Date: Tue, 7 Mar 2017 16:57:43 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Canvas Hell 16

Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell/)
for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights
reserved. Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is
against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if
you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to
Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

I just stared at the flames, confused and worried and discontented. Dr
Eaglas finally sighed deeply, patted my shoulder and walked toward the Mess
Hall, leaving me to my unsettled and unworthy thoughts. A soft, predawn
breeze tickled the fire and suddenly there was a single, taller, stronger
flame. My heart wanted to think that the three had merged, but I felt in my
soul that one had blown out and only two remained to dance together. I
cried quietly as the sun began to tickle the sky before going back to Tent
Canvas Hell to start the day anew.

***** Canvas Hell 16: Too Cold for Snow

By Bear Pup

T/T; self-discovery; stupidity; jealousy; love

Jim and Karl seemed completely unfazed, which only fuelled my grump. Both
were cheerful and had slept well. I grabbed the shower-kit of all three of
us whilst they watered the beeches. Jim chattered like the bird he
resembled and Karl occasionally got a word in edgewise. We showered and
dressed and got to the Mess Hall as the triangle rang. I was a bit taciturn
but neither was paying me the slightest attention. Their smiles drained
away instantly, though, when we got through the door.

Chef was back.

Today's primary option was eggs benedict. Did you know that it was possible
to poach an egg until the yolk was green? Or that mayonnaise was a key
ingredient in hollandaise sauce? There was a mass rush on the cereal boxes,
with the three of us each scoring two, plus some banananananas (have you
ever tried to *stop* spelling the yellow, curved fruit?). Thankfully, our
guardian angel St George had procured the steaming black 'milk' that made
life possible at this hour.

We were easily halfway through our breakfast when Jim stopped talking. It
was a rare enough occurrence that both Karl and I looked up. Jim was
staring at me, brow furrowed. "Out with it, Patrick."

"Wha, what?"

"You've been sulking since we got up, and you were up hours before us."
Interesting; how could he have known that? "So what's going on?"

Jim and Karl just looked at me. I looked around the bustling Mess Hall and
whispered, "Can we talk in the canoe, please? Please?"

They didn't like it, but agreed. Well, hell. That gave me 30 minutes to
figure out something non-humiliating, non-paranoid and non-pouty to
say. Sigh.

I got luck. Sea today had changed things up. The first hour of the lesson
would be a mass canoe race. Half would go upstream until we heard his
whistle, then back. The canoe that went the farthest each way got an award,
and the ones what got back fastest got a lesser one. No one got anything if
they didn't get completely out of sight of the docks

We were back in our original positions, Karl in the bow and Jim in the
middle, me steering as much as paddling in the stern. When Sea blew the
whistle to start, I was almost thrown out the back of the canoe. Karl was a
goddamned machine! It was like he was angry with the water. Jim had
improved a lot and was attacking the river. I worked to keep us from
running afoul of the more-energetic and less-concerned canoes, contributing
bursts of speed when I could. We were outdistanced by a four-man crew and
by a two-man canoe when the whistle blew, but no one else was even close.

I pulled us hard round and Karl basically decided to pretend to be a boat
engine. We practically flew back downriver, passing canoe after canoe. We
had an actual *wake*. We all three put on a final burst of speed, but came
in second to a different two-manner, by perhaps a half-length. Karl slumped
back and began to massage his arms. Jim scooted forward and started
chopping inexpertly but with great enthusiasm into his shoulder muscles,
which Karl seemed to enjoy and that made me boil. The fact that we hadn't
won either prize didn't seem to faze Karl; if anything, he was exhilarated
that no other canoe had come anywhere near top-three is both categories.

The leaders came round passing out tackle. Today we were going to fish
reed-beds near the far shore up and down the river, using special lures
that had a sore of spring-loaded hook that would theoretically keep them
from getting snagged in the vegetation. The fact that we'd be fishing for
at most 30 minutes and we'd been given four such lures apiece did not
exactly fill us with confidence in their bona fides.

Karl drove us far, far upstream, knowing that I'd just delay again if we
weren't private enough. Damn! That was precisely my plan. It took up a
while to get there. We cast several times before Jim finally looked at
me. "Spill. Now."

I looked from one to the other. Playing for time, "Don't you want to fish
some first?"

Jim smirked at me and chin-pointed to his tackle tray as he cast again. In
it were four perfectly-dry lures. I looked to Karl's and saw the same. The
little shits had put sinkers on the end of their leads. They had as much
chance of catching a fish as they had of catching a unicorn. Having smart
friends SUCKS.

"Talk, Patrick. Talk now or you swim back to the dock." I almost laughed
until I saw Karl's face. Jim had very clearly arranged with Karl to enforce
exactly that punishment if I didn't come clean. I looked around Not a
single fucking canoe within earshot.

I mumbled something like, "{ishdmv}."

Jim took in a deep breath and I knew more threats were coming. He was
actually getting mad at me, and I quailed at the thought. Jim mad or sad,
the very idea hurt me.

"With the Buggers gone, there's room in Cabin 6," I informed the riverback.

"So? Why do we care?"

"I, um, I was thinking that I should, well..."

"Should what, Patrick? You are making zero sense!"

"...that I should move to the cabin."

"What? Why?" This was from Karl. I saw from the corner of my eye that Jim
was looking at me as if I was speaking Swahili.

"Well, you know..."

Jim again, now clearly pissed. "No, we don't know, Patrick, cuz you won't
frigging tell us!"

"Well..." I sucked in a shuddering breath. The reeds and trees of the
riverbank began to swim and blur, and I knew the tears would come soon.

"Well now that you, you know," my voice shaking and so soft I could barely
hear myself now, heart breaking, "have Karl. I don't want to be in the
way."

Karl sucked in a gasp. I looked up and saw his face had gone
bone-white. Jim's voice came low and harsh, "You want to try that again,
Patrick?"

I couldn't look at either of them and told the river, "I don't want to, you
know, get in your way. I mean, I know I can't measure up to Karl. I know
you w-want him and I th-th-think you, you know, should be happy and I can
clear out really easy."

Jim's voice was back, and it broke like a little kid. "N-no one has
e-e-e-ever said any-ANYTHING that m-m-m-mean to me. Ever. W-w-why w-would
you? How could you d-d-d-do that? How can you be so mean?" He started to
bawl like a kid and I sat there, shaking and horrified.

Karl stared at me, hard, face no longer white but so deep a red I could see
his veins throb. "I trusted you. And you're just Winner in a different
package." He turned away and cast his non-lure so hard upriver that I
wasn't sure it would ever hit the surface. I just sat, lip trembling and
tears not yet flowing but terribly close.

All three of us leapt at the deep, powerful voice behind us and the canoe
would have tipped over if Sea hadn't been holding the gunwale.  "What's
happening here, gentlemen."

Karl was the first to recover. I could hear the iron control he was forcing
into his voice, "Jim just hooked himself with his lure, sir."

Sea looked down just as I had and clearly saw the four untouched
lures. "Yes, that can really hurt. How is your...?"

I said, "hand" just as Karl said, "thumb."

Sea's eyes narrowed and his voice was hard and harsh. "You men are the
furthest upstream so you need to start heading back. Go see George about a
band-aid for his handthumb. And, gentlemen, if either of you make his
handthumb feel worse while I'm anywhere nearby, I promise that you will
regret it for a long, long time. Am I clear?"

We nodded and suddenly the Voice of Doom rang out, "AM I CLEAR?"

All of us again jumped and babbled things in the key of, "Yes, sir!"

"Head out." Sea spun his kayak in an instant and was off to the next canoe,
downstream perhaps twenty yards and along the far bank. I manoeuvred us
around and we all started stroking toward the dock. As we went, Sea was
always nearby, setting more and more canoes in motion. We got back and the
inevitable scrum of boys trying to turn in tackle and get out of canoes
without a dunking ensued. When I next turned, Jim was nowhere to be seen.

Karl, though, Karl was right there, eyes smouldering and jaw clenched. He
was close behind as I trudged toward the Mess Hall, never more than ten
feet away. Any time I worked up the guts to glance at him, the look of
disgust and contempt was not just palpable, but like a physical blow. The
triangle wouldn't ring for at least fifteen minutes and the door wouldn't
even open for ten, but I just stood near the door, staring at the
sky. There were birds calling and breezes rustling leaves, but all I could
hear was the silence of Karl's feeling of betrayal.

When Chef unlatched the door, I nearly dove through. I don't know what I
ate, nor did I care. What made it immeasurably worse was that Karl didn't
go off and eat by himself. He sat full-square across from me. Any time I
looked up from whatever Chef had done to us, Karl's fury again washed
across me.

My stomach was a clenched knot, and not only from the horrors of Chef's
cooking. I couldn't stop shaking and felt guilty without even know what I'd
done wrong, terrified without knowing what I feared.

I nearly crapped my pants when a heavy hand took my shoulder. "May I have a
word, Mr Kennedy?" It was Dr Eaglas. What was left of my self-control
drained from my quivering belly. I let him lead me outside, well away from
the rest of the campers. When we were out of earshot, he sopped and stood
there until I looked up at him.

His eyes were kind, but sad and utterly, completely disappointed. "This is
not a lecture, Patrick. It is not about blame or about reasons or about
being in trouble. It's about you and Jim and Karl. And right now, you are
in an incredible amount of pain, and after the canoe trip, so is Jim and
from what I saw in the Mess Hall, so is Karl. Patrick, you are a good man
and a good friend. You are also the only one who can fix this.

"I can't tell you how to do it. I can't tell you what to say or who you
need to say it to. I'm not even saying that you have to stay in Tent 9 or
that you can't move to Cabin 6 if that's what you need. I'm saying that you
have two really good friends, and all three of you are in a lot of pain,
Patrick, and I can't fix it."

He looked at me for a long time, watching me try desperately to wipe away
the tears and snot. He finally turned and walked back toward the Hygiene
Hut. I walked like a movie zombie to the edge of the treeline and sat where
I could see the Activities Pavilion, where I next would have leatherworking
with... I drew in a gasping sob, with Jim. I could not face the idea.

I went toward Tent Canvas Hell and watched from a distance, making sure
that the flaps were open and no one else was there. I waited at least ten
minutes past the triangle's announcement that the afternoon session had
started, making sure that neither Karl nor Jim were approaching, then
crawled in and pulled the flaps. I curled up in a ball and tried to think.

Jim's broken voice, "How can you be so mean?" Karl's hot rage, "Winner in a
different package." I lost Jim last night, I knew it, as soon as I saw that
amazing, heart-wrenching kiss. I knew in the depths of my soul that they
should be together. That I had to make it right. That I had to make them
understand that I was ok-k-k-kay with it. That was my last coherent thought
as I dissolved in my signature silent sobs.

I jumped when I felt the pallet below me move, but I was scared to look
up. I couldn't take Karl's look of betrayal, Jim's look of pain, Dr Eaglas'
disappointment. I couldn't. It didn't matter who it was, it was someone I
couldn't face.

"Why, Patrick?" Jim's soft voice. FUCK I hated that word. 'Why' started my
whole 'I kissed Karl' meltdown. 'Why', specifically 'why not me' is what
brought me into the idea that I might be good enough for the beautiful and
amazing Jim.

I forced myself to turn and look at him. His eyes were puffy but not red;
the crying was lost but the pain and confusion remained. But he deserved an
answer.

"Jim..." my voice jumped, shook, seeming to flit about like a bat
hunting. "Jim, Karl is amazing. He's handsome and kind and strong and an
incredible guy. You are... the most wonderful person I've ever known.

"You two deserve to be happy. You deserve to have that without me here to
f-f-fuck it up. I want you to be happy, Jim, it's all I want in the world
right now. And I want Karl to have someone special, someone like you, Jim.
Really wanted to be selfish. I really, really wanted to hold on and never
let go. But it's wrong, Jim, it's selfish and wrong and cruel. Deciding to
move to the cabin is the h-hardest thing I've ever done, but I know it's
the most-right."

Jim stared at me, lips tight, fury and something else battling from control
of his face. I never even saw his hand move, but the impact as he slapped
me literally threw me to the side. My eyes flew wide.

"You stupid, fucking moron. You self-absorbed, martyr-complex ignorant
fucking MORON!"

My mouth worked like it was on a spring even as my hand came up to thee
stinging-red handprint on my face.

"I wanted Karl to k-k-kiss me because he was lonely and felt left out. Not
because I want him. I, I, I..."

Jim crumpled like a matchstick house and I sat frozen.

"I want you, Patrick. I want YOU, you fucking... brainless goddamned
asshole! I. What happened yesterday was the gr-greatest thing in my life
and had nothing to do with... you know. It was because you HELD me
Patrick. Because you Kissed me. Because I th-th-though you l-l-l-loved me."
As swiftly as he's crumpled, he was up and out of the tent. I didn't
move. I didn't breathe. I didn't think. It was as if my mind and body
simply... stopped. What's more, I didn't cry. It was like winter, when it's
so cold it can't even snow. I was so... destroyed that crying simply
couldn't happen. As if, like the snowless skies of the coldest winter,
something as mundane as tears were unthinkable.

Karl's voice was next, deep and hard and cold, from just outside the
tent-wall behind me. "Good job, Patrick. Really, really good job." I heard
him turn and walk away.

<eof>

Well, that was intense. Let me know your thoughts. orson.cadell@gmail.com

*****

Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Karl & Greg: 18 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/
Canvas Hell: 16 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 8 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Mud Lark Holler: 7 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/
Babe in the Woods: 2 chapters .../rural/babe-in-the-woods/
Off the Magic Carpet: 2 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/