LOVE'S SACRIFICE

By Matthew Croft

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story starts by gradually developing the characters first, and it takes a few chapters to get to the "good stuff." That said, let us take care of all the usual legal stuff. This is a fictional story containing consensual sex between boys. You should know the drill. If you are under 18, if it is illegal for you to read this kind of story in your area, or if you do not wish to read this type of tale, please hit the back button now. Finally, I am always open to comments and/or plot suggestions. Please feel free to email me at wowcrofty@icloud.com. That is it! Now, without further ado...

PROLOGUE

i.

"Alright, fag boy, get up! We're not done with you yet." Gary Sanders approached the younger boy and snarled in anger and disgust. The three others standing behind him chuckled.

On the ground, Devon moaned and shrunk further into himself as the menacing figure of the bully above him seemed to grow that much larger. He made no attempt to stand. Gary kicked him once again and another pathetic sob came from the huddled figure.

"If you don't get your ass up, we will kill you. These guys, " he turned and swept his hand behind him at his buddies, "would like nothing more than to put you down for good. I have a little more compassion for fags like you than they do, and I told them they need to hold off throttling you until you tell us what we want to know. So, I ask you again: why did you corrupt my brother?!" He shouted loudly. At the same time, he began reaching for Devon's neck, as those he was thinking about breaking his own promise and delivering the lethal touch right then.

"I....I didn't. He..'s...the one who....started....it," Devon replied hoarsely, his voice wheezy and barely audible. He took in a breath and found that it hurt tremendously to do so. He tried to raise his head to look at the glaring face above him, but he was hit with a wave of vertigo and immediately looked back down.

Gary shook his head, signaled to his gang, and kneeled so that he was level with the broken boy. The older teens advanced as if they were dogs running after a thrown stick. Devon felt a cold and sharp blade against his throat. In that moment, he realized his mistake; he realized that he would not escape this night with his life. "Did you two ever queer off?" Gary asked, his voice a silent but thunderous whisper.

He raised his eyes and began to cry. "Yes"

Blood began to cascade down Devon's shirt and onto the wet asphalt of the street as the knife began to sink into the boy's flesh and into his carotid artery. In his peripheal vision, he saw shadows materialize around him like amaorphic phantoms, and he felt as every blow the others landed found it's mark on his body. There was nothing he could do. He just let go and took what was being given to him. He could soon see an impenetrable blackness seeping in at the edges of his vision; a blackness no amount of light could ever fully dispel. He tried to conjure a picture of his boyfriend in his mind: his perfect body and addictive personality, and at the same time wished that he was here so he could say a proper goodbye to him.

Just as he began to sink into the endless abyss of unconsciousness, Devon heard a gunshot and felt a blast of displaced air as the bullet passed so close to him that he thought he was the intended target. It struck Gary in the center of the forehead and sunk into his frontal cortex. Devon heard someone yell from down the alley, "All of you get the hell out of here and leave him alone!" He felt the weight of Gary's body fall on top on him and he heard the sound of the approaching footsteps right as he blacked out.

ii.

Devon became aware of where he was only by degrees. The first moment of coherent thought came to him in the form of a soft but steady beep. Where was it coming from? He was able to open his eyes slightly the next time, but he could not focus and he involuntary squinted as harsh bright white light entered his retinas. He still could hear the incessant tone; what the hell was causing it? He could now also make out another sound, this one human. Someone was calling his name, and mixed with that was a question it took him a minute to comprehend.

"Devon, you with me, baby?"

His heart leapt as he recognized the person that was there. He wanted to say something, wanted to let the other boy know that he could understand him. He began to form his lips into a shape that would help convey how he truly felt at the time. But, his efforts were expelled in a gush of air as his voice failed to work. Reaching in the direction where Devon thought the person might be, he groped ineffectively to make contact, and he soon felt the warmth of a hand intersect his - a familiar hand, one which he had spent countless hours caressing.

Two hours later he was again awake and this time he was able to fully open his eyes. His head was turned to the right, so the first thing he focused on was the spiking jagged green line on a small cathode ray tube. He heard the regular sound of the tone that indicated atrial and ventricular activity, and he recalled having heard the same sound earlier when he was dancing on the edge of consciousness. I am in the hospital, he thought. But why?

A soft sobbing halted his thoughts. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the noise, and he saw his boyfriend sitting in the chair on the other side of the bed. His head was down and he was burying his face in his hands. He was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was upset; the tears left a clear path down his otherwise dirt covered cheeks.

Jason Sanders was twelve years old and at five feet three inches and 95 pounds, he was extremely small for his age. His light brown eyes and black bowl cut hair, which he always wore combed straight, complemented his boyish physique to make him appear several years younger than he was. This very fact is what originally had attracted Devon to him and had afterward caused him to follow Jason around like a lost puppy. In his mind, Jason was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he loved him completely and eternally.

Devon cleared his throat and asked soothingly, "What's wrong, Jason?"

Raising his head, Jason tried to focus on the blurred image of his friend. "I killed him, Devon," he said miserably and so softly Devon had to lean forward to hear.

"What? Killed who?," the boy on the bed responded with surprise and confusion.

"I killed my brother. Don't you remember? He was hurting you and he had slit your throat. I couldn't allow him to get away with that." He started crying again.

Suddenly the events of a few days ago came back to Devon, and he recalled how someone had been running down the alley toward him and his tormentors, and how that person had shouted to leave him alone. The sound of rubber striking pavement as the person had reached him right as he lost consciousness had been the best thing in the world: the arrival of his guardian angel who would somehow make everything better again. At the time, he could not identify the owner of the voice; he had believed it to be simply a Good Samaritan who had showed up at the right time and the right place. Now he realized that he had gotten more than just a generous stranger. He had been given the most important thing in his life as a rescuer. Tears began forming in his eyes, and he blinked them away with great effort.

Then the gunshot rang out in his mind once again and he abruptly sat up in bed. "Oh god, that was really you, wasn't it?"

Jason nodded slightly and hid his face again. Devon's mind reeled as he attempted to justify how the gentle boy next to him who did everything he could to avoid a violent physical confrontation could kindle enough anger to shoot another human being in cold blood. True both him and Devon were members of the toughest gang in the city, and kids that were part of these organizations unquestionably grew up quicker and sometimes even became desensitized to seeing and frequently bringing death, but him and Jason were the youngest of the group. They did not have the innocence of the typical twelve year old boy, but neither of them had ever murdered anyone. Jason in particular had never even handled a weapon, as far as Devon had known. The act of killing had changed all that and it set Jason apart from him. He was having trouble coming to grips with this. What's more is that the person that took the bullet was his brother, his own flesh and blood.

"Will a thank you even begin to repay you for what you have done?" Devon asked hesitantly.

"You don't need to thank me or repay me. I did what I had to do." Jason said after a few minutes, his tone flat and emotionless. He wasn't acting at all like a kid who had just lost his brother. Perhaps after the shock wore off the tough guy act would drop and he would fall hard. Devon knew that he would be there to catch him. "You realize that both of us have to get out of here. We're marked, and not part of the gang now. In their eyes, we have both made the mistake. They will chase us until we are dead."

Devon turned away and looked toward the door. Many thoughts were running through his head and his mind was in turmoil trying to sort it all out. Nevertheless, he was able to come to terms with two things. He knew that the nightmares of that night would haunt him forever and knew they would leave deep mental scars that would bleed for a long time. And he recognized that Jason was right; they had to get out of town. The gang never forgets. Devon sighed, "You're right. Besides, there's nothing here for us anymore. My parents are dead, and yours will probably disown you after they find out what you just did. The law will also be after you, and who knows what other kind of attention you will attract. I don't know exactly where we will go, and we may end up roughing it for a while, but we will have each other. In the end, that is all we have truly ever had or needed." Devon sat up and stared into his lover's eyes. "You think you're ready for that?"

There was another few minutes of awkward silence, after which Jason straightened up, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and returned the stare, his expression more serious than Devon had ever seen it. "I guess we have to be. You get yourself better and get yourself out of here, and then we leave this place and never look back."