Date: Mon, 8 Aug 2016 01:55:29 -0400 From: Bob Markus Subject: The Cabin in the Woods Part 6 -- Please consider donating to the Nifty Archive, the services provided by this website, and its staff are among the best on the world wide web. Disclaimer: This story contains descriptions of sexual encounters of a homosexual nature between men. If it is illegal for you to view such materials, due to age, or other variables, please do not continue; if you continue, you assume all responsibility for your actions. Readers: My apologies for the error in the titling of the previous, and subsequent, sections of this story. The content is correct, the titles are off by a section number. -- Day 6: The day continued from the scene at the campfire after I had arrived back at the cabin from searching for Bentley, in much the same fashion as when I had returned to find him staring deeply in the fire. He ignored my existence, and if he did speak to me, it was short phrases with a great amount of hostility behind each syllable. It was nearing the late evening, and I was getting fed up with Bentley's shit. When I had cooked up the remainder of our fish and potatoes, I offered him a plate, and when he didn't so much as look at me as I handed them to him, I snapped. "What the fuck is your problem?" I screamed. He looked at me, for the first time that day. His face contorted in anger, his eyes narrowed as if an animal preparing to attack. Instead of attacking me, as I had prepared myself for, he took a deep breath and let free a large sigh. With venom in his voice he spoke: "I see the way you look at me when you think I ain't looking. I feel your eyes on me all the time." "Yesterday, I knew what game you was playing. I only went along because I was tryin' to see if I could feel the way that you feel about me." "And I did." "I realize that you are more important to me ..." "I realized... that if you weren't there for me I'd be nothing." "I just..." "Just don't want to feel like this. It kills me inside to think that I might be gay." "That I might never have a family, that I might be a outcast because I'm some dirty faggot." I slumped into the chair across from him, what he said was a lot to take in. The one thing that I had wanted for so long... and I had it . . . and it made him miserable. It was time I cleared my conscience. "No matter how well I thought I hid it; I guess I knew all along that you knew exactly what I was thinking." "I mean I give it away constantly." "You are the only guy I've ever wanted so badly and I hate myself for pushing my feelings on you yesterday." "I hate that the thing that I wanted so much ... causes you so much pain. I only ever wanted your love. I never wanted to hurt you in the process." "I can't stand to lose you," I said, as I started crying. "You are the only person I can trust, can talk to, and the only person I have felt so strongly about for so long," I said between sobs. Bentley sat there, stone faced for a few minutes as I cried. He made no effort to comfort me, instead he walked out of the cabin and off into the woods. I cried harder, feeling that I had just lost my best friend, my almost-brother, my Bentley. I climbed into the bed and pulled all of the covers around me. As I cried, I pictured the day we had first met. It was our first ever day of school, my mother put me on the bus, and I picked the first seat that I laid my eyes on, even though there was another kid sitting there. A little boy with dark brown eyes, brown hair, wearing a Spiderman shirt and carrying a Spiderman backpack. "I'm Cole." I said, with that little-kid mentality unaware of shyness. "I'm Bentley." He replied. As with all little kids, we became friends instantly. It only added to our friendship that we were in the same kindergarten class. We played games with each other at recess. We put our mats right next to each other during naptime, at least until the teacher had to separate us `cause we were talking too much. We remained good friends the whole way through elementary school, and then through middle school, and even through high school; even though it became evident around eighth grade that we were growing to become two very different kinds of people. He was audacious and manly, whereas I was reserved and girly. We balanced each other out, kind of like Yin and Yang: he was the Yang to my Yin. To think that everything that we had been through, all of the firsts... that first deer season when our dad's had taken us hunting, and Bentley and I fell asleep under a big pine tree; that first time we shared news of what was happening to our pubescent bodies; that first time we had made out with a girl; even that first time we had sex with a girl. We'd gone through everything together, and now our friendship looked as if it were going to disintegrate completely. Destroying all of the memories we had made and shared. I was going to lose that boy from the first day of school, that boy with the Spiderman shirt and backpack, that boy—my Bentley. #(I suggest reading this next section with the song, "Remember Everything" by Five Finger Death Punch playing in the background.)# I must've fallen asleep amidst all of my crying. When I opened my eyes it was pouring down rain outside. Perfect weather to match the mood. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, so he had to have been around. As I sat up I spotted him sitting at the table. I figured that he had been watching me sleep. I got up from the bed, hoping that I'd be able to make a little coffee to boost my spirits. I put the tin percolator on the ledge of the fireplace, letting it get hot before I added the water into the cup with the coffee-bag. I asked him if he'd like a cup, while I was digging through the kitchen bag. He replied quietly that he would. Two cups of black coffee ready to be drunken sat on the table with steam venting off of them. I took a sip from mine as I stared out the window watching the lighting dance across the sky. I figured that I would get struck by lightning before Bentley would say anything to me. We would be leaving in roughly 12 hours, after that our path was uncharted. At the beginning of the week my only hope had been that I could get Bentley in bed, and now my only hope was that he would talk to me and that we would remain friends. I turned my head to look at him. He had been looking at the fire, until he saw me looking at him that's when he put his head down and stared at the floor. "Please just talk to me." I plead with him. "I can't." He said. "You just did." I joked. A small smile stretched across his face. "Bentley . . . I can live knowing you don't like me `that' way, I just can't live without you in my life." The smile faded, and he started brushing invisible dust off of his jeans. "I jus' don't know how to feel." He said. "Me either." "I hate this." He said. "Tell me about it." I replied. "At least you had the balls to try `n' get what you wanted." "And look where it got me, I'm going to lose my best friend." For the first time, Bentley looked me dead in the eye, "No. You're like my brother. And you always will be." I stood up, moved towards him, and gave him a hug. "I wish I could say that I love you, without it being awkward." I whispered in his ear as I hugged him. His body tensed as I said the phrase `I love you'. The hug lasted longer than what would have been considered acceptable in any situation, it was beginning to get weird. I let go of Bentley and returned to my seat across the table from him. "I'm sorry." I said. "It was nice. No worries." "I love you too." He added a moment later. "Just not -that- way." He added a moment later. As long as he was there, I figured I could bare that he would never feel for me as I felt for him. "I'm not ready for this trip to end." I said, my gaze fixing on the bed opposite the table. "I am." I knew that he didn't mean that towards me, at least I hoped he didn't. "I just feel that it's easier to be myself here, away from the prying eyes." "I never could've told you how I felt, at home." He stiffened and taking a large breath he said, "I never would've knew that I could feel for you, if it wasn't for this trip." "There've been good and bad parts of this trip," I said. "The last day being the bad part." "It wasn't bad." Bentley said with the tenderness of a doting mother. Silence fell over us. It remained silent until daybreak. To think that our excursion was coming to an end within the next hour or so. And to think, that we would probably never speak of the events of this week again, though I knew that I would never forget those events; and it was likely that Bentley would reflect upon those memories in pain. The duality of a beautiful, or even an ordinary, moment is something which I would never forget -- Thank you guys for your readership, and for the emails that I have recieved. If you wish to be notified of updates to this series, drop me and email at the address in the header, or at dick101697@gmail.com Thank you!