it," Dylan said, sounding a little nervous from my
reaction. "I got the last purple one they had."


I looked up at Dylan with tears in my eyes. He remembered my favorite
color, though I think I only told him once, months ago. "I love you," I
said, unable to stop myself.


"I love you, too," he replied, seemingly pleased that I wasn't upset.


"No," I continued, "I love you."


Dylan seemed perplexed and said, a little confused, "I love you, too,
Mikey."


"No," I insisted, "I love you. I'm in love with you."


Dylan's face fell. "Oh."


It was the same "oh" he used when I told him I liked boys and not
girls.


Panic set it. I needed to recover the situation. I hadn't meant to say
any of that, at least not like I had. I planned my speech for days, and
made sure it wasn't going to be anything shocking or emotional. I planned
to just be upfront and say that it was okay if he didn't feel the same
way, and that I understood if he didn't. However, the "oh" caused all
my hard work to vanish in an instant, because it did matter if he loved
me or not. It did matter whether or not he felt the same way I did. In
truth, it had always mattered, ever since the day I helped him wash his
car.


"Do...do you love me, you know, the way I love you?" My voice was small
and full of anxiety.


"Oh, Michael." He had called me "Michael"! He never called me
"Michael"! Dylan took my hand as I started to cry again. "Hey, I still
love you, but I don't think I'm 'in love' with you. I know things have
been very intimate between us. Seeing each other naked...sleeping next to
each other...and kissing...and then, the other day with the wet dream...I
knew we were moving somewhere we can't ever go."


"I won't tell anyone, I swear!" I begged. I was desperate for him to
love me back. "Nobody has to know!"


"It's not that simple, Michael." There was that fucking name again! "I
haven't told you this, yet, but Tiffany isn't my daughter. She's actually
my niece."


The news shook me, and I stopped crying. "What? But she calls you
'Dad'?"


"I know," Dylan said. He leaned back into the couch and wrapped his arm
around me, pulling me into him. "I don't really talk about it. You see,
Tiffany's mom was my older sister. Deb died in a car accident just after
Tiffany was born. My sister was drunk and ran off the road. Luckily, my
parents were watching Tiffany. I got custody of Tiffany afterwards
because my parents couldn't take care of her. I dropped out of college
and started working to support us.


"I guess that's why I don't have a problem with you calling or thinking
of me as your dad. I'm already playing that part for Tiffany, so I didn't
see any harm in doing that for you. I haven't regretted it either. You
are an amazing, caring and kind boy, and I would be proud to have you as
my son...but that's all we can ever be, Michael. If we were ever more
than that...and got caught...I would lose Tiffany forever. She has no-one
that can take her. My parents can barely do it for short periods of time.
These next two weeks will already stretch them to the brink. In fact,
what I planned to ask you was if you could still babysit while I'm gone
to help my parents out, but after all of this, knowing how we feel about
each other..."


"I can watch Tiffany," I offered. "I don't mind."


"Thank you," Dylan said, "but we need to talk about your feelings for
me, but I could even feel comfortable asking you that."


"I didn't mean it."


"We both know you did, and I know I encouraged it. I asked too much of
you, as far as trust and being close. I can't keep asking you to do
things, because it feels like I'm taking advantage of you and your
feelings for me."


"But you're not!"


"How am I not, Michael?"


"Please stop calling me 'Michael'!" I snapped. As much as I hate being
called every other form of my name, from Dylan, being called 'Michael'
was like running fingernails over a chalkboard.


"I'm sorry, Mikey. I was just trying to make sure we were having a
serious conversation."


"I think me telling you that I'm in love with you, and you rejecting me
is enough without you calling me by my full first name."


"You're right, but I'm not rejecting you, at least, not entirely."


I was getting confused and frustrated. "What do you mean 'not
entirely'?"


"My feelings for you haven't changed, even if yours will change towards
me after all this. I still love you and always will, but my love isn't
romantic."


"Then why did you kiss me the way you did?"


"I've been asking myself that all weekend, actually, and I still don't
have an answer. There is a part of me that has feelings for you, but I
don't think to the extent you have them for me. I haven't been with
anyone in a very long time, and I miss having that closeness all the
time. Being with you fills that void for the most part, and I think I've
been kissing you like I have because I miss having someone I can be
intimate with on a physical level.


"But you're almost 14-years-old. Not only is it still illegal for us to
be sexual, it also feels inappropriate, like I'm using you to get what I
want. Kissing you the way I have been has been like having my cake and
eating it, too. I get to have the intimacy without risking Tiffany, my
family and my job, but it comes at the risk of losing you and everything
you mean to me.


"You mean so much more to me than sex. You mean so much more to me than
lust. You mean as much to me as Tiffany does, Mikey. I really, really
wish I was your dad. I don't like having a day where I don't see you. I
don't like that I can't hold you all the time. I don't like that I can't
check on you at night while you're asleep. I don't like that I don't have
a say in your life.


"I guess, in a way, I am in love with you," Dylan said, realizing
everything he had just said. "I think about you all the time. I cherish
every second I have with you. I make you and your well-being a priority.
And, most importantly, I make your happiness a priority. You mean the
world to me, Mikey, and I can't ever risk losing that."


"But?"


"But, we can't ever be anything more than what we were before this talk.
You can call me 'Dad' all you want. I will call you my son. I will
always, always be there for you, but only as a friend and parental
figure. I am not saying you can't have your feelings towards me. You are
entitled to your feelings and they're very valid, but I need you to
accept that I can't have those same feelings for you."


"I understand," I said, and I did. I didn't want to, but I did. "I
knew we could never have sex, and I was never looking to have sex with
you. I've thought about it, like, a lot, but I've known from the
beginning we couldn't. I don't want to lose you, and us having sex would
do that. If Mom ever found out, she'd make sure of that.


"Dad, I know I will always love you. And maybe, someday--in the
future--things might be different. I just wanted to let you know how I
felt, since you said I could talk to you about anything. You wanted to
know who the lucky boy I dreamt about the day I had that wet dream...that
boy was you. It has always been you. I don't know if it will always be
you, but I don't think it will ever be anyone but you."


The look on Dylan's face was too complex for me to read. I could see love
and conflict in his eyes, though. He leaned in and kissed me on the lips.
He pulled away and said, "Thank you for sharing that with me." He
pulled me onto his lap and held me. We just sat like that in silence for
at least an hour. So much had already been said that continuing the
conversation would've been fruitless. We just clung to each other and
expressed our love and affection for one another that way.


I went back to my apartment just before Mom got off work. Dylan said he
still needed to pack and had to leave early the next day. I plugged the
smart phone into the charger and saw that I already had a notification.
It was from Dylan.


"Good night, my sweet boy. Love, Dad. <3"


I cried myself to sleep but looked forward to our first video chat the
next day.


***Coming Soon, Chapter 12***