Date: Tue, 27 Oct 2015 13:09:25 +0000 From: DS Subject: New life with Denholm- Submission 5 In the last chapter, I introduced the first sexual encounter between the two characters, James' dad had gone away on a business trip leaving just the boys alone in the house for the week, and Matty and Sam- Denholm's old friends had been asked to spend a few days at the house. Although this site is generally used for a quick read for your pleasure, this storyline will not heavily focus on sexual scenes. Alternatively, these scenes will be dotted around as a reward for your commitment to the story. Thanks to those who have stayed with the story and also to those who have taken the time to email me, offering me both praise and criticism. Please feel free to contact me at niftyaccount27@yahoo.com and I will be more than happy to discuss your ideas or thoughts. We carry on from James returning from his run with Jack, as Denholm had prepared breakfast. I shut the door as quiet as possible, thinking Denholm might have went to sleep when I left. I pulled a few letters from the letterbox and sifted through them, seeing if anything was for me. They were mostly just for my dad, and I made a mental note to ask him if anything was important that I should read to him. There was one letter, with something of a formal feel about it, addressed to Denholm. I guess this means he really is a part of the family now, our address already given in his details. I had no idea what it would be, so put it in my pocket to give to him later. I stood momentarily at the bottom of the staircase, grabbing my water bottle that I'd conveniently left next to the door for when I returned. I was surprised to hear his voice coming from the kitchen, and as I got closer I could smell cooking smoked bacon- always a smell I loved; one of few good memories I had of my mum was that she wasn't a bad cook, and never made anything unhealthy throughout the week, until it came to Sunday mornings when this all went out the window, and a full English would be prepared for myself and my dad. Something about the smell as I walked in to the kitchen caused me to smile uncontrollably, my teeth showing, which is rare for me. To make the moment even better, Denholm had done this just for me. I know it's not a great effort to make breakfast but to me it meant a lot. I sat down on the raised seat next to the table as he placed my food in front of me. He then imitated the posh, Butler-like British accent and said, "Sausages, eggs, bacon served on toast, sir." I smiled, while saying, "thanks Denholm. You didn't have to do this." "I wanted to." He responded. "Besides, you'd woken me up already." "Sorry about that!" I apologised, while reaching into my pocket of my shorts and handing him the letter I'd found at the door. "What's this?" He asked, confused. "No idea, open it," I said, a mouth full of food. Hesitantly, he did so, and his normally glowing, fair skin, dimmed in a similar fashion to his facial expression. He paused for a minute, making sure to read the details on the paper in front of him. "Her funeral. It's on Friday." He said, looking up at me. Immediately realising that my dad wasn't going to be here for it, I sighed, and contemplated about what to do. "I'll call my dad after breakfast, and we'll sort something out. Don't worry." I didn't think they'd send the letter straight to Denholm, and I would of imagined that they'd said something about the funeral sooner. I also thought about my dad. He seemed pretty sad to hear about the death of his friend, and now he wouldn't be able to go to her funeral. I wondered how I'd break this to him, and also how I'd get Denholm there. All of this aside, what must Denholm be feeling at this point? It seemed that he was just starting to adjust, to be expressive to myself and even my dad. And the reminder of his fucked up life written formally on a cheap piece of card plunged him straight back into that introverted boy that arrived at our door. I looked over at him, sitting across from where I was. He was gazing unknowingly at his food, attempting to force some bacon down, and almost choking on it doing so. He then broke the silence, his eyes still fixed on his plate of food, "I'm not sure I want to go." "Why's that?" "Everyone there hates me. Friends of my mum, they know what I was like." "What do you mean?" "The reason my dad was so angry all of the time was because of me. I always messed about in school, never came home when I should have, and.. Chris." He stopped at this point, but the sudden inclusion of the name Chris was strange. "Chris?" I asked. "It doesn't matter, I just don't think they'll want me there." I couldn't understand this situation. It was heartbreaking to hear him talk like this, and I'm sure he was over exaggerating. I moved over to the chair next to him, reached my arm around his shoulder and said, "Denholm, this is your last chance to say goodbye. Whatever you've done it can't be that bad, and even if it was, it's not going to be about you, or them. It's about your mum." I then hesitated, and confessed, "when my mum left me and my dad, she didn't say goodbye. She called my dad to tell him she'd packed and then just left when I was at school, I was eight at the time. I had absolutely no idea anything was wrong even before she left. I came home and that was that. I could deal with the fact that she'd gone, knowing what she'd done and how she'd treated my dad, but I could never deal with the fact I never got the opportunity to actually say goodbye. That's what hurt the most, not having closure." I actually felt my eyes begin to water up, even more so when Denholm reached his other arm around me and hugged me tightly. There was this surreal connection between us after I said that, and although my mum was still very much alive, I could understand Denholm, and could almost feel the stabbing pain in his heart that I'd felt the day my mum left. Maybe this was my closure. Actually talking about this to someone who'd listen to me for more than five minutes like my dad did. We gradually parted from the hug, and he eventually looked up at me, "will you come?" I kind of guessed I'd have to, he couldn't exactly go alone. So I nodded, and told him to eat what he could, and that I was going to call my dad and let him know. My dad didn't take it well, he actually seemed pretty angry; not at me, but at 'Julie and Karen' who had been left with the responsibility of the funeral. He was certain they'd deliberately told us this late so it would be hard for us to prepare. He mentioned how they'd always had it in for Denholm after what happened with Chris, by which I responded again with, "Dad, who's Chris?" Again I wasn't given an answer and he simply told me that I'd have to go with Denholm to the funeral, and that he'd pay for a cab to take us there on Friday morning. "Write down how much I owe you, you'll need to get Denholm a suit too." I agreed and ended the call, concerned by how my dad reacted and also annoyed by the secretive way in which the name 'Chris' had been mentioned, both by my dad and by Denholm. As I hung up, my phone rang again, this time from an unknown caller. "Hello?" "Hi, this is Matty, you said to call you on this number after we asked our mum?" "Ahh yes, hi Matty." "She said we can stay until Thursday if that's okay? We're going away on Friday so need to be back. My mum said she'd pay for a cab to drop us off later today. Is that okay?" "Perfect. I'm planning on surprising Denholm, so I'll leave a key under the drivers tyre of the Citroen on the driveway. If you just go in, and we'll be back home at about 2." "Okay, see you later." Well, at least that might cheer him up, I thought, as I left the room and headed to the kitchen to clean up. I shouted up to Denholm to come downstairs, which he did after a few minutes. "Why don't we go and play football today, I'll introduce you to a few of my friends?" I knew he'd be wary of meeting my friends; he wasn't too comfortable around new people I'd noticed. He thought for a moment and nodded his head. "Great." I said, then went on to ask him to get changed while I go in the shower; I still hadn't washed since my run, and badly needed to do so. I'll not bore you with the details of my shower, it was pretty straightforward and I decided against jacking off, knowing I'd rather save myself for the next encounter with Denholm. Okay, I lied. I jacked off at the very thought of last night's encounter, but I'm a teenage boy, so what do you expect? After cleaning up, I left the bathroom, put on some navy football shorts and a Nike training top. Weirdly, Denholm emerged wearing navy football shorts and a training top, luckily his top was blue, emphasising his electric blue eyes. We left and headed to the field next to the football team that I play for. I'd asked Jack earlier on if he'd get a few of the lads from the team to have a kick about, and that I'd be bringing Denholm. I did notice him shy away a bit when I introduced him to everyone. But he soon eased up when we began to play. We split the teams into dark and light shirts, meaning Denholm was on my team. I noticed the others on my team looking a bit disappointed, thinking they'd lose since they had the younger kid on their team, oh how wrong they were. I was seriously impressed. He said he liked football but I didn't think he knew much about playing. But he didn't just do okay, he actually humiliated some of my friends, including Jack as he had the ball kicked through his legs before looking back to see Denholm chip the 'keeper. I'd mentioned before that Jack was by far the best on our team, even looking to break into the local academy. After about ten minutes of playing against him, Jack turned to Denholm and asked if he'd considered joining the team. The league we're in is for under eighteens, and usually the organisers don't accept players younger than fourteen in this category, but they'd been known to make exceptions if the player was good enough. After a look of approval from me, Denholm said he would, as he walked off with Jack to the main building of the club to be enrolled and assessed. During this time, one of my teammates, Harry, thought it would be funny to pick up Denholm's backpack and throw it up into the tree, knowing he wouldn't be able to reach it. My friends began to laugh but stopped when they saw my face, I must have been looking at Harry in such an evil way, and aggressively walked up to him, grabbing him by the shirt, pushing him to the floor whilst saying, "what the fuck are you doing?" The tension dramatically increased, as he jumped straight back up and pushed me back. "What's wrong with you? I'm just taking the piss out of the little show off." And with this I completely lashed out, beginning with a sweet right hook to the jaw, dropping him to the floor almost immediately for the second time, before kneeling over him and laying into him with my fists in rapid aggression. I was pulled off by my friend Liam, who instantly tried to calm me down and move me away from Harry, who wasn't moving at all by this point. I walked away alone, back to the club building where Denholm was finishing signing a few forms. He smiled when he looked at me, telling me I was just in time to sign for him to join since he didn't have anyone else to do so. I guess I was his legal carer while my dad was away, so walked over, my facial expression emitting a look of guilt, picked the pen up and signed the bottom right hand corner of the page. As I did this, I saw Denholm look at my right fist, covered in the blood from Harry's lip and nose, he then picked it up for closer inspection, doing the same with my left fist. He gasped but I gave him a look of, 'not now' and walked out. As we headed out the door, Liam was standing there with both mine and Denholm's things, guessing I was just going to head home after what happened. He must have climbed the tree to get the bag ran over to avoid another fight. I was still in shock at what I'd done, so nodded at Liam as a way of thanking him and walked off with Denholm, who by this point seemed concerned by my lack of explanation. He asked me what happened on the way home, but I diverted the question, telling him not to worry about it. In truth, I was disgusted by myself. I'd never been a violent person, I'd never needed to be. But seeing someone attempt to make Denholm feel bad just filled me with rage. And although I knew it was right to stand up for him, I thought I'd went too far, and Harry didn't deserve that much, and I felt even worse for just leaving him there, not knowing the state he was in. I knew by the time I got home Denholm would forget about it. The twins would have arrived at about one o'clock, and it was nearly two now. He'll be too excited to care, I thought. I wasn't wrong. We arrived home about ten minutes later, talking casually on the way, bringing somewhat of a better mood back with us too. "You first." I told him, as we reached the door. I wanted to see his reaction to his friends, and I also had no idea where they were, and figured they'd jump out on him or something, so he needed to go first. Strangely, he didn't notice the door was unlocked, his mind must have been somewhere else, hopefully not on figuring out why I had blood on my hands. We went upstairs, Denholm in front of me, heading to my room. What happened next made me match my grin from earlier on in the day, as the twins were lying in my bed, pretending to be asleep. Denholm looked at them in disbelief, then back up at me, as if to confirm that he wasn't seeing things. "Oh my fucking God, Sam! Matty!" He shouted, as he ran over to the bed, jumping in between them. I'd be lying if I said I didn't start to cry for the second time that day. A look of genuine happiness and warmth filled his face, as he hugged and chatted away to his old friends. I was surprised by how identical they actually were. I found myself subconsciously staring at them, trying to find a difference between them. I must also say how beautiful they looked. Slightly smaller in height than Denholm, but both with a similar button nose and general cuteness about them. They had light brown hair, short but with a fringe swaying in the same direction as Denholm's. I noticed I was awkwardly standing in the corner of the room next to the door, so I walked into the bathroom to wash the blood off my hands (I didn't think that would make a good first impression). When I'd finished, I came back into the room and noticed they'd stopped talking and all seemed to look at me, the twins with a hint of menace conveyed by their grins. "Yes...?" I asked, confused. One of them paused, I later found out it was Sam, and said, "Denholm wasn't lying." Causing the other two to burst out into laughter, and Denholm to turn red as he blushed. Hmmm, I thought, what had Denholm said now? I shrugged off his comment, looking at them suspiciously, and asked for them to follow me to the third floor, where another spare bedroom was, with two single beds. They looked disappointed, but dropped their bags on the bed. One of them looked at me and asked curiously, "so you two sleep in the big bed together?" This time coming from Matty. "Erm, well..." I stuttered, not knowing what they'd think. "Mostly yeah." Denholm interrupted. "Ahhh." They replied, almost synchronised. I still couldn't tell the difference, they were carbon copies, even down to the same green eyes with a freckle of golden brown to the left. "That's gonna get weird." I said, "is there a way I can tell the difference or?.." They laughed at this, then turned around to show me the back of their necks, Sam had a scar in the shape of an arrow pointing vertically, whereas Matty had a larger but similar scar pointing horizontally. They explained how when they were younger they were at a barbecue with their family, wrestling on the floor next to the dinner table, when a piping hot steel rod used for holding meat dropped on their necks as they were fighting, causing a permanent scar which later helped people identify them. I couldn't help but laugh at this, as they then went on to say how people would turn them around to see which they were as if checking the tag on the inside collar where you were told to write your name at school. We all laughed at this, until Denholm suggested we order a Chinese takeaway, "courtesy of James, of course." "Huh." I replied, questioning his cheek with a mock surprise on my face. "You're lucky it's three against one or I'd throw you out the window." I joked. He smirked, then replied,"that's what I thought." In an attempt to mockingly threaten me. Even the twins laughed at this. It seemed Denholm was the least likely to instil fear on anyone, let alone someone bigger than him. But we left the room and walked along to the games room, where we played on the Xbox for a number of hours, until I finally ordered food at about 5 o'clock. .... To be continued.