Date: Sat, 18 Sep 1999 00:20:52 EDT
From: Rysh1422@aol.com
Subject: Bleeding Hearts

Okay...this is gonna say the same thing these kind of things always say,
but just in case this is your first time reading one (wow, I'd feel
honored) I'm gonna say it anyway. Don't read this if you find romantic
relationships between males offensive. This is a mystery/romance and it's
gonna develop kinda slow, so don't even bother if your just looking for a
quick jerk...go read Joshua if you want that. (Just kidding Luke!) O yeah,
and someone is gonna die eventually in this story...just warning you now.


Bleeding Hearts

Chapter 1

There is a flower native to North America called Bleeding Heart. It's a
delicate looking plant with long arching branches that, when it blooms, are
covered with tiny heart shaped blossoms. Each blossom has what looks like a
drop of blood coming out of the bottom of it - hence the name. It likes
shade and doesn't much care for wind. Unfortunately, we were getting a lot
of wind today.

	I was sitting at the window overlooking the garden watching the
wind blow furiously through the brightly colored flowers. Many of the
plants had already lost their petals, but so far the bleeding hearts were
holding their own. Which is more than I could say for myself. I was feeling
more and more lost by the second.

	I stood up and went outside into the storm; no one said anything to
me and I wasn't surprised. Once outside the wind buffeted my body and the
driving rain almost instantly soaked me, my tears mixing with the
raindrops. I didn't care. I was half hoping the raging storm would blow me
away - or at least blow away storm raging inside me.

	Maybe I should back up. I've probably lost you already. I'm not
even sure where to start. But I guess like Lewis Carroll said in Alice in
Wonderland, "Start at the beginning and when you come to end...stop."

	My name is Killian - Killian Travers Kendall. I'm 16 years old and
a junior in high school. It's only two weeks into the school year, but I've
already learned a lot, mostly about myself. I'm not the same person I was
on the first day of school. But we'll get to that.

	My father is the chief of police in the small town that we live
in. It's an old fashioned town and my father is an old fashioned kind of
man. Over all I would say I've been a disappointment to him. He was the
star of his football team, had every girl in the school drooling over him,
handsome, charismatic: he had everything going for him. I, on the other
hand, couldn't catch a ball if you held a gun to my head, have never dated
a girl and I'm very shy. I took after him in looks though, that's something
at least. I have the same piercing blue eyes (which I hide behind glasses),
wavy blonde hair and strong, even features. I weigh in at about 135 lbs and
5'7". My father's been trying to get me to try contacts for years, but the
idea of sticking my finger in my eye is repulsive to me so I've stuck with
my wire frames.

	I guess I get my shyness from my mother. We're a lot alike in
personality. She has a way of melting into the background, almost
chameleon-like. No one ever remembers meeting her. The only time she ever
seems animated is when my father is around. It's almost like she worships
the ground he walks on. And that's where the similarity between us ends.

	I don't have any real close friends, but I hang out with Asher
Davis, Jesse O'Donnell and Zachary Phillips. We are the same age, but
that's about all we have in common. They all three play soccer like it's
the way to salvation, so they are all in shape and very built. Asher has
curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes that are almost black, eternally
rosy cheeks, and is a few inches taller than me. Jesse is a little over six
feet tall, but thin, with reddish-blonde hair, freckles and bright green
eyes. Zachary, or Zack, has brown hair with blonde highlights; blueish-gray
eyes and is about the same size as Asher.

I'm usually the odd man out since I don't play sports and I'm smaller than
the rest of them. I'm the last one to get called when someone wants to do
something, almost like an afterthought. I don't even remember how I ended
up in their little group, I just always have been and its easier to go
along with it than make an effort to find someone that I'd have more in
common with.

But this is all just background. The story really starts with the first day
back to school. I wasn't looking forward to it. I do well enough in school,
but even with my very popular friends I don't fit in and I know it. The
only thing I liked about school was theater. There I excelled. There I
could lose myself in a part. There I was actually looked up to. And there
is where everything changed.

Theater is my last class of the day. My first day had been fairly
uneventful up to this point and I didn't really expect this period to be
any different. The drama teacher, Mrs. Tatum, gave us her usual speech
about this being a "play" class but not to expect any playing. "This is a
serious class," she intoned imperiously.

Just then the door opened and a head popped in.

"Yes?" Mrs. Tatum asked.

The rest of the body came into view. And a nice body it was. I'd never seen
him before so he must have been new. He stood about my height, maybe a
little taller and slightly more built. He had red-gold hair that seemed to
stick up in every direction and elfin features. In fact, he looked
amazingly like an elf. Even to his incredibly green eyes. I wondered if
they were colored contacts. Then I wondered why I cared. Why was I so
intrigued by this guy?

"My name is Seth," he said, "Seth Michaels. I'm transferring into this
class. Here's the paperwork."

He handed her some papers and looked around the room. He carried himself
with an air of confidence. Not arrogance exactly, but not far from
it. After Mrs. Tatum had looked over the paperwork she looked up at him,
staring for a second.

"Looks like its' all in order. Why don't you find a seat, Mr. Michaels, and
we can continue with the class," she said finally.

He looked around the room again and locked eyes with me. I hadn't looked
away since he'd walked in. Maybe he'd sensed me staring. I quickly looked
away. Next thing I knew, he was sitting down right beside me.

"Hi," he said extending his hand, "I'm Seth."

"Killian," I said shaking his hand. He held on a second longer than seemed
necessary then smiled at me before turning back toward Mrs. Tatum. My head
seemed to be swimming and I felt warm. I wondered if I was coming down with
something. I mean I couldn't be attracted to Seth. He was a guy! But I'd
never felt like this before.

I tore my eyes away from him and tried to pay attention to Mrs. Tatum, but
my eyes seemed to have developed a mind of their own. They kept finding
their way back to Seth. I hoped like crazy that no one in the class noticed
my sudden obsession.

Finally the bell rang. I scooped up my books and headed for the door with
my head down.

"Killian! Wait!" I heard Seth call.

I stopped just outside the door and waited for him to catch up, but didn't
turn around.

"Hey," he said when he came alongside me.

"Hey," I said back as I started walking again. What can I say? I'm a
brilliant conversationalist.

"I'm new here," he said, pointing out the obvious, "I'm still getting
lost. Think you could show me how to find my locker?"

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, still not looking at him, "Where is it?"

He told me and we went on in silence. I felt Seth studying me as we
walked. Finally he spoke up again, "Killian, that's a different name. I
don't think I've ever heard it before."

"It's Irish I think," I explained. "My grandfather was from Ireland. He
named me."

"Are you close to your grandfather?" he asked. There was a strange note to
his voice that made me look up at him for the first time since we had left
the classroom. There was look of sadness in his eyes that made me wonder
where the question came from.

"No," I answered, "He died when I was 4. I don't really remember him."

I saw disappointment in his eyes. He had very expressive eyes, like you
were looking into his soul.

"Why? Why did you ask if we were close?" I asked him.

"No reason. Just wondering," he said, his eyes shifting away. Then he
looked back at me again. "I'm not close to either of my grandfathers. They
disowned me."

I looked at him curiously, but I had been brought up with too many manners
to ask why they had disowned him. He read the question in my eyes anyway
and answered.

	"Killian," he said softly, "I'm gay."