Date: Wed, 3 Sep 2003 16:51:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: Virtual Diva <virtualinsanity78@yahoo.com>
Subject: Wade and Christian 1

Disclaimer:

This story is intended for adult audiences.  If you are not an adult 18+,
21 in some areas, please do not go on.

I have been writing for some years, but this is the first time that I have
shared my writing with the public.  Any encouragement would be well
appreciated and replied to at virtualinsanity78@yahoo.com

(c) 2003

	From the security of distance, the little boy running across the
grassy field seemed almost carefree.  His white t-shirt was plastered to
his skinny chest and the air had blown the shirt out over his back.
Shoulders, arms and legs pumped furiously and his overly long blond hair
blew back away from his thin face.  He stretched out his arms as if he were
giving up his soul to something high above him.  To anyone looking, he
seemed the image of the restlessly clear day that lay before him.

	No one would guess that there were demons chasing him and tears
streaming the length of his suntanned cheeks.

	He crossed the field and headed into the woods and the protective
shield of pines, cedars and oaks.  When he reached the largest tree, his
legs stopped.  He rested against it for a moment, catching his breath in
giant gulps, then he vaulted up the tree as only twelve year old boys can.
In the middle of the tree, he found a wide and solid branch and lay against
it, hidden by the gigantic leaves of the tree.  He felt the freedom and
comfort of his invisibility and he began to feel calm.  His breathing
slowed with his small heartbeat, but the tears remained.

	I'm not a faggot.  He heard the words again and again in the
gravelly voice of the one he idolized.  I'm not a faggot.  His tears slowed
and he hugged the tree branch as close as possible.

	When the hysteria subsided, he was left with an awesome pain, made
more dramatic by his youthful imagination.  The pain, however, was
legitimate and his heart ached inside of his chest.

	Only hours before, he had been sitting beside Wade Harrison in the
corridor at the art museum.  It was the seventh grade final trip and Wade
was determined to make it better than any others.  The two boys were
inseparable at the best and worst of times.

	Sneaking away had been Wade's idea.  Wade was the leader, the
adventurer.  Christian, a meek and timid boy alone, had been happy to
follow.  With smuggled potato chips and twenty-ounce colas, the boys had
slid away from the tour and into a back corridor.

	Behind the staircase, two hands dug into the bag of chips and
mouths crunched noisily, Christian's eyes wandering frequently between the
watch on his wrist and Wade's face.  They had to meet the other kids at the
bus before it left at noon.  He looked over at Wade for a moment.
Christian tamped down familiar feelings, odd stirrings that he chose not to
think about.  Stirrings that made his heart beat faster and his breath come
quickly.  His hands began to tremble ever so slightly as he dug into the
bottom of the bag.

	Wade was a boy and he was just like other boys, Christian told
himself.  There was nothing special about Wade.  Then, why do you want to
kiss him more than Julie Edwards?  Christian was a boy, too, and he wasn't
supposed to feel that way.  He had wanted to kiss Julie...just not very
much.  He didn't want to think about it, but there were no more chips to
distract his hands.  He leaned against the back of the staircase and tried
to look normal.  Then he felt Wade's gray eyes on him and he was scared to
look.  He stared at the brick wall in front of him.  Someone had scribbled
their name in black on one of the bricks...Casey Forever.

	"Chris," Wade's voice was weird.  Christian didn't look at him.
His heart was pounding in his small chest and he felt hot and cold at the
same time.  Then, he felt it.  Wade's fingers on the back of his hand,
tracing the tiny veins and cupping gently.  Christian stared straight
ahead, scared.

	"Chris," Wade, after a moment, almost whimpered.

	Christian turned his palm to face Wade's.  It was a surrender.
Wade clutched it tightly.  Christian looked over at Wade for the first
time, uncertain and shaking.  He looked down at their entwined hands and
then back up into Wade's gray eyes.  Wade leaned in closely and kissed him.
Time seemed to stand still and there were stars.  Christian's heart
thundered in his chest at the warmth and softness of Wade's lips on his
own.  It was nothing like with Julie.  It was so right...like he was coming
home.  Christian gave in and tried to kiss him back, but Wade began to pull
away.  Wade yanked his hand free and stared at Christian, accusing.

	"You better not say a word to anyone," Wade yelled and Christian
drew back, shaking.  Wade surged to his feet and Christian stood on wobbly
legs.

	"W-Wade, I won't," Christian stammered and Wade stood before him,
simmering with confused anger and eyes wet with un-shattered tears.

	"You'd better not," Wade warned and for good measure his fist
connected with Christian's stomach.  Christian doubled over.

	"I'm not a faggot," Wade hissed angrily.  "I'm not, Chris.  I'm not
a faggot."

	But I am, Christian's heart screamed the words, but he was too
afraid to open his mouth.  He huddled near the ground, bawling, and Wade
ran away.

	Christian lay against the tree branch and wiped away his tears as
he remembered what had happened earlier that day.  On the bus ride home,
Wade had moved away from the seat they shared and all of the boys had
followed him.  They hadn't even glanced back at Christian.  He was just
Wade's friend to most of them.  The boys' laughter came to Christian in
snatches and from a distance.  He stared out of the window, numb, all the
way home.

	He had stopped only to drop his books on the steps at home, kissed
his mother on the cheek and taken off across the field to the tree.  It was
his favorite place.  It had been his secret, but the year before he had
shared it with Wade.  The tree that could hide a boy completely.  He and
Wade had lain on the branches together and watched as the world spun by.  A
certain peace had settled over him during those times.  With Wade, he
didn't need to hide.  They were the same.  He didn't have to be alone.

 	Wade wouldn't be his friend anymore.  Wade would think he was a
faggot, but Christian didn't care.  It had been too good.  He had learned
long ago when his father disappeared that people would only come and go.
He didn't need Wade Harrison.  He didn't need anyone.