Date: Sat, 10 Jan 98 10:50:25 -0600 From: Savoir-Faire Subject: Find Your Own Way Okay folks, what follows is a story of love and redemption, with only a little bit of sex. It is fiction. This means that it never happened. The characters portrayed are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. If fictional accounts of love between two teenage boys are not your thing, then you probably should not read this. If you not old enough to be legally considered an adult, you should also not be reading this. I'd like to thank everyone who sent me comments about my first story, Dangerboy. The sheer volume of encouragement you all sent was a large part of why I decided to write this. As before, if you have any comments, constructive criticisms, or even if you just want to say "Hi!" you can email me at inkstain@earthlink.net Find Your Own Way by Savoir-Faire I stepped down from the truck and spat on the ground. Waving to the driver, I closed the door and started walking into town. Behind me, the truck revved up and slowly started to move. I stopped and watched it go. I spat on the ground again. After paying the price of that ride, I wanted to brush my teeth. The town started about half an mile down the road. It was kinda spread out, but in that deceptive way a small town tries to look like a big town. I think I was in Oregon. It might have been Washington, but I'm pretty sure it was Oregon. I slept a lot in the truck, you see. I hefted my pack on my back, and started walking to town. It was a lot like a hundred other Pacific coast towns, kinda dreary, dressed in faded finery for a tourist trade that never happened. People watched suspiciously as I passed. I s'pose I couldn't blame them. I did look a bit disheveled, my hair was too long and unkempt, and it had been a week since I shaved last. Course, I was only seventeen, so it wasn't like I had to shave that often. At the far end of town was the Pacific Coast Hotel and Restaurant. Kind of an overblown name for this rundown 20 room motel. What caught my eye, though, was the help wanted sign. You see, I move around a lot. Mostly I walk or thumb rides, but I never stay in the same place for more than a couple of months. I ran away when I was thirteen. My father and I had a fight when he found out I was gay, and then... Well, let's just say that events made it impossible for me to stay. So, I would go from town to town, stay a couple weeks to a couple months, work some job until I'd made enough money to move on. I'm seventeen now. So, anyway, I saw this help wanted sign. I went into the restaurant. There was an older lady behind the counter, her name tag read Ruby, and she said "Help you, honey?" "Yeah." I pointed to the window with the sign. "I'm looking for a job. And maybe a place to stay, if you could recommend one." "What's your name, son?" "Brian." "You're new in town, ain't ya?" "Yeah. Just got here." "Gonna be here long?" "Couple of months, I think" "Okay, well, we need a dishwasher. Normally pays a hundred-fifty a week. If you'd like, I could let you stay in one of the rooms and pay you seventy-five a week." "That'd be perfect." I smiled. "You ever wash dishes before?" "Yeah. What hours do I work?" "Well, we work in three shifts here. There's breakfast, which is six to eleven, lunch, which is eleven to four, and dinner, which is four to closing. Now, we close at eight, so usually we're all cleaned up and done by nine. We'd need you to work two shifts a day. That okay?" "That's fine. When do I start?" "How about dinner tonight. I like to have two dishwashers for the dinner shift, so you'll work with Hank tonight. He'll show you where everything is." She looked at her watch. "That gives you two hours to clean up. I'll have Tim show you to your room. He's my grandson. He's a dear." She walked to the door and bellowed out "TIM!" After a moment, this small kid ran in. He looked about thirteen or so, kinda cute. "Yeah, Gramma?" "This is Brian. He's going be the new dishwasher. He's also going to stay in room 22. Be a dear and get the key and show him up there, will you?" "Yes, ma'am." He looked at me. "Follow me." I followed him to the office. He got a key from the rack. "You stayin' long?" he asked as we left the office. "Maybe two months." "Oh." He sounded a bit disappointed. "Is that a problem?" "No. I just hoped you might stay longer, that's all." I shrugged. The room was rather small, but had everything I needed. Tim played the perfect bellboy. He showed me all the amenities of the room. His performance had a sort of practiced sound to it. He'd done it before. I opened the back curtains to reveal a beautiful view of the ocean. Now I understood why the hotel had been built here rather than by the highway. "Anything you need?" Tim asked. "No. This'll be just fine." "If you need anything, tell me. I'm pretty good at finding things." "Okay." Tim left. I looked around the room. Not bad. I could live here for a couple months. I pulled off my clothes and went into the bathroom. The water in the shower got hot quickly, and I stepped into it. There's nothing like a few days on the road to make you really appreciate a shower. Using the tiny complimentary soap and the small vial of shampoo, I got myself cleaned up pretty good. When I was finished, I dried off and unpacked my meager belongings. I got dressed and combed out my hair. It was almost to my shoulders now. Washing dishes was about as exciting as you can probably imagine. As I worked, Hank gave me the story of this place. It seemed the hotel was something of a failure. They had never in their thirty years of business had all twenty-two rooms rented out at the same time. The restaurant, on the other hand, was the most popular in town. I'd had a roast beef sandwich before starting work, and I could understand why. The food was very good. So, all through the dinner shift the place was packed. They closed at eight, and the last stragglers were out by eight-thirty. We had the place spic and span by nine. After work, I went back to my room. My arms ached. I pulled off my clothes and wearily collapsed into bed. I was asleep in no time. Over the next few days, I settled into a routine. I would work either breakfast and lunch or breakfast and dinner. Hank, who I usually worked with at dinner, was an older man, and would point out some of the folks that came in to eat and tell me gossip about them, some of it quite old gossip, but fun nonetheless. At breakfast and lunch, Ruby was an easy boss, but at dinner she was a slave driver. I worked hard. I earned my room and board, and her respect. Then it was Monday, my day off. I was on the beach, drying off after a cold swim, when I started to hear a commotion from farther up the beach. It was a scuffling, hushed shouting, muffled pain kind of sound. I went to investigate. There were three kids surrounding another kid, hitting him, shoving him, calling him names. They pushed him up against the rock. Suddenly, in my mind, I was back in my parents' home. I was thirteen. It was the night my father found out I was gay. He was holding my up against the wall, shouting at me, telling me he wasn't going to support no faggots. He hit me. He threw me across the room. I hit the arm of the couch, and doubled over sideways. I got up and tried to run, but he caught me and threw me across the room again. I hit the gun cabinet. Glass shattered and cut me in a dozen places. He came at me again. I looked up and saw the shotgun. "Hey!" I yelled at the kids. They all looked back. "What the hell is going on here?" The red-haired one, apparently the leader, his fist held up as it to hit the fourth kid yelled "Ain't none of your business!" I started walking toward them. Now I could see the fourth kid. It was Tim. "I think it is. You let him go. And I mean now." "Look, man, he's a fag. He's askin' for it." "No one is asking for this." "Who the hell are you?" I punched him in the face, and he went down. "That's who I am. Any other questions?" The other two jumped me, but I made quick work of them. You don't live on the road for four years without learning how to fight. I helped Tim up. "You okay?" He sort of dusted himself off. "Yeah, I'm fine." "Go home. Stay away from these three for a while." "Okay." He ran off. I looked down at the three of them. "What are we gonna do with you?" One of them sort of groaned out "We're gonna tell the cops, man." I leaned against the rock they'd been holding Tim against and said "You've just had your asses kicked but good by a fag. You want your friends to find out about that?" No one said anything. "That's what I thought. You three are each twice his size. And it took three of you to get him. You're cowards, you know that? Don't let me catch you near him again. I kicked your asses once, and I'll do it again any time you want." I walked away. When I got back onto the beach, Tim was waiting for me. "I told you to go home." "I wanted to say thank you." "You're welcome. Go home." "No one ever stuck up for me like that before." "Do you speak English, Tim?" He laughed. "Yeah." "Then what part of 'go home' are you having trouble with?" "I want to talk to you." "You're not gonna go home, are you?" "No." I sighed. "Okay, what are we gonna talk about?" "I heard you tell them that you're a... that you're gay." "So?" I caught up to him, and he fell into step beside me. "Are you?" "Yes." "Me too." "You're what, thirteen? Fourteen?" "Fourteen." "Then how do you know?" "That I'm gay?" "Yeah." "I just do. Same way you do, I guess." I thought about this for a moment. "Yeah, I guess it is a pretty dumb question." "There are no dumb questions." "You're pretty old for fourteen, aren't you?" "I have to be." We walked in silence for a few minutes. "Um... Brian?" "Yes?" "Will you be my friend?" "No." He stopped, looking kind of hurt. "But..." "Look, Tim, it's nothing against you. I just don't have friends. Can't afford them. I'll be gone in a month or so anyway. Look somewhere else. You understand? It's not that I don't like you. I do. You're a pretty good kid. Find someone who has the time to be a friend." "Okay." He hung his head. "Bye." He walked away. Damn it. I never like to hurt someone like that, but it saves me having to hurt them more when I leave. In the afternoon, I went into town. I needed to get a few things. When I left the store, the red-haired kid from the beach was waiting for me. "Hey, faggot," he said. "Hey, asshole. How's the face." "Still smarts a bit. How long you gonna be here? "Not long." "Good. Don't need your type here." "Could use a few less of your type as well, I think." What, normal people?" "No, assholes." "Don't call me an asshole." "Don't call me faggot." "What should I call you?" "You could call me Brian. That's my name." "All right, Brian. See you around, Brian." I watched him walk away. What an asshole. Maybe I wouldn't stay here so long. I got back to the hotel. As I was putting the key in the lock, a voice behind me said "Hey." I looked around. It was another one of the kids from the beach. "What do you want?" I asked. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." "For what?" "For this morning. On the beach." "Did you apologize to Tim?" He didn't say anything. "It's Tim you need to apologize to." "I know. It's just..." He trailed off. "Just what?" "Just... I don't know. It's hard, you know?" "No, I don't know. "It's Chad. He's hard to stand up to." "Chad. The red haired one?" "Yeah." "He's the leader?" "Yeah. Sort of." "You always do what Chad tells you? "Yeah." "Why?" "Well, he's Chad." "That's a really bad reason." "I know." "Look, what's your name?" "Sean." "Okay, Sean, you seem like a good kid, just not a lot of backbone. Sound right?" He looked at his feet. "Yeah, that's about right." "Good. Knowing about a problem is half of solving it. Now all you need to do is find a spine. And apologize to Tim." "All right." "Good boy. How'd you find me here?" "I followed you this morning." "Why?" "Just curious. I wasn't going to beat you up or anything." "That goes without saying. Now take off. I've got things to do." "All right. Can I... Can I talk to you again sometime?" "About what?" "Anything." "Pretty big subject. But, yeah. Sometime." "Cool." He actually smiled. "Later." He walked away. I rolled my eyes at no one in particular. There must be a severe shortage of people to talk to in this town. Sometime turned out to be the next afternoon. I way laying out on the beach. The sun was out for the first time since my arrival and I was taking advantage of it. As I lay there on my stomach, I heard footsteps approaching. When I opened my eyes, I could see a pair of sandalled feet standing about two yards away. I followed the legs up past the red shorts and white shirt. It was Sean. "Hey," he said. "Hey, Sean. What do you need?" He sat down next to me. "A lot of money." "Can't help you there." "How about someone to talk to?" "That I can do. What are we talking about?" "I don't know. Life?" "That's a big subject." "Not here it isn't." "How do you mean?" "Well, you've been here for what, a week, two weeks?" "A week." "Have you noticed how small this place is?" "Yeah, its pretty small. Been smaller places, though." "Nothing ever happens here. No one ever goes anywhere. I'm gonna grow up and become my father. I probably won't even bother going to college. No point, really." "So, what are you going to do about that?" "Huh?" "Are you just going to sit by and become your father, or are you going to do something about it?" "What can I do?" "Take charge of your life. If you know about a problem and you don't do anything to stop it, it's your fault." "I don't know what to do. What did you do?" "You don't want to start like I did." "How do you know? Maybe I do. What did you do?" "I shot my father." For almost a minute, he said nothing. Then "Why?" "He was going to kill me." Another minute of silence. "You're right. I don't want to start like that." "Find your own way." We sat silently for a minute, then Sean said "Am I bothering you?" "No." "'Cuz you sound like I'm bothering you." "You're not bothering me." "Well, you're talking to me, but it's more like you lecturing me. Do you know what I mean? You're, I don't know, advising me. But you're not really talking to me. I don't have any idea who you are." "Okay, I see what you're saying. You're probably right." "Do you ever let anyone in?" "'In'?" "Yeah, 'in.' Like, under your armor." "Never." "Why?" "If they can't get in, they can't hurt me." "They can't be nice to you either." When I didn't say anything for a minute, he said "Didn't think of that, did you?" I rolled up on my side and looked at Sean, for the first time really looked at him, and for the life of me, all I could think was 'Damn, he's cute.' He had an narrow angular face, a sort of Devon Sawa face, but with short brown hair that stood up in some spots. His eyes were a sparkly brown, and kinda large. His arms and legs were pretty skinny, and his body seemed narrow, but I couldn't tell much because he was wearing a baggy shirt. "Um..." I said, then paused to regain my mental composure. "What are you getting at?" "I'm trying to be a friend." "I don't need friends. I don't have time for them." "Must be pretty lonely." "I don't know from lonely. I just know that if I have friends, I have to leave them behind. No friends, no anchors." "Do you want to see a movie tonight?" I laughed and fell over on my back. "You're not listening, are you?" "Yes I am. I'm just not buying it." "Okay, what is it about me? There must be other people around here." "I think you might be the first person I've ever met who's worth knowing." He didn't say anything for a minute, then "I think you've got this shell, this tough guy thing you've got going, but underneath, you're just as scared of the world as I am." Another minute of silence. "Difference is, you've got the balls to face the world." "You probably have the balls for it. You've just never been in a place where you didn't have a choice." "You think?" "Yeah. I mean, you're here talking to me, trying to get past my armor, as you say. If that ain't tilting at windmills, I don't know what is." "Tilting at...?" "Windmills." "You lost me." "Don Quixote. Its a book. Read it." "Uh, okay." "It means trying to do the impossible. Or the ridiculous." "Oh. So, what about that movie?" "Don't you get it?" He just looked at me with those eyes. "Okay," I caved in. "What's the movie?" He smiled broadly. "Your choice. Either 'Tomorrow Never Dies', or 'Scream 2.'" "I don't know anything about them." "Well, Tomorrow Never Dies is the new Bond flick, and Scream 2 is this sort of horror movie, but its more funny than anything." "How about Bond. I don't like horror." "Cool." "So, what's Chad going to say, you going to a movie with a fag?" "Fuck Chad." "No thanks. Not my type." He laughed. "Oh yeah? What is your type?" "You." That stopped him for a minute. "Uh, look, Brian, it's just a movie, okay?" "Sure, but you've got to know, you're pretty hot." He blushed, I swear he did. "Uh, thanks, but just a movie, right? "Just a movie." "Cool. I think it starts at 9:30. I'll have to check the paper, though. When do you work?" "Dinner. Should be out by nine. Fuck! Work!" I looked at my watch. "I'm gonna be late. Meet me at my room at nine, okay?" I got up and ran back toward the hotel. I was ten minutes late. As I ran in and took my place at the sink, Ruby gave me a look that would have wilted flowers. She was not happy. I caught up quickly and apologized profusely, and she eventually melted. She's a harsh taskmaster, but she's got a heart of gold. Ruby was actually a really cool person. She had a tendency to open her heart and home to hard cases, such as a grandson abandoned by his parents, or a teenage runaway. After everyone had left, she was teaching us all old sea songs as we cleaned up. I walked back to my room humming 'What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor.' It was 8:45. I decided to take a shower. After all, I sort of, kind of had a date, and I'd just spent several hours sweating over a sink full dirty dishes. I left the hotel room door ajar in case Sean was early. He was. From the open bathroom door, I heard the knock, then Sean's voice calling, "Brian?" "Come in," I yelled back. I quickly finished the shower and dried off, then, towel around my waist, I went out onto the room. Sean was sitting on the bed watching TV. He had this intent look on his face. He was wearing a baggy red shirt and the same shorts and sandals he wore earlier. It surprised me how much I wanted him. I had to stop thinking like this. He'd gotten to me too much already. I looked at the clock. 8:55. "You're early." "Not much. The movie starts at 9:45." "Then there's no rush. It's what, ten minutes away?" "Yeah, about that." As we spoke, I was picking out clothes. I noticed that he was glancing at me and looking away quickly quite a bit. Was he checking me out? I decided to up the ante. I laid out the clothes I'd selected, then removed the towel and dropped it to the floor. He swallowed. I could have been a random swallow, but the timing was interesting. I just stood there for a moment, watching him from the corner of my eye. He was still looking at me, trying to hide it. Have you ever noticed that if you try to hide something someone has already seen, you just draw attention to it? "Sean?" "Huh?" "It's okay. You can look at me if you want. I don't mind." "What do you mean?" he said quickly. "You're trying so hard to look at me without looking like you're looking at me. You can just look at me, if you want." "Look, could you, like, put on some pants. I'm not really comfortable with you, you know, naked like that." I did. "You know, it's okay. I was naked, and you looked. It's perfectly natural, and it doesn't mean anything." "We should go." "Why, we have plenty of time." "Jesus fucking Christ, you don't leave any easy outs, do you?" "You wanted in." "Yeah, but... What are you trying to do to me?!" "I'm trying to figure out what you're after." "What I'm after?! Jesus, I'm not after anything! I just want to be your friend! Is that so terrible?" I thought about it for a moment. "No... I guess it isn't." I sat down at the foot of the bed, facing away from him. "Look, I'm sorry. Its just that you're the first person in, like, four years who's made a real effort to be a friend. I don't know how to handle it. I don't know what to do." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Don't do anything. Just let it happen." I didn't look back, but I put my hand on his and said "I'll try." The movie was pretty good. Afterward, Sean and I got hot dogs at the 7-11. We walked back, talking about nothing in particular, and to my surprise, I enjoyed it. It somehow felt right to be walking with him. It felt comfortable. "You know," said Sean through a mouth full of hot dog. He chewed quickly and swallowed. "You could use a shave and a haircut." "Two bits." "What?" "Two bits." "I don't get it." I sang it. "Shave and a haircut, two bits." "Is that how that goes?" "Yep." "Well, however many bits, you could use them." "Can't afford the haircut, and don't got a razor." "I could talk to my mom. She's a hairdresser. She cuts my hair." I looked at him for a moment. "Why am I starting to feel like Huckleberry Finn?" He gave me this odd look. "You are so weird. Has anyone ever told you that?" "No." "I give up. Why do you feel like Huckleberry Finn?" "It just seems like you're trying to civilize me." "So don't get your hair cut." He sounded exasperated. After a minute I said "Sorry. It's that armor thing again." We reached an intersection and Sean stopped. "This is my street." It was a decent enough looking neighborhood. Older houses, mostly two-story, lots of trees. "Well," I said, "Thanks. I had fun." And I really meant it. "Good. Can we do something tomorrow?" "Sure. I work til four. Come by after that." "I'll be there." He started walking away. "Hey, Sean!" He turned. "You know, maybe you're right. I probably could use a haircut." He smiled and pointed at me. "You got it." I stood there watching him until he'd walked out of sight. What had this kid done to me? He'd been gone only a couple minutes, and I was missing him. I was looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. Hell, I wanted to see him right now. He'd done it. He'd gotton under my armor. He'd made me care about him. I turned and walked back to the hotel. Work dragged on forever the next day. It seemed that every time I looked at the clock it was about three minutes after the last time I'd looked. Around 2:00, I was taking my break, sitting in a booth drinking a coke. I looked out the windows and saw Sean. He was standing in front of Tim's bike, holding the handlebars. Tim was sitting on the seat. They were having what looked like a pretty intense conversation. Then Sean held out his right hand, and, after a moment, Tim shook it. I couldn't help but smile. I returned from break, singing "What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor" softly. When I got to my room after work, I was a little disappointed to find that Sean was not waiting for me. I went in and opened the curtains on the back window and looked out at the beach. Sean and Tim were walking up from the beach towards the hotel. They were talking and laughing. It looked like they were having a really good time. I figured Sean was just trying to be nice to Tim to please me. Or maybe I was just jealous. A couple minutes later there was a knock at my door. I opened it and Sean walked in, holding a small brown paper bag. "Hey," he said. "Hey." "What are you doing?" "Thinking." "About what?" "I'm thinking its getting to be time to move on." His jovial tone vanished. "No. You've only been here a couple weeks. Stay a little longer. Please?" "I don't know. Things aren't too comfortable here for me." That was a lie. In fact, things had become too comfortable. "Well, don't decide now. Give it a few more days, okay?" "We'll see." He smiled again. "I got you something." He held out the bag. "What have you done?" I took it. Inside was a packet of three disposable razors and a can of generic shaving cream. "Thought you might be able to use those." "Thank you." "You're welcome. Mom says if you want to come to dinner, she'll cut your hair afterwards." "You're too good to me, Sean." "They're just cheap razors." "I know. It's the thought." "Well, you're my friend." I didn't say anything for a moment. I just turned the shaving cream can over in my hand a few times. Then I said "You know why I'm thinking about leaving?" I was half question, half statement. "No. But stop it." "You." "Me?" "Yeah. You've... Well, you got under my armor. I've started to care about you. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave." "Then stay. There's got to be a good job here you can do." "I can't stay." "Why not?" "I just can't, okay? I can't" He looked thoughtful for a minute, then said "Then let me go with you." I laughed. "No way. You don't know anything about living on the road." "Did you when you left home?" It was a good point, but I ignored it. "And what about your parents? You think they'll just sit back and let you go?" "We won't tell them." "It's not fair to them. They'll worry about you." "What about your mother. Isn't she worried about you? Have you even talked to her since you left?" "That's not the same. I killed my father. I had to leave." "Why can't you stay? Tell me!" "Just stop, okay? I don't want to argue about this." I said that a little louder than I intended. He just looked at me, and after a moment, a tear fell from his right eye. "Look, Sean, you're trying to change my life in a big way, and I'm scared." He laughed, an ironic sort of laugh. "And you're not changing my life? I mean, think about it! I've followed that asshole Chad around for, like, six years, and yesterday I finally told him to fuck off and die. I apologized to Tim. Hell, in just a few days I went from beatin' up on gay guys to trying to be a friend to one. I'm even starting to think Tim might be pretty cool. In a little kid sort of way. Face it, Brian. Life is scary." I reached out and took Sean's hand in mine. "You want scary, Sean? Here's scary. I've fallen in love with you." He just looked at me, mouth open, as if stopped in mid-thought, then, when an eternity had passed, he smiled this strange sort of smile and said "This is... This is unreal. I mean... I don't know what I mean." He pulled his hand from mine and sat down hard on the bed, his back to me. "What does this mean?" "I don't know if it means anything. I mean, can you love me? I don't think so. At least not in the same way." "I don't know what to say." "Then don't say anything. Look, I told you that you were the reason I had to leave, and you are. But it's not your fault. I let down my guard, and you got in. If I'd been more careful, it wouldn't have happened." Neither of us said anything for a very long moment. Then Sean, his back still to me, said "Brian?" "Yeah?" "What's it like? To, you know... do it... with another guy?" "Well, that's a tough question to answer. What's it like with a girl?" "I... don't..." He hung his head lower. "You don't know. That's okay. So, what's it like with a guy? Well, it's different with each guy." "Have you done it with a lot of guys?" "A few. I don't always wash dishes." "Did you like it?" "Sometimes. Usually it was just some older guy who wanted to blow me or jack me off and was willing to pay for it. I didn't like those times so much." "So why did you do it?" "I needed the money." For the first time, I felt ashamed of that. "I think... I think it would be different with someone I loved." I put my hand on his back. He stood quickly. "We're gonna miss dinner if we don't go soon." "Okay," I said, kinda sadly. "What are we having?" "Chicken. I think." "I like chicken." I picked up the packet of razors. "I think I'll shave first." Dinner was awkward. No two ways about that. His father liked me, but in the academic sense. He liked the idea of me. Or at least, his idea of me. He pressed me for details of my life. His impression of me was that I'd just run away from home when I was thirteen, and had been wandering the west coast for four years dispensing wisdom and looking for someplace to belong. Sean had told him nothing about the circumstances of me leaving home, and he'd also left out the part about me being gay. I didn't feel the need to add those details. His mother, on the other hand, took a distinct dislike to me from the word go. All during dinner, and afterwards during the haircut, she would ask me pointed questions, trying to get deeper into my life. I deflected those as best I could but she knew I was avoiding them. Sean was no help either. He was very quiet and distracted throughout the evening. When the ordeal was over, Sean and I said a subdued good night, and I walked home. Home. When did I start thinking of the hotel as home? When I got back from work, Sean was sitting by my door. "Hey," he said. "Hey." "Sorry about last night. Mom was kinda rude." "It's okay. She probably just picked up on my feelings for you, or something. Your dad seemed to like me." "Yeah, he was talking about you all night." I nodded to the door. "Do you want to come in?" "Sure." He followed me into the room, and closed the door behind him. "Leave the door open," I said. "It gets too hot in here." He didn't open the door. Instead, he walked straight towards me, a determined look on his face. As he approached, he pulled his shirt off. I backed away. "Sean?" I backed into the wall. He walked up to me and fastened his lips to mine. His kiss was inexperienced, but genuine, and it reached deep into me. I pushed him away. "What are you doing, Sean?" He kicked off his sandals and stepped out of his shorts. "Anything I can to make you stay." "You don't want to do this." "But I do. So help me, God. I do." "I can't stay." "Then you'll remember me for the rest of your life." He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back. Any willpower I had was rapidly evaporating. This kid, this skinny, beautiful kid, had become, at least for the moment, the center of my universe. Around us, everything vanished. We were flying. The bed we fell on was a cloud. His body was my only nourishment. When I took his cock in my mouth, his cries were sweet music. When he reached orgasm, his semen was nectar. When I lay upon his back, our fingers entwined, my cock buried within him, his pain was my pain, his joy was my joy. For that instant, we were one. For a long time afterward we lay entangled in each others arms. "Please don't leave me," he whispered in my ear. "Go to sleep," I said. "We'll talk about it in the morning." I went into the bathroom and cleaned up. When I came out, he was asleep, snoring softly. I quietly got dressed, then I took a pen and piece of paper and wrote "I will love you forever." I folded this up and put it into the back pocket of his shorts. I packed quietly, kissed him lightly on the forehead and left. I hadn't been walking for fifteen minutes when I heard him run up behind me. "Brian! Don't go!" I turned to him. "No, please don't make this harder than it is. I have to go." He was wearing only his shorts, not even his shoes, and as he slowed to a walk he was limping slightly. He was crying. "What am I going to do without you?" I wiped a tear from his face with my thumb. "Come with me." He smiled a sad smile. "You know I can't. My parents..." A tear escaped my eye. "Wherever I go, I'll always be with you." He took my into hi arms and hugged me tight. "Come back someday." "Someday." But I knew I'd never be back. He stepped back, and started to say something, but couldn't. "Sean... you're the first person I've known that I've cared about more than myself. You're a good person. Stay that way. " "I... I love you, Brian. I really do." By now I was crying too. "Someday you'll meet someone who's not all fucked up like I am, someone who can let himself or herself love you like you deserve." "Brian..." "Look, will you do something for me?" "Anything." "Tim needs a friend. Can you do that?" "Yeah." "Good." Then I turned and walked away. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I walked for a few days, thumbed a few rides, and found myself in some town in northern California. As I walked past a gas station, a phone booth caught my eye. I thought of all the things Sean had taught me. I tried to remember the phone number, but couldn't, so I called information. I stared at the phone for almost fifteen minutes before I could dial the number. A woman answered. "Hello?" "Hello," I said. "Is this Lorraine Harris?" "Yes, who is this?" I took a deep breath, and let it out. "Mom? It's Brian."