Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2020 00:41:33 +0000 From: AP Webb Subject: D'n'M Part2 Chapter9 This is the second part of the story of Dan Reed and Milo de Beer -- D'n'M. As before, it includes scenes of sex between teenage boys and, in one instance, involving a boy and an adult man. However, sex is not the main driver of this story and often there is none at all. Part 2 consists of 21 chapters, all of which are written and which will appear on this platform twice each week. It will make more sense if you read Part 1 before starting on this second instalment. All the characters and events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional. The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com D'n'M Part2 From Chapter 8: Dan remembered the last time he'd been in this room. He remembered how Mr. Roberts had seemed a bit sus, a bit odd. He remembered how pleased he's been to get out of there. Shit! Shit! Shit! He should have seen this coming. He should have stayed well away. Dan's head began to shake from side to side. "Very well, boy, let me make it crystal clear to you. To keep your place in the squad, a place you richly deserve by the way, all you have to do is put on a little performance for me. It's not much to ask and, believe me, there have been plenty of others who have happily agreed to my little `request' and who have gone on to achieve great success as part of the team." There was no longer any reassurance or reasonableness in the voice. It was all insistence and malice. ********** Chapter 9: It took Milo a while to work out the basics of what had happened to Dan that afternoon after school and even longer before the full picture was revealed. These were some of the worst days of Milo's life; days when he knew his friend was suffering some kind of terrible pain; days when he was genuinely frightened for how things might turn out. His own life at home was pretty shitty, but what was new about that? For years he'd been protecting himself against the on-going tension and hostility in the de Beer household, but he had nothing to protect himself against the pain of watching his friend sink further and further into a pit of sadness. In comparison, the horrible weeks leading up to the Big Scary Conversation seemed almost insignificant. In fact, it was his memories of how Dan had stuck with him during that terrible time, had refused to give up on him, that gave Milo the strength and determination to repay that debt in full. When Dan eventually arrived home from school that Tuesday afternoon he seemed, on the face of it, pretty much normal albeit rather quiet. Milo was warming up, ready for their workout session, and was only slightly surprised when Dan chose not to join in, claiming the meeting with Mr. Roberts had been more physically taxing than expected and, therefore, very tiring. Milo wasn't even more than mildly disappointed when, as a result of D not working out, there was no post-workout jerk-off action. He assumed it was just postponed until later. Dan continued to be quiet through dinner and, although that was unusual, it wasn't exactly a world's first. Like most teenagers he had his silent and moody days so no-one pushed him to join in the round-the-table conversation. It was after dinner, when he not only cried off from spending time with his parents but also told his friend that he should go home rather than stay over, that Milo began to sense that something was off. This feeling of something not being right was significantly reinforced when none of his increasingly insistent texts to Dan later that evening was answered, and greatly magnified when D switched off his smartphone rather than accept Milo's call request at bedtime. This last was unknown. The two friends always, without fail, spent the last few waking minutes of every day chatting and joking with each other, either lying together in bed (usually Dan's) or on the phone. For D to switch off rather than speak to him had Milo really worried. After a restless and largely sleepless night (not even two jerkings-off could settle his mind) Milo was up and out early to get to swimming practice. On his way to the pool he checked his phone at least three times but still there was nothing from D. Something was definitely seriously wrong and, with no classes in common in the morning, he wouldn't have a chance to find out just what it was until lunchtime. Lunchtime came and went, with no sign of Dan. Milo ate his tuna mayo wrap and mixed berry smoothie at world record-breaking speed (swimming always made him ravenous) and set off round the school to find him. When asked, none of their other mutual friends knew where he was. Yes, he was definitely in school, Jake had seen him in geography and Carmel had been his lab partner, although she said he had been spectacularly useless in that role, staring out of the window the whole time and barely uttering two words. Milo was beginning to get really anxious, his imagination conjuring up one unpleasant scenario after another, each more lurid than the last. Then he remembered English Lit. When Milo got to class, the first thing he saw was D occupying a single seat over by the window rather than their standard double in the middle of the room. Crap! What was going on? The expression on D's face was one of pretty much total misery. His tanned skin had managed to pull off the amazing trick of looking pale, almost sallow, and there were dark rings around his eyes. D's hair was a mess and he had obviously had a complete brain melt when choosing his clothes for the day. But what rattled Milo more than anything was D's obvious determination not to make eye contact, in fact not to look at Milo at all. Milo began to comb his memory, searching for anything he might have said or done in the past few days that could have antagonised D so much that he couldn't even bear for them to sit together in the lesson. Had he told an off-colour joke at D's expense? Had he made a less-than-flattering comment about Beth Harper? Had he failed to come good on a promise he'd made? Sitting in his usual place, totally tuning-out Mrs. Osenaya's questioning of the members of class 9Y on their evaluation of Romeo's relationship with Mercutio - bromance or buddies? -, Milo could come up with not one single thing that could have caused Dan's apparent rejection of him. If the teacher hadn't suddenly brought him back to Shakespearean reality by asking him to answer a question he hadn't even heard (and forcing him to give a response that had his classmates jeering with laughter) he'd have put his head in his hands and wept. As it was, he'd earned himself a thirty-minute detention after school. Usually this would have been little more than a minor irritant, but today it meant that he wouldn't be able to walk home with D. Crap! Which meant that he wouldn't have a chance to find out just what was going on. Crap! Which meant that it would be even longer before he could put it right. Crap! Crap! Crap! Mrs. Osenaya wasn't one of those teachers who believed it was their duty to make detention a twenty first century alternative to purgatory. No, after a fairly gentle ear-bashing about the need to pay attention in class and the painless extraction of a promise to do better next time, Milo was released. As he made his way to the student exit, all the while continuing his mental review of D's unfathomable behaviour, his mind went back to the day before and D's appointment with Mr. Roberts. Perhaps the answer lay there. Perhaps soccer was at the root of whatever the problem was. Perhaps he, Milo, wasn't the cause of D's obvious distress after all and that he was, therefore, off the hook. With a suddenly lighter mood and quicker step, Milo changed direction and headed for the gym where, it being Wednesday, he remembered that D would be at soccer practice. While he waited for practice to finish he sat on the floor opposite the gym door and pulled his copy of Romeo and Juliet out of his bag. Was it really possible, he wondered, that the play wasn't about the famously doomed lovers at all but was secretly a love story between two guys? Who knew Shakespeare could be so radical? Milo was soon engrossed in the tangled, family-feuding life of Renaissance Verona. Nearly an hour had passed before the first members of the soccer squad began to emerge from the locker room. Each time the door opened and then slammed shut Milo looked up, expecting D to be the latest to emerge. When, after nearly fifteen minutes, there was still no sign of him, Milo stuffed the book back into his bag and made his way inside. There were only a few boys to be seen, mostly finishing up and ready to leave. None of them was Dan. "Hey, Jamal," Milo called out to one of Dan's team mates. "Has D already gone?" "Gone?" came the puzzled reply. "He never showed up. Mr. Roberts was not impressed. I don't envy D tomorrow." Never showed up? That couldn't be right. D never missed practice. He loved soccer. If asked to choose between Beth Harper and soccer, D would be very hard pressed to make a decision. This did not make sense. Milo turned on his heel and with a subdued, "Thanks, Jam," tossed over his shoulder, he made his way back outside. What to do? There'd been no arrangement for Milo to go to D's house after school and Milo wasn't sure that just turning up would be a good idea, given how Dan had been avoiding him all day. Maybe the best thing would be for him to go home and then phone D from there. Surely his call wouldn't be ignored again. It was. In fact, six calls and nearly twenty text messages over the course of a very long evening produced no response whatsoever. Milo was becoming desperate with worry. D's behaviour and appearance were completely out of sync with the norm. What could possibly have happened to have had such a dramatic and distressing impact? Milo paced his bedroom floor, close to tears, desperately trying to come up with an answer to any of the thousand and one questions that were scrambled in his head, making it feel as if it was about to explode. After a second evening with no response from Dan to any of Milo's messages and calls, by Thursday morning he had made up his mind - his very tired mind after a second night of very little sleep. The only plan Milo could come up with was to go to D's house on the way to school and have it out with him. There was no way he could go through another day like yesterday and, more importantly, no way he was going to let D carry on suffering from whatever it was that was making him behave like a total stranger. A tortured total stranger. At Dan's house Milo was met in the kitchen by Helen Reed. "Good morning Milo, nice to see you. You look a bit rough. Everything ok at home?" Dan's mum was very aware of the stresses and strains of life at the de Beer house and was constantly vigilant on Milo's behalf. "Yes thanks, Mrs. R. Just not been sleeping well the last few nights. D up yet?" "No, there's been no sight or sound of him so far this morning. Go on up and tell him to get his skinny backside up and moving or I'll come up and move it for him." This supposed threat was said with a wide grin on her face so it was obvious that there was no malice intended. Milo did as instructed and made his way up to D's bedroom where, as usual, he walked straight in, not bothering to knock. Crap! What the ...? The state of the room was a total shock. Dan could never be accused of being the neatest or tidiest fourteen year old on the planet, but his bedroom was always reasonably presentable. But not this morning. The room was a total mess. The floor was all but invisible under a layer of crumpled clothing, books and sports kit. The contents of two shelves of soccer photos, trophies and awards were dumped in a corner and the shredded remains of a dozen posters were scattered everywhere. The room looked as if a malevolent whirlwind had ripped through it. Milo stood in the doorway, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Over on his bed, the back of Dan's head and shoulders could be seen but there was no movement coming from the boy. Milo made his way across the room, trying not to further disturb anything he encountered on the journey. He got to the bed and looked down. Was D still asleep? Milo sat and carefully put one hand on his friend's shoulder, intending to gently rouse him to a state of consciousness. No sooner had he touched the skin than Dan responded as if he'd been poked with an electric cattle prod. He shot into an upright sitting position and flailed his arms in the general direction of Milo's face. At the same time, he began to scream. "Get the fuck away from me. Leave me alone. Get out of here." The words poured out like lava. Milo instinctively recoiled from the onslaught and for several moments he was genuinely stunned and lost for words. Then, as his brain resumed something resembling coherent thought he started to say things that he hoped would calm and soothe. But Dan clearly wasn't ready to be calmed or soothed and he resumed his tirade. "I said get away. I don't want you here. Just fuck off out. And when you get downstairs tell my mum I'm not going to school today, or ever." Milo opened his mouth to speak. "Okay. Okay, I'm going." He got up off the bed and made a hasty exit from the room, looking back over his shoulder as he went. The last image he had -- it was almost like a photo -- was of D sitting up and staring at him with an expression on his face of total misery. As he closed the door behind him Milo was suddenly hit by the full significance of what had just happened in D's room and he found himself reaching for the door frame to hold himself up. What the hell? Never, in all the years they'd been friends had D ever behaved like that. He had never been violent, never told Milo to go away, never sworn at him so vehemently. What could possibly have happened? Why was the room so comprehensively trashed? What could he do to put things right? Maybe he'd come back later, hopefully when D was feeling calmer. If nothing else, he could help D put the room back to rights. There was no way he wanted D's parents to see it in its current state, they'd freak, so the first priority was to go downstairs and engage in some deflection tactics. Back in the kitchen Milo explained to Helen Reed that Dan wasn't feeling well and wasn't up to going to school. Of course, she wanted immediately to go and take care of her younger son and was half way out of the room before Milo realised what would happen if she were to walk into D's bedroom. "Oh no, don't go up. He said he's taken some paracetamol and just wants to sleep. Best not to disturb him." Milo sighed with relief as Mrs. Reed turned back round. "But I don't like the thought of him being on his own all day, and I said I'd work late tonight. And his father is away at a conference. Damn!" "Don't worry," improvised Milo. "I'll come back at lunch to see how he is and again after school and stay with him until you get home. He'll be fine." "You're a good friend, Milo, and a thoroughly good boy. It's a shame not everyone appreciates it." With that Milo was wrapped in a warm and affectionate hug. The memory of it remained with him all the way to school, along with a picture of his best friend yelling and screaming obscenities and trying his best to beat him around the head. Milo was determined to keep his promise to Helen Reed and check up on the supposed invalid through the day, hopefully getting the chance to clear up the messy bedroom before anyone else got sight of it. That being said, Milo wasn't naïve enough to believe that a tidy bedroom would bring an end to D's troubles. No, that was going to take a whole lot more thought, time and effort, and Milo had to admit to himself that he had no idea where to start. ********** I continue to be grateful to those readers who take the trouble to contact me about this story. As an author, it's REALLY encouraging to know that there are people out there who are taking the time to read what's been written, and then bothering to send a response. I welcome all comments and guarantee to write back. To keep this amazing resource open and freely available to readers everywhere, please consider donating to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html