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The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males teenagers. If this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.

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Here's the next chapter. Write me.

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Sam Lakes

samlakes86 at yahoo.com

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by Sam Lakes

Copyright © 2006 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Twelve

It was the last day of school. Everybody was hyper about it except me. Troy was going to be working a summer job, so we’d only be able to spend half of Sunday together. That meant I’d be seeing less of him, unless we managed to see each other when he wasn’t working. He really didn’t have a schedule yet.

Alicia was spending the summer with her mom, in California. I had thought Mom might like to spend the summer with me in California, but she wasn’t feeling up to it. Her cancer had returned, and she was mid-treatment. I hoped she was going to be alright, and felt a bit guilty about not keeping in touch with her enough. I promised myself I would. She said, I always cheered her up.

Because I was only fifteen, the only prospects I had, was Mickey D’s and I didn't see myself as the burger flipping kind, not that there is anything bad about flipping burgers – it’s just not something I would enjoy doing. With both dads working, it meant I would be at home alone.

I decided that was not going to be my summer. I was not going to sit around home, and mope all day. I was going to do what I did best – take photos.

I discussed the idea with my dads, and they gave their approval, and although I insisted that I could get around Chicago with out a driver, they pulled rank, and conditioned their approval, based on the fact that Alfie would be driving me everywhere. I had to agree, or be stuck at home with Alfie sitting in the limo.

I called every newspaper in the Chicago area, to find out if they accepted freelance photos, and what they paid, if anything, and all the details; like, did they need a story, to go along with the photo? Some did, and some didn’t.

I started out going to various town hall meetings. Can you say boring! I cared little about the potholes along some street that I would never be traveling on.

Troy called me Tuesday evening, to invite me over to dinner on Thursday, at his place. He wanted me to meet his parents. I didn’t really think much about that, until Wednesday evening at dinner.

“So, Bastian, things are getting pretty serious between you and Troy.”

“Huh? Oh, what do you mean serious?”

“Well, usually when one is invited to have dinner with your boyfriend’s parents, it’s because they want the parents’ approval of the relationship. I know that if your relationship with Troy is becoming a serious relationship, beyond just being pals, I definitely would want to meet him, and I would probably have a lot of questions about him and his family.”

“Oh.”

“Troy seems like a decent person, Bastian. He’s polite and courteous, but as your parent, there are a number of things I would like to know too,” said Michael, “But our responsibility as parents is to ensure your future happiness, and I think, to be honest with you, I’m not so sure you are ready for a serious relationship, and for sure, I don’t know that Troy is. You’re both still young.”

“You and Dad were fourteen. That’s younger than I am,” I said, slightly indignantly.

“Yes, true, but your dad and I had known each other, all our lives, and our parents were friends too,” said Michael.

“Do Troy’s parents know he is gay? Do they know you’re gay? Do they approve of his relationship with you? Do they know that you were raised by a gay couple?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, having wished the subject had never been brought up. Now I was in a dilemma. What if they don’t know Troy is gay. Well, then it’s just a friendly get together, right? Either way what if they don’t like me. What if they don’t approve of my parents? I began to worry.

I called Troy’s number but only got his voice mail. I paced my room, forever, it seemed like, before he called me back.

“Do your parents know?” I asked.

“What? Do they know what?”

“That I’m gay?”

“They are cool. They were a little upset that Alicia and I broke up, because they really liked her.”

“Oh.” What he said made me feel a little better, but then I thought what if they don’t like me? What if they hate me? What if they think I’m too young? Would they try to break us up? God, I’d hate that! I really spaced out.

“Bastian? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I sighed.

“No you’re not? What’s up?”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“They will love you.”

“Yeah, but what if they think I’m too young?”

“Three years is not a lot of difference. I love you Bastian, I want to be with you the rest of my life.”

That made me feel all warm and cozy.

“Don’t you feel that way about me?”

“Yeah, I do,” I sighed. But did I really feel that way about Troy? I think I do but is it just because I can’t have Brady. What if Troy finds someone else he likes better than me?

“Babe, you’re thinking again.”

“Yeah, I was over at Northwestern today. The place is full of hotties – and”

“Did you find someone else?” he interrupted.

“Nooo! But I thought you’re going to be going there, and I'm just going to be a sophomore in high school. What if you find someone better than me?”

“You know Bastian, if I was only into your body and looks, I guess I could find a bunch of guys; some as good looking as you, and a few better, but that’s not what I want. That’s not why I love you. I love the way you smile, the way you cried, the funny little faces you make at people, when you photograph them, the way you care about people, your honesty, your sense of humor and quick-wittedness, the way you lick your lips, when you’re trying to get the perfect shot. Bastian there a million or more things that are just you, and nobody else has them in the same combination as you. I love you. You are unique.”

“Hey, I’m not unique! I still have my balls!”

He laughed. “The word is eunuch.”

“Huh?”

“A eunuch is a guy with no balls. Unique is someone who is unlike anything else.”

“Oh.”

We talked for awhile longer. I felt a lot better, but I was still a little worried.

I woke the next morning, feeling like I had to get out and take some pictures. Well, to be honest I always think about taking photos when I’m not busy. I wanted to get pictures of the Chicago skyline. Of course, they had to be unique – I like that word now.

Dad was going to be using the chauffer today, so I got him to drop me off near the Metra Station, and rode into the city. I eventually ended up at Water Tower Place, and had lunch there. I checked with the building management people, and they refused to let me go to their rooftop to take pictures. That, of course, simply spurred me on to find a way on to the rooftop.

It’s really nice sometimes to have money. I got to talking with a security guy there, named Marv.

“Look just let me out onto the roof for about half an hour or so to take some pictures and the hundred bucks is yours. Nobody need know about it,” I said.

“Well, I guess I could do that. Just don’t go jumping off the roof, or doing something stupid.”

“I’m just taking pictures, nothing else.”

He told me he’d be back in a half an hour to let me back in.

I wish I had gotten some great pictures but I had forgotten to charge my camera’s battery. If you shoot digital you’ll know that when you have no battery you have no pictures, so I went and sat by the door, and waited. And waited. And waited. After two hours, I figured the guy had forgotten me or something.

“Dad, hope you get this message soon. I’m sort of stuck up here on this stupid building’s roof. The guy let me out here, but he never came back to let me in. So could you send someone to let me back in. I’m on top of the…” silence. “Shit!” I exclaimed as I looked at my now dead cellphone. Why is it that my cellphone battery chooses to die when I need it the most? This was not a good day the battery gods must have it out for me!

Just my luck storm clouds were moving in from the west. I wasn’t worried because the John Hancock building was taller so the chances of getting struck by lightening were very slim. The chances of getting wet were 100%.

My backpack that I had bought for my camera had a little pullout cover to protect it in rain. I remembered thinking at the time I bought it, that it was sort of a stupid thing to have on a backpack. I was wrong – My camera stayed dry and I got soaked as I watched the display of lightening play across the dark sky.

It was nine p.m. when the door to the roof finally opened. At the time I was sitting against the door, half asleep, as I had given up on anyone coming to let me in.

I was totally surprised at who opened the door, “Troy?!”

“Bastian! Are you all right?”

“Thank God! I thought I was going to be up here forever!” I started to hug him when I realized there was a man standing behind him. I stood there looking at the person. I didn’t know who he was, or if I was now in trouble.

Luckily, Troy solved the mystery, “Dad, this is Bastian McCormick. Bastian this is my Dad.”

I extended my hand but Mr. Jennings didn’t reciprocate so I withdrew my hand. I knew instantly the man resented me. He turned and started down the stairs to the floor below, where the elevator was. I grabbed my gear. Troy didn’t say a thing. I think he was pissed at his dad, or maybe he was pissed at me, for getting myself locked out on a roof.

I would normally not let people’s rejection of me, bother me that much, but this did. The ride in the elevator was an uncomfortable silence, which I couldn’t stand. Maybe it was because I was wet, hungry and tired, or maybe not, but I didn’t hold back what was on my mind.

“You don’t like me, do you Mr. Jennings?”

He said nothing.

“Dad…” Troy said in a pleading voice.

“What do you think, I turned Troy queer?”

He tensed up still not saying anything.

“My dads are queer too, and most people think they made me this way, but they didn’t. I’m just this way, and nobody made me this way, except maybe God, and if he did, then I guess he knew what he was doing.”

Still he said nothing.

“Troy told me you had accepted him as he is but obviously you don’t, and obviously you think I was the one that turned your boy queer.” The elevator door opened. I pushed past him and muttered, “Maybe I did.” I quickly headed for the exit.

“Bastian, wait!” called Troy.

I don’t know if his father stopped him or he stopped himself but he didn’t follow, and I didn’t stop. I got into the nearest cab. As the cab pulled away I saw him run out of the building but we had already pulled out into traffic.

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