Date: Sat, 6 Mar 2010 05:14:02 -0800
From: Owen Wright <superwrighter13@gmail.com>
Subject: Redefining Normal Chapter 1

Redefining Normal
By Owen Wright

Hi guys, this is the first chapter in what I hope will be a very long
series following the journey of Kasey, the narrator, as he learns to
redefine the concepts that held his free will prisoner before his brother
came around.

The disclaimer: There will be sex in this series, and although it will most
likely be sparse, those 18 and younger, as well as those who shouldn't be
reading this for whatever reason, please stay away for your own good. The
characters are purely fictional, any relation to actual people/stories is
absolute bull shit. I'm serious.

Please, enjoy the series, and if you want to contact me, please do so at
superwrighter@gmail.com. I'd love to hear your comments, and although I'd
rather not hear any harsh criticisms, I'd be more than happy to accept
constructive ones.

Chapter 1-A Day of Surprises

Normal. I liked it. I used to be it.

Before Keith, I lived in a normal house, in a normal neighborhood, with a
fairly normal family. I went to high school just like everyone else, and I
had a close circle of friends with whom I spent most of my time. I liked my
life. I didn't have any problems with it, or complaints, other than wishing
my allowance was higher or wishing that I could drive, but what 15-year old
doesn't? Things were okay in my life, normal, all until he showed up.

One morning, a Saturday, someone rang the doorbell at the front of the
house. In the kitchen, quite a ways away, my dad, my mom, and I were in the
middle of breakfast: French toast with chocolate chips (one of mom's
specialties) along with dad's famous crispy bacon strips and my scrambled
eggs. I volunteered to answer the door, though I was a bit confused as to
why someone was ringing our door at 10 in the morning on a Saturday.

We weren't expecting any visitors.

Outside in the cold Portland air, sky overcast and grey, as usual, stood a
boy, quite a few inches taller than me, with brown, spiked hair and
sparkling green eyes. He wore simple clothes: an Abercrombie long-sleeve
that was thick enough for the cold, yet fitting enough to frame his thin
yet definitely toned body, and blue jeans. The look on his face was a
mixture of fear, I'm guessing as a result of showing up at a stranger's
door, and amusement, likely from the fact that he was now giving me the
once over as I stood shamelessly dumbfounded in my white cotton sleep shirt
and plaid boxers.

I wasn't exactly sure what to say, it's not every day that you open the
door to find a stranger outside holding two duffel bags full of what I only
guessed were clothes and wearing an expression of unreadable
depths. Luckily, he saved me the trouble and spoke first.

"Um, hi," he managed with a deep voice, "is this the Sanders' residence?"

"Yeah, I'm Kasey Sanders. Can I help you?"

"Kasey?" He muttered under his breath, as if thinking to himself, "Mom
didn't say anything about a Kasey."

"What was that?" I was beginning to wonder exactly who this guy was. I
mean, don't get me wrong, he seemed normal enough, but I never really took
to people who liked to talk to themselves.

At that moment though, I was saved as my parents (ancient and frail as they
are at 35) finally reached to door alongside me. It seemed as though my dad
was exactly who this stranger was looking for.

"Mr. Sanders!" his face lit up, and his smile was genuine and strangely
enough, seemed to put me at ease.

"Yes, that would be my name, now may I ask yours?" my dad replied coolly,
never one to scare or worry easily, a trait I'd always admired about him.

"My name?" the boy seemed to give it some thought, biting his lower lip as
if unsure of something. "My name is Keith Jantzen, and my mother was Meg
Jantzen."

Remember what I just said about my dad always being able to keep his cool?
Well I don't know what that name meant to my dad, but as soon as he heard
it, he looked as if he'd seen a ghost the way his face turned ghastly pale
and his eyeballs nearly leapt from their sockets.

He recomposed himself, "What do you mean 'was' Meg Jantzen?" he asked the
question as though afraid of the answer.

"Well, you see Mr. Sanders," his face darkened, and he averted his eyes, as
if recalling a painful memory, "my mom just passed away, and in her will,
she requested that I find you and ask you if you could take care of me for
her."

Talk about dropping the bomb. Here was an all-American boy who looked like
he should be on Sports Illustrated or the big posters in Abercrombie,
telling us his mother had just died and that for that reason, he had to
come live with his father, who was, coincidentally, also my
father. Needless to say, I was floored.

"Is there any particular reason for this request?" he furrowed his eyebrows
in a caring way.

"The truth, Mr. Sanders? According to my mom, you are the only living
relative I have left...according to my mom, you are my father."

And that is how Keith Jantzen, my half brother, came to be a part of my
family.

Immediately after the conversation got to that OMG point, dad insisted he
come in and talk about everything. It didn't seem easy for the kid, but as
he talked, I realized why his features made me feel so comfortable; it was
because he shared the brown hair and green eyes that my father and I
had. There seemed to just be this ease between us, as if we were old
friends who lost touch and were becoming reacquainted.

As I became more comfortable with him, he seemed to grow more comfortable
with us. Granted, his mom had just passed and he was going through a rough
time, but I think he was glad that he was able to honor his mother's last
request and have no major hitches; he later told me one day that he was
deathly afraid of ringing the doorbell and meeting something like the
Adams' family. I told him he should be happy he had me, then; I received a
punch to the arm for that remark.

As far as accommodations, we had Keith covered. Dad went to college a while
back and entered medical school and went through the whole "doctor" process
while mom was taking care of me. The result: he is now one of the few
specialists in epigenetic research, which is making a huge splash in the
medical field. It pretty much means that we have more than enough money to
get by.

Our home isn't quite a mansion, but it isn't exactly an average home
either. My bedroom is upstairs, and we have several guest bedrooms
throughout the house. To make sure he would adjust okay, Dad put Keith in
the bedroom on the second floor down the hall from me. We ended up having
to share the bathroom that connected both of our rooms but I didn't mind.

After taking Keith on a short tour around the house, to the pool, the
kitchen, living room, and bedrooms, we helped him move all his stuff into
his room. He unpacked his radio first, and plugged it in so he could listen
to some John Mayer (who I later learned is one of his favorite artists)
while he emptied his bags into the drawers around him.

"Do you need any help?" I asked, wanting to be polite. After all, we were
related.

"Um, not really, but if you wanted to just chill in here for a bit, I
wouldn't mind chatting with you as I unpack," he answered with an honest
grin. I couldn't help but wonder what a guy like him would ever want to
talk to me about, but I figured he must have something good to say, the way
he was just waiting for me to sit down.

I plopped myself onto the edge of the bed covered in green and blue plaid
material as he began moving around the room, trying to find the right place
for each of his belongings. It didn't take me long to realize he didn't
have much; he was halfway through one of his two bags and he mostly
unloaded clothes into the dresser drawers.

"So," he casually started the conversation, "Kasey, huh?"

I nodded, glad that he was mature enough to start the conversation,
although a part of me was worried that I should be acting more
hospitably. This, of course, was set to the song Who Says, which managed to
keep things upbeat.

"Mind if I call you Kase? I like nicknames." I quickly shook my head and he
continued, "so do you play any sports?"

"Well we're just starting soccer and that's my main sport. What about you?"

He pulled out what looked like a jersey from his old high school,
"football. I was the wide receiver at my old school so I hope the coach
needs a wide receiver at this school of yours because I really want to keep
playing."

That kind of caught me off guard. I guess it never really registered that
not only was Keith moving into my home, but he was becoming a part of my
school life as well. I'd actually be able to introduce him as my brother
and from the looks of it, I think I would be proud to do so.

He must have saw me withdraw into my thoughts for a little bit because he
quickly asked what I was thinking about, in a fairly polite, yet concerned
way.

"Uh, I guess I was just thinking about the whole school situation. I mean
you totally just dropped your whole life to come here and honor your
mother's wishes. Now you have to start all over again. You must have been
popular and now you have to build up a whole new reputation."

He chuckled as he piled some jeans into the bottom drawer of his dresser
and turned back to face me, green eyes tinted with worry, but wearing his
pearly grin which I'd grown to like very quickly.

"Trust me kid, I definitely didn't hesitate to move out of there. I guess
part of me really needed a change of scenery after...what happened. But
mostly I was excited for that chance to start anew."

"What about your reputation? The big wide receiver football stud, you
must've had a lot of friends."

His face fell a little at this, but it was so small it was nearly
imperceptible, "to be honest, some shit went down and my social life tanked
with it. Maybe I'll tell you one day but it's not the type of conversation
you have with someone you just met."

He flashed me a small smile, but I was a little disappointed when he said
this because I felt like we were getting closer but he just put up a wall.

He picked up the conversation quickly to avoid an awkward silence, and we
spent the next half an hour just getting to know each other better. I found
out that he liked reading, had a soft spot for homemade pie, and loved
video games almost as much as I did. I told him about my weakness for warm
cookies, my love of skateboarding, and our prospects in soccer this year.

The more I was around Keith, the more I warmed up to him. Here was a guy,
who was clearly handsome, intellectual, with a great personality. The best
part was he was my brother.

I soon figured out that he didn't have much, though. That is,
materialistically. He unloaded all of his stuff within the hour, and with
it, our conversation came to an end of sorts. Well, Dad ended it for us.

He came in at around 1, making sure that everything was going okay, family
man that he is, he's always concerned with my life-at times a bit too
much-but it's always for the best. For some reason, even with his busy
schedule, he always made it a point to be at all of my games. He even came
to my recital for concert choir, even though he knew I hated it and was
only taking it because I had to. Don't get me wrong, I love to sing, so it
made sense to use it as my performing arts credit, but in a choir, with all
those people, it was just different. After the performance, he made sure I
knew that he was proud of me, proud that I stuck it out, despite my
misgivings. And now he stood in Keith's doorway (yes, it was now officially
Keith's room), the same look on his face as he watched his sons together,
for the first time.

"What are you boys up to?" He was looking eager, yet anxious for an answer.

"Nothing much. Keith just finished unpacking and we were just getting to
know each other," most times Dad was just satisfied with an answer. He
never questioned me too much, always just curious to know that I was
keeping him updated with my life.

"So how do you like your room?" he asked with a grin, directing this
question at Keith.

"It's the perfect size. I mean, I'm not used to it yet but I think it
wouldn't be too hard to."

"Good, good," he looked around, and evidently noticed that Keith was
severely lacking in the wardrobe and decorations department, "wow, it's
awfully empty in here. What do you say we take the 4Runner out and do some
shopping? I think you need a bit more stuff, Keith."

"You sure that's okay?" Keith looked a bit worried as he asked, clearly not
wanting to impose any more than he thought he already was.

"Of course! I'd be more than happy to do that for you. And besides, I'm
bored and I think it'll be fun. When you guys are ready I'll be in the
living room with Mom."

As far as I knew, Dad was actually excited to add a member to his
family. At first, he was surprised, sure, but I think he warmed to the idea
pretty quickly. Mom lost the ability to become pregnant after I was born
due to some complication, and I think that all along he always wanted
another kid. As for me, I always wanted an older brother. I think all we
both hoped was that Keith was exactly what we wished for. It was hard to
tell, though, what with those secrets he seemed to keep; behind those green
eyes, which were at the moment focused on Dad's sparkling white 4Runner,
seemed a dark past repressed by emotion.

We had a fun day out shopping. Keith picked out a lot of black and green
d‚cor for his room, although he clearly wasn't very good at Martha
Stewart style shopping so Mom was glad to help out in that department. As
far as moms go, I'd have to say I have one of the best. I knew she wanted
answers about who Keith was, and more importantly, who his mother was. But
she knew better than to ruin a good time; I had a feeling that she and Dad
were scheduled for a long talk tonight, though.

As for myself, I wouldn't mind an explanation either, but I knew better
than to press Keith for too much information. Dad would tell me when he
thought I was ready to know, he was usually good at guessing that kind of
stuff, except for the time he tried to give me the "birds and the bees"
talk in the sixth grade when I had already learned everything in 5th. He
thought I was some kind of sexual deviant when I told him all about the
process until he realized that I learned it in school. We still laugh about
that.

I helped Keith pick out some new clothes for school. He wasn't much into
color, but he definitely had a solid sense of style, I pretty much just
made sure he would be well dressed to handle the unpredictable Portland
weather.

Arms loaded with shopping bags-not all for Keith I might add, as I was
guilty for a few bags from Pac Sun-we marched back to Dad's 4Runner,
stomachs starting to grumble with anticipation of dinner. We piled in after
loading the bags, and I got into the backseat alongside Keith, just as we
had on the way over. It was nice to actually have someone to share the back
with on family trips, as it usually was a lonely ride for me.

"Alright, boys," Dad looked back at us through his rearview as he reversed
out of his parking stall, "Mom really wants to cook dinner tonight, so
we're going to stop by the store on the way home. Is that okay with you
folks?"

"Yup," Keith didn't really object too much, but I decided he'd have to
start having an opinion on things, and soon.

"Sure, Dad, I think I'm just going to take a nap, then. Wake me up when we
get to the store."

I reclined the seat back and Keith's eyebrows shot up with an amused
look. I raised an eyebrow but he simply smiled, ruffled the top of my messy
brown hair, and reclined his chair, closing those long lashes over his
eyes. I followed suit.

Next thing I knew, we were all unloading in our garage.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, "hey I thought you were going to wake me
up at the store."

Keith looked equally dazed, so I guessed that he slept the whole time as
well.

"We wanted to surprise you both with dinner so I'll take the groceries and
how about you two take all of Keith's stuff to his room and help him put it
up?"

It was hard to argue as she was already through the door to the house, so
Keith simply shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his bags. Dad laughed and
grabbed the rest of the groceries.

"I try hard to refrain from saying 'no' to your mother, I find that it much
easier to just say yes, and she's got the right idea of things most of the
time anyway."

Keith and I headed up the stairs to his room, arms laden with packages. He
smiled the whole way, clearly pleased with all of his new belongings.

I wasn't completely awake from my nap, so I deposited his packages and
plopped myself facedown on his bed. He chuckled.

"Too many steps, there, Kase?" I'd gotten used to the name after he used it
all day; even Mom and Dad were pretty used to it already.

"I just want some dinner," I grumbled into the mattress.

"Well we might as well keep our mind off of things, let's play with all the
stuff your Dad bought today."

I turned over, looking him square in the eye, "he's your Dad, too. You know
that right?"

"I know," he said, looking away, suddenly interested in a rectangular box,
"I just haven't ever called anybody that before. I thought my Dad abandoned
me, but..." he trailed off, looking out the window as if trying to remember
something.

"But what?"

His straight-lined chin turned back towards me, regarding me with those
eyes, standind out from his tanned skin, "nothing, just thinking about some
things. Check this out."

He pulled a lava lamp out of the box he was looking at, searching for a
plug in the room.

"Did you grab that?" I asked, pretty sure that I was by his side for the
better part of the day, and didn't remember the lamp at all.

"I usually remember what I put my hands on," he winked at me with a hint of
innuendo, "and I don't remember touching that at all."

"Must've been one of those random things that Dad kept throwing into the
cart. He likes to go on sprees sometimes, so just keep that in mind if you
ever have to walk into our black hole of a basement."

He found the plug and switched on the orange glow. We didn't say anything
for a little while, both just kind of staring at the wax, waiting for it to
rise.

"You found the lava lamp! See, I knew those things were still cool," Dad
stood in the doorway with a dopey grin on.

"Yeah, I really like it! First thing we took out," Keith mused, smiling.

"Well what are you waiting for? Let's get to it!" Dad walked into the room
and began taking all the things out of their bags.

We spent the next hour or so just playing with the weird things Dad threw
in the cart, as well as admiring all the clothes that Keith picked out and
went to hang in the closet. Evidently, Dad thought Keith would appreciate a
fish tank, although he said we'd have to go buy the fish another day. There
was also a regular lamp in the bag, well as regular as a tri-colored,
flex-head light could be. Keith was perfectly appreciative, making sure we
knew that he was truly thankful of all his new things, even the yo-yo that
Dad thought Keith absolutely needed. I'll give him some credit, though, the
Rubik's cube and fancy iHome radio system were nice touches; it's no wonder
he kept disappearing when we were shopping.

Eventually, Dad got up to help Mom finish up the cooking. He isn't a bad
chef himself and usually he'll help her with the whole dinner but I think
he was too thrilled with his purchases for Keith today to stay down
there. Besides, Mom seemed pretty determined to cook a spectacular meal,
and when she's on a mission, she goes into Ultra-Mom mode.

"Hey, Kase?" Keith was hanging up the rest of his new clothes.

"Yeah?"

"How come your Dad just bought all this stuff? I mean, isn't he worried
about money at all?" He wore a genuinely worried expression.

I laughed, "don't worry about it, really. He's a biochemist, he studies
epigenetics and spends a lot of time doing research for some really big
companies. I think he's pretty smart, although you wouldn't be able to
tell, the way he acts around the house. Mom is a real estate agent, which
explains our huge, fancy house, and she's supposedly really good. Money
around here is never really an issue; I mean, we're not going to go Paris
Hilton on Hollywood Boulevard but if we need something, we can get it. And
a lot of times we get things we don't need, too."

I smiled and nodded towards his yo-yo.

"Understood," he smiled, one of his genuine smiles that never failed to
convince me that my brother really appreciated his new family.

He later told me that he never expected to end up in a new home like
ours. He'd spent 17 years of his life thinking that his dad was some
deadbeat who ditched him as a kid. I told him it explained why he looked
like such a retard every time we were nice to him. He just ruffled my
hair. He picked up that trait pretty quickly, actually.

Soon, it was time for dinner, and what a dinner it was. Mom pulled out all
the stops. Her garlic fried chicken, pork with apple sauce, spinach salad,
rice, and cornbread lined the table like a great feast, except that there
were only four of us, and enough food for a small house party. We ate until
we were stuffed, and all thoroughly enjoyed the meal; especially Keith,
evidently for whom it was the first home-cooked meal in months.

Dessert was in the oven, and I knew what it was before Mom left the table
to pull it out of the oven. See, my Mom and I have these special cookies,
her special recipe snickerdoodles to be exact, which she bakes on special
occasions. Sometimes, if she knows I had a rough day, or needs get a story
out of me, she'll make them because she knows they always get me to talk.

We sat around in the living room, with the fireplace burning as we
attempted to figure out the best way to get the large snickerdoodle cookies
into our glasses of milk. After many lost chunks and laughter, Keith and I
settled for bites and sips.

Mom talked about her upcoming week at work, noting that she was looking to
sell a pricy home not too far from ours. The thing with Mom and her work,
though, was that although she was quite interested in making money, she was
always concerned with making sure she worked out the best deal possible
with her customers. Part of it was the fact that she never had to worry
about increasing her income, but I always liked to believe that it was the
purity of her heart.

While I was on my second cookie, though, the conversation took a turn for
the unexpected. Keith looked increasingly anxious about something, until he
eventually told us all he had something to say. I was, of course, very
interested, as were Mom and Dad.

"Well, first, I'd really like to thank you for all the you've done for
me. I mean, you took me in without question, and I know I haven't given
much information about why I need to be here, but I'm really trying to work
on it. There's just a lot of things I need to figure out for myself before
it'll make enough sense for me to tell anyone else."

"Don't worry about it," Dad smiled, "we know you'll be ready."

"I am ready to tell you something, though," Keith's face was filled with
mixed emotions and I was unable to read what he was feeling at the moment,
"this I'm sure about, and I want you all to know this about me because I
feel like if we're getting to know each other, I want you to know the real
me. And whether you accept it, at least it won't be a lie. You see, the
thing is...I'm gay."

Silence. Most likely due to the fact that Dad was still munching on his
cookie and unable to say anything at present.

"Personally, Keith," Mom smiled, her warm, loving smile that she gave me on
occasion, "I have absolutely no problem with it, and I think that anyone
who does needs a serious perspective adjustment."

Keith smiled, and we all turned to Dad as he began to speak.

"It takes a great deal of courage to say what you just did. Most people
wouldn't be able to do it. Also, it is my personal belief that people who
know themselves are much better suited to function in this world. You know
who you are, you're not afraid of it, and you trusted us enough to tell
us. I think you truly are my son. That was all the proof I needed."

It was one of those corny moments where they got all teary, and we all came
together for a group hug, although I was relatively silent through the
whole ordeal. See, in my dictionary, gay referred to kids who walked around
with Prada bags, wore huge sunglasses, and talked in those really girly
voices. Keith, though, was a real man. He was well-built, with a chiseled
face, a completely normal voice, and most of all, he acted
completely...normal.

I never really thought I was gay, mainly because I didn't have any of these
traits, and it wasn't something I gave much thought to. I liked girls, and
I didn't see why I shouldn't. I was just utterly perplexed with this recent
turn in events, my head reeling as it tried to process the fact that gay
boys could be normal, or that normal people could be gay. And suddenly, the
line between the normal and the abnormal was more blurred than I could ever
remember; I will always remember Keith as the brother who walked into my
life through the front door, shook my foundations, and never failed to
leave me floored. But through it all, he did it in the gentlest way
possible.

Dad, always the first to avoid awkwardness with smooth changes in focus,
eventually suggested we pop in a movie. Mom picked Troy to no objection
from the boys. As much as it was a violent epic for our testosterone-filled
bodies, she liked the romance, and I was beginning to wonder if Keith did,
too.

We watched the movie in silence for the most part, chuckling at the funny
parts, and providing the proper exclamations during the battle scenes. By
the time it was over, we were all comfortable on the two couches that sat
perpendicular to each other facing our television. Dad and Mom headed to
bed and we decided to do the same thing.

I couldn't sleep. I tried and tried forever (okay, like 5 minutes) but I
decided I wouldn't be able to rest until I was able to ask Keith all of the
questions that wouldn't stop swimming around in my head. I slowly walked
over to his room and found the door ajar. I gently pushed it open.

"Keith?" I whispered, "are you still up?"

"Yes sir," I could hear the smile in his voice, and even though I now knew
he was gay, it still put me at ease like a charm, "it's not easy getting
used to sleeping in a new place. What's up?"

"Well, you know what you said after dinner, about you being, you know..." I
trailed off, not used to talking about the subject, usually avoiding it
save for jokes with friends when fooling around.

"Gay? It's okay to say it, Kasey. It's not a hurtful word unless you use it
that way," Keith sat up in bed.

"Yeah, well, can we talk about it? I mean, I have some things that I kind
of wanted to ask you about it."

"Come here," he patted the space on the bed beside him, and we sat there
for an hour, or hours, I can't remember, but all I remember was that our
talk changed my life forever.

He told me about his first crush, Tommy Kerr, whom he chased after in the
6th grade, although Tommy wasn't too thrilled about it. They became best
friends until Keith eventually told Tommy his secret and a rift formed that
tore them apart. He realized he was gay, then, he explained, and ever
since, he was much more aware of his attraction to other men, and tried to
control it unless it was acceptable in the setting. It wasn't always easy,
he told me, but he tried his best.

When I asked him about the whole acting straight and normal thing, he
laughed. According to him, you couldn't 'act' straight, any more than 'act'
gay. It was simply who we are; he just happened to be a perfectly average
jock-type, football player, nice all-American kid who also liked guys.

He hated when people used his sexuality as his main descriptor, as a means
of identifying him, and told me concurrently that he was out to everyone he
knew. Most of his friends accepted it because he was the same friend they
already had, and they were smart enough to realize that. He told me that he
missed some of his buddies back home, because they were such good friends
that they would try to encourage Keith to check out guys while they scoped
for girls. Evidently he knew they were straight at this point because any
guy they would point out for him would be completely not his type at
all. But he said he did appreciate the effort.

Throughout the conversation, we both gradually moved to a lying down
position, both of us facing the ceiling, Keith using hand gestures above us
to accentuate his grand stories. I decided I loved hearing him tell
stories, his cello-like voice with the hint of laughter in every word while
he made some strange motion to accompany the telling. We eventually came to
the point in the conversation where he asked the question I was afraid to
ask myself my entire life.

"So," turned on his side, propping his head up on his elbow so he could
face me, "do you know which team you're on?"

I smiled at his little joke, but it quickly faded when I realized that I
didn't really have an answer for him. I stared straight at the ceiling as
so many answers raced through my mind. The only true answer for all these
confused answer was what I gave him.

"I...don't know. I really don't. I'm not saying that because I'm afraid, I
just really don't know, I'm sorry," I turned to face him with apology in my
eyes, which I hoped he could read.

"Hey," he looked right into my eyes, "It's okay," he reached his hand out
and rubbed my shoulder, an act of brotherly affection that greatly
comforted me, "one day you'll figure it out, and until you do, you can
always ask me for advice. I'll always be here."

He faced the ceiling again, as did I, smiling to myself as I noticed his
glow-in-the-dark stars that he attached to it. Keith reached his arm out
beneath my shoulders and I made myself comfortable in the nook of his arm.

"Thanks, Keith."

"You're welcome, little brother," he responded, and for the first time, I
felt like I actually had a sibling who loved me. As weird as that sounds,
it was the best feeling I had in a long time; I was finally able to rest
assured that his sexuality was not an issue, and with the sound knowledge
that we would have a bright future together, I felt a comfort I never knew.

We fell asleep like that. My last thought before my lids shut and the
darkness engulfed me was that I couldn't have asked for a better older
brother; fuck normal, this was way better.