Date: Sun, 15 May 2005 01:38:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: Robin Eagleson <robineagleson@yahoo.com>
Subject: Oversleeping Part Five

I might have known my day was going to be less than stellar when I woke up
the following Friday and realized I'd overslept again.  Nothing beats that
first panicked sensation that courses through your body when you wake up
and instantly know something doesn't feel right.  I knew I was late.  The
house was deathly silent, and I would never have woken up voluntarily if it
were the time it should have been.  All the same, as pointless as it may
have been, the first thing I did upon waking was roll frantically out of
bed and turn my alarm clock towards me.  It was ten minutes until eight.  I
got up at seven on good days.

Taking advantage of having the house to myself by swearing loudly, I
snatched up the pair of jeans I had just taken off last night and left
crumpled in a ball beside my bed, hastily zipped them up as I ransacked my
closet looking for a shirt.  Mornings like these were not my favorite.  I
would have gladly sacrificed ten years off the end of my life just to have
the option of blowing it all off and throwing myself back into bed for the
rest of the day.  Sadly, such a bargain had not presented itself.

I had my clothes on and my keys in hand when I remembered what happened the
last time.  With a sigh, I quickly flipped on the switch in the bathroom to
make sure no notes were pinned to the mirror.  I was greeted only by my
disheveled appearance.  Since I was in the bathroom anyway I quickly
brushed my teeth and decided it might be a good idea to run my deodorant
quickly over my arm pits, too.

The week had gone by in something of a jumbled up haze.  I'd blown off
Jessica on Saturday, and it was awkward having to face her when the week
started.  She seemed to have forgiven me completely after a few days,
though, and we were just as inseparable during school hours.  Kenny hadn't
been in school all week, but rumor had it there was going to be an even
bigger party at his place tonight.  A lot of people that didn't typically
wind up there on the weekends were making plans to be in attendance.  Must
have been an almost summer celebration or something.

I was getting text messages from Jessica on a daily basis now, too.  She
never bothered to actually call my phone, but she'd send me at least a few
messages a day, mostly during classes.  What was amazing to me was how much
she could go on about herself.  It wasn't like she was selfish or conceited
or anything; she just really liked to tell me about her life.  Half of the
messages I got from her were about how bored she was, and how she wished I
was in the class with her.

Then we'd have history together at the end of the day and she'd talk the
entire time.  I wasn't the most diligent student anyway, but thanks to her
I had absolutely no idea what had been going on in that class for months.
I just copied notes from a friend and got C's on the tests.  We did so many
stupid group projects for easy points, though, that my grade was just fine
anyway.

Very little had transpired between me and Evan.  He'd gotten in a habit of
jacking off in his boxers and then leaving them for me every morning.  One
night during the middle of the week he'd crept into my room well after
midnight, woken me up, and settled himself between my legs for the long
overdue blow job he had owed me.  I shot load after load, and he wasn't
able to swallow it all.  He had pulled back, almost choking, and promptly
been blasted squarely in the face with another two or three shots.
Wordlessly, he had gotten up and left, wiping his face as he went, which
was kind of cute.

But although we hadn't spent a great deal of time together in any way, I
was just as desperate for him as ever.  I jacked off over him at least
twice a day, and I was going through every dirty article of clothing of his
I could find in the hamper.  I even slept with a shirt of his one night
that just had an indescribably boyish Evan scent to it.  His birthday was
in less than a week.  He would finally be turning thirteen, whereas pretty
much everyone else in his grade had already turned fourteen a while back.

My effort to get to school on time was admirable, but there was just no way
I could navigate through early morning traffic and make it to my class by
eight.  A lot was at stake, so I had sprinted to the building and through
the halls, but still hadn't quite made it inside the room when the bell
sounded.  My teacher, Mrs. Raynell, was more than alert when it came to
lateness, and I could sense the sharpness of her stare as I trudged through
the doorway and slid into my seat at the front of the room.

By the time the class was over I had the paperwork for my fifth tardy in
front of me, and all that was left to seal yet another Friday detention was
my signature on the dotted line, which I had no choice but provide.  I
decided to put off the inevitable and postpone my detention for another
week instead of getting it over with today.  After all, putting unpleasant
matters off was always the best plan of action.

Just like the last morning I overslept, this day couldn't have possibly
been more unpleasant for me.  Right after my first class was Biology, and I
had completely neglected to do any studying for the test that had been
scheduled.  Granted, I normally didn't study, but somehow I felt unusually
unprepared, and a sense of gloomy failure had ballooned inside of me by the
time I was finished with it.  It was one of those tests where you'd just as
soon not find out how you did, because you know there's no chance it could
have possibly been good.

I stumbled through the rest of the day on autopilot, erasing Jessica's text
messages before I even read them, and then being intentionally distant when
History came around.  Several times she reached over and pinched my arm
when she was talking and I wasn't listening.  She asked me if I was going
to Kenny's, and I was tempted to tell her the chances of my presence would
be significantly lower if she would be there.  Some time between
discovering Evan's sexual allure and now, Jessica had grown more a social
obligation than anything else, and now that she really liked me, I was
quickly tiring of her immensely.  That trend had existed in the past with
me, but usually I only got sick of a girl when it became clear having sex
with her was going to be an incredibly slow process.  In Jessica's case, I
was pretty sure the idea of having sex with her was the main reason I
wanted to avoid her.  I hadn't jacked off over her in weeks, or anyone that
wasn't my brother.  The thought was depressing.

Once the day had come to a merciful end, I drove home listening to Doug
Martsch, rolling down my windows to let the wind hit me in the face.  The
weather was beautiful, and I found myself wishing it would rain instead.
On days like these, dark skies and thunderstorms were appropriate.

I pulled up alongside the curb and rolled myself out of the seat, fully
prepared to improve my mood with a few hours of entertainment courtesy of
my PS2.  After that I would shower and show up at Kenny's, if he was still
alive.  No one had heard anything from him over the week, so anything was
possible.

Kicking off my shoes in the entryway, I set my stuff down on the bathroom
counter and went to my room.  Remembering Evan still had the playstation, I
doubled back and pulled his door open, figuring him to be gone since there
was no noise coming from his room and he always kept his door shut even if
he wasn't home.  I was wrong, though, and upon opening the door I was
greeted by Evan lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in what was
clearly a sulky manner.

"Did Sonny die or something?" I asked dryly, curious about the gloomy look
on his face.  Honestly, based on his expression, his day might have even
been worse than mine, which would be saying something, unlike Evan, who
said nothing and just continued to stare at the ceiling.  "I'm going to
take my playstation back," I said when he maintained his silence.
Awkwardly, I stepped inside his room and walked towards his TV.  "You can
have it back when I leave tonight," I offered, trying to be friendly.  It
was about once a year he had this little to say, although lately his moods
had been eerily inconsistent by his usual standards of constant
obnoxiousness.  He still said nothing, so I just shrugged and reached
behind his TV, looking for the correct chords.  As soon as my hands made
contact with them, there was a great sigh and Evan bounced off his bed.

"You'll mess the connections up," he said wearily.  "Just let me do it."  I
backed away and watched him as he approached me and started fumbling with
the hook-ups.  He had a nice DVD player.  That had been his big Christmas
present.  I was content with just using the PS2, but after he'd gotten his
state of the art DVD player, I was pretty jealous.  "What the hell happened
to your eye?" I asked when I got a good look at his profile standing above
him.

"Someone hit me.  What the fuck do you think happened?"

"I thought maybe you rolled off your bed and bumped into your nightstand,"
I shot back.  He'd done that a few years ago and woken everyone up with his
howling screams of agony.  It actually was a pretty big deal.  His head had
come down directly on a corner, and he'd cut himself pretty badly, not to
mention breaking the lamp that had been sitting on it.  He didn't respond
to my comeback.  "Why did someone hit you?" I asked, getting back to the
topic at hand.

"Because it was a fight.  People hit people in fights," he answered
shortly, obviously not interested in giving me too many details.

"You moron," I said.  "You probably started it, too.  Did you get suspended
again?"

"Three days," he muttered.  "And I didn't start it.  I got provoked."

"It doesn't take a lot to provoke you," I answered.  It didn't take much to
provoke anyone with our family name.  "Mom had to take off work and come
pick you up, then?"

"Yes," he said, and further elaboration wasn't necessary.  Dad was always
too busy at his work to take off for anything, and Mom didn't exactly like
to, so it went without saying he was in several weeks' worth of trouble
just for the inconvenience alone.  "Here," he said, handing me the unhooked
Playstation.  "Now go away."  I went away; there was no use trying to get
anything else out of him.


It turned out that Evan's fight was an omen, just as oversleeping had been.
And as bad as my day had been, it was about to get a lot worse.  There was
indeed the usual Friday night gathering at Kenny's.  The odd part about it
was that no one had actually seen Kenny.  The small group of people that
were Kenny's closest friends said he had been in his room for a long while
now, and voiced suspicions I shared regarding his usage of some pretty
hardcore drugs including but not limited to acid.  At any rate, since his
friends practically lived at the house on the weekends anyway, the party
went on just the same.

Just as advertised, there were swarms of people running amok.  Jessica had
of course come, and although I had tried several times to lose her in
crowds, she always found me, and I was forced to spend nearly every second
beside her and her trio of ditsy friends, all of which were really giggly
when they drank.  I slipped away from them for a quick trip to the
bathroom, and was interrupted by a tall figure in the hallway.

The night was still pretty young, but my blood content was already polluted
with several beers and a couple of shots, so my thought process was jumbled
considerably.  I tried to politely squeeze past the figure, but was not
allowed to pass.  I finally took the effort to look up into the eyes of the
person in my way, and recognized him as some hard-ass senior named Jason
who had a reputation for being a drug dealer.  Everyone at school knew him
for his motorcycle, which he had likely financed with his drug money, and
could always be found parked illegally in the staff lot.  I had never
spoken with Jason before, but his reputation preceded him, and I gave him a
nod, which he didn't return.

"Fucked her yet?" he asked me, his breath reeking of beer and cigarettes.
He even had a lit one in his hand as he spoke.

"What?" I asked, blinking in unimaginative surprise.

"Jessica, asshole," he sneered.  "Have you fucked her yet?  I heard you
guys went at it on the couch last weekend."

"Oh," I responded, noting just how much bigger he was than me.  He was a
towering presence, and with a beefy build, too.  If I had to guess his
height, I would have pegged him for 6'3", but standing in front of me like
he was now, it really seemed more like an even ten feet.  "No," I finally
answered.  Then I grinned a drunken grin.  "I have a feeling I'll get lucky
tonight, though."  It's amazing how much alcohol can do for your boldness.
"Why?"

"Just wondering," he said, and his face broke into something of a sickening
grin to mirror mine.  "She's a slut, man.  I used to screw her during
assemblies last year."  With that little nugget of information, he brushed
past me and left me standing there in the hallway.  I took my time emptying
my bladder and then swaggered back to the party, stopping to have a few
shots with Anthony in the kitchen.  Anthony was shorter than I was, but a
little thicker, and he had amazing tolerance.  He could take down a fifth
by himself if he spaced out the drinking over a full night.

"Is tonight the night?" he asked me, a twinkle in his eye.  "You know what
I'm talking about."  He leaned over and nudged me.  "Kenny has condoms in
his room if you need one.  If you can get in, that is.  He went back there
around four and hasn't been out since.  He looks like shit.  I don't think
he ate this week."

"I'm not bothering him," I answered, intentionally avoiding a direct
response to his initial question.  He gave me a look.

"Whatever, dude.  Just be careful.  You might get herpes or something."

"You think she's been with a lot of guys?" I asked, now more sure than ever
that I would never have sex with her unless I drank to the point of
unconsciousness and she raped me.

"That's the word," he admitted, taking another shot.  "That wouldn't stop
me, though," he grinned, clapping me on the back and leaving me in the
midst of a table full of people I didn't recognize playing a drinking game.
I ambled out of the kitchen, headed towards the living room, and was
intercepted by Jessica on the way.

"Come on," she said, smoothly taking hold of my hand and guiding me through
a hallway full of people.  I don't know how she timed it that well; as soon
as I had left the kitchen she had been walking straight towards me and
practically bumped into me.

"Where are we going?" I asked innocently, although I knew.  My heart sped
up in anticipation, but for the wrong reasons.  I was merely nervous
because I wasn't sure how I could get out of it unscathed.

She pulled me along, leading the way down the hall and dragging me behind
her as if I were a dog on a leash.  I spotted some familiar faces on the
way, all of which gave me stupid smiles.  She kept tugging on me, and now
we were ascending the stairs, down a darkened hallway that was unoccupied,
and into a bedroom.  She shut the door behind us and stood straight across
from me in the dark.  I was instantly reminded of the night Evan had taken
my hand and brought me to his room, in much the same manner as Jessica had
done just now, and how we'd stood looking at each right by the door
afterwards as our eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"I'm really drunk," she giggled, reaching out and playing with my hair.
She was so close to me.  Against my will, I found myself growing aroused;
it was completely out of my control.  I felt her hand against my cheek, her
body pressing closer against mine, and then her lips on me.  I didn't
respond to her kiss, and she pulled back.  "I'm not a whore, you know," she
reminded me, although by now I wasn't so sure.  How I had conveniently
overlooked her past history before was beyond me.  Not that I had anything
to go by aside from rumors I'd been hit with in the last ten minutes.

Without waiting for me to respond, she kissed me again, and my hormones
forced me to return this one.  In fact, I blame everything that happened
afterwards on my hormones.  Almost savagely, she pushed me backwards on the
bed and settled on top of me.  My heart was hammering away at full force as
she tore at the zipper of my jeans and untangled my cock from my boxers
faster than Evan ever could.  I thought she was going to blow me at first,
but then she realigned herself to where we were face to face again.

"Do you want me on top?" she asked, giving me a hard kiss that I again
couldn't help but return.  I told her I didn't care, but it was just as
well since she was already on me.  "Tell me when you're going to do it,"
she whispered into my ear as we grinded against each other.  My hips moved
instinctively underneath her.  I had started to wonder if it would be
possible for to get off with a girl, but now I had no doubt.  I probably
wasn't even going to last two minutes, in fact, which was sort of
embarrassing.

I kept my heads at my side all the while, not sure what to do with them.
She hadn't even taken her shirt off, so it didn't appear she was all that
interested in me touching her breasts, although I could have been wrong
about that.

"You're pretty big," she panted into my face as we continued to thrust into
each other.  I muffled a smirk.

"Thanks, I guess," I responded, knowing damn well my cock was
extraordinarily average.  If she thought mine was big, maybe she really
hadn't been with too many other guys.  Or maybe she was just lying; girls
tended to do that.

The sex was extremely methodical.  She wasn't writhing or moaning or
anything, and to be honest I wasn't even sure the penetration was doing
much for her.  My limbs remained frozen, and our pace was merely steady.
All the same, I was nearing the end of the line, and I finally grunted a
warning to her when I knew I was close.  She instantly jumped off of me at
my word, and almost immediately I splattered all over myself.

She didn't seem too interested in my semen.  Evan would be lapping it off
me right about now, but she was avoiding it altogether, resting her head on
my chest from her position to my right.  I was still unsure how to go about
touching her, so I didn't.  We simply laid there in silence for a few
minutes.  It was pretty weird that I had experienced my first encounter
with intercourse with most of my clothes still on.  I had definitely
pictured it a different way.

"I can probably go again in a few minutes," I offered, my drunkenness and
hormones again getting the best of me.  After all, it hadn't been bad.  If
anything I thought I underperformed, and I was kind of hoping for a quick
shot of redemption just to feel better about myself.  She gave me the
lightest of kisses on my lips, and sat up.

"Not here," she said.  "There's already probably a crowd outside.  Let's go
back downstairs."  She left without even waiting for me, telling me she'd
be in the living room, so I took my time and stayed put on the bed for a
few minutes, contemplating my semi loss of virginity.  I had always
imagined it would be a little more of a mutual thing, rather than just
having my dick penetrate a girl for a few minutes and then shooting all
over myself afterwards.

I awkwardly cleaned the remaining semen off my crotch, wondering if anyone
ever slept in the bed I had soiled.  I knew it was their guest bedroom
simply because Kenny's room was shut and his parents' room was farther down
the hall.  I zipped up my pants and buckled my belt, swinging my feet over
the side of the bed and jumping to my feet.  I had forgotten to account for
the drunk effect, though, and I nearly fell over.  There was always a rude
reminder that you weren't sober when you stood up too fast after being in a
sitting position for a while.

Jessica was wrong; there was no crowd outside the room.  I was able to get
all the way downstairs before seeing anyone at all, and even then, it
didn't look like anyone had noticed I was gone.  It was only a little after
midnight, but after glancing around quickly, I decided it was about time
for me to make my exit.  I ran into the kitchen to have another shot, and
was then pressured into having two more with some guy I'd never even met
before.

By the time I headed for the door I was feeling it in a big way.  My cheeks
were flushed, and my vision was starting to blur.  It had been a few weeks
since I'd had this much hard alcohol; beer was a whole different story.  I
had hoped to slip out the front door without having to bump into Jessica,
and for all I know I might have been successful, but it turned out someone
else that I would have wanted to avoid just as much did spot me.

I had forgotten all about the encounter in the hallway with Jason from
earlier, but I immediately recognized his husky voice when someone called
out to me, asking where I was off to.  I didn't like the guy at all by this
point, or his condescending tone, and despite my best interests, I turned
blindly to where I figured he was and raised my middle finger to a whole
crowd of people that I assumed he was mixed in amongst.  I made it out the
front door and onto the porch before he caught up to me, apparently having
torn through the congestion in the living room to get to me.

"Did I strike a nerve?" he asked teasingly to my backside.  Not exactly
interested in confronting him, I kept walking, trying to remember where I
parked.  "Don't you want to stick around and tell us all about how it was
getting it on with a skank?" he called out loudly, even though I was still
just a few feet in front of him.  I made the mistake of turning around and
looking at him.  He was standing in the doorway, holding the front door
open, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.  "You did have sex with her,
right?  Or are you as much of a fag as you look?"

I froze on the bottom step, admittedly rattled he'd had to go and use that
word now of all times, when I was experiencing my first bouts of sexual
confusion ever.

"That's it, isn't it?" he asked, recognizing my hesitation and sensing he
was succeeding in pissing me off.  "You're a fucking queer, aren't you?
How was your first taste of pussy, queer?  Did it go alright?  Could you
get it up for it?"

Even drunk, I like to believe I was pretty quick.  As soon as his last
question had left his mouth, I had wheeled around, leapt up the steps on
the porch, cocked my arm, and hit him squarely in the jaw with my right
hand, which instantly felt as if it had collided with a brick wall.  Just
hitting him once had helped clear my vision, but I knew I wouldn't be able
to walk away at this point, so I hit him three more times in successive
blows to his face, hoping to somehow save myself from death by knocking him
out.  Needless to say, my plan didn't work, and as soon as he caught his
balance he threw me off the porch altogether and was standing over me, that
disturbing grin back on his face.

He had been looking for a fight all along, so I knew there wasn't going to
be any truce, and I could either stay there and get beaten into the ground
or get up and try to make him work for it, so I awkwardly stumbled to my
feet, just in time for him to swing and catch a glancing blow to the side
of my head, which was still effective enough to send me directly back to
the ground, my ears ringing and my head spinning.  I tried to get up again
but felt his weight on top of mine, and his fist drew back and planted
itself firmly into the middle of my face, which was an interesting
experience to say the least; it felt as if my entire head had exploded, and
I could feel my nose instantly start to bleed.  He had pulled his hand back
to hit me again when the front door snapped open and someone came out onto
the porch.

We both looked towards it, and I realized for the first time that there was
a small gathering of onlookers on both sides of us.  But standing on the
porch, having parted through the crowd to get to the front of it, was
Kenny, looking wild-eyed and truly crazy.  He looked at the two of us,
wrestling on the ground with Jason clearly ready to kill me, and started to
approach us to pull Jason off.  Someone, a friend of Jason's, stepped in
his path, and Kenny wasted no time in hitting him squarely in the face.

Now a full-out rumble was on, and Jason gave me one last blow to the face
before jumping off me and getting in the middle of the skirmish that broken
out in the middle of the front yard.  I stayed right where I was, wiping
the blood off my face and watching the darkened figures fight it out.
There were over a dozen different people battling now, and I spotted
several friends of mine taking up sides with Kenny, while Jason and his
friends made up the other half.  The last thing I noted before passing out
was some guy who had brought a video camera with him to the party running
outside to film the action.


It was a few hours later before I woke up again.  I was inside, lying on a
couch in the living room, only a small group of people remaining, and all
of them were sitting in front of the TV playing Halo.  Kenny was the first
one I spotted when my vision cleared.  Anthony was still here, and so were
Alex and Keith, a couple other guys I would call close friends of mine.
Aside from them, the house seemed eerily silent.  For a wide variety of
reasons, my head felt groggy as hell, and I groaned loudly when I sat up
and pulled myself to my feet.  They all turned towards me at once.

"I told you he was alive," Anthony said, and his eyes quickly darted back
to the screen.  "Got you, Alex."

"Fuck you!" Alex protested.  "I wasn't looking!"

"Doesn't matter.  I had a head shot anyway.  You were dead even if you had
been looking."

"Fuck you both," Kenny said, tearing around a corner and quickly taking
down one of the players with an astoundingly precise shot.  "Wanna play,
Austin?" he asked, extending me his controller.

"No," I responded.  "Why is everyone gone?"

"I fucking made them leave," he said.  "A lot of them took off when the
cops came, anyway."

"The cops came?" I asked, disappointed that we'd finally got a police visit
and I hadn't even been awake for it.

"Yeah, one of the neighbors must have called the police when they saw the
fight," he shrugged, taking the joint they were passing around, hitting it,
and then throwing it over his shoulder in disgust.  "You can't roll for
shit, Alex," he said as he took down someone else's character in the game.
"Let Anthony do the next one."  He turned back to me.  "Well, if you're not
going to play Halo, you can at least smoke with us."

"How did I get inside?" I asked, ignoring his question.  The smoke from the
weed was making me nauseous; I felt worse than I had in a long time, with
my head pounding and spinning slightly.

"A couple people chipped in," Anthony said, and then grinned.  "Not that it
was necessary.  You're a fucking stick.  I can't believe you tried to fight
Jason Ellingsworth."

"Fucking prick," Kenny snapped.  "I don't know what made him think he was
welcome here.  Pause the game and roll a new one, Anthony," he ordered.
"You can have the first hit, Austin."

Standing there, my face caked in dried blood, a night's worth of liquor in
my system, the last thing I wanted to do was get high before I left.  I
watched my friends as they stared mindlessly at the TV, and suddenly I
wondered why I hung out here every weekend.  It was the same story every
time.  A lot of drinking, occasional drug usage, and a lot of Halo.  The
parties had variable sizes, but the main theme was always the same.  It
never had any substance, and it had never seemed as empty as it did right
now.

"No thanks," I muttered, wanting to leave badly.

"Fuck you," Kenny said.  "I saved your ass, and all I ask in return is that
you smoke with us.  It'll make your head feel better," he grinned.

"You're supposed to call Jessica," Anthony said to me.  "She nagged at me a
hundred times to remind you to call her as soon as you were awake.  I think
she was pretty freaked out when she saw you passed out on the couch."

I had no intention of calling Jessica, or of ever hanging out with her
again.  I was going to tell her off flatly on Monday.  Whether it was fair
or not, I blamed her for the crazy direction my night had taken.

"I'm leaving," I said quietly, stumbling towards the door, my head
throbbing all the while.

"Where the hell is he going?" Keith asked, as if I had already left the
room.

I stopped at the door, turned back and looked at my friends, almost seeing
them for the first time.  "I'll see you guys later," I said, shutting the
door behind me and wondering inwardly if that was even true.

I had left my cell phone in the jeep, and after fumbling around in my
pockets for an eternity to find my keys, the first thing I did was turn it
off.  I had several missed calls just from the last several hours alone,
and I was certain many, if not all of them were from Jessica, but I didn't
even bother looking.  The way I felt right now, I might never turn my phone
on again.  As I turned off Kenny's street, I looked back at it and wondered
when I'd be back again.  Maybe never.  In one night it had all become
incredibly old, but in reality it had been growing old for months, and I
had just been too blind to see it.

I was thoroughly disgusted at myself for having spent countless weekends in
a row drinking to excess and wasting every second at Kenny's just because
his parents weren't there.  I tired of the hangovers and missing my curfew
and having to worry every time I got home that Mom or Dad would hear me
coming in and catch me in an obviously not sober state.  They were not calm
about that kind of thing, and it was unfathomable how much I'd pay for it
if I was caught in the act.

Fortunately for me, I was once again lucky when entering the house.  It was
after two in the morning, and I was over an hour late, but I was quiet
enough to sneak in without tipping them off.  I quickly snuck in the
bathroom and shut the door softly, flicking on the switch and shielding my
eyes from the bright light for a minute before I could look at my
reflection.

It was worse than I thought.  My right eye was red and puffy, and it looked
like my lips were misplaced, having been smashed into my mouth by those two
hard shots from Jason.  I ran cold water across my face to remove the dried
blood, and then brushed my teeth in my typical thorough manner.  I peeled
off my dirty shirt and stuck it in the hamper underneath the clothes at the
top, hoping Mom wouldn't notice the dirt and blood on it when she did the
laundry.  I turned off the light and slowly undid my belt as I crept
stealthily into my room.

Evan was in it.  He was playing NBA Live on my Playstation, apparently not
wanting to take the trouble to move it back to his room.  He didn't hear me
come in, so I watched him silently for a second.  It looked like he'd been
asleep for a while based on his hair and outfit, woken up and come in here
to play some PS2 basketball.  I turned on the light to get his attention
after I grew tired of staring at him.

"You're late again," he said softly without turning back to me.  "Mom came
down to check on you, but I had your door shut and I was inside playing NBA
Live, and she must have thought it was you, so I think you're safe.  You
might want to be on time next weekend, though, because I heard Dad talking
about you earlier.  He thinks you're sneaking in late a lot, and they're
going to crack down."

"Noted," I responded.  "I don't think it'll be a problem for a while," I
sighed.  "I probably won't be at Kenny's much anymore."

He turned and looked at me, likely from surprise, and then did a double
take when he saw my face.  "Jesus," was all he said, before turning
reluctantly back to his game.  "You're going to be in a lot of shit with
Mom and Dad."

"Nah," I said.  "I'll just tell them I fell down some stairs."  I saw his
lips curl into a tiny smile at my Fight Club reference.  I slid out of my
pants and threw myself into bed, pulling the covers over me and watching
him finish his game in silence.  He was in the process of blowing out the
Cavaliers in his Hawks' season, which he played obsessively.  He had been
nearly done with it by the time I had come in the room, and now he was
checking out the game stats, having added another victory to the Hawks'
tally.  I watched as he saved his progress and flipped off the game, turned
off the TV, stood up and stretched.  Then he turned and looked at me.  Our
eyes held for several seconds, and then he grinned.

"Scoot over," he said, approaching the bed and squeezing himself into it
beside me and under the covers.  I didn't protest, but I didn't exactly
welcome him either.  He was lying on his side facing me, and I could feel
his stare burning into me.  "Tell me about your fight, and I'll tell you
about mine," he breathed out softly, his whisper tickling my neck.

"You first," I stalled, not really looking forward to recounting my
adventure, but still curious what happened with him.

"Well," he said carefully.  "It was in the lunch room.  I was just standing
in line waiting to get my food, and the kid I was standing next to was
being a jerk.  He always messes with me, and we don't ever get along, so it
wasn't really a surprise.  He just went too far.  So I hit him with my
tray.  Then he punched me in the eye.  That's pretty much it.  We got
pulled apart fast, or else I would have started throwing food at him."  He
giggled at the thought.

"You got three days for that?" I asked, surprised.

"Well, I hit him pretty hard, I guess," he responded, sounding kind of
proud.  "The tray broke in half and cut him a little."

"It's cheap piece of plastic," I remarked, still not sure three days was
fair.

"He only got two," he added.  "Even though he's the one who started it, and
he actually used his fists.  I'm a non-violent sort.  I just used my tray."
I smiled.  "So now you have to tell me what happened to you.  You look
terrible."

I sighed.  "I got drunk and fought someone two years older and a lot
bigger," I answered.  "That's about the gist of it."

"Did you hit him at all?" Evan asked, sounding embarrassed for me.

"Of course I did," I said, with a trace of pride in my own fighting
abilities.  We were a messed up set of siblings.  "I jacked him in the face
three times before he touched me.  But once he did, it was all over," I
snickered.

"Cool," he responded, suitably impressed.  I left out the part about having
to be rescued by Kenny and passing out afterwards.  "So why aren't you
going over there anymore?" he asked, sounding more curious than nosy.

"I'm tired of it," I said truthfully.  "It's a waste of time, and I just
feel bad about myself every time I leave now."

He fell silent for a few minutes afterwards, but didn't move an inch.  He
was so close to me I could feel his hair brushing up against my cheek.  I
found myself reaching out and petting it briefly, and then, even more
surprisingly, leaning over and kissing him on the head.  It was the first
time I could remember initiating any kind of action with him since our very
first experience in the shower.  He lifted his head up to look at me,
smiling, almost as if amused.

I leaned in again, this time to bump my lips into his, and his response was
so slight the kiss was almost dainty.  I took hold of his mane of hair in
the back of his head and kissed him harder, trying to get a response out of
him, and finally, on the third try, it worked as he allowed my tongue to
part his lips and enter his mouth.  I kissed him hungrily as I tugged at
his t-shirt, unsuccessfully trying to rip it off until he obliged me by
lifting his arms up.  I kissed his chest and each of his nipples and then
licked his throat as he settled himself on top of me and returned all of my
kisses.

His lips worked all over my face, softly kissing my swollen lips and eyes,
moving sweetly across the bruises and tender spots, kissing me with a
gentle loving softness I didn't think he was capable of.  I squeezed him
harder, wanting him more than ever, and he nestled his face fully into my
arm pit, drinking in the aroma and licking the flesh excitedly.  He pushed
his teeth against the flesh and gnawed on the sparse strands of hair,
pulling gently on them with his mouth and giggling as they tickled his
nose.  His kisses were so soft tonight, and as they danced around my
stomach and down past the waistband of my boxers, I was desperate for my
first real orgasm of the night.  The one with Jessica had been entirely too
phony.

Just as he started to engulf my cock with his hungry mouth, he flipped his
position, jabbing me in the face with his rigid cock, and then taking mine
in.  He was so much better at giving a blow job than I was.  I was glad to
stuff his in my mouth, but I couldn't work it around nearly as well as he
could.  Some day I would have to find out just why he was so good at this,
but right now I didn't care.  We had never done anything in this position
before, and it was undeniably hot.  I instinctively took a hold of his
perfectly round ass and kept my hands on it as I blew him, bobbing up and
down on his shaft while he humped my face.  He was working his tongue
across the head of mine with an almost magical swiftness, and I was already
starting to tense up.  I opened up wider and forced his balls into my mouth
with his cock so I could taste all of him at once, and he groaned in
pleasure.  His sweet, musky, boyish scent filled my nostrils and helped
send me off, his tongue darting up and down my cock until I shot, when he
clamped his mouth around it and tried to suck down every last drop.  I
pumped one load after the other down his throat, and the only thing in the
world I was aware of while doing it was how delicious his taste was to me.
He was fucking my face with newfound vigor now, and just as my orgasm
finally died away he had his, which sent a shiver down his entire body but
resulted in much less of a mess than it had in my case.

He continued to slowly hump my face from above me while he pressed his face
into my crotch and diligently licked up all the cum he could find on me.
Some of it had escaped down his lips, and he was now scooping that off his
face and sucking on his fingers.  He finally pulled his cock out of my
mouth and sat up, relaxing where he was, straddling my chest with his back
facing me.  His ass was right in front of my face in this position, and I
couldn't help but give it a kiss at seeing it so near.  He giggled,
surprised, and jumped.  He reversed his position, hovered over me with his
arms holding himself up on his each side of me, and then sat back at the
foot of my bed and searched for his clothes.  He found them, gathered them
up, and started to pull himself off my bed, when I reached out gently and
took his hand, clasping it for a second and then abruptly pulling him
towards me.

Surprised, he came tumbling towards me and landed hard on my chest.  I put
my arms around his back and threw the covers on top of him to where we were
under them together, and then squeezed him to me tightly.  At first, he
appeared confused by my actions, but he merely smiled and rested his head
on my chest afterwards, closing his eyes after a few minutes of resting
there.  There was complete silence, followed by the quiet sounds of his
slow, steady breathing filling the room, and for the first time all day, a
sense of undeniable happiness swept over me and washed me away.