Date: Thu, 19 May 2005 16:00:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ryan Miller <blue98custom@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy Part 5

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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 5


I woke up the next morning with Brian's arm draped
over my shoulder. He had apparently had a less
restless night than the one before. I looked at the
alarm clock on my desk and it was 5:43. `Aw, crap!' I
thought. `I hate waking up early.' I was wondering why
I woke up so early and thought back to the previous
day when I had fallen asleep in the late afternoon
playing Gameboy. I wasn't sure what to do. It was too
early for anything good on TV. I could go out for a
run, but that was never any fun and I never helped me
get any more buff. Besides, if I went anywhere, I
would have to disturb Brian and I might wake him up.

I wanted to turn around and see his sleeping face
again, but he had a pretty tight hold on me with his
arm. I loved playing teddy bear to this muscle boy. I
felt his warm breath on my neck and his chest moved as
he breathed in and out. I looked down at his arm, his
tan, smooth, muscular arm and wondered if I could
stroke it without waking him. And if he woke up, would
he mind. He was apparently embarrassed at the way I
reacted in the doctor's office.

`Why don't you just tell him,' I though. `If you say
you like him, then stuff like this won't seem so
weird. If you just get all your feelings and
intentions out in the open, I'm sure he'll let you
stroke his bicep, or stare at him, or more!'

"That's right," I said. "If I just tell him, then all
of this wouldn't be so awkward. But what if he doesn't
like me? What if he has a huge crush on someone else
and wants nothing to do with me?"

`Look, what happens if you tell him?'

"I just said: he may or may not like me. There might
be another guy."

`And what happens if you don't tell him?'

"We maintain an awkward relationship and I never get
to express how I truly feel. But then I can't feel the
pain of rejection."

`Nor can you feel the joy of acceptance.'

"Look, you're not the one who was treated like shit
your whole life. I can't just open up to people and
risk them hurting me or me saying stupid things to
them."

`So you would rather be alone than risk pain.'

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying that if I only
open my heart to certain people at certain times then
I don't run the risk of feeling bad."

`If you never open your heart, you can never get rid
of all the bad feelings you are keeping in there.'

"All these bad feelings are for me alone to know
about. No one else can understand how I feel. No one
else can know my pain. As long as I keep them inside
and don't act on them, I won't feel bad."

`Are you sure? Do you not feel bad, or do you just not
feel?'

At this point in time, I'd had enough of arguing with
my own psyche. I looked back at the clock and it was
5:58. In roughly 3 hours, Brian's family would leave
for church and then we would break into their home. I
thought about what kind of stuff Brian would want to
get. He needed clothes, he would definitely want his
backpack, probably some of the trophies his dad didn't
throw at him.

As I was thinking, I fell asleep again. I had another
dream this time about Brian, but it was hardly like
the one before. I dreamt that he and a bunch of his
friends were in a hot tub together and they were
talking about school and sports and girls and were
having a great time while I was standing there,
watching. I tried to join in the conversation, but
everyone, including Brian, ignored me. I felt really
alone and neglected. And I was really jealous that
Brian had a bunch or friends he could hand out with
like that while I just had James and the guys who hung
out with him. It had to be one of the more depressing
dreams I've ever had.

When I woke up, I was still in shock of how the dream
made me feel. To add to the shock, Brian was out of
the bed and downstairs, so I felt even worse. I felt
so abandoned, so alone. I turned and cried into my
pillow, lamenting the friends I never had and the
close relationships that eluded me. After some quiet
tear shedding, I looked up at the clock and saw it was
8:30.

"Hey Kyle," said James as he popped into my room.
"It's 30 minutes `til go time."

"`Go time?'" I said. "We're just getting Brian's
stuff."

"Yes, after we covertly break into his house," he said
with a smile and left my room.
`What a dork,' I thought.

I got up, got dressed and looked in the mirror in the
bathroom to make sure there were no visible signs of
tearshed. I went downstairs and was welcomed by the
smell of more pancakes--Aaron was here! I hastily went
to the kitchen to see him, or rather his butt, and was
disappointed to see only a plate of steaming pancakes
on the counter. I got a plate and served myself and
went into the living room. James, Aaron and Brian were
all in there eating and watching TV. Aaron and Brian
were on the couch together and James was in the
recliner. (He must have been in a very hospitable
mood, or pitiful. Whichever would prompt him to give
up his favorite seat in the house.) James had taken
the bandage off that the doctor had put over his
bruised eye, but Brian kept his on like Dr. Norwood
had instructed. And Aaron had what appeared to be a
fresh shiner (James must have repaid up for the trip
to the doctor's office). I took a seat next to Aaron
and situated my pancakes so I wouldn't get the couch
dirty.

"So, are you ready to break into Brian's house?" asked
Aaron.

"I'm not sure it's `breaking in' if I live there,"
said Brian.

"That's beside the point," said James.

"Well, I'm ready as I'll ever be," I said.

"Good, `cause I have it all worked out," said Aaron.
"After I pick the lock, me and Brian will go in and
get what he needs. James will stay in the truck and be
ready to go when we get done throwing stuff in there.
You'll stand watch at the end of the block with a
radio and tell James if anybody is coming."

"What?" I said indignantly. "How come I have to be the
lookout? Why can't somebody else do it?"

"James has to drive the truck, Brian knows what to
get, and I can carry more stuff than you," said Aaron.
I silently accepted my assignment and shoved more
pancakes into my mouth. But I really wanted to see
Brian's room. I wanted to see it if was the room of a
hot jock or a clingy boy with insecurity issues.

After breakfast, we waited until 9:10 to make sure
Brian's family was gone and went out to James' truck.
On the way out, I called shotgun and was quite proud
of myself for doing so because Aaron usually beat me
to it. But I can't say it was a total victory because
he got to sit in the back next to Brian. We piled in
and got ready to go on our "mission."

"Everyone in?" asked James.

"Does it look like we're missing anybody?" I said.

"Shut-up, smartass," He said. I smiled every time he
used those words of endearment, for truly they were.

"Just go," said Brian. "I want to get this over with."

"You'll be fine," Aaron reassured him.

James started the car and backed out. I tried to get
to the radio station before he did, but my efforts
were fruitless. It didn't matter. Brian's house was
only three blocks away. With his instructions, James
had us there in no time.

But when we turned the last corner, we all saw
something we weren't anticipating in the least: two
cop cars and an ambulance crowded around a house I was
praying wasn't Brian's. "Umm, Brian," I said. "Which
house is yours?"

"It's the one with all the police cars around it," he
said with a shaking voice.

"Holy crap," said Aaron. "What happened?"

"I don't know," said Brian. "My dad's car is still
here which mean's he's not at church. It must be
serious."

James parked up a few houses away to keep a safe
distance. "You guys stay here," he said as he
unbuckled his seatbelt. "I'll go see what's happening.
You don't have to get out, Brian. I'm just going to
see if I can get your stuff."

"OK," said Brian. James got out and was walking
towards the house when two paramedics walked around
the car in the driveway with an older woman on a
stretcher.

"Who's that?" asked Aaron.

Brian looked and his face went pale. "Mom!" he
exclaimed.

Brian undid his seatbelt and pushed my chair up,
climbed over me and opened the door. "Mom!" He shouted
as he jumped out of the truck.

"Brian!" shouted Aaron as he got out after him.

I rushed to get out so I could see what was going on.
As I got closer, I noticed there were two policemen on
the front lawn looking at a window that had been
broken. I ran over to Brian who was looking down at
his mom on the stretcher with Aaron next to him. She
was unconscious and has blood on her puffy, brown
hair.

"What happened," Brian asked one of the paramedics.

"You!" I heard someone shout. I saw Brian's head shoot
up and he looked like he had seen a ghost. I turned to
see a tall man in a dress-suit with grey hair striding
out onto the lawn. He was holding a brick in his hand,
and very tightly judging from the whiteness of his
knuckles. "There's the FAG!" he spat. He threw the
brick right at Brian. It twirled through the air in
the fashion of a football and with surprising accuracy
for a brick. Brian was frozen. Probably from the shock
of it all and re-living what had to have been the
worst night of his life, he just stood there. But it
didn't matter because the brick never made contact. I
didn't see it, having closed my eyes, but when I
opened them, Aaron was leaning over Brian's mother
holding the brick in his hand while Brian was
standing, staring at. Aaron looked really mad. He was
never one to tolerate injustice and needless violence,
and this must have really rubbed him the wrong way.

The two officers immediately tackled Mr. Freeman to
the ground, one of them saying, "You're under arrest
for attempted assault," and then he went through the
Miranda Rights.

Brian looked at his father being tackled and cuffed
and started crying. He stumbled away from the
stretcher and sat down on the ground. After and deep
breath, he let out a great cry of pain. I didn't
understand why he was acting this way. His father, the
ass-hole who had done so many bad things to him, had
just been arrested. I, for one, would be happy about
such a thing. But Brian was anything but happy. He sat
on the ground, weeping.

Aaron rushed over and sat down next to him and said
everything was going to be alright, or something of
that nature. I couldn't make it our over Brian's
crying and his dad's arguing with the police. I looked
back to see where James was and he was standing in the
driveway talking to Officer Phillips. (Chance he had
responded to the scene.)

Phillips nodded his head and walked over to the me as
James walked inside. Mr. Freeman had just been slammed
up against a police cruiser and Brian was still
crying, but a little less while Aaron tried to console
him.

"Hi, remember me?" asked Philips.

"I guess," I said. "You're the guy who brought James
home the other night."

"That's right," he said. "So do you mind answering
some questions?"

"Not sure how much I can tell you, but OK"

"It's OK, they're pretty simple. First, did you see
what happened?"

"With Brian's dad throwing the brick and everything?"

"Yes."

"Well, he threw a brick at Brian and Aaron caught it."

"Who's Aaron?"

"That guy over there," I said pointing to Aaron. He
was helping Brian up. Brian's wails had reduced to
sobs.

"OK. And did Brian do anything to provoke his dad
before the brick was thrown?"

"No, he was just standing there, looking at his mom."

"Thanks," he said, making notes on his notepad. "We'll
make sure Brian won't have to go through this again."

"Umm, may I ask what happened?"

"No you may not. I am not at liberty to say until the
police report has been filed. But it's kind of obvious
when you go in the house."

"What did James go in the house for?"

"I told him he could go get Brian's stuff. Now, if
you'll excuse me, I have to finish my police report."

`Great!' I thought. `If I go help, I'll get to see his
room.'

As I walked to the front door, a chill ran up my spine
as I walked passed the car that had Mr. Freeman in it.
He was yelling at the officers in the front and trying
to kick their chairs. His face was red and he was
sweating. He paused when he saw me and leaned towards
the window to get a better look at me. He blinked and
said, "You're on of them! You're a fag, too, aren't
you! You're probably his little fairy boyfriend!"

As he spat the last words, the car pulled away and I
though, `If only.'

I walked into the house and looked inside. It was kind
of like ours, but with a larger living room and stairs
off to the side instead of in front of the door. I
walked over to the living room and there was glass all
over the floor. I walked inside and saw a note with
blood on it lying in front of the couch next to a
spilled coffee mug. `His mom,' I though. `The note was
tied onto the brick and she was on the couch as it was
thrown thought the window. That's why her head was
bleeding. That's why the note has blood on it.'

I leaned over to pick up the note and the police
officer who had been in the kitchen said, "Don't
touch, that it's evidence."

"Well, what does it say," I asked.

"I'm not supposed to say until the police report is
submitted," he said. "But it's pretty nasty. I'd hate
to be Brian." This note and the brick it was attached
to was no doubt the work of one of the kids who's
family had been "warned" about Brian.

I proceeded upstairs to help James get stuff and to
see what Brian's room was like. I got up the stairs
and heard noises in the last room on the right at the
end of the hall. The walk down that hall filled me
with excitement as to what I was about to see. I heard
the ambulance sirens go off outside the house. They
must have been taking Mrs. Freeman to the hospital. I
hoped she wasn't hurt too bad, but was rather amused
at the poetic justice she received. The siren faded
away and I proceeded to Brian's room.

I got inside and was in shock at what I saw: ruin.
Stuff thrown everywhere, posters ripped, a desk turned
over, a broken chair. "Brian's dad must have been
pretty damn pissed off when he came in here," said
James as he traversed an over-turned bookcase. On the
other side he turned over a dresser and pulled out the
drawers to collect the clothes. He threw everything
into a suitcase he had found. "See if you can get
anything out of his desk," said James.

"What if this was done by the same guys who threw the
brick?" I asked.

"If it was, there would be police in here collecting
evidence," he said.

I walked over to the desk by the bed and tried to pick
it up, but it was large and metal so I couldn't manage
it. Lucky for me, it landed face-up, so I just had to
keep the drawers open while I looked for stuff. He had
a bunch of pencils and stuff in the top drawer
(nothing worth taking), a few books and scraps of mail
(again, noting worth my time). I was about to close
the drawer when I noticed a book without a title or
any markings on the cover. I picked it up and it
contained a bunch of hand-written pages. `No way!' I
exclaimed. `Brian's diary! I mean, journal. No
self-respecting jock would keep a diary. Should I open
it?'

`No that's an invasion of privacy.'

`But that's the point: to see the private side of
Brian.'

`But you almost saw his privates before and couldn't
handle it.'

`Shut-up, you prick!'

`Make me!'

My inane conversation with myself was interrupted when
James snatched the book out of my hand and tossed it
into the suitcase. "Anything else interesting?" he
asked.

"No," I said.

He picked up a few CD that weren't scratched by jagged
shards of case that had been broken and said, "I think
that's it. If we need anything else, we can come back.
Something tells me there won't be anyone here for a
while."

We went downstairs and said goodbye to the Officer
Phillips and his partner and went back to the truck. I
got in the front seat and Brian was already in the
back with Aaron's arm around him as he curled up into
a little ball on the seat. `How come I never got to
console him?' I thought. `Sure, I sucked at, but I
wanted to hold him, too. Well, at least I had tonight
to look foreword to.'

My thoughts were interrupted as James got into the car
and threw the suitcase on top of me. He didn't say
anything but just started the car and left the
Freeman's house for what I hoped would be the last
time.

An awkward silence set in and I did my best to break
it. "So, are you going to press charges?" I asked
Brian.

"Hell yea, no way I'm letting him get away with that
twice," said Brian through sniffles and coughs.

"What's going to happen to your mom?" I asked

"Well," he said. "The paramedics said she had a major
concussion and they need to take her to the hospital
to relieve the pressure and prevent any permanent
damage. But they think she will be fine in a couple of
days."

Brian paused and looked out the window. He started
looking mad, like the night he came to our house after
the party. "I bet it was Shawn!" he said. "That
redneck bastard! He's just the kind of guy to do this,
too. He already hates me. He can't stand that the
quarterback got to be team captain instead of some
dumb lineman." The Shawn he was referring to was Shawn
Thomas. He was the star lineman for the football team
and, just like Brian said, a redneck bastard. He was
about 6'6", 280 lbs. (Picture a gorilla with a John
Deere hat.) Shawn had always hated Brain for being
cooler, smarter and more popular than he was (which
wasn't hard to pull off) and took great joy during
scrimmages when he tackled the hell out of Brian.

"Well, I guess we'll know as school tomorrow, won't
we," I said.

Brian shot up from his crouched position and looked
very panicked. School probably wasn't at the forefront
of his mind this weekend and he probably hadn't worked
out a plan to deal with it.

"Does anyone at school know?" asked Aaron.

"They probably do now," said Brian.

`Wait, when did Aaron find out?' I thought. `Brian
must have told him sometime. Oh God, did he say
anything about me? That would be embarrassing beyond
belief!' I looked at Brian and he looked very worried
and defeated.

We pulled into our driveway and James parked the car.
I turned to Brian and said, "If it's any help,
whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be right there with
you."

Brian looked at me and smiled. "Thanks," he said. Man,
he had such a cute smile. And I bet being with him
tomorrow will score lots of points.

`Oh come on, you don't even know if he is keeping
score,' I thought.

`Look, are you going to keep going on like this?'

`Not until you ask him if he likes you.'

`But what if he doesn't?'

`Then you can stop worrying about scoring points or
anything else like that.'

`But--'

"Kyle, are you coming?" asked Brian. James and Aaron
were already in the house and Brian was leaning in the
car, waiting for me. He has such a cute smile and his
eyes had regained much of the glow they'd lost Friday
night. He may have been worried about school, but his
family was no longer a threat. I decided that this
uber-cutie had to be mine. I decided that tonight I
was going to ask him about--no. I was going to flat out
tell him I had a crush on him. He can take it or leave
it. I grabbed the suitcase and got out of the car. As
my legs hit the ground, they faltered a bit. Not
because of the suitcase, but because I was worried and
scared over the risk I was going to take tonight.

"Thanks," said Brian as he took the suitcase from me
and walked inside. I looked at his muscular figure as
it walked thought the doorway. I admired his cute butt
as he walked up the stairs. Would that cute butt
become mine tonight? Speaking of cute butts, there
goes Aaron up the stairs. I walked to the house to get
a better look and was disappointed when James blocked
my view by going up the stairs with them. I can't say
I really admired his butt since he was my brother and
all. I mean, I know guys do stuff with their brothers,
but I respect him too much to ever think of him that
way. My mind drifted back to Brian and to if our
embrace would be lips to lips instead of back to chest
tonight. Would he have to make use of the clothes he
brought from home? One thing was for certain: I
wouldn't have to arguer with myself after tonight.

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.