Date: Tue, 17 Jan 2006 14:35:16 -0800
From: Ryan Miller <bluedragon314@gmail.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy Ch. 5

Consider this the second edition of my story. I looked back at my early
works and saw how much I have improved as a writer and thought it only
behooved me to polish up what I had written. So, I went through and edited
the story stylistically and structurally. The story is still the same, just
shinier.


Disclaimer:

This is a homoerotic story I have written, so if you aren't allowed
legally, morally or ethically to read it, then don't. And don't post this
anywhere else without my expressed permission. Feedback is very much
encouraged, so hit me up at bluedragon314@gmail.com.

Ch. 5

I woke up the next morning with Brian's arm draped over my shoulder. He
had apparently had a less restless night than the one before. I looked at
the alarm clock on my desk and it was 5:43 a.m.

'Aw, crap!' I though. 'I hate waking up early.' I was wondering why I
woke up so early and thought back to the previous day when I had fallen
asleep in the late afternoon playing Gameboy. I wasn't sure what to do.
It was too early for anything good on TV. I could go out for a run, but
that was never any fun and it never helped me get any more buff. Besides,
if I went anywhere, I would have to disturb Brian and I might wake him
up.

I wanted to turn around and see his sleeping face again, but he had a
pretty tight hold on me with his arm. I loved playing teddy bear to this
muscle boy. I felt his warm breath on my neck and his chest heaved as he
breathed in and out. I looked down at his arm, his tan, smooth, muscular
arm and wondered if I could stroke it without waking him. And if he woke
up, would he mind? He was apparently embarrassed at the way I reacted in
the doctor's office.

'Why don't you just tell him,' I though. 'If you say you like him, then
stuff like this won't seem so weird. If you just get all your feelings
and intentions out in the open, I'm sure he'll let you stroke his arm, or
stare at him, or more!'

"That's right," I said. "If I just tell him, then all of this wouldn't be
so awkward. But what if he doesn't like me? What if he has a huge crush
on someone else and wants nothing to do with me?"

'Look, what happens if you tell him?'

"I just said: he may or may not like me. There might be another guy."

'And what happens if you don't tell him?'

"We maintain an awkward relationship and I never get to express how I
truly feel. But then I can't feel the pain of rejection."

'Nor can you feel the joy of acceptance.'

"Look, you're not the one who was treated like shit your whole life. I
can't just open up to people and risk them hurting me or me saying stupid
things to them."

'So you would rather be alone than risk pain.'

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying that if I only open my heart to
certain people at certain times then I don't run the risk of feeling
bad."

'If you never open your heart, you can never get rid of all the bad
feelings you are keeping in there.'

"All these bad feelings are for me alone to know about. No one else can
understand how I feel. No one else can know my pain. As long as I keep
them inside and don't act on them, I won't feel bad."

'Are you sure? Do you not feel bad, or do you just not feel?'

At this point in time, I'd had enough of arguing with myself. I looked
back at the clock and it was 5:58. In roughly 3 hours, Brian's family
would leave for church and then we would break into their home. I thought
about what kind of stuff Brian would want to get. He needed clothes, he
would definitely want his backpack, probably some of the trophies his dad
didn't throw at him.

As I was thinking, I fell asleep again. I had another dream this time
about Brian, but it was hardly like the one before. I dreamt that he and
a bunch of his friends were in a hot tub together and they were talking
about school and sports and girls and were having a great time while I
was standing there, watching. I tried to join in the conversation, but
everyone, including Brian, ignored me. I felt really alone and neglected.
And I was really jealous that Brian had a bunch or friends he could hang
out with like that while I just had James and the guys who hung out with
him. It had to be one of the more depressing dreams I've ever had.

When I woke up, I was still in shock from how terrible the dream made me
feel. To add to the shock, Brian was out of the bed and downstairs, so I
felt even more alone. I turned and cried into my pillow, lamenting the
friends I never had and the close relationships that eluded me. After
some quiet tear shedding, I looked up at the clock and saw it was 8:30.

"Hey Kyle," said James as he popped into my room. "It's 30 minutes 'til
go time."

"'Go time?'" I said. "We're just getting Brian's stuff."

"Yes, after we covertly break into his house," he said with a smile and
left my room.

'What a dork,' I thought.

I got up, got dressed and looked in the mirror in the bathroom to make
sure there were no visible signs of tearshed. I went downstairs and was
welcomed by the smell of more pancakes--Aaron was here! I hastily went to
the kitchen to see him, or rather his butt, and was disappointed to see
only a plate of steaming pancakes on the counter. I got a plate and
served myself and went into the living room.

James, Aaron and Brian were all in there eating and watching TV. Aaron
and Brian were on the couch together and James was in the recliner. (He
must have been in a very hospitable mood, or pitiful. (Whichever would
prompt him to give up his favorite seat in the house.) James had taken
the bandage off that the doctor had put over his bruised eye, but Brian
kept his on like Dr. Norwood had instructed. And Aaron had what appeared
to be a fresh shiner (James must have repaid up for the tetanus shot). I
took a seat next to Aaron and situated my pancakes so I wouldn't get the
couch dirty.

"So, are you ready to break into Brian's house?" asked Aaron.

"I'm not sure it's 'breaking in' if I live there," said Brian.

"That's beside the point," said James.

"Well, I'm ready as I'll ever be," I said.

"Good, 'cause I have it all worked out," said Aaron. "After I pick the
lock, me and Brian will go in and get what he needs. James will stay in
the truck and be ready to go when we get done throwing stuff in there.
You'll stand watch at the end of the block with a radio and tell James if
anybody is coming."

"What?" I said indignantly. "How come I have to be the lookout? Why can't
somebody else do it?"

"James has to drive the truck, Brian knows what to get, and I can carry
more stuff than you," said Aaron.

I begrudgingly accepted my assignment and shoved more pancakes into my
mouth. But I really wanted to see Brian's room. I wanted to see it if was
the room of a hot jock or a clingy boy with insecurity issues.

After breakfast, we waited until 9:10 to make sure Brian's family was
gone and went out to James' truck. On the way out, I called shotgun and
was quite proud of myself for doing so because Aaron usually beat me to
it. But I can't say it was a total victory because he got to sit in the
back next to Brian. We piled in and got ready to go on our "mission."

"Everyone in?" asked James.

"Does it look like we're missing anybody?" I said.

"Shut-up, smartass," He said. I smiled every time he used those words of
endearment, for truly they were.

"Just go," said Brian. "I want to get this over with."

"You'll be fine," Aaron reassured him.

James started the truck and backed out. I tried to get to the radio
before he did, but my efforts were fruitless. It didn't matter. Brian's
house was only three blocks away. With Brian's instructions, James had us
there in no time.

But when we turned the last corner, we all saw something we weren't
expecting in the least: two cop cars and an ambulance crowded around a
house I was praying wasn't Brian's. "Uh, Brian," I said. "Which house is
yours?"

"It's the one with all the police cars around it," he said with a shaking
voice.

"Holy crap," said Aaron. "What happened?"

"I don't know," said Brian. "My dad's car is still here which mean's he's
not at church. It must be serious."

James parked a few houses away to keep a safe distance. "You guys stay
here," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "I'll go see what's
happening. You don't have to get out, Brian. I'm just going to see if I
can get your stuff."

"Ok," said Brian. James got out and was walking towards the house when
two paramedics walked around the car in the driveway with an older woman
on a stretcher.

"Who's that?" asked Aaron.

Brian looked and his face went pale. "Mom!" he exclaimed.

Brian hastily undid his seatbelt and pushed my chair up, climbed over me
and opened the door. "Mom!" He shouted as he jumped out of the truck.

"Brian!" shouted Aaron as he jumped out after him.

I rushed to get out so I could see what was going on. As I got closer, I
noticed there were two policemen on the front lawn looking at a window
that had been broken. I ran over to Brian who was looking down at his mom
on the stretcher with Aaron next to him. She was unconscious and has
blood on her puffy, brown hair.

"What happened," Brian asked one of the paramedics.

"You!" I heard someone shout. I saw Brian's head snap up and he looked
like he had seen a ghost, a particularly terrifying ghost. I turned to
see a tall man in a dress-suit with grey hair striding out onto the lawn.
He was holding a brick in his hand, and very tightly judging from the
whiteness of his knuckles.

"There's the FAG!" he spat and he hurled the brick right at Brian. It
twirled through the air in the fashion of a football and with surprising
accuracy for a brick. Brian was frozen, probably from the shock of it all
and re-living what had to have been the worst night of his life. He just
stood there.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to watch Brian get struck down again. But
when I opened them, Aaron was leaning over Brian's mother holding the
brick in his hand while Brian was standing, staring at it. Aaron looked
really mad. He was never one to tolerate injustice and needless violence,
and this must have really rubbed him the wrong way.

The two officers immediately tackled Mr. Freeman to the ground, one of
them saying, "You're under arrest for attempted assault," and then he
went through the Miranda Rights.

Brian looked at his father being tackled and cuffed and started crying.
He stumbled away from the stretcher and sat down on the ground. After and
deep breath, he let out a great cry of pain. I didn't understand why he
was acting this way. His father, the ass-hole who had done so many bad
things to him, had just been arrested. I, for one, would be happy about
such a thing. But Brian was anything but happy. He sat on the ground,
weeping.

Aaron rushed over and sat down next to him and said everything was going
to be alright, or something of that nature. I couldn't make it our over
Brian's crying and his dad's arguing with the police. I looked back to
see where James was and he was standing in the driveway talking to
Officer Phillips. (Chance he had responded to the scene.)

Phillips nodded his head and walked over to me as James walked inside.
Mr. Freeman had just been slammed up against a police cruiser and Brian
was still crying, but a little less while Aaron tried to console him.

"Hi, remember me?" asked Philips.

"I guess," I said. "You're the guy who brought James home the other
night."

"That's right," he said. "So do you mind answering some questions?"

"Not sure how much I can tell you, but ok," I said.

"It's ok, they're pretty simple," said Phillips. "First, did you see what
happened?"

"With Brian's dad throwing the brick and everything?" I asked.

"Yes," said Phillips.

"Well, he threw a brick at Brian and Aaron caught it," I said.

"Who's Aaron?" he asked.

"That guy over there," I said pointing to Aaron. He was helping Brian up.
Brian's wails had reduced to sobs.

"Ok," said Phillips. "And did Brian do anything to provoke his dad before
the brick was thrown?"

"No, he was just standing there, looking at his mom," I said.

"Thanks," said Phillips, making notes on his notepad. "We'll make sure
Brian won't have to go through this again."

"Umm, may I ask what happened?" I asked.

"No you may not," said Phillips. "I am not at liberty to say until the
police report has been filed. But it's kind of obvious when you go in the
house."

"What did James go in the house for?" I asked.

"I told him he could go get Brian's stuff," said Phillips. "Now, if
you'll excuse me, I have to finish my police report."

'Great!' I thought. 'If I go help, I'll get to see his room!'

As I walked to the front door, a chill ran up my spine as I passed the
car that had Mr. Freeman in it. He was yelling at the officers in the
front and trying to kick their seats. His face was red and he was
sweating. He paused when he saw me and leaned towards the window to get a
better look at me. He blinked and said, "You're one of them! You're a
fag, too, aren't you! You're probably his little fairy boyfriend!"

As he spat the last words, the car pulled away and I though, 'If only.'

I walked into the house and looked inside. It was kind of like ours, but
with a larger living room and stairs off to the side instead of in front
of the door. I walked over to the living room and there was glass all
over the floor. I walked inside and saw a note with blood on it lying in
front of the couch next to a spilled coffee mug.

'His mom,' I though. 'The note was tied onto the brick and she was on the
couch as it was thrown through the window. That's why her head was
bleeding. That's why the note has blood on it.'

I leaned over to pick up the note and the police officer who had been in
the kitchen said, "Don't touch, that it's evidence."

"Well, what does it say," I asked.

"I'm not supposed to say until the police report is submitted," he said.
"But it's pretty nasty. I'd hate to be Brian." This note and the brick it
was attached to was no doubt the work of one of the kids who's family had
been "warned" about Brian.

I proceeded upstairs to help James get stuff and to see what Brian's room
was like. I got up the stairs and heard noises in the last room on the
right at the end of the hall. The walk down that hall filled me with
excitement as to what I was about to see. I heard the ambulance sirens go
off outside the house. They must have been taking Mrs. Freeman to the
hospital. I hoped she wasn't hurt too bad, but was rather amused at the
poetic justice she received. The siren faded away and I proceeded to
Brian's room.

I got inside and was in shock at what I saw: ruin. Stuff thrown
everywhere, posters ripped, a desk turned over, a broken chair.

"Brian's dad must have been pretty damn pissed off when he came in here,"
said James as he traversed an over-turned bookcase. On the other side he
turned over a dresser and pulled out the drawers to collect the clothes.
He threw everything into a suitcase he had found. "See if you can get
anything out of his desk," he said.

"What if this was done by the same guys who threw the brick?" I asked.

"If it was, there would be police in here collecting evidence," he said.

I walked over to the desk by the bed and tried to pick it up, but it was
large and metal so I couldn't manage it. Lucky for me, it landed face-up,
so I just had to keep the drawers open while I looked for stuff. He had a
bunch of pencils and stuff in the top drawer (nothing worth taking), a
few books and scraps of mail (again, noting worth my time). I was about
to close the drawer when I noticed a book without a title or any markings
on the cover. I picked it up and it contained a bunch of hand-written
pages.

'No way!' I thought. 'Brian's diary! I mean, journal. No self-respecting
jock would keep a diary. Should I open it?'

'No that's an invasion of privacy.'

'But that's the point: to see the private side of Brian.'

'But you almost saw his privates before and couldn't handle it.'

'Shut-up, you prick!'

'Make me!'

My inane conversation with myself was interrupted when James snatched the
book out of my hand and tossed it into the suitcase. "Anything else in
there?" he asked.

"No," I said.

He picked up a few CDs that weren't scratched by jagged shards of case
that had been broken and said, "I think that's it. If we need anything
else, we can come back. Something tells me there won't be anyone here for
a while."

We went downstairs and said goodbye to the Officer Phillips and his
partner and went back to the truck. I got in the front seat and Brian was
already in the back with Aaron's arm around him as he curled up into a
little ball on the seat.

'How come I never got to console him?' I thought. 'Sure, I sucked at, but
I wanted to hold him, too. Well, at least I have tonight to look foreword
to.'

My thoughts were interrupted as James got into the car and threw the
suitcase on top of me. He didn't say anything but just started the car
and left the Freeman's house for what I hoped would be the last time.

An awkward silence set in and I did my best to break it. "So, are you
going to press charges?" I asked Brian.

"Hell yeah, no way I'm letting him get away with that twice," said Brian
through sniffles and coughs.

"What's going to happen to your mom?" I asked.

"The paramedics said she had a major concussion," he said. "They need to
take her to the hospital to relieve the pressure and prevent any
permanent damage. But they think she will be fine in a couple of days."

Brian paused and looked out the window. He started looking mad, like the
night he came to our house after the party. "I bet it was Shawn!" he
said. "That redneck bastard! He's just the kind of guy to do this, too.
He already hates me. He can't stand that the quarterback got to be team
captain instead of some dumb lineman."

The Shawn he was referring to was Shawn Thomas. He was the star lineman
for the football team and, just like Brian said, a redneck bastard. He
was about 6'6", 280 lbs. (Picture a gorilla with a John Deere hat.) Shawn
had always hated Brain for being cooler, smarter and more popular than he
was (which wasn't hard to pull off) and took great joy during scrimmages
when he tackled the hell out of Brian.

"Well, I guess we'll know at school tomorrow, won't we," I said.

Brian shot up from his crouched position and looked very panicked. School
probably wasn't at the forefront of his mind this weekend and he probably
hadn't worked out a plan to deal with it.

"Does anyone at school know?" asked Aaron.

"They probably do now," said Brian.

'Wait, when did Aaron find out?' I thought. 'Brian must have told him
sometime. Oh God, did he say anything about me? That would be
embarrassing beyond belief!' I looked at Brian and he looked very worried
and crestfallen.

We pulled into our driveway and James parked the truck. I turned to Brian
and said, "If it's any help, whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be right
there with you."

Brian looked at me and smiled. "Thanks," he said.

'Man, he has such a cute smile,' I thought. 'And I bet being with him
tomorrow will score lots of points.'

'Oh come on, you don't even know if he is keeping score.'

'Look, are you going to keep going on like this?'

'Not until you ask him if he likes you.'

'But what if he doesn't?'

'Then you can stop worrying about scoring points or anything else like
that.'

'But--'

"Kyle, are you coming?" asked Brian. James and Aaron were already in the
house and Brian was leaning in the car, waiting for me. He had such a
cute smile and his eyes had regained much of the glow they'd lost since
Friday night. He may have been worried about school, but his family was
no longer a threat. I decided that this uber-cutie had to be mine. I
decided that tonight I was going to ask him about--no, I was going to
flat out tell him I had a crush on him. He can take it or leave it. I
grabbed the suitcase and got out of the car. As my legs hit the ground,
they faltered a bit. Not because of the suitcase, but because I was
worried and scared over the risk I was going to take tonight.

"Thanks," said Brian as he took the suitcase from me and walked inside. I
looked at his muscular figure as it walked thought the doorway. I admired
his cute butt as he walked up the stairs. Would that cute butt become
mine tonight? Speaking of cute butts, there goes Aaron up the stairs. I
walked towards the house to get a better look and was disappointed when
James blocked my view by going up the stairs with them. I can't say I
really admired his butt since he was my brother and all. I mean, I know
guys do stuff with their brothers, but I respect him too much to ever
think of him that way. My mind drifted back to Brian and to if our
embrace would be lips to lips instead of back to chest tonight. Would he
have to make use of the clothes he brought from home? One thing was for
certain: I wouldn't have to argue with myself after tonight.