Date: Thu, 13 Oct 2005 12:04:31 -0700
From: Ryan Miller <blue98custom@gmail.com>
Subject: Bonding Energy: Opportunity Cost Ch. 1

I'm back! And first off, I'd like to thank those of you who wrote in and
told me what you though of the story (both fans and critics). Your
insight and encouragement has meant a lot to me. Now, I know I kept many
of you on pins and needles this whole summer with the rather abrupt and
admittedly anticlimactic conclusion of Bonding Energy (the reasons I
ended it that way are my own, and if you didn't like it, BITE ME!) but
now Kyle is back and we can finally get on with the story. So, without
further a-do, here you go.

Disclaimer: This is a homoerotic story written by me, a somewhat
anti-social yet personable gay youth. This means three things:

If you are not allowed legally, ethically or morally to read this, then
don't.

You are not allowed to reproduce my writings on any other web sites
without my expressed permission.

I will not tolerate people e-mailing me to hit on me or send me naked
pictures of themselves. I welcome feedback^×in fact I implore it^×but I
have no desire to see hairy old cocks staring back at me when I open my
e-mail.

If you want to supply feedback, send an e-mail to blue98custom@gmail.com
and if you want to get to know me, go to www.myspace.com/jamesnkyle . I
guarantee no frequency in my response time, but I always respond.

Well, it's been six months since the night that Brian Fleishman came to
my door dripping wet and bleeding. I have never forgotten that night, nor
that entire weekend for that matter. But what happened then couldn't hold
a candle to what was about to happen in my Global Politics class.

I am still big on chemistry, but somehow the world of political science
had wooed me. It's a lot of fun and I seem to have an innate
understanding of it. Plus, I don't have to worry about breathing in H
2SO4 all the time.

Another fun part of Global Politics is that I get to spend it with my two
best friends, Chris and Peter. They both know I'm gay, but they are the
only people at school who do and they are both really respectful of my
fears of society.

Anyway, it is in just such a Global Politics class that the next part of
my story begins. I was sitting in my usual table in the back corner of
the room next to Chris. He is about my height with well-trimmed blond
hair and he always wears khakis and a polo. The easiest way to describe
Chris is uptight. He's not as bad as, say, Cameron from "Ferris Bueller's
Day Off," but his dad is a federal lawyer and everything has to be black
and white around him. Also, he's a lot cuter than Cameron.

"Did you finish the homework for last night?" asked Chris.

"Yeah. I think I got all of them," I said.

"Good," he said. "Because here comes Peter."

Peter is very much the skater type with brown hair hanging over his eyes,
baggy jeans and a t-shirt with some weird symbol on it. If Chris was day,
Peter would be night. He is very laid back and is willing to try
anything, do anything and say anything. He reminds me a lot of James. I
hope the two of them never meet, for the combination would be terribly
destructive.

"Hi guys," said Peter. "Hey Kyle, is that the worksheet from last night?"

"Yes," I said. "Why? Want to 'compare answers?'"

"Sure! Unless Chris is willing to share," he said.

"Not a chance," shot Chris. "I don't even know why Kyle lets you copy his
answers. This is technically cheating, you know."

"Hey, it's not as if Moony cares," said Peter.

Mooney was the nickname for our Global Politics teacher, Douglas
Moonsong, Ph.D. His parents were big-time hippies, but don't let that
reflect poorly on him. He knows his stuff and is my favorite teacher.

Moony walked into class just as the bell rang and as Peter was furiously
"comparing answers." But today he was accompanied by a student I had
never seen before. It was the beginning of the year, so students were
still switching around their schedules. The boy was wearing black jeans
and a black hoodie that hung over his sullen face. His hair, from what I
could see, was black as well.

"Good day, class. Before we start, I'd like to introduce you all to
William Brewer," said Moony as he gestured to the boy in black. William
looked up at the class and his black hair fell into his eyes. A quick
flick of his head and it was back in place around his temples. "He has
switched from one of my earlier classes to this one, so he should be up
to speed with the rest of you. So, now that I've embarrassed you enough,
why don't you go take a seat over there?"

Moony gestured to our table, because it was the only one that had an open
seat. William brusquely walked over to our table and slumped into the
chair on the end next to me. Moony began writing the tasks of the day on
the board and Peter leaned over and said, "Hey, my name's Peter. This is
Kyle and that spaz in Chris."

"Hey!" said Chris, indignantly.

William looked up at Peter with a blank stare then looked back at the
table.

 "So, Will," said Peter. "Do you^×"

"My name is William," said William with a low but cold voice.

Peter was rather taken aback at this response. He was used to people
liking him and his everyone's-my-best-friend nature. But he pressed on.

"So, what about Bill? Or Willy? 'There's nary an animal alive that can
outrun a greased Scotsman.'" he said in his best Groundskeeper Willy
impression.

William shot a look at Peter that was cold as death, except for the
blazing fire behind his piercing green eyes. "My name is William," he
said. "Not Will, not Bill, not Willy. William. Got it?"

By now the three of us were staring at him in shock. The rest of the
class proceeded unawares because, throughout his rant, William had
managed to keep his voice down. After what felt like a three on one
staring contest, William put his face down in his arms on the table and
said nothing else.

Peter leaned over to me and said "Jesus, what an ass!"

"And I thought I was uptight," said Chris, a little louder than Peter had
been. If William heard him or not, we didn't know because he laid there
like that for the rest of class. He looked like he had fallen asleep.

'He must have just had a long night,' I thought to myself. 'He looks
tired and is obviously cranky.' I started to feel sorry for him and
decided to take an extra set of notes for him while Moony talked about
Democratic Socialism.

After class I meant to give William the notes I had taken for him but he
was out of his chair and out the door before anyone else in the class. I
got my backpack and rushed out to the hall to see if I could find him.
Luckily, I saw him at the water fountain down the hall. I went over to
him and he looked at me quizzically, like a dog trying to determine
friend from foe.

"Hi," I said. "Umm, remember me? I'm Kyle, from Global Politics."

"Yeah," he said. "I was just sitting next to you five seconds ago. What
do you want?"

"Uh, here," I said, thrusting the notes in front of him. "I took some
notes for you in class. I figured you were sleeping or something and
thought you might like to know what you missed."

"Why did you do that?" he asked impugningly.

"Well," I said, feeling rather on the offence. "I felt bad that Peter was
giving you crap and stuff on your first day in class. And I just thought
it was a nice thing to do. Do you not want them?"

William took the notes from my hand and looked down at them, his bangs
falling into his eyes again. He stared at the paper intently as if trying
to determine if it was a trick. Then something caught my eye, because it
was the only thing he wore that wasn't black. It was a red bracelet on
his wrist. It looked like it was made with a glow stick, but its glow had
long since faded.

William looked up at me and the look on his face had changed, but it was
really more of a falter for he quickly went back to his cold demeanor and
stuffed the notes into the pocket of his hoodie and walked away without a
word.

'Wow, he really is an ass,' I thought to myself. I had never imagined
that anyone could react that way to kindness. But I had little time to
think about what his problem was because I had to get to English and
secure my seat behind the football team's star running back before some
cheerleader did. If the class is boring as hell, I may as well have
something fun to look at.

That afternoon as I got off the bus by my house, there was an odd smell
in the air. As I got closer, I realized it was coming from my house. I
went inside and the smell of burnt bread hit me like a punch in the face.
There was smoke looming in the direction of the kitchen.

"Damn-it, James," I coughed. "What is it this time?" Since the beginning
of August, James had taken up all manner of hobbies from playing guitar
to model airplane building, on top of graphic design and tae kwan do. My
least favorite of which was his fascination with baking. He had tried
muffins, cakes and even a soufflé, and they all ended up the same way:
black as charcoal and smelling terrible.

"Oh, hi Kyle," said James as he walked from the kitchen waving a
potholder to clear away some of the smoke. "Sorry about this. I was
trying to make banana nut bread."

"This wouldn't happen if you just read the instructions," I said.

"You know, I think it's our oven," he said. "It must be wired wrong. I
mean, you leave something in there thirty seconds too long, and it ends
up burning to a crisp."

He tossed what was left of his bread into the trash and started cleaning
out the burnt pan, mumbling to himself about all the reasons his baking
experiments went awry.

I laughed at him and ran upstairs to check my e-mail. Over the summer, I
had gotten a job at The Movie Dome and saved up to but a laptop. I was
quite proud of my little iBook. My friends gave me crap about having a
Mac, telling me they were "gay." If that was the case, I didn't mind at
all.

Anyway, since Aaron and Brian went gone to college, we had been in close
contact through e-mail. I would get updates on how they are doing and
stuff and always looked forward to hearing from them. That afternoon, I
was excited because I had just gotten a new e-mail from Brian. He talked
about having to take a bunch of math classes even though he was a
physical education major, and Aaron keeps whining about book prices and
comes up with various ways to "stick it to the man." Then it got
interesting.

I received some sad news today. My mom died of a stroke. Aaron was really
sad when he heard about it, but I wasn't. I wasn't sure why I didn't feel
bad. But then I thought about it. For the past several months, she hasn't
been my mom. I'd go and see her and she'd be nice to me, but she never
thought I was her son. She was already dead to me. My real mom died six
months ago in my living room when a brick hit her in the head. Lara
Fleishman died two days ago. The funeral is going to be this Friday, so
Aaron and me will be back in town then. We have already talked with James
and will be staying with you guys. Well, be there tomorrow night. So, I
guess I'll see you soon.

I have to go. Aaron just got here with the first season of Queer as Folk
(British version). I'm glad I don't have any classes in the morning,
because I won't get much sleep tonight!

 Later,

Brian

'Wow,' I thought. 'This is awesome! Not the whole part about his mom
dying, but he didn't seem too bent out of shape about it. The point is
that I was going to get to see Brian again. He had been gone two months
and I missed him. And Friday was only two days away.

I sent him a reply saying that it was real cool that he was going to come
back and that we would see each other again. I also told him that the
British version of QAF is totally awesome because Charlie Hunnam is so
freaking hot.

I heard James curse loudly downstairs and a pan crashed on the floor. 'He
must have grabbed a hot pan again,' I thought. It was going to be a lot
more fun with Brian and Aaron back. And maybe they could figure out what
has possessed James and snap him out of it. But I only had to wait until
tomorrow night to be back in Brian's arms.