Date: Sun, 12 Jun 2005 22:20:37 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ryan Miller <blue98custom@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy part 7

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
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Charlie Hunnam. ;) So send any comments to
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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.

You can also see the rest of my stories at
http://groups.myspace.com/jamesnkyle. I usually post them earlier there
than on Nifty, so check it out for a "free preview" (the kind you don't
have to pay for).

Bonding Energy Part 7

That night, I had a restless, dreamless sleep. In retrospect I guess it
was good I didn't dream that night because any dream would surely be of
the horrible argument I had with Brian. But the body needs a good night's
rest, and I quickly found out why. When the alarm woke me up to get ready
for school, I felt terrible. My head was throbbing, I was disoriented and
I would have given anything to stay in bed just a little longer. I don't
know first-hand but judging from James' reactions, this must be what a
hangover feels like.

I quickly drifted back to sleep and had the dream I was dreading. I was
sitting on Brian's bed and he was standing in front of me, yelling. I
didn't know what he was saying, but he was crying and I felt very bad. I
felt  angry, upset, betrayed and just a twinge of shame. The alarm went
off again and I quickly got out of bed, despite the searing headache that
ensued. I didn't want to risk another dream like that.

Downstairs in the kitchen, I sat at the table, staring into my cereal. I
wasn't hungry at all. I just moved the floating pieces around with my
spoon. James walked in wearing a nice, blue business suit and was taken
aback when he saw me; a reaction I knew meant I looked notably depressed.
"Still upset over last night?" he asked.

"How'd you guess?" I said dryly.

"Right," he said. "Stupid question." He walked over and sat down across
from me and asked, "What are you going to say when you see him?"

"I hope I never see him again," I said. "I've hurt him and he hurt me.
We're even. I can get out of his already messed-up life."

"You're just going to leave him?"

"He left me!" I said, throwing my spoon down on the table. I bent over
the table with my face in my arms and started crying. I felt so bad about
hurting him, but I felt really bad that he had rejected me. I kept
wondering what he meant that we were too similar. I figured two people
who were the same would get a long great.

James sat there, watching me cry. "You know," he said, "somewhere Brian
is out there and he's feeling just as bad as you."

"Why should I care? He's the one who decided to walk out and break my
heart last night."

"But...I think you walked out on him first."

"What?" I said as I sat straight up. I felt attacked by this unfounded
accusation. I knew I treated him like a trophy boyfriend, but when did I
walk out on him?

"He wanted a friend to help him in a really hard time, not someone else
to gawk at him. He trusted you and valued you, and all you seemed to
value was the way he looks. He wanted a brother, and you walked out on
that job."

"So, you're taking his side?"

"There aren't any sides here."

"Why couldn't he be my boyfriend? What's wrong with me?"

"Kyle, you were expecting too much too fast. He's still adjusting to the
whole gay thing just like you are and he isn't ready to make a big choice
like having a boyfriend."

"But what's wrong with wanting him to like me?"

"But he does like you. He likes you a lot. It just has nothing to do with
sex."

"But that's not what I want from him. I want to be closer to him than
that."

"It's not about what you want, Kyle! Brian needed someone he could be
close to that didn't call attention to his sexuality. He told you himself
he loved you like a brother. But you wanted something different,
something he's not even ready for. And when your wants take away from
someone's needs like that, something's wrong."

James was starting to sound like that teacher on the playground who
always spoiled your fun by telling you to stop running. I knew he was
right, but I really didn't want to admit it. I just picked up my spoon
and kept toying with my cereal. James let out a sigh and said, "Sitting
here in self-pity isn't going to get you any closer to Brian. If you
really want to be his boyfriend that much, just play by his rules for
now. Go to school, apologize to him and let him know you still care. If
you still stand a chance of being with him, he'll let you know. The ball
is in his court and you have to wait until he makes a play."

"Thanks for nothing," I said as a last little spiteful remark.

James walked over to me and hugged me. "I hate seeing you act this way,"
he said. "You feel bad and you have every right to. But don't get mad at
me or Brian, because it's nobody's fault. You shouldn't have been so
selfish, Brian shouldn't have been so cold, and I should have told you."

It was for reasons like this I trusted James so much. How could I stay
upset when he cared so much for me, even when I was a little jerk? I'll
admit I was being selfish, and Brian sure was cold when he left, and
James...wait! "What do you mean, 'I should have told you?'" I asked. James
released me from his embrace and walked towards the door without a word.
"Hold on!" I shouted getting up to follow him. I got to the door as he
was getting in is truck. "What do you mean you should have told me?"

He closed the door and rolled down the window. "Don't forget to talk to
Brian when you see him. Regardless of last night, he still cares," he
said and he backed out of the driveway and left for work.

'What the hell?' I thought. 'He should have told me what? What does he
know that I don't that would have any bearing on the argument? What
does-oh crap!' I saw the bus coming a few blocks down the street. I ran
inside and got my backpack together and got outside just in time to catch
the bus.

When I got to school, there was a strange tension in the air. People
looked around paranoid and the cheerleaders seemed unusually gossipy. I
kind of figured what they were all talking about and my fears were
confirmed when I heard some guys on the wrestling team complain about how
captain was "a fag." I told Brian I would be by his side today, but I was
feeling kind of uneasy about that since our argument. Seeing the school
now erupting in gossip and homophobia sealed it that I would do my best
to avoid Brian that day. I didn't have chemistry that afternoon, so it
would be that much easier to get through the day without running into
him.

PE was brutal. Not that it wasn't anyway, but the guys in the locker room
were talking about nothing but Brian. All the jocks were shocked and
appalled that their star quarterback was gay. The fact that he was one of
the best football players in the sate didn't matter. They didn't want to
have to "tackle some queer."

When that was finally over with, I got to go to health. It was full of
sophomores, so I figured I could take a break from the gossiping seniors.
But it wasn't long before the girls at the table in front of mine leaned
over and started talking about how it was such a shame that such a hot
guy turned out to be gay. 'Speak for yourself, girls,' I thought. Then I
was painfully reminded that it didn't matter for me. 'Brian doesn't want
me. All he wants is a brother. Well, I already have one of those and one
is enough. He's going to have to look somewhere else.'

"You know who else is probably gay?" said one of the girls. "Mark
Turner."

"I know," gasped the other. "I mean, have you seen the way he, like,
walks around all weird and stuff and, like, how his clothes always
match?"

"I know!" squealed the other.

'Oh, crap!' I thought. 'What if I make their list? I just learned over
the weekend that, despite my best efforts, I am as gay as the day is
long. Well, not flaming gay. But I may as well be, it seems.'

Soon the bell rang and it was time for lunch. As soon as everyone got
their food and sat down there were two topics for discussion: the fact
that Brian was gay, and who else might be. The cafeteria was abuzz with
gossip and accusations. A fight even broke out between two guys because
one accused the other's friend of being gay. This was all too much
tension for me, and I didn't want to expose myself as a queer, so I hid
in the library for the duration of lunch. Sure, I didn't eat anything,
but I wasn't really hungry.

When lunch was over, I quickly made it to my CARE class (CARE is some
dumb-ass acronym about developing our job skills. The actual title
doesn't even spell C-A-R-E. It was my least favorite class ever, and it
takes a lot for me to hate a class.) When the class started, everyone was
quiet for the first time all day. But it seemed that everyone hated the
class as much as I did, so they never really talked in it anyway. Our
teacher started some inane lesson on how to properly look for an
apartment when the kid in the desk behind mine leaned over and said,
"Hey, Wilson."

I turned around and said "What?"

"Did you hear about Brian Fleishman?" he asked.

'Kid, if only you knew,' I thought. But I wanted to hear everyone else's
impression of the situation, so I played along. "Kind of. What's going
on?"

"Well, it turns out he's gay."

"No, really? The quarterback?"

"Yea! Isn't that weird? They say he brought his boyfriend to his dad's
retirement party and his dad got really mad and kicked them out of the
house. Then his mom started calling all the other moms about it and
that's how everyone found out."

"Who is his boyfriend?"

"I don't know. But I bet it's Ruben Coleman. That guy is such a fag."

My stomach lurched when I heard that word. It's so full of hate and
disdain. But I felt good that people didn't think it was me. It nice to
be in the clear.

Crappy-Ass Really bad Education got over and all I had to do was endure
creative writing. It was all downhill from here. It would seem that while
rumors were flying, I was not part of them. And all day, I had seen
neither hide nor hair of Brian. And I didn't care. He walked out on me,
so I didn't have to see him if I didn't want to.

My creative writing teacher was something else. There's no way to really
describe Lidia Yuknavich. Hippie seems closest, but she's too smart for
that. She's definitely laid back. Anyway, when class got started, she got
right to the point. "So," she said, "turns out Brian Fleishman is gay.
How do you guys feel about that?"

To say I was uncomfortable at this point would be like saying Justin
Berfield is cute: a huge understatement. But this is the kind of stuff
Lidia did in class, so it wasn't really unexpected. To start the ball
rolling, Mark Turner, who sat in front of me, said, "It's a big surprise
to most people because being quarterback and stuff is such a manly thing
to do and being gay is anything but manly."

"OK, that's a good place to start," said Lidia. "Anybody else?"

"I agree with Mark," said Ruben Coleman. "Quarterbacks have the whole
stereotype of being womanizers and getting lucky with the cheerleaders
all the time. And Brian being gay defies all of that."

"I see," said Lidia. "So guys like Brian are supposed to be all masculine
and tough and have lots of sex with lots of girls. Am I right? Is that
what we expect in our society?" The class silently nodded. "So when
someone like Brian turns out to be gay, why does it bother people so
much?"

"Because it's a huge shock to our paradigm," said Mark. "It's like going
your whole life with your favorite color being green and then someone
tells you that the color you think is green is actually blue."

"A little extreme, but I'll take that," said Lidia. "Any objections to
Mark's theory? Anyone? OK. Tell me, who here has seen Fight Club?" Most
of the class raised their hands. I had never seen the movie because it
looked like some dumb Brad Pitt action flick, and I'm not really that
impressed with Brad Pitt. "OK," said Lidia, "Who has read the book?" A
few more hands went up. "Well," she continued, "Did you know that Chuck,
the guy who wrote it, is gay?" The room went very quiet. The guys who had
so eagerly raised their hands were now looking at the floor as if ashamed
of the fact they liked the movie so much.

"It's weird, isn't it?" she said, "That a story that is all about guys
beating the shit out of each other, which is a very masculine thing to
do, was written by a gay guy. How about this: you know the band 'Queen'?
They sang 'We are the Champions', 'Another One Bites the Dust,' 'Bohemian
Rhapsody,' those songs. Well, the lead singer for Queen is gay, too." The
silence in the room at that point was deafening. "What, you guys didn't
know that? God, you need to get out more. So, now that I have shocked
your paradigm even more, is there anything else you guys wanted to talk
about?" Nobody said anything. Even Mark, who always had something to say,
was quiet. "Does it seem like society needs to redefine what it thinks of
as masculine?" Marks hand twitched, but he didn't say anything. "Great,"
said Lidia, "because now you have more time for your story. Today, I want
you to write a short story in which someone learns a lesson from someone
else through a great irony, such as a big, masculine sports star being
gay. You can write it here or go to the library and type it, but it's due
at the end of class."

For the rest of class I kept trying to come up with something, but all I
could think about was Brian. 'I guess it is a pretty great irony to be
the quarterback and be gay,' I thought. 'But you know what's an even
bigger irony? A boy like me being with Brian. Sure, I'm no Hayden
Christensen, but I could have been a good boyfriend. He didn't have to
walk out like that. He could have just said it's OK for me to think he's
hot and hug me and sleep with me in his arms again. He didn't have to
abandon me. I bet he's out on the street now, looking for the next boy
who's heart he's going to break. I bet he'll never have a boyfriend
because he's just too picky! What's wrong with me? You know what, there's
nothing wrong with me! It's you who has the problem, Brian Fleishman!'

I left the class without finishing the assignment and feeling really mad.
I just wanted to get home so I could get away from all the shallow freaks
who don't have a clue what was really going on. I wanted to avoid Brian
more than I ever had before. I even decided to walk out the little
service door on the side of the school so I wouldn't risk running into
him. Only stoners hung out there, so there was no way I would meet him,
and no way he could hurt me again.

I walked out the door following the janitor as he left to take out the
trash. On either side of me was a dumpster and in front was the dugout of
the junior-varsity baseball field. I figured I would wait a few minutes
to miss the rush to the busses while the janitor hefted the trash into
the proper dumpsters.

When he went back inside, I heard a voice ask, "Is he gone," I looked
around to see who it was and heard another voice from behind a dumpster
say, "I think so."

"Alright then, lest get back to work." I heard the distinct sounds of
fists on flesh and moaning from someone who was being beaten by what
sounded like three or four guys. I knew trouble went down out here, but I
had never witnessed it. My beatings usually took place in the cafeteria,
and at the hands of Brian and his flunkies. Another reason to not like
the jerk.

"You had enough, fag?" said one voice. The victim coughed and let out a
meek cry. Something pierced my heart when I heard that cry. There was
something familiar about it. It sounded just like the one I'd hear all
last weekend. I ran around to the other side of the dumpster and was
horrified to see Brian crumpled on the ground in fear as four jocks, led
by none other than Shawn Thomas, kicked the crap out of him. I stared at
Brian as tears flowed from his eyes like the blood flowing from his
mouth. He looked scared and utterly helpless. 'Why doesn't he fight them
off?' I asked myself. 'The captain of the wrestling team should be able
to do that, right?' But he laid there as these bullies kicked him and
mocked him.

I felt a great swell of compassion for him. At that point, I didn't care
how he hurt me. At that point, I didn't care that he left. I was his
brother and he was in trouble. "Hey!" I declared in a shaky voice. "Leave
him alone!"

The bullies all stopped and looked at me. I felt like each one was about
to run at me and tear me to pieces at the same time. But they didn't.
Shawn just walked up to me and said, "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

I'm not sure what came over me at that point, but I had somehow managed
to marshal the courage to say this: "My name is Kyle Wilson. The boy
you're beating the crap out of is a very close friend of mine. In fact we
are so close, you could call us brothers. [Cue Battle Hymn of the
Republic] Now I know we aren't related, but genetics doesn't count for
shit! It's not DNA that makes a family, but the respect and trust and
love that we have for each other. And while we may have our hard times
together, nothing can break the bond of brotherhood that we share. Not
hateful parents or sociopathic siblings or selfish arguments. He may be
gay, but big deal. So am I! And I am proud to call him my brother!"

Or at least that's what I would have said if Shawn hadn't grabbed me
right after "My name is-" and threw my in one of the dumpsters that his
cohort had so conveniently opened for him. I landed on the remnants of
today's spaghetti and the lid was promptly closed on me. I heard riotous
laughter coming from outside. Then Shawn said, "Now, where were we? Huh?
What the fuck!?" I heard more punches and more yelling and something hit
the side of the dumpster. I felt really sorry for Brian.

"Get him! Get Him!" yelled one of the bullies.

"I'm trying! Aaaah!" yelled another. It no longer sounded like the fight
was going in their favor, so I got up and opened the lid enough to see
what was happening. Brian was taking on two guys at once while another
stood and watched. I didn't see Shawn standing anywhere and figured it
was he that had just landed against the dumpster. Brian had one guy in a
headlock and was using his feet and fists to fend off the other. The guy
in the headlock managed to struggle free and reared up to punch Brian,
but Brian quickly hit him in the gut and sent him doubling over to the
ground. The one he was fending off decided to lung at him in an effort to
tackle him. Brian grabbed him by the arm and flung the bully over his
shoulder in the style that James and Aaron had "taught" him. He landed on
the ground next to his cohort and didn't get back up. Brian turned to
face the onlooker who looked like a deer in headlights. And like a deer,
he ran away.

It was over. Brian had taken out the bullies that only recently had him
curled up on the ground. He looked around at his defeated foes as they
lay on the ground in pain and fear. He wiped blood from his mouth with
his sleeve and then he saw me in the dumpster. He smiled at me and said,
"Hi, Kyle."

"Ummm, Hi, Brian," I said sheepishly.

"Thanks a lot," he said with labored breath.

"But, I didn't do anything," I replied. I wasn't sure if he was being
sarcastic or not.

"Yes...you did," he said. "You kept...your promise." And then he collapsed
on the ground.

I climbed out of the dumpster and landed on top of Shawn. I went over to
Brian and said, "But you sure put up a good fight. Brian? Brian, are you
OK?" I shook his arm and he didn't respond. "Brian!" I yelled. I rolled
him on his back and looked for a pulse. I could see he was breathing, so
he was still alive. "Wake up! You have to wake up!"

I went over to the guy he had punched in the gut and asked, "Do you have
a cell phone?"

"Fuck off!" he wheezed.

I kicked him in the balls and he lurched foreword in pain. "I said, 'Do
you have a cell phone?'" I knew it was a low blow, but I had no patience
for negotiations.

With the hand that wasn't holding his groin, he pointed to a backpack on
the ground and weakly said, "Small pocket."

"Thanks," I replied and went over and retrieved his phone. I dialed 911
and they said they would send an ambulance and a squad car to the school.
I tossed the cell phone on the bully's backpack and went over to Brian. I
moved his body so he was lying on his side so he couldn't choke if he
decided to throw up or anything and made sure his head was supported. I
did my best to clean the blood off his face with the tail of my shirt. He
had a cut on his lip and his face was swollen in a few places. I didn't
know why he was unconscious, but he had probably taken too many blows to
the head. I kneeled next to him, staring at the beaten form of my newest
brother and watched over him until the paramedics came.

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.