Date: Fri, 7 Sep 2012 09:47:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: Nifti Boi <niftistoriboi@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Boy Next Door, Part 01: Neighbors

* * * * * * * ATTENTION * * * * * * *
          This story contains underage males in a consensual, romantic,
and/or sexual relationship with one another. If such material offends you,
please do not read any further. If such material is deemed illegal in your
locality, please do not read any further. By continuing to read further, you,
the reader, assume all consequences, civil and legal.
          This story is fictional and does not aim to represent any
person/persons living or dead. If any likeness to a real person, living or dead,
is depicted within this story, it is purely coincidental and unintentional. This
story is the property of me, the author, and is posted on the Archive with my
permission. If you wish to use part/all of this story for any reason, please
contact me.
          As always, I look forward to your comments and suggestions.
Thank you for choosing to read my story and I hope you enjoy! You may
contact me at niftistoriboi@yahoo.com
* * * * * * * YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED * * * * * * *

* * * * * MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR * * * * *
          I want to thank you in advance for reading this story. It is the
first in what I hope to be a series of stories. The premise of which is an adult
Matthew Montgomery recalling the relationship he had with his next-door-
neighbor when they were both teenagers. Secondly, I want to make sure that
you are aware that this first story primarily sets up the myriad of characters
and provides some crucial background information, therefore there is not a
lot of "action" in it. Thirdly, this is my first story submitted to the Archive.
Please let me know what you think of it. Should I bother with any future
installments? Your comments are welcome. Again, in case you missed it,
you may contact me at niftistoriboi@yahoo.com
* * * * * THANK YOU * * * * *

"The Boy Next Door, Part I: Neighbors"
by Nifti Stori Boi

                     It was hot, too hot. That is the one thing I am sure
that I will never forget. My brothers and I were moving into our new home.
It was sweltering heat. The heat may not have been so bad alone, coupled
with the humidity, however, it was nearly suffocating.
          Our father had died five years earlier in a head-on collision with
a drunk driver. Now, our "mother, and I use that term loosely, was about to
remarry. Her new husband did not want to, "raise another man's bastards" as
he so eloquently put it. Therefore, we had to get out and find our own way,
or go to the state. On the up side, my eldest brother was able to apply for an
emergency hearing and get temporary custody of us with reviews to take
place every few months to make sure he was able to handle the job.
          My eldest brother, Christopher Montgomery, was twenty-three.
He had recently graduated the police academy. He was accepted as an
officer at the local St. Claire Police Department. The job, along with some
money and a house left to us in a trust by Dad, was what helped sway the
judge to give Chris custody of us rather than shipping us off to a state-run
home. To be so young and to decide to take on so much is something that I
will always admire him for doing.
          The next one in line, Jason, was nineteen and in college. He
was working towards becoming a medical doctor. Though, technically, he
was not young enough to have to worry about going to a state-home, he
wanted to stay with us during our transition rather than go stay at school. As
he put it, "I can't run off to be on my own. I'd feel like I was abandoning
you guys, and, with both our parents not around, I just couldn't live with
myself."
          After Jason came Winston "Adam". Adam was sixteen and
would be starting his Junior Year at the local high school in the fall. He was
perfect, perfect except for his grades, that is. Nearly every girl that saw
Adam wanted him as a boyfriend and nearly every boy wanted him as a
friend. He was the "pretty boy" of the family, and he knew it.
          After Adam came the Quads, as we called ourselves, at the ripe-
old age of twelve. First, there was me, Matthew. Michael was second. Third
and fourth were Jon and Ron. Jon and Ron were identical twins, while
Michael and I were as different-looking from each other, as well as from Jon
and Ron, as we were from the rest of our brothers.
          After us Quads, came Daniel. He was to be eleven in a less than
a month. Though he was young, puberty seemed to have already begun
working its magic on him. He had a voice deeper than Adam had, and we
Quads still sounded like little kids. At the time, I thought that it was cute that
he was growing up faster than the rest of us. He did not think so, in fact, he
became embarrassed and angry if anyone mentioned it.
          James followed Daniel. He had just turned ten a few weeks
before we moved. He was the more emotional one of all of us. He also had a
habit of looking through a person's BS and see their heart; much like a small
child. That was something for which we all appreciated him.
          The last two were Paul, seven, and Peter, five. They both were
crying their eyes out when they heard that we had to leave. After a while,
and after seeing that they still would be with their older brothers, they
calmed down. They had the mistiming of being at an age where "Mommy"
was still perfect. At the time, the idea of not having her around devastated
both of them.
          Chris had an older model SUV and Jason had an old, beat-up
car. Chris rented a moving van, which he drove with the twins as passengers,
while the rest of us piled into the other two vehicles. Adam drove the SUV,
having recently gotten his license. And then, we were off, off on a nearly
three-hundred-mile journey to our new home in St. Claire, on the other side
of the state. A new home that was far away from the so-called "mother" of
our youth; a home that was the chance for us to start over as a family; to be
the kind of family that we wanted to be.
          This brings me back to where I started, on that hot, humid day
that we were unloading the vehicles of our worldly goods and transferring
them into our new home. If you have ever had to move, you know the horror
of the situation. After nearly killing yourself rounding up every single item
you own, packing them away in bags, boxes, and whatever else you may
have, hauling them out to the vehicle, and helping the others in the house do
the same, then comes the really hard part; trying to unload the vehicle and
sort everything out. Which box belongs to whom? Once you have your box,
where are you going to put it, and after you put it somewhere, where are you
going to put the stuff inside of it?
          Now, take that situation and multiply it by the fact that there are
eleven boys. Eleven boys, in age from five years old to twenty-three years
old, who were attempting to sort through this mess. Can you spell disaster?
Maybe it was not that bad. Maybe my memories are a little hazy, having
been nearly boiled from my brain in the heat. My point is that none of us
enjoyed the situation; I know I did not.
          The house was big. It had ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms, an
indoor pool, and a full basement (which Jason named the Testicave in honor
of all of the testosterone in the house). Apparently, Dad bought the house
shortly before he died (I am still not sure what his job was that he could
afford such a house; something to do with financial markets and trading:
Wall Street type of thing). Before we all could move into it, along with
"Mom", a wino changed his plans. The house, along with everything else of
his, fell into a trust for his children (maybe he saw "Mom" for the bitch she
was, or am I coloring the memories with my own prejudices?).
          The best thing about the having so many bedrooms was that
nearly all of us had our own room. Daniel and James decided to share a
room, as did Jon and Ron. Everyone else, including myself, had our own,
private space. This was a major luxury considering the fact that the eleven of
us shared three bedrooms in our old house with "Mom" (Chris, Jason, and
Adam in the first room; we Quads in the second room; and Daniel, James,
Paul, and Peter in the third room). Up until moving into this house, only
Chris had a bed unto himself, the rest of us had to double-up.
          Here I was, on my umpteenth trip from my room at the top of
the stairs, back down, through the living room, into the attached garage, and
out into the driveway where the moving van was parked. I was beginning to
see the drawback of having such a big house: it was BIG. I came up to the
back of the van as Jason was sitting two more boxes at the edge of the bed.
          "These two are yours," he said in a thoroughly non-interested
way. This was, after all, probably his hundredth box he had put out of the
van.
          "Thanks," I mumbled. I decided to try saving an extra trip by
carrying both boxes at once. I stacked one on top of the other and lifted with
all my might. And then, I was looking at the sky. Apparently, my hands had
slipped off the bottom box and the momentum of my effort to lift them flung
me onto my backside.
          I got up from the driveway and looked around. If you have
brothers, older or younger, you know how the most innocuous thing can be
used for ridiculing you for years to come. Thankfully, everyone else was too
preoccupied with his own tasks to notice my blunder. That is, everyone but
one missed my fall. Standing in-between two of the pines that formed a line
denoting the border of our property and the next-door neighbor's was a boy,
about the same age and height as me, laughing.
          Immediately after seeing me spot him, he screwed up his face in
an effort to stop laughing. Almost immediately, he gave up the attempt and
simply put his hand over his mouth in some semblance of politeness. After a
few moments, he walked over to me, still carrying a big grin with the
occasional uncontrollable chuckle escaping.
          "Hi, I'm M...Mark," he stuttered through his suppressed
laughter while holding out his hand.
          "Matthew," I responded while shaking his hand and hoping that
the conversation would get his mind off laughing at me, "Montgomery.
These are my brothers." I pointed out my nearly dozen brothers and named
them off. When I had their respective attention, I introduced them to Mark.
          "You live next door, little man," Jason inquired as he hopped
down out of the van.
          "Yeah," Mark replied, "with my dad, sister, and brother."
          "What happened? Your mom run out on you guys?" Jon spoke
up.
          "No," Mark said, looking somewhat angrily towards his feet.
"No, she died six years ago. Cancer."
          Adam smacked Jon on the back of the head and mouthed
something to him that looked like, "nice going dumbass". The rest of us
stood there, momentarily unsure of what to say, especially after Jon shoved
his foot so far down his throat. Meanwhile, Mark continued to stare at his
shoes. Finally, he spoke up, "You need some help carrying those?" He
motioned over to the two boxes I had earlier fought with and lost.
          "Um...yeah, sure, uh...thanks," I stammered. Mark went over
and picked up the top box, I grabbed the second and motioned for him to
follow me. I led him up to my room and showed him were to store the box
for the time being. After setting down his box, he looked around for a few
seconds. He walked to the doorway and stared out at the rest of the house
visible from the top of the stairs.
          "I am sorry," I began, "for the way Jon acted. He should not
have said what he said."
          "It's okay, he didn't know. You know, I've lived next door to
this place all of my life," Mark started, "but I have never been inside." His
voice was soft, quiet. It was almost an effort to hear him. I had not noticed
that before, I suppose I was too embarrassed at the time to pay attention.
"For the longest time, there was a for-sale sign in the yard. Then, it was
gone. We kept expecting people to move in, but all that we saw were people
coming every week in the summer to mow the grass."
          "It was probably the trust people," I stated.
          He looked at me, confused. "Come on," I motioned towards the
steps, "I will tell you." We continued making the trips from my room at the
top of the stairs, down and out to the van, and back up again. As we
unloaded more of my things, I filled him in on why were moving in. I told
him what happened to Dad, the house and money he left us, "Mom's" new
man, Chris getting custody, all of it.
          Once I started telling him, there seemed to be no way for me to
stop. It was as if someone had turned on a tap, and the watery events of the
last few months came gushing forth. It felt good to get it out (I had not
realized that anything needed out). I did not know why I was telling a
complete stranger, I did not even know his last name. Still, I felt like I could
trust this boy; there was something about him.
          "So," I concluded as we set the last of my boxes in my room,
"three hundred miles later, here we are."
          "...On your butt," Mark finished with a grin.
          "It was not THAT funny," I retorted. "By the way," I had
suddenly thought to ask, "what is your last name? What does your dad do?"
          "Johnson is our last name. Robert, my dad, teaches at the high
school, PE and history. Rachael is my twin sister and Luke is my little
brother by a year and a day."
          "A year and a day?"
          "Yeah, Rachael and I were born on the twenty-fifth; Luke was
born the following year on the twenty-sixth."
          "Kind of freaky," I remarked.
          "Not really," Mark replied. "You have ten brothers. Three of
them share your birthday."
          "Good point," I conceded. I glanced outside. The sun was
starting its final fall before disappearing behind the horizon for the night. It
had been a long day, a tiring day. It was the first time that I would see a
sunset from this room. I could not help wondering if I would ever see my old
room again.
          Mark spoke up after a moment, "I have to be getting back
home. Supper is probably ready."
          Pulled from my mental wanderings, I absent-mindedly
responded, "Goodbye, I love you." Then I realized what I said. "Idiot", I
thought to myself. "Maybe he did not hear," the voice in my head pleaded
more than stated as a possibility. I turned to face him.
          Mark was standing near the door looking back at me very
confused. "You love me?" His lips moved but I could hardly hear any sound.
He spoke the sentence even quieter than usual.
          "It slipped out," I quickly tried to explain, all the while, my face
burning with embarrassment. "I was thinking about my brothers, how far we
are from everyone we have ever known. I am used to telling them 'goodbye'
followed by 'I love you' and..."
          "Oh," Mark cut me off. "You thought you were talking to one
of them for a moment." He gave me a reassuring smile. "I usually call my
sister 'sweetie', but sometimes I slip up and call Dad or Luke that." He
looked back to his feet. "They get a big kick outta that. 'Mark wants to date
his little brother', 'Mark wants to pick out curtains with his daddy', REAL
funny."
          I glanced around the room. I still do not know what I was
expecting to find, anything that would help me out of this situation. My face
was still ablaze with embarrassment and shame. If Michael or any of the
others found out, I would never hear the end of it for as long as I lived. I
looked back towards Mark who was looking at me again.
          He slowly walked over to me with his hands in his pockets. He
stopped directly in front of me. He leaned forward and quickly gave me a
peck on the cheek. He straightened up and looked at me, "I won't tell
anyone that you love me if you don't tell anyone I kissed you. Deal?"
          I looked at him for a second. He started to smile. It was a kind,
warm smile that I knew to mean he was not planning to do anything to
embarrass or hurt me. "Deal," I replied, shaking his extended hand.
          "Well, I have to get home. Is it okay if I come over tomorrow?
You are going to need a lot more help with unpacking otherwise you'll end
up back on your butt," He said with a big grin as he walked to the doorway.
          "I look forward to it," I responded with a smile. He gave a little
wave and went back down the steps towards home. I stood there with the
smile still on my face. I knew I had made a friend. After all of the bad things
that had happened, I had met a genuinely nice boy that seemed to want to be
my friend; I felt on top of the world.

                           *     *     *

          I looked around my room. The light was just starting to creep in
through the blinds. I looked at the clock to see that it was barely past 05:00
A.M. and I was wide-awake. "You are still on school time," I muttered to
myself. School had released for summer break two weeks before and I was
looking forward to having another couple of months of nothing to do.
          I sat up, retrieved my glasses from the nightstand, placed them
upon my face, and half walked, half stretched into the bathroom. After
turning on the light, I looked into the mirror above the sink. I saw a sleepy,
thirteen-year-old me staring back. I had just woken to thoughts of the first
time I had met my next-door-neighbor, and best friend, Mark Johnson.
          We had both grown up in the nearly two years since our first
meeting. We were both taller, close to six-feet, one-inch in height. I had
some light fuzz on my face that promised to soon be a beard unless shaven.
There was more hair under my arms and around my privates. There was
even a small trail of hair that had begun moving its way up from my pubes
to my bellybutton.
          Mark still had a smooth, baby face. As far as the rest of him, I
did not know. We did not change clothes around one another and he hardly
ever went without a shirt. One thing I could tell was that his muscles were
starting to become well defined. I was not surprised by that fact; my brothers
were turning out the same way since they were all into various sports.
          I, however, was a bit nerdier than the rest of my family. I was
the first in the line not to have played on any school sports team. I did join
Scientia, an interschool scholastic knowledge competition, so I was, at least,
on some type of school team. My brothers, and Mark, were supportive of my
choice, showing up for my matches as often as their schedules would allow.
I returned the courtesy to them at their various football, basketball, and
baseball games.
          I ran some cool water and splashed it onto my face. The reason
why Mark was on my mind as soon as I woke up was simple. In two days, I,
along with the other members of the Quads, would turn fourteen. I had made
up my mind some time ago not to start my next year of life without telling
Mark the truth. The truth was I no longer loved Mark as a friend or a best
friend; I loved Mark as something more, I loved him as a boyfriend.