Date: Thu, 28 Apr 2005 08:44:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ryan Miller <blue98custom@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy Part 2

As with all stories I write, I love feedback. But only
feedback! I am not here to pick up guys, especially
old, hairy, married men looking to get lucky. Tell me
I'm a great writer or whatever, but stop sending gross
pictures of yourself. Unless of course you look like
Charlie Hunnam. ;) So send any comments to
blue98custom@yahoo.com.

Disclaimer:
This is a homoerotic story I have written which means
two things: if you are offended by or not allowed to
read such material, then don't; and don't publish it
elsewhere without my expressed permission.

Bonding Energy Part 1

In the morning, I woke up in my bed upstairs. James
must have carried me up there after I fell asleep in
my recliner, which often happens. I got dressed and
went downstairs to eat breakfast and get ready for
school. I was packing my books when I picked up my
chemistry book and I paused. I looked down at and it
seemed to have a special meaning now. What was it? I
thought back to the day before and remembered how I
had just become study partners with the boy of my
dreams, Brian. I felt all warm inside just thinking
about being able to see him again without fear of
having stuff thrown at me or someone asking, "What are
you staring at?"

"Kyle, I'm leaving," said my brother as he walked out
the door. "Remember, tonight is pool night, so I won't
be home until late."

"OK," I said as he closed the door. Every Friday night
James would go out with his friends and shoot pool and
just do guy stuff, which meant I was free to rent
whatever movie I wanted and, more importantly, sit on
the couch, which was strictly forbidden. I'm sure he
knew I sat on his couch while he was away, but he
never said anything about it.

When I got on the bus, I kept staring out the window,
counting the hours until I had chemistry with Brian.
Math and government seemed to take forever and lunch
was an eternity as I looked for any sign of my crush.
Finally after an indefinite English class, I ran out
of the classroom and dodged students as I flew down
the hall on my way to room 113: organic chemistry. I
hurried to my usual seat and watched the door for
Brian to arrive. But when the bell rang he wasn't
there. I figured he would be late because sometimes he
has to stay late for practices and stuff, but he never
showed up.

After class I got on the bus and rode home wondering
is he was OK. He probably felt a lot of stress about
the party that night and how lame it was going to be
and how much his girlfriend was going to hate being
there. Hmm, I'd love to be his girlfriend. Then I'd
get to see a lot more of him. I mean, I'd get to see
him more...like when we'd go behind the gym to make-out!
Hey, I can't be thinking like that. He's spoken for. I
may have a huge gay crush on him, but I have my
ethics, too. You don't go after a boy who is already
in a relationship. You wait until that relationship
ends tragically and then move in for the kill, or so I
always pictured it going.

I got off a few stops before my house so I could stop
by the movie rental place on my way home. It was a
local store called The Movie Dome. The owner thought
the name was cool and dramatic; even I thought it was
lame. But what I liked about The Movie Dome was it's
formidable anime selection. Yes, I love to watch
anime. I don't have many passions in life, but anime
is one of them. It's up there with chemistry. I can't
explain why, but the fact that the heroes are always
cute is probably a big factor. I decided on "Princess
Mononoke" (Mmm, Ashitaka) and headed home.

James had already left by the time I got there, which
meant I should have rented two movies because I would
have the house to myself at least until 1 a.m. I
walked in and saw that he left some "pizza money" on
the counter, which I would add to the stash I was
saving for a PS2. (I figured out that I could do this
and still eat some canned pasta or something about 4
months ago. James would leave money for pizza if he
was in a good mood, so I was really nice towards the
end of the week. This embezzling, like my couch
sitting, was probably noticed but never complained
about.) After homework and Fire Emblem on Gameboy, I
heated up some ravioli, sat on the couch and settled
in for blood, carnage and forest spirits.

It was at the part in the movie when Lady Iboshi got
her arm bitten off that I heard a knock at the door.
"Damn-it, Zack," I said. We had a kid who lived next
to us who always went out and partied on Friday night.
He usually forgot to bring his house keys with him so
he was locked out when he got home. He would come over
and get the spare key from me and I would give him
flack about bothering me. It was raining outside and I
figured it would serve him right to leave him out
there for a while. But after the third knock, I felt
it was too cruel and went to let him in. As I opened
the door, I was more than shocked to see Brian Freeman
in a nice dress shirt and slacks dripping wet on my
doorstep.

"Brian!" I exclaimed in confused shock. He was
standing there shivering and looking down, not at
anything in particular, just anywhere but up. It was
raining, but I could tell he had been crying, a lot.
And I noticed his forehead had a cut and was bleeding
a little. I just kind of stood there staring at him
while he examined his shoes, and then I came back to
reality. "Don't just stand there, come in."

"Thanks," he mumbled. I stepped aside and let him in.
As I closed the door, I looked to see where he parked
his Civic, but didn't see it anywhere. Did he walk the
whole way here? Something must have happened at the
party.

Brian just stood in the hallway, dripping on the
floor. "Hold on. I'll get you some dry clothes," I
said.

"You don't have to--" he objected, but I cut him off,
saying, "Well you can't just keep dripping on the
floor." He looked down at the puddle he had created
and stepped out of it, as if that would solve the
problem. "Sorry," he said.

"I'll be right back," I said and ran up the stairs to
James' room. James wasn't nearly as built at Brian,
but his clothes had a much better chance of fitting
him than mine. I dug through his drawers and found
some sweats that, if they didn't fit, would at least
be warm.

I was on my way back downstairs when I heard a crash.
I ran the rest of the way down and saw Brian kneeling
on the floor crying with his face in his hands. One of
his hands was bleeding. I ran over to him and tried to
help him up, but he shrugged me off and kept crying.
But then he looked up at me and calmed down. He picked
himself up and said, "I'm really sorry. I should
leave."

"No, it's OK. Here, put these on," I said handing him
the sweats. "There's a bathroom down the hall where
you can change."

He looked at the clothes in his hand and then at the
door. Then he looked at me and I saw a tear roll down
his cheek. "Thanks," he said weakly and he walked down
the hall to the bathroom. He closed the door and I
heard him start crying again. `Wow,' I though.
`Whatever is wrong must be big.' I turned to go back
in the living room and saw that the mirror on the wall
by the door was broken. The crash! He must have broken
the mirror...with his fist! That's why his hand was
bleeding. Whatever happened caused him to walk in the
rain to a person's house he barely knew in nice
clothes and prompted him to attack his own reflection.
Good Lord! Something must really be wrong.

The door to the bathroom opened and Brian stepped out.
The sweats fit him better than I though. "I *sniff*
left the old ones in a towel, if that's OK," he said.

"That's fine," I assured him. "How's your hand?"

He looked down at it and it wasn't bleeding as bad.
"I-I'm really sorry about that," he said. "I'll fix
it, I swear."

"Look," I reassured him. "The only thing we use the
mirror for is when James checks himself out before a
date, and it hasn't been used in a while." I hoped
such a comment would help him feel better, but I just
saw the tears start to swell up again. "Why don't you
go and sit on the couch? You can warm up and we can
figure out what's going on."

"I really don't want to talk about it, but thanks," he
said.

We walked into the living room and I slumped onto the
recliner while he sat on the couch. He didn't look too
comfortable, more like someone during a job interview
would sit. He just sat up straight with his hands
folded in his lap. The awkward silence that ensued was
more than I could take, so I started the ball rolling.

"So...how was the party?" I saw him flinch and deduced
that I hadn't chosen the best line of conversation.

I was about to change the subject when he meekly said,
"Me and my dad got into an argument. He was really
mad, and when I didn't agree with him, he kicked me
out."

"He argued with you in front of the guests?"

"Yea. In front of his boss, his best friend, my mom..."

"Your girlfriend." At that comment, Brian looked up at
me as if I has just ripped out his heart and torn it
to shreds. He tried not to start crying again, but it
didn't work.

After a few sobs, he said, "I really don't want to
talk about this any more."

Now if there's anything I learned in all those years
of school counseling, it's that you never just let go
of an issue because you don't want to talk about it,
and I wasn't going to let Brian do the same. "Did he
not like her?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" he demanded.
Screw counseling, this guy can grind me to a pulp with
his pinky. I promptly dropped the subject, but then
the awkward silence fell over us again. I hate awkward
silences. I stared at him and saw how defeated my
crush was, how he had fallen from arguably the most
popular kid in school to a quivering mass of sorrow in
sweats that barely fit. His eyes showed no sign of
life at all.

But I was surprised when Brian broke the silence.
"Well," he started, "You'll probably find out anyway."
He was sounding agitated, which kind of scared me.
"Yes, my dad did have a problem with my girlfriend.
When he found out she doesn't exist, he was confused.
But when he found out why I didn't have one, he was
furious." There was life back in his eyes now, but it
was all in the form of rage.

"You wanna guess why I don't have a girlfriend? Come
on, take a guess." I knew this was a loaded question,
and I was too scared to think straight, so I just
stared at him as his eyes burned a hole through me.
"Come on, why would the most popular guy in school--the
captain of the wrestling team, the fucking
quarterback!--not have a girlfriend? Am I stupid, am I
ugly? No, it's worse than that!" Now he was flat out
yelling at me now and I was scared witless. I started
crying a little, waiting to see how bad the story
could end, but he saw how upset I was and tried calmed
down.

"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to yell at you.
I'm just--I don't even know how to feel right now. My
life as I know it just ended in a heated argument with
my Dad."

I wasn't really paying attention to his apologies. I
was too bust mulling over what he said about not
having a girlfriend. He was a popular, likable, very
cute guy. Why wouldn't any girls like him? Unless he
didn't like them, unless he--NO! It's impossible!

"Are you even listening?" he said, interrupting my
train of thought. "I just told you I'm gay. Doesn't
that freak you out?"

WHAT? Did I just hear what I think I did? "Y-you're
gay?"

"Yes," he said, very frustrated. "I'm a queer, a homo,
a fairy, a fag!"

Well, if I wasn't confused before, I definitely was
now. `Do I tell him I'm gay?' I thought. `Do I tell
him how I feel about him? He obviously didn't seem too
proud of his own gayness.' Luckily, I didn't have to
make that decision because police lights appeared
outside my window.

"It's them!" Brian cried.

To be continued...

_____________________________________________________________________

That's all for now. Be on the lookout for the next
installment. Remember to tell me what you though at
blue98custom@yahoo.com.