This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to any person, place, or written works are purely coincidental. It may contain consensual sex between young men. Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is illegal for you to view this content for whatever the reason.
Copyright 2009 Jade. All Rights Reserved. Do not post, copy, or use this story in any manner without my permission.
Here it is guys, the final chapter of On Broken Wings. Comments? Questions? Suggestions? I'd love to hear your thoughts, please drop me a line at : phantomscorpio77@gmail.com.
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In the Shadows of Our Lives Part 1 - On Broken Wings XVIII ~ Last Look at Eden [Your Secret's Safe With Me] ~
Dear Journal:
Tell me if this is surreal.
It's Labour Day morning, Monday September 3rd, 2000. Last night I actually managed to drag Tim to the Iron Maiden concert at The Pavilion in Woodlands. I have never seen someone who doesn't care for metal have such a good time before. I'm glad Tim took the ticket that originally was obtained for my sister Candace as soon as Dee knew there concert was booked. Wow, the band plays tight for having 3 guitarists. Rocking out in the front row with my sister and best friend is the best time I can remember in a long time!
The concert will always stand out in my mind, not just because of itself but as part of a package weekend. After the concert Deanna and Scott dropped us off at home on their way to Larry's to crash for the night, so that I don't have to spend another night on the couch. Tim and I ended up at the school football field of all places, sitting and drinking in the bleachers under the cover of night. Yeah, we hung out at the school field as if we're eager to get back to school or something. And yeah, Tim actually drank some of my Jim Beam.
School starts tomorrow, so after the concert last night we met up with Kevin, Neil and Tania for one last night of summer. We wrapped our binge drinking up a little past two in the morning and headed for home. Neil and Tania are back together for now, so as they took off towards his place Kevin headed in that general direction with them to avoid having to face me. He must feel that we are all mad at him, so he walks out of his way to avoid Tim or maybe Tim and me beating on him.
We all pretty much had too much to drink and Tim was wasted for the first time I can ever think of seeing him so. Not thinking clearly I offered for him to crash at my place, which he accepted, and then we remembered that he lives there now too. It sure seemed funny to both of us in the drunken moment. Tim confided in me that he actually thinks this is going to make for a fun year for the two of us.
Me? I've recently accepted that I've broken up with Chris for good, and last night was the first chance I've had to drink the sorrow into oblivion with my good 'ole friend Jim Beam. I love him! Chris, that is, not Jim Beam. Accepting that Chris and I are through has left uneasiness within me. Along with the blissful drunkenness Jim on the other hand often leaves uneasiness in my stomach. This time was no different; I drank so much that I replaced one uneasiness with the other.
So, after silently drowning the pain with way too much of a visit with Jim I was lying in bed with Tim-not that way! You see Journal, Tim accidentally spilled more than half a bottle of ginger ale all over his bed and he said it's just soaked all over and he didn't want to wake my Ma and Larry by fighting to change the sheets and flip the mattress. He announced this after he already plopped onto my bed. I think he was just too drunk to manage it.
Counting the night before he left for New Orleans it was the second time he's slept in my bed with me. Totally plutonic, mind you. If he's listened to me and believes me, he knew that under the bed sheet I had nothing on, unlike the grey no-name boxer briefs that he displayed as he lay uncovered on the mattress just inches from me.
Tim confuses me. If I were to seek him out in a crystal ball I'm sure all I'd get is a thick fog. Off and on I've been getting this weird feeling, like when Daniel and I knew about each other, but couldn't talk. I mean above and beyond the fact that he knows I'm gay and I have as of yet failed to admit it to him, that is. He knows details that are impossible for him to know and they've come out in interesting and often unwelcome ways. So now I'm far from comfortable with him in bed with me. And yet I can't let it show because he's shared his bed with me a number of times.
He's grown on me a lot. I thank my lucky stars that he put up with me when Daniel left and that he has become my de-facto best friend. Since Tania and Neil are almost always exclusive now, redefining Tim's friendship with Neil, Tim and I have become best friends. Even when Tim moved with his family to New Orleans for the better part of the summer. Even in the midst of his latest spat with Tania, Neil got far less Tim-time than I did this week. I'm ecstatic that he came back from New Orleans and moved in with me.
My only problem is that in his absence I finally decided to admit to myself that he has the body of a teen god and I want what I can never have. Yeah, with him in bed with me mixed thoughts abound. And I'm supposed to be a good boy and just sleep? Can't pop a boner over him, can't hug him and cry my heart out over Chris, can't betray that I'm gay. Plus I have to make sure to give him space because he doesn't need his gay friend trying to cuddle with him, or inadvertently fondling him.
It took a long time for sleep to find me, but sleep did eventually claim me.
Then it finally happened. The moment of truth.
Around five a.m. I had this fucked up dream. You see, my old room had no window and was pitch black. Tim had thick curtains that blocked out the sun when I stayed over at his place. In my new room I'm still not used to the light from the window as I sleep, and I blame my strange dreams lately on it when I forget to pull down the heavy blind Ma bought for me.
Anyhow, this dream is way erotic. I'm passing through rooms, sometimes they're pretty trippy actually, like the psychedelic walls and ceilings you can set for the 3D Maze screensaver on Windows 95 computers. If you don't get the reference, think of being in a glow–in-the-dark lazer-tag maze or better yet, a dark, stained-glass room.
The walls are stained glass with a random wavy / swirling pattern repeating endlessly. The domed ceiling is also stained-glass with a different repeating pattern. The floor is yet another repeating design of stained glass. Only the colours shift and change in tune with each other, dark to bright, cool to warm. The colour change has a flow to it almost like a pulse; like a heart is pumping it through the walls. And all this without the help of acid, E, or shrooms! I haven't even touched a joint lately or done hash in longer than I can remember. But I digress.
At times the rooms are Ma and Larry's hotel in New Orleans blended with the hotel in New York, sometimes almost a warehouse, sometimes I can't place the rooms at all, and other times it's the huge walk-in fridge from the restaurant I used to work at. That's where it gets totally fucked up.
This dream had major sexual undertones to it. I can sense I am sexually excited but it's irrelevant because throughout the rooms and halls I'm chasing someone. I can't identify the figure, but I need to catch him. It all ends in this one room.
I recognize the room as the walk-in fridge from work, except it has an extremely high ceiling. The only way into it is to crawl through a window and down a wall mounted ladder; one reminiscent of an emergency fire escape ladder. And yet the room is also part something else. I liken it to the projector room you might imagine in the old theaters, only instead of climbing up to it I have to climb down into it.
Still, that's not quite right. Unlike a walk-in cooler it is warm, comfortably warm in fact. The psychedelic walls have relented. This room has texture. The walls are either black or dark red. On the wall opposite the ladder there is an oversized burgundy futon, vivid with lots of deep purple pillows and a bunched up bright red blanket on it. The futon is somehow raised and other indistinguishable furniture surrounds it. There are hidden pink lamps casting light from behind red and maroon sheets that are hung like curtains as a backdrop around the futon. But still, instinctively I definitely know this is still the fridge. Only this walk-in fridge feels like the plush inside of Jeanie's bottle on `I Dream of Jeanie'.
It's the futon that keeps drawing my attention, and on that futon is Paul. Paul Hunter. I keep coming back to him no matter how desperately I try to forget my huge infatuation with him. He's naked except for his glasses, and gorgeous. It may actually be his head on Tim's body but whatever, he's absolutely, stunningly beautiful.
My clothes have disappeared and the futon is now magically a bed. I hop into the bed with him. I waste no time and start sucking on his dick. Then Paul really is Tim, but I'm still sucking his dick despite somehow being aware of the morph. I clearly recall it from memory quite accurately as being slightly long and not too thick, with a small and gentle round head rather than an ass tearing big mushroom head. Yes, I have stolen more than a few glances at his manhood on the rare chances I've had. He is hot and I am cock obsessed after all!
Yeah, I'm having an erotic dream about my one and only best friend now just because he's kind and caring towards me and it's not lost on me that his dick has features like him; beautiful and gentle. Then Tim is Paul again, and his lips are moving. It may be Chris's words, but it's definitely Paul's voice when he speaks. He tells me not to get hung up on him; he's not worth it.
Of course laying in bed the real me started to get physically aroused by this dream, to the point that somewhere in the recesses of my mind I could sense something cold and wet on me. Leaking pre-cum, I bolted awake. That would have been freaky, having a full on wet-dream with Tim in my bed with me. Even though my new bed is not nearly as small as my old one, there's still not much room and it would be totally obvious and deathly embarrassing. Especially if I got some on him. Thankfully while my shoulders were twisted his way my hips were flat on the bed. Mr. Happy was pointed up towards my tummy rather than at Tim.
At any rate, I woke in well enough time to prevent an actual nocturnal emission. Unfortunately as is always the case, the dream immediately started to fade around the edges. Dreams are usually gone from my mind the moment I wake, some linger for a few minutes, yet because of what happened next this one for the most part has stuck with me.
Tim was awake at this point, perhaps the whole time. His elbow was against my bare chest, his head was inches from mine. The problem is that after sharing a bed with Chris so many times I mistakenly thought it was Chris there smiling at me as my mind woke. Within the first millisecond or two of waking I instinctively, albeit dangerously, leaned forward and kissed Tim on the lips.
His lips didn't feel right. He didn't kiss back like Chris. And then he pulled away with a start. Again, my only honest explanation for this bonehead move is that with the dream still fresh in me and my mind a fog I was confused as shit, and before my senses could clearly register that it was Tim and not Chris there facing me, I sensuously kissed him on the lips. This all happened in like, half a second.
Ouch, this could go real bad, right? Well guess what Journal. You'll never know what happened next. I don't need you anymore. Beyond Duncan I now have someone real in my life to talk to about everything.
Thanks for everything Journal, you were a great listener.
Love, Jon.
).:.(<<
"What the fuck Jon," Tim blurts in startled reaction.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no! Oh my Lord! Oh. My. Fucking. Lord. Tim! I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry Tim. I don't know what just happened there. I just bolted awake and I don't know why I kissed you. I'm so sorry. Look, please don't tell anyone. Kay? Please? Just don't tell anyone, kay? Please?"
It's pain. It's crippling fear. It's embarrassment. It's pure shame. I am tensed up beyond belief and have a tingling around my whole body. My stomach is knotted worse than I ever thought could be possible. It's actually very painful. I can't even breathe. I'm mad. I'm sad. I'm mortified. I'm worried. I'm in shock.
Shit, it's like a cruel deja-vu. I've been here before, ages ago on the floor at Michael's birthday sleepover when I was semi-consciously feeling up Daniel's leg. Fuck, I've dangerously got to watch myself when I sleep with anyone! Well, someone that isn't my boyfriend, that is.
Tim is clearly in shock too. He's pushed away from me, almost off the edge of my bed in fact. But he's frozen. He's just staring at me. What is it? Disbelief? Anger? What? I'm mega-ass worried at this moment that I'm about to get my ass kicked.
And that won't do me in. No, I'll have to face the knowing stares of everyone Tim tells. Worse, I somehow have to face him. Somewhat upright, pinned in the corner against the walls above and beside me I too am now frozen in waiting. Waiting for some counter move on Tim's part.
Silence. No movement.
I start to cry, really bawl, and it's all I can do to stop my bladder from betraying me too. My life is now officially over. Seriously, it's like a painful couple of minutes in this deer-in-the-headlights standoff, both of us frozen in position. Again, I've been here before. It's not a good place at all. Things turned out all right then. That was the start of Daniel and I. But I am realistic. Here and now, lightning is not going to strike twice.
Finally Tim makes a move. He twists his body so that he's on his back again, no longer facing me on his side. He wiggles a lot to get comfortable, fluffing the pillow and wrapping himself in my light bed sheet. Wait? He was under the sheets with me? With naked me? Facing the suddenly more interesting ceiling rather than my naked body twisted awkwardly in the corner against the walls, finally in a long, drawn out breath he says, "Ohhhhh kaaaaaaay."
I sink down into the corner of the bed and close my wetting eyes. Fuck it. I've tried. I just can't take it anymore. My insides are all twisted from the life I'm living. I never wanted to actually do this but I don't see any other way to make taking another breath any easier than honesty. Full, brutal honesty. To hell with the haters, the bigots and hicks.
I'll be damned if I keep it in a moment longer. Somewhat covering my nudity up with a pillow I take a deep breath, "Tim? Look, I'm sorry. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to kiss you. I mean you're a great guy and all, hot as hell, and yeah I am a fag, but I never meant to kiss you. I never, ever meant to do this to you. I, I thought you were someone else. You have to believe me. Kay? I'm just so very sorry I violated you."
Silence, but Tim is moving. He's not getting up, he's not getting closer to snuggle with me, he's just moving around. I wait a long time thinking of what to say, finally deciding to tell him to do whatever he wants, say whatever he wants, and that I totally understand if he leaves now. On cue, as I sigh and breath in, readying myself to say so to Tim he gets a jump on me, "Gay."
Is he about to start bashing me I fear, "What?"
I can't even look Tim in the eyes. Suddenly where I thought I had gained some confidence in myself over time I now feel so dirty and ashamed to be me again.
When Tim speaks it's almost beyond my comprehension, "You're not a fag, Jon. You're gay." It's lost on me at the moment that he called me by my first name rather than the last, or even Cheesedick like usual. It's lost on me that this is how I had hoped things would play out.
Tears are streaming down my face. After a long silence spent avoiding any eye, contact in a shaky voice I give Tim an out, "It all amounts to the same thing, right? I'm queer. I'll totally understand if you want to leave now. I didn't mean to ruin things here, make you probably want to move out. I see I've made yet another huge mistake in my life, I've really put you in a bad position, you know, I'm sorry. It's just...I thought...You know? I just can't live this way anymore."
Again, it's like a cruel deja-vu with Daniel when Tim doesn't haul off and kick my ass for my sexuality or run all grossed out and screaming. Instead he just gives me his usual slap on the chest and laughs, "You're gay. Tell me something I didn't know. I mean somehow I've always thought that. For like a year at least for sure, and since grade 9 maybe when I met you through Rice. But you know what? You finally told me. That's so cool; it's got to be tough. I've got a whole new respect for you. Just don't ever put the moves on me again Farrows!"
I don't speak.
I was ready for a proverbial slap in the face, heck even a few real fists to it, not Tim's usual playful slap to my chest. Still looking at the suddenly exceptionally interesting ceiling Tim asks, "So who else knows about this?"
I'm not quite playing dumb, I'm definitely still in some sort of shock, "Who knows about what? That I just kissed you? Um, no one."
Tim corrects me, "No you goof, who else knows that you're gay?"
"Well, honestly? Ma, Dee, Candace, Larry and Todd Rice are the only people that know for sure, aside from Daniel and the `someone' I was seeing named Chris. Oh shit, that's not true either. Neil and Kevin too because Justin Liddle showed me in bed with Brent to Neil. Um, that would be Brent Liddle, and I've had sex with him a few times. Neil told Kevin. But I had told Kevin the day before, and Neil got the truth from me later that day.
So Neil, Kevin, Justin, and obviously Brent. Probably Tania, and whoever she'd tell. Jackie and Nat saw Chris and me at the mall once too, and Train maybe knows too. I have a friend in Vancouver that knows everything," I convey through a half missing voice. I add, "And now you know too. Not like you didn't know before."
"So you and Daniel Rice then," Tim says matter of fact, not as a question.
It's all I can do to muster up the strength for one word, "Yeah."
"Awww. I've been meaning to tell you that you two really did make a cute couple. That was one of my next tactics. He was so small and you were so protective. Even I'd have to say for two guys you two were cute," Tim is taking it all a little too in-stride for my system.
"Um, thanks."
"No really. I think I knew about you for sure the night we went to that Carnival at Moody Park back on Leap Day. You were still so distraught. Man, you were so strung out; you were hurting way too much to have just lost a friend. We all figured that out. And then you almost let it out to me at McRaunchies I think.
I remember the moment, it was electric, you know? Like I just sensed it then for sure and knew for some reason that I was right. Put that with the way you were when he was around. He was so obviously the center of your universe. I mean obviously now; when you were with him I don't think anyone could have known for sure. But now it makes total sense. So much makes sense, you were both so in love!"
I can't help it, involuntary tears are still falling down my cheeks, "I still love him with all my heart Tim." It feels so liberating just to relate this to someone. It's been a while and there's also love for Chris, but I think I will always love Daniel.
"So what's up with kissing me then? If it wasn't meant for me, did you mistake me for him? I mean sure, love can be blind but he's a fry guy and I'm not. You know," Tim asks. He's like a bloodhound on a scent. Although he doesn't know how much it rattles me, his next comment is dead right and it's pretty unnerving as his lips curl into a smile, "Or maybe Hunter?"
Oh man. Here we go again. Just like the time I over reacted to him in his apartment and ended up getting him kicked out for it. Funny how things have come so full circle. He really did know all along. Hahaha. I'm not even going to touch that one this time. I laugh, at first a nervous laugh, which turns into just a good old laugh, "No."
"It is Hunter isn't it? Don't bother denying it, I have proof," He boasts.
"I dunno Tim, maybe," I issue a giddy laugh again.
"It's nice. It's good to hear you laugh with ease. You're alright, you know? But what gives, why'd you kiss me then? If you didn't think I was Rice or Hunter then who? You at least owe me that."
"Well it's all fucked up. Yeah for a glimmer I thought you were someone. I don't know. I'm embarrassed as shit at the moment and I'll be lucky if one day it's all only just a bad dream to me anyway, Tim."
Playing mock hurt Tim chastises me, "What? Kissing me is worse than a bad dream? Thanks Cheesedick! You're a real sweet guy, you know? I'm sure you'll get lots of return dates when you confide that in bed to any other guys you sleep with! I'll have you know that while I don't talk about girls like they're just pieces of meat I have managed to set one of their worlds on fire. I think anyway. But I have been told I am a great kisser. So screw you; it's your loss! Now, who did you think I was?"
"Never mind, it's stupid and it doesn't even make sense to me so it won't to you," I try to weasel my way out of the conversation, choosing to not tell Tim anything as I recall that he still was momentarily in my near-wet dream.
Tim always has this way of making life seem so simple, he finds humour in everything, and if he can't find it he creates the humour instead. He just takes everything life throws him in stride so well, "Oh come on. Just 'cause it's a guy doesn't mean you have to clam up. You've just said worse potentially by finally telling me you're gay in the first place if I was a homophobe or something. And you kissed me. I'd already have you buy the balls and then some if I wanted. I'm not going to rat you out. Something got you hot, you were having a wild dream there before waking and trying to smooch with me. I am a totally hot guy, I know. But still, if you're into smaller guys like Rice than I doubt I'm you're type. But then again, you totally drool over Hunter, so maybe. So just tell me!"
It's awkward, the walls have fallen, but where are the boundaries. What do I say? What is too much, what is going too far? I should have this figured out by now, living with fear of what people think has been my best subject in life after all. Still, I have no idea of how much to tell Tim. What will gross him out, what will make him think I'm fucked?
It's a cold morning outside, especially for the deep south of Texas. Hearing Larry in the shower I throw some clothes on. Tim doesn't even bat an eye as I emerge naked from under the pillow and step over him. I throw on a hoodie and pair of boxers, Sam's to be exact. Tim and I move downstairs to the kitchen to talk quietly over coffee and tea as I relate the whole dream to him with uncertainty, not even skipping on the part about him.
"Cool, so at least you think I have a nice dick," He says with pretend pride. Yeah, I get too graphic as he asks questions. But he isn't put off really, just curious and trying to show support, "I'm a bit offended that you don't want me, but I'll get over the rejection someday."
In the light that is now filtering into kitchen on the back side of the house I can see that Tim is blushing. But he's here. He's listening to me like a guy would if I were telling him about some chick. I can see by his blushing that he's definitely either embarrassed I guess, or moderately uncomfortable, but he's still the same Tim to me as he's been for almost the past half year. He's making light of life so I know he's going to be fine with me beyond this morning. I gush, "Tim? You're the best you know? I just want to tell you that right about now I think you are the coolest because, well, just because."
"Thanks Cheesedick. You're all right yourself. Oh, and don't worry. You're secret's safe with me. O.K? But by now you should know that's a given. Like you haven't received my emails; I know you know that I knew. No one's ever going to hear that you're gay from me. And that's not even because we've technically slept together a good couple dozen times now, or that you were naked in bed this time too, or that we've smooched, or that I've dropped your pants on you at least a hundred times.
Yeah if people knew I've seen your soldier saluting the air so many times they'd surely be questioning me, not you! But you should know by now that I don't give a crap about that either. If I did, and as you know now I've thought you are gay probably for like at least a year, I wouldn't even be here right now. But remember, your friends know. We all knew before you told any of us."
My heart has slowed down to its normal pace finally. I think I'll live after all. But it's nagged at me for a few minutes now so after acknowledging Tim I ask, "I know, at least I think I know. But tell me, why'd you take so long to reply when I told you if you already knew?"
He doesn't hesitate, "Oh shut up! Why'd you take so long to tell me? That's the real question! No, no, it isn't. I can understand that. You're young, you're good looking, don't get any ideas and take that the wrong way Cheesedick! Plus I got an email from you the morning you came to visit in New Orleans. I think it was intended for that Duncan guy. You have to be more careful when you blindly send such a revealing email. You obviously don't know so I'll let you off the hook and tell you that you sent it to me too by mistake.
Anyway, it was pretty hot stuff! Pretty revealing stuff actually! It gave me a lot of insight into you. Who you like, what you like. And just so you know, I think it's cool. What you think are perversions we all find out are pretty common, just watch Sue Johanson on Oprah some time and you'll find out how normal you are. You shouldn't have messed with Brent, but whatever. You both used each other and got what you wanted I guess. So, what the real question is, is that if Rice is gone now, you broke up with Blondie, Brent's out of the picture, and we both know you're drooling over Hunter then why the hell don't you go for him?"
My mind doesn't at first grasp the answer I've been seeking for the last two weeks. My journal entry that I emailed to Duncan got sent to him too? He read it and got more answers about me than he could have ever wanted. Wait, Duncan replied to that one. Oh fuck, did I send it to everyone? Lost in the moment however I answer, "Yeah right. You have no clue Tim. Not saying the guy is Paul, let's see you walk up to a guy and say `Hi, you're cute. I know I can't, but if I could, I'd want to have your babies.' Plus he's straight."
"The hell he is! How would you know anyhow? No one else for sure knows you're gay. And remember, I know it's Hunter," He rationalizes.
"Thanks, but you just told me that at least Nat, Tania and Neil knew too, like before I told them. As for Paul, I mean this `someone', I just know."
"I already know it is Paul Hunter! C'mon, at least admit that. If you'll recall, I just told you I read your little confessional email you sent to Dr. Duncan and me," He pauses as I try to suppress a grin, "Farrows, you dog you! Hunter is hot...for a guy!"
"Yeah, and totally, unbelievably straight. So why bother," I lament.
Tim rolls his eyes, "Man, you don't get out much do you?"
"Huh," What's that supposed to mean I wonder?
He clues me in right away, "Stacey Smith dumped him like a year ago. She told the whole world he's gay. Where the hell were you?"
Huh? I've been lost in my own little world. Daniel, Chris, worrying about being outed. Just a little preoccupied I guess with my own scandals. I knew she dumped him but the rest of this is news to me actually as I reason, "That's just bullshit because they broke up. He has a kid. He's not gay."
He repeats, "Yeah, Stacey's parents made her give up custody. She was too late for an abortion, and too young to be a mother. So the state gave Belinda to Hunter even though Stacey tried to deny he was the father. She doesn't want Hunter to have Belinda because he's gay and used her as a cover and lied to her."
I counter, "That's just rumours, like Daniel and I, like Neil and you. No one ever saw me and Daniel do anything. And you're not gay, to my knowledge you didn't jump down Neil's pants like people whisper. You're certainly not jumping down mine and let's be real; I'm way hotter than Neil! Number eight in our grade was it? You could do a lot worse than me! At the very least I'm not a fat hairy beast like Neil.
Stacey and Paul broke up, she didn't want the kid so she says he's a fag. Whatever. Don't read too much into it. I've watched him in school enough. Trust me, he likes pussy."
He fires back, "No, my mother got the custody bit first hand from his parents. That's not a rumour. These are rumours; I've played baseball with him for a gazillion years. Trust me, he likes dick. He sneaks peaks at guys whiff boxes just like you. Before Hunter quit earlier in the year Andy Shaw whispered to me when he caught Hunter staring at him taking his off in the locker room. Hunter went so beet red I practically begged Shaw not to embarrass him. That was Hunter's last game until Coach Ramsey muscled him into coming back. It's too bad, Hunter's a real good natural first base."
"Whiff box?" I inquire.
"Cup, jock, whatever. You'll recall wearing and washing mine? I did that to goad you on after reading your email, you know. Sorry. Anyhow, yeah, he's totally got a thing for guy's crotches. This goes back to like maybe grade 7, but Neil told me that Justin Liddle woke up one morning when they were at a tournament in Austin and said Hunter was beating off looking at him. Justin was hanging out of his boxers I'm told.
Shaw and Liddle, I guess Hunter has a thing for lefty pitchers. Maybe we'll have to get you to switch hands and become a pitcher. Then you'd be a shoe-in.
Anyhow, of course Justin didn't know what to do, so he told Neil. Justin and Neil were best buds back then. And since then Neil told me. I didn't know what to think at the time when he first told me but I totally believed it when I saw firsthand that he was staring at Shaw's schlong. After that I started to watch Hunter closely and I totally believe he's always looking at guys, just like you. Not just random guys either but one in particular. You guys can't keep your eyes off each other!"
So I share a hang up with him. Hmmm. Maybe he does bat for my team, "Who knows, maybe he's just a perv or something. Or you know, comparing size. He's fucked a girl, he has a kid to show for it. Sounds pretty straight to me."
Tim's twisted logic may be more accurate than mine, "Exactly! Sounds straight. That's the idea. Don't deny it, you and he were doing that little chase-after-each-other-in-the-halls game that Rice and you used to do in grade 9 for a while. It's like it was the highlight of your friggen days! And then it stopped."
Deny, deny, deny! Oh wait, he knows I'm gay now. Plus, I've confirmed to Neil by my lack of argument that the eye contact game is my modus operandi. Oh well, Deny, deny, deny, "What are you talking about?"
He groans, "Yeah right Farrows, it makes total sense now, you two cruise each other like you and Rice used to!"
The fact that I cruised Paul Hunter in the halls at school is true. So is the fact that I stopped doing it because I thought it was becoming obvious the day that Neil and Tim nodded towards each other about it when Paul walked past us into the team change room. Too little too late, I guess. Neil's already confirmed my suspicion that apparently it was beyond obvious well before that day. But who cares about that; Tim has dropped a bombshell. Paul was cruising me back?
After kicking the idea around I disagree, "Naw, I don't think so. Yeah, so I guess you're used to it from me because Daniel and I did have some sort of thing going on there, but there's no way Paul was doing that back to me."
"Oh man! You're so blind! How the hell did you and Rice ever hook up if you can't see the signals. Honestly, I thought that you and Hunter were secretly at it for a while now because the cruising stopped. You stopped running like a puppy to pass him in the halls and lock eyes with him. Maybe not since the Beach Bash on April Fool's Night, but for sure Neil and I thought so since Hunter walked past us into the locker room for the city tournament and you almost wet yourself with excitement!
I didn't let Neil know I agreed with him about that part, but I did think it all the same. I denied that part to Neil, 'cause I knew you didn't need the spotlight on it, I but definitely knew you were seeing someone behind our back since at least then for sure. Only, after reading your email I know someone happens to be Chris, not Paul.
And I never told anyone what made you so mad that you managed to overpower me enough to take me down and break that table. Only you and I know that while you were looking up my boxers it was me saying something about you and Paul that got you so defensive. But hey, as much as you want him, now I know it's not Hunter you were keeping from us."
Chris is another topic I don't want to get into right now. It was mutual and amicable, but I hurt over him more than I'd have thought. So I brush it off, "Yeah, the view was a good one, you looked like you were giving yourself head. And well, you've got a nice one too. Sorry. I'll stop saying that. But then, if Paul is gay, what if he doesn't like me?"
"You move on. Like we all do. But he likes you. Maybe you don't know, but we do. Neil and I are sure of it."
"O.K. Lemme get this straight. You've seriously known I'm gay for like forever, and that I am in total awe of your body, if I recall the email I somehow mistakenly sent you. You totally caught me staring up your shorts for a look at your junk when we broke your table and got you kicked out of your apartment. You also know I sleep in the nude. So why the hell did you get in bed with me last night, and why were you under the sheet next to naked little gay me when I woke?"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously."
"Because you've never done anything to make me worry about it and you never will. I know that just because you're gay doesn't mean you're going to jump each and every guy, but still to further that, you've never done anything to me to make me feel uncomfortable. You may want to, but you won't ever violate me, and you said as much in your email confessional.
Plus my bed is seriously soaked with at least a quart of ginger ale all over the place and you got a stiff back from sleeping on the couch the night before. Put that together with the fact that I was still drunk; sharing your bed was the most inviting option. I got under the sheets because I was cold. And lately you may have noticed but since you wouldn't just admit it to me I've been teasing you with my body. Like next to never wearing a shirt in New Orleans, making you wear my jock and wash another one with my baseball stuff, O.K? My revenge shall we say? Getting you to wear my gear above and beyond getting you to wash it?
I'll tell you, it was mega weird trying not to let on I know anything to you after reading that email. And then I finally started pushing your buttons but got nothing. Pissed you off for sure, but you didn't break. So it was weird. Especially in moving in here too. I don't want to hurt you. I've seen you hurt. Heck, you were downright depressed after Daniel. And I never want to cause that.
But to be totally honest, the eye contact between you and Hunter wasn't the only tip off recently from you that you like guys. Of course I had my suspicions. I seriously thought maybe at the City Championships that Hunter shot you down. And I haven't told anyone about this either but after the Hunter comment when we were wrestling, when I was gloating over you? You're right, I totally caught you looking up my shorts. I'm not blind or ignorant, I saw your eyes check me out, it's almost like they smiled. I saw the shock when we locked eyes right after that. I saw the spirit and joy drain out of them so fast that instant when you realized I caught you. I really couldn't come up with any explanation for that one other than the obvious.
So instead of out you, I just laughed it off and sort of ignored that one. But it's like that. Long before that email I totally knew for sure right then and there. That's why I'm slow to react now, Jon. I didn't know how to react at first because we've been avoiding the obvious for so long now so I just brushed it off.
But this time, I'd say because it stung for a minute. Not that you kissed me, big friggen deal. Because I can ignore that just like when you checked out my goods. It doesn't gross me out. A naked guy is a naked guy to me. If you enjoy the view more power to you.
This time I can't deny that you finally said the words. So it stung me. It stung that you've lied all the while. I was pissed at you when I got kicked out of the apartment, in fact I was so mad that I never told you that the real trouble was the party the night before. You and me breaking furniture probably didn't matter either way.
Yeah, I was so mad that I actually felt like outing you then. I did, just to clear the air. To Candace, but she already knew and got me to let you come around in your own time, or hit you over the head with it if you didn't by Christmas. I was going to be the one kissing you under the mistletoe this year until you finally snapped. Seriously, tongue and all if I had to, just to get you to be honest with me.
And I felt sorry for you at the same time that it's so hard for you. I know you don't want my pity, and it's not like that anyway. But I do know why you lied about it to me then. It's got to be harder than I can even imagine, being gay and praying that it doesn't matter to other people, so I understand why."
"Wow Tim, you've really thought this through. Thanks, I love you man."
Like when I told Daniel about myself I now feel a similar weight off of my shoulders. This time it's Tim, and he's not gay, not going to be my boyfriend, and not hurt me in the end. Not like Daniel. Not like Chris. No, it's Tim and he's cool with me and going to remain my friend.
I joke, "Did you make up the bit about spilling the pop in your bed just to put me in an awkward position? Speed up your timeline and finally fish this out of me?"
"Nah. Easy as you are, it wasn't a desire for your body that brought me to your bed. My bed's really soaked. And for the record I never forced this. You kissed me! Remember?"
"Easy? You're saying I'm easy?"
"If I told you to drop your drawers right now, bend over this table and spread 'em for me you so would."
We just smile at each other. He's right. But he's never in a million years going to ask that of me either. That our friendship is never going to get complicated by sex makes me even more thankful to have him in my life. I dare to dream for the first time in almost a year, "Maybe you're right, this will be a good year after all."
"I hope so buddy. I hope so," Tim quietly comments.
"You suddenly don't sound so optimistic."
"Yeah, well any year can be your last, right?"
What's that supposed to mean and why's Tim somber? That is one characteristic I've never seen in him. It suddenly worries me immensely. What if he's now had time to think and has changed his mind. I try to feel him out, "So that's my big bad secret in life. How about you?"
Tim nervously laughs, "Nope. Can't tell ya buddy. It's not fair; I'd have to kill you."
O.K. I'm officially spooked now, "Uh, Tim? What's wrong?"
Failing in his attempt to act like something's wrong Tim lets out his usual easy laugh I have come to know, "Fine. Let's see. My biggest, baddest, darkest secret is that I'm totally normal in every way."
"That's a cop-out. Every one's got at least one," I almost snap at him. It's not like I expect he's going to shock the hell out of me and tell me he's gay too, you know the saying; lighting never strikes the same place twice and all. But I'm feeling pretty vulnerable just at the moment.
"Woah there Tonto. Fine. There's one that I'll carry to my grave. Sorry if it's not as big as yours but I just can't tell you. And no, it's not that I'm gay too. If I was I'd tell you that. Cheesedick, you and I? We'd be having sex twice a day and that's no secret. Someday yours won't even be a bad or dark secret, at least not to you, and hopefully not a secret at all. But you want to know my very close second-worst? What would you guess my real name is?"
"Uh, Tim?"
"Duh! Well I think I just made it clear that it's not Tim! Tijandur," Tim says his name with a look of absolute disgust on his face.
"Te what?" I ask, not quite sure I heard him clearly.
"Tijandur. Tijandur Chase Matthews. Used to go by T.J. for short, but my parents decided to completely change it when Mackenzie was born and we moved to the bigger house in this district of Houston. New home, new friends, new name, right?"
Tim looks more mortified at his own name than I could believe. It's actually sort of funny that this seems bigger to him than my coming out.
"So what's so bad with that," I asked, not seeing what could possibly be that horrible about the name.
"Well it's like this. In grade school kids can be equally as nasty as in high school, and it made no sense, but the guys used to say my name and make a humping motion to imply that I fucked dogs up the ass. No offence about the up the ass bit. I assume you just stick to poking guys, not animals. I mean I had been T.J. since a baby, but on the rosters when we had substitute teachers they always wanted to read the name out. So kids learned my real name. Yeah, by grade three I had every kid in the school saying my name and doing the phantom dog hump to the point that instead of them all getting sent to the principal's office it was just easier for the teachers to ignore it. It fucking sucked. Thankfully we moved and when I fell in with Paul, Wayne, Nat and Jackie I was just Tim."
I laugh, really laugh at Tim. It feels so good to see someone else face adversity for something that was out of his control. It's cruel I know, but it creates a deeper bond with Tim for me that he had been picked on too.
"Yeah, laugh it up Farrows. Outside of my parents, no one knows this. Make a pass at me and I'll just shoot you down. Ever call me that, or tell anyone, anyone at all, and I'll just plain out shoot you. We clear on that?"
I razz Tim, "Ouch. Touchy subject T.J.? Should I hide Bandit?"
After giving me a damn hard punch to the shoulder Tim gets serious, "Look Cheesedick. I took a lot of crap for that name for no reason. I got my ass kicked more times than I can hope to count and had to fight a lot because kids can be dicks. I didn't call you anything derogatory when you told me you're gay. You said you're a fag and I corrected you. I said you're gay, just like you had hoped in your email.
My parents named me after the doctor that attended to my birth. It was supposed to be a doctor with the last name of Morgan. I was supposed to be Morgan Chase Matthews. But he was already on call somewhere, or not on call that night, or whatever, and I got delivered by a guy with the last name of Tijandur. They were pretty young and dumb, and thought that would be a cool name! I can't change that anymore than you can change your sexuality. Well, legally I guess I have, but still, I can respect you and I want you to respect me. O.K.? I know too well what it's like to be persecuted for something that is so trivial, and no one's fucking business."
Rubbing my shoulder I laugh, but before Tim can punch me again I explain, "O.K. Truce! You don't tell and I won't tell. But what I am laughing about is that listening to you I don't feel alone anymore. It feels so good that I can't help but laugh."
"Well thanks. Someone's got teach you you're all right! I figure why not me!"
I hug Tim. I've wanted to for so long now; to let him know through an embrace that his friendship means the whole world to me. Tim hugs me back. I start to cry again. I just can't help it. Looking in my eyes he hesitates, then gives me the quickest of pecks on the lips.
After Larry heads in to school to get ready for tomorrow we head back to bed to sleep off last night. This time I keep the boxers on as he snuggles up to me. He even pretend to feel up my nonexistent breasts, telling me that it's a onetime only deal because I've had an emotional morning.
Once I finally wake up and have a shower I join Tim and my mom, preparing a big barbeque we're doing for a bunch of faculty from school tonight. After the barbeque we start the arduous task of getting ready for the first day back to school tomorrow; no late night tonight.
All's normal throughout the first day back to school. Brent and I are normal to each other as we end up in the same English class and even sit together, talking as if we were old friends. It was sex, it happened and that's it. Strangely there is no awkwardness. Kevin I still won't speak to. I watch for Paul all day but never see more than the back of him. Tim and Neil go to baseball practice. Tania walks my way home with me for a few blocks until she cuts off on her street.
When Tim gets home he reaffirms that my secret is safe with him. He promises that he won't tell anyone, not even give confirmation to Nat who is like his fag hag despite him being straight. I think between my friends at least my secret will hold. It's one thing, people knowing; it's still another thing altogether, saying the words.
After dinner Neil and Tania come over. Yup, it definitely looks like things are `on' between them again. Tim and I crash on the floor, giving Neil and Tania the couch to watch a rerun episode of Roswell.
During Letterman, after Neil and Tania have left, Tim nudges me, "Now then, tell me about Chris, that blonde kid you were with."
).:.(<<
Note to the reader:
So here ends the final chapter of On Broken Wings, part 1 of In The Shadows of Our Lives. When I started this story I figured on it only being 9 parts at best. In fact, truth be told; in a slump Part 5 was going to be the end for a while! And for 4 years it was as far as posting the story goes. Spirit of the Underdog was originally posted in a rougher form as From the Heart of a Little Guy on Nifty/Gay/High School Aug 5/04. The beginning of On Broken Wings was originally Dear Journal, last posted on Jan 13/05.
I chose to tie things up after all. it seems that throughout the long hiatus Jon's voice and story has always resonated in me. In doing so I started from the beginning again and heavily revised what I had written and posted, continuing on from there. I've tried to get to this story when I could and as often as possible to bring it to closure. This is the installment of the story that always nagged me to be told, even if it is anti-climatic and lacking a blow up or big sex scene. Sometimes things in life do go smoothly after all, hence this final installment; Chapter 18.
Thanks to many readers who have commented as the story started to evolved that the format worked quite well at getting inside Jon's head and seeing what he really thinks and feels. (You know who you are, cheers.) It worked to a large degree, but somewhere along that line, the lines between the story and his thoughts (journal entries) began to blur in my mind.
To any and every reader, if you have gotten this far; THANK YOU!! :)
Happy New Year, here's to a a great 2010! Cheers,
~Jade.
P.S.: Jon will go on, for those who are interested! I'll start working on Part 2 of ItSoOL (Wings of Tomorrow) sometime soon, but would like a little break from Jon for now. Although I can't say for sure when I'll start posting; realistically I'm thinking somewhere between mid / late summer and early autumn.
I currently have another story I'm also winding down, "In This Cruel World" that features Jon's MSN friend Duncan. If you care to read it it's also under Nifty/Gay/High School. I have a few other stories rattling around in my head that I'd also like to tap, starting with If You Could Read My Mind, which I will begin writing and posting in the new year. Beyond that???
If you've reached this point, whenever you get here, and would like to know when I get going on part 2 of In the Shadows of Our Lives, kick me an email and I will let you know when I get back to it.