Date: Sat, 6 May 2006 23:02:20 -0400
From: Ron <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: You Promised Me a Tomorrow   Chapter 1

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave
and find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights
to the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write Ron at
ronyx@woh.rr.com with any comments.

Hey Everyone! For all of my friends who enjoyed my story `Apple of Her
Eye' posted March 28- I'm Back! I spent April composing `Writing for
Joe' located in the college section posted May 6. I hope you enjoy my
latest adventure.


You Promised Me a Tomorrow     Chapter 1


I stand in an empty cemetery looking down at a freshly dug grave. It is
covered in two day old flowers, many already dried and withered. Gone are
the mourners dressed in black with tears streaming down their cheeks.
They no longer stand weeping at a silver coffin with a floral arrangement
and a red ribbon with the words LOVING SON laying atop it.

Loving Son! Fucking Bullshit! They didn't love him. I loved him. They
hated him for loving me. They hated me for loving him. I rip the ribbon
off the arrangement and ball it up and throw it away. It doesn't belong
anywhere near his grave.

The wind blows my hair as I stand over the fresh mound of dirt. I can no
longer cry. I have shed so many tears over the past week, my mind has
become numb. To maintain my sanity, I have completely shut down all
feelings. He is gone, and I don't think I can live. I don't want to
live. At seventeen, my life feels like it is over. I can no longer go on
without him beside me.

I look at the headstone. His name is already carved coldly on the gray
granite.

Timothy James Somerset

Loving Son and Brother

Born: 9-17-1989 Died: 4-12-2006

I stare unfeelingly at the words before me. Died. I cannot let my eyes
leave that word. Died. Why? Died. Died. Died. God! I'm going crazy!

I don't want to hate him, but it is hard not to. He promised he would
always be with me. We would grow old together. Our love would be
never-ending. We would laugh as we imagined ourselves racing around in
our wheelchairs in a nursing home. He didn't keep his promise. I want to
hate him for leaving me alone, but I can't. I promised him I would
always love him. I will.

Timothy James Somerset

Loving Son and Brother

Born: 9-17-1989 Died: 4-12-2006

I fall to the ground and clutch at the dead flowers on the grave. I
scream out his name. I pray to God to bring him back to me. God doesn't
answer my prayers. With a blood curdling yell I begin digging at the
soil, desperately wanting to touch him one more time.

"Damn you, TJ! You promised me there would always be a tomorrow!"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Randy! Get out of bed! This is the last time I'm going to call you."
My mother screamed down the hallway at me.

Damn. I hate the first day of school. I had a lot of fun during the
summer and I sure didn't want to go back to school. It was alright for
kids who had nothing better to do, but not me. I'd rather be anywhere
but in that hellhole.

"Shit! 7:30." I moaned as I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock.
I never set it. I had my own alarm, and right now it was screeching from
the kitchen.

"Randy! Get your butt out of bed. We're going to be late. I have to get
to work." This was the fourth time she had called me, so I knew I better
get my ass up. Last year she came in the room on four occasions and
poured a pitcher of cold water on me. My mother was not one to make idle
threats. I had learned that years ago.

I crawled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, still in my boxers.
Yeah, I like boxers. Most guys my age still wear the tighty whiteys, but
not me. I like to let it hang free, not that I have all that much to
hang! From my experience with most guys, I would guess I'm just about
average. At least I've never had any complaints.

I like to take cold showers when I'm running late, because I usually
take care of business in the morning- if you know what I mean. But I
don't have time this morning. Under cold water my poor balls remain
tight in the sack and my cock is shriveled, trying to hide from the
frigid condition. I'm in and out in minutes.

Now to make the biggest decision facing most teens- what to wear the
first day of school.

I'll be a sophomore this year, so I guess I have to look somewhat
preppy. The urban look, with my pants hanging down over my ass is over,
much to my mother's delight. Boy, did we have several knock down-drag
out fights over that. I thought about dressing that way today, just to
piss her off; but then again, I didn't want my friends to laugh at me.

This was the first day of school. I had to make a big impression. This
chance only comes around once a year. That first day back is like a
model's walk down the runway. You had to look good. If not, you could be
labeled the rest of the year. Geek, nerd, goth, stoner, fag.

Fag. That's the one label I didn't want. Sure I was gay, but the whole
world didn't need to know. Those that I cared about knew. My parents, my
older sister and a few close friends. Of course, a few of the guys I've
blown over the years knew too. But for the most part, I try to be
discreet.

I hate guys that have to let the whole world know they suck cock and take
it up the ass. I'm just as much a man as any straight guy. I just don't
think it's important that the whole world knows who I sleep with. At the
moment, no one. I haven't had a good lay in almost five months.

I had a brief affair last year. Brief. Yeah, right. Three whole weeks.
But the sex was great! I guess that's why it didn't last. We were so
busy sucking and fucking we never talked. When the novelty wore off after
a couple weeks, we realized we really didn't have much in common. It's
hard to make a relationship last when you don't have anything to say
other than, "You want to do it again?"

"Randy! Get out here!" There she goes again. I'd wish God would strike
her mute, but I love my mother. And my dad. I know, I don't sound like
the typical teenager. We're supposed to hate the rents, right? Nope, not
me.

When I came out to them two years ago when I was fourteen, they were
great about it. I'd read stories about teens who got kicked out of the
house or were shipped off to a distant relative. Wouldn't want a fag
ruining the good old family reputation. But not my parents.

They sat me down and we talked for hours. They held me tight while I
cried. My dad even told me how proud he was of me. Proud. Wow! I was
blown away. My mother let me cry on her shoulder and wiped my tears away.
The next day we went to a bookstore and they bought several books about
teens coming out. We took turns reading them and then discussed it around
the dinner table at night.

So I'm proud of who I am. My parents made sure that I understood my
sexuality. I guess it is because of them that I don't need to shout to
the world, "I'm Here, I'm Queer!" I'm me, Randy Lawrence. Son of
Milton and Evelyn Lawrence. That makes me feel good.

My sister is also very supportive. Sharon is four years older than me and
attends the state university two hundred miles away. We're really close,
but we don't get a chance to see each other except on holidays and an
occasional brief weekend visit. She has a boyfriend, Brad. They are
planning to marry when they graduate in two years.

"I'm counting to three, young man!" She yelled. Trouble. In minutes
she would be coming through the door with a pitcher of water in hand.

"ONE!"

"I'm almost ready, Mom." I opened the door and shouted down the hall.
I quickly put on a pair of beige khaki shorts and a green Old Navy shirt
I had bought over the weekend. The green shirt matched my green eyes. OK.
They're really a dull hazel color, but the contacts make me look like I
have green eyes. Since it was hot outside, I decided to go with a pair of
sandals.

I applied some gel to my blonde hair and spiked it on top. I stepped back
and looked at myself in the mirror. Damn, I look hot, even if I have to
say it myself. If I was not me, I'd be all over me. Bet that makes a lot
of sense!

Now, out to face a new day.

"You look cute, Honey." My mother said, trying to pay me a compliment.

"Mom! Puppies look cute." I informed her.

"Alright, then. You look handsome." She walked over and applied a
little spit on her finger and wiped off some dried toothpaste on the
corner of my mouth.

"Jesus, Mom. That's disgusting." I yelled, stepping back. She frowned
and walked back to the kitchen counter.

"I guess next you'll want me to stop kissing you." She sounded hurt.

"Never, Mom." I walked over to her and kissed her gently on the cheek.
This brought a broad smile to her face. It made me feel good too.

"You ready to go back to school?" She asked.

"You've got to be kidding, right?" I answered smugly. "Three months
of nothing but sun, fun and swimming, and you ask me if I'm ready to go
back to school."

"You'll never get anywhere-" She started.

"Without a good education." I finished. We both broke out in laughter.

"Hurry and eat. I have to get to work." My mother was a legal secretary
for a law firm. She had arranged it with her boss to go into work after
dropping me off at school in the morning. School starts at 8:30, so she
reported for work at 8:45. I rarely saw my father in the morning, except
on weekends. He was a plant supervisor and had to be at work at 6:30. We
usually get to spend time together in the afternoons before my mother
gets home.

My father is a great cook and usually prepares most evening meals. Ever
since I was a little boy, I had helped him out in the kitchen. As a
result, I had also acquired a knack for cooking. Between the two of us,
my mother rarely cooked at night. Most of her friends wanted to marry my
father and adopt me as their son.

After eating a quick breakfast, we jumped in her Honda and headed to
school. It was a short drive, since we only lived about a mile and a half
from my school. At night I would walk home. If it was raining, I would
give my father a call on my cell phone and wait about 30 minutes for him
to pick me up. I have my license and my mom will let me borrow her car
whenever I need it on the weekends, but I still want my own car. They
told me I can have her car when I graduate. But that's two years away. I
can't wait that long!

I gave my mother a quick peck on the cheek and got out of the car,
looking around to make sure none of my friends saw me kiss her goodbye.
That would really be a good start to the beginning of my sophomore year!
I'd be branded a momma's boy for the rest of the year. All my close
friends knew how I felt about my parents, but a stranger could make my
life a living hell.

I entered the heavy double doors to good old Dwight D. Eisenhower High
School. How lame is that? Going to a high school named after a World War
II general and president. They have pictures of him in the lobby. Man,
that dude is old! Why can't they name schools for what they really are,
like Hellhole High?

"Randy, wait up." I heard a familiar voice shout out. I turned and
watched as Dean approached me. He keeps looking better each year. We've
messed around a few times, but Dean is more like a brother to me. I feel
guilty every time I suck his dick. I feel like I'm committing incest.
But I'll say one thing, Dean is a loyal friend. If I ever need someone
to go to bat for me, Dean is my go-to guy. We've always got each
other's back.

"Hey, sexy!" I said as he got near enough so no one could hear me. He
did look sexy. He had grown about two inches over the summer. He was now
about 6 feet tall and weighed 160 pounds. He had put a tint on the edges
of his dark curly hair. This only accented his beautiful features and
flawless skin. He even had a slight mustache! Damn, he looks good. What
did I say about him being like a brother? Forget that! Just kidding.

"Damn, Randy! You look hot!" He whispered in my ear. "Let's forget
school and head back over to my house." He stepped back and grinned
evilly.

"Don't tempt me, man. Look at you. My little boy has grown up." I
threw my arm around his shoulder as we both began laughing.

"Hey, Randy." I rolled my eyes as I heard her sweet girlish voice. Dean
began laughing.

"What's up, Deanna?" I forced a smile. Deanna was Dean's twin sister.
She has had a crush on me for over five years. We were in the same room
in the fifth grade and sat at the same table. She marked me as her
property that year. She got into at least four fights with other girls
because she thought they were flirting with me.

She knew her brother was gay, but she never suspected that I was. Maybe
she did, but just held out hope that maybe one day I would `change.'
Dean was my best friend, and we spent a lot of time together. If she had
ever come into his room on one of my sleepovers, she would have known
that I would never be her boyfriend. I wonder what her reaction would be
if she walked in on us one night when Dean was ramming his cock up my
ass.

Deanna is very pretty. If I were straight, she'd be my first choice as a
girlfriend. She and Dean look remarkably alike. She has the same dark
curly hair as her brother. Her eyes shine a bright sparkling brown and
she has beautiful features. I have never known her or Dean to ever have a
facial blemish. Unlike me, who's been known to have an embarrassing zit
break out occasionally on my face. I always keep a tube of Clearasil
handy.

"You ready for a new year." She asked flirtatiously. "Maybe we'll be
in some of the same classes this year."

"Maybe not." I thought. "Yeah, that would be nice, Deanna." I said
instead. She smiled and then grabbed my arm, leading me off to the
cafeteria. Counselors and teachers were sitting along the side of the
large room, distributing student schedules. I found Sophomores- J-L and
stood in line ten minutes waiting for my prison sentence.

"Oh, no!" I screamed, just as Dean approached, examining his schedule.

"What's wrong Randy?" He looked down and read my schedule.

"I've got Old Lady Watson for Algebra II this year. Sharon warned me
about her. She says she's a real bitch. She gives a ton of homework each
night." I moaned.

"You think that's bad. Shit! I've got Toupee Tommy for chemistry." He
said sadly. Toupee Tommy was Mr. Waters. He was a dictator in class.
Students were scared shitless around him. It wasn't unusual for first
year students to go running out of his class crying. To add to his
sinister countenance, he wore a black toupee that was always just a
little tilted on his head. If he wore a small, black mustache, he would
look like Hitler.

"I'm doomed!" Dean cried. "I'll never pass his class. Shit. I'll
have to take summer school next year to get the credit."

"That sucks, man." I frowned.

"I'm going to see my counselor. Maybe she can change my schedule." He
quickly disappeared out the cafeteria door, leaving me alone.

"Excuse me. Can you help me?" I heard a timid voice behind me, but I
wasn't sure it was directed at me. Then I felt a slight tap on my
shoulder. I turned and let out a short gasp as I looked at the boy before
me. Holy Shit! He was cute. No, not cute. Puppies are cute, right? Damn,
what is wrong with me? I couldn't even think straight. Talk about first
impressions. He probably thought I was some sort of an idiot.

"Yeah, Dude. What do you want?" I finally managed to squeak out. He
looked into my eyes and there was an instant connection. I felt he was
reading my soul with those pretty baby blues. We stood in the middle of
the cafeteria, just looking at one another. Finally, he broke the gaze
and looked down at his schedule.

"I'm new here, and I don't know my way around yet. Can you tell me
where room 212 is?" He looked up and returned his gaze. I was
mesmerized. We were almost the same height- 5'11." He appeared thinner
than me, maybe about 150 pounds. He had beautiful curly light brown hair,
combed back over his ears. It appeared to be sun bleached. He'd probably
spent a lot of time at the beach, because he was well tanned.

But if he was trying to make a good first day impression, it wasn't
working. His clothes looked tattered. Not the kind of look a suburban
rich kid would try to wear. His looked like real hand-me-downs, or maybe
purchased from Goodwill. They appeared clean, but very used. If I had to
label him, I guess the closest would be poor boy. I could see this guy
being picked on by some of the elite students of our school.

"Hello! Anyone home?" He began to giggle, waving his hand in front of
my face. I was suddenly jolted back to reality.

"Sorry, man. What did you say?" I knew my cheeks were red with
embarrassment.

"Room 212? You know where it is?" He laughed pointing to his schedule.

I took it from him and examined it. Timothy Somerset. This beautiful
Adonis had a name. Timothy, Tim or Timmy? I wondered which he preferred.
I scanned his schedule and found out we had three classes together- 1st,
5th and 6th. There is a God in heaven! I would start my day saying hello
to him and end it by saying goodbye.

"Yeah, Timothy. Actually we have first period together. You can walk
with me." I said as I handed him back his schedule.

"TJ." He stated.

"What?"

"TJ. My name's TJ. Only my mother calls me Timothy." He began to
blush. It was so cute. Alright, not cute. Yes, cute. With TJ everything
is cute- just like a puppy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ok, guys and gals. You know what I want. I love your feedback, so write
to me. Email me at ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments. I also invite you
to join my Yahoo group at: www.groups.yahoo.com/group/ronyxstories and
read my stories there.