Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2005 08:01:18 -0800 (PST)
From: Stone Cold Heart <stonexcoldxheart@yahoo.com>
Subject: Wanting Brother 1

WARNING: This story involves homosexual, and homoerotic, situations. If you
are offended by this material, or it is illegal to view such material in
your area, do not continue. Thank you.

ALL material is Copyright Damion Michaels. Comments, suggestions, and
concerns may be emailed to: stonexcoldxheart@yahoo.com

WANTING BROTHER - CHAPTER 1

	I never looked forward to high school, really. If I ever did, I
stopped my first day, my freshman year. All the appeal and charm went away
as soon as I stepped on campus.

	Just like all the other freshman, I was dazed and confused. Engle
High, my town's `rich' high school, was remodeled last year. They did so
much reconstruction, it's a wonder that they didn't tear down the whole
school and start from scratch.

	There is one main office, a two story library, both a large and
small gym - a weight room, too - and a large square of pavement known as
the Quad. On top of that, there is a separate building for each type of
class. All of the buildings are connected by glass-walled hallways; the
state granted a TON of money for the remodeling.

	So, on my first day of school, I found myself horribly lost. I got
stuck in the Art Complex looking for my first period English class. When it
was time for American Studies, I somehow ended up in the Science
building. You get my drift.

	My brother didn't help any, either.

	His name is Ian, and he's the standard jock: cheerleader for a
girlfriend, letterman jacket, and a gaggle of steroid-pumped friends with
no necks.

	Ian and I used to be close, but then he started high school himself
- he was a freshman when I was in seventh grade - and all of that
changed. Our relationship was strictly home-based.

	Now I'm a junior. Ian graduated and is following the fad known as
`The Gap,' or, a yearlong break between high school and college. Slacker. I
don't need him anymore, though. I've been here long enough to learn the
ropes, if you will.

	"Time's up. Pencils down. Pass your tests forward, please," said
Mrs. Blanc, my History teacher. People around me groan. Who really cares
about the Spanish Inquisition, anyways? I pass my test forward to Jenny,
one of my friends since grade nine. She smiles at me, and gives me the
`Think you did good?' look.

	I shrug just as the bell rings, and my day gets a little brighter;
lunch.

	"I'll see you all Wednesday. And don't forget to read Chapter 4! I
might quiz you." More groans follow her words.

	Lunch time is practically the only thing I look forward to at
school. Ninety full minutes of nothing but food, friends, gossip, and yet
more food. What could be better?

	At our school, we have both on and off campus lunches, where, if
you can drive or have a friend who can, you're allowed to go somewhere to
eat, like Taco Bell, or Wendy's. I usually stay at school. They ASB
students blare music in the Quad, my current location.

	"Don't look now, but Ethan has been eyeing you for, like, the past
ten minutes," Jenny said, sliding onto the bench next to me. She begins
unwrapping her `hip friendly' turkey sub, as she puts it.

	I roll my eyes.

	"Brent, I'm serious! He's been glued to you ever since Get Low
started playing." Her sandwich shuts her up.

	"I'm SURE he was eyeing me. Let's see...one: we're not certain he's
gay; two: he's a senior; three: I'm TOTALLY out of his league; three: why
would he even be attracted to me?

	"I know you want me to find some nice little boyfriend, Jen, but
I'm just not comfortable...putting that side of me out at school yet. You
know?"

	"Whatever. One day...one day!" she says, laughing maniacally.

	"You're oh-so menacing with that head of lettuce between your
teeth," I reply. We both smile and begin laughing.

	God, I loved our friendship.

	Jennifer Ortega - Jenny, or Jen, as her friends called her - and I
met our freshman year. We were in the same group at Freshman
Orientation. Bashfully, as well as the others in our group, we had to share
some of our likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams. It turned out that her and
I had a lot in common.

	Jenny was the first one I ever came out to. We were sitting at a
bench pretty close to the one we're sitting on now, and this jock named
Michael walked by. `God^Å he's so hot,` she said. I chimed in, `Brad Pitt's
got NOTHING on him.` She turned to me, smiled, and hugged me till I turned
blue in the face.

	We've been best friends ever since.

	I got home from school at around 4:00 P.M., like I usually do. I
live about four blocks away from Engle High, so it never takes me that long
to walk home. My mom usually gives me rides home on her days off, but she
hardly has any. She's some sort of lawyer, helping families win child
support from other family members, or, something. Well, she's always busy.

	I get home, and the driveway is empty. When we moved to Engle, New
York, my mom couldn't part with anything, so our garage is never used for
the cars, since it's full of boxes and `keep-sakes,' a.k.a. junk.

	"Damn," I say out loud.

	The front door is locked, and being myself, I've lost my house
key. I use the side gate; we live in a nice neighborhood, so we hardly ever
lock the door in our backyard that leads into our house. Yep, just like I
thought. It swings right open.

	"Mom? Dad?" I call out. No one answers. "Ian?" Silence. I shrug and
plop my backpack onto the kitchen floor. I'm used to being home
alone. There's no real reason to be afraid. It's not like Engle has gangs
running wild everywhere you look.

	Our house is two stories. The kitchen, living room, office, and my
parent's bedroom are downstairs; my room, Ian's room, and a computer room -
that we both share - are on the upper story. I lug my backpack up the
stairs.

	On the way to my room, I noticed that Ian's door is cracked. Okay,
who the heck notices these things? I do. (Our heating and air work better
when doors aren't left open, so it's noticeable, okay?) I set my backpack
down on the hallway quietly. I hear a grunt and my heart beat quickens.

	Even though there aren't gangs, there could be burglars.

	Peering through the crack in the door, I see my brother, Ian. He's
not wearing a shirt; only some gym shorts and underwear (I think). His feet
are tucked under his bed, and he's doing some sort of power-workout
crunches. His room smells like a locker room, sweaty, but I can still smell
a trace of his cologne.

	Something inside me stirs.

	I begin to notice the way the muscles of his back tense every time
he lays down. His crunch-workout obviously works, because his six-pack
(enough said?) is rock hard. He's even working out his arms, for his biceps
are bulging. His body is covered in glistening sweat, and the smell of the
locker room somehow sweetens in my nose.

	What the hell? I think to myself. I'm checking out my brother! No,
no I'm not. I'm just a normal guy... checking out my brother?! God...what's
wrong with me?

	I clear my throat, tap on the door with my knuckle, and walk in.

	"Ian?"

	"Huh? Oh, hey," he says, turning around to face me. I don't know if
I should look at his face, or the ground, because his muscle-laden chest
seems to be drawing my eyes. "Didn`t hear you come home."

	"Oh. The front door was locked, so I came in through the back. Why
are you home?" He'd usually be out running around with his buddies by now.

	"Car's in the shop. It needs a new carburetor."

	"Oh."

	He nods a little. Then he goes back to doing crunches. I guess I'm
invisible now, so I just slink out. I close his door behind me.

	Once inside the seclusion of my bedroom, I take a couple of deep
breaths. That's when I notice the bulge in my pants. Oh my god. My brother
gave me a hard-on. What the hell? I quickly run to bathroom my brother and
I share. I still look like myself in the mirror. Nothing about me has
changed, apart from the incest-induced bulge between.

	I splash some cold water on my face, and dry off with a towel. I
readjust myself, and as soon as I'm done solving That Problem, Ian walks
into the bathroom. He's got a shirt on this time, yet I find myself to be
both relieved and disappointed.

	"I need to take a shower," he said.

	I manage a caveman-like grunt, and he seems to understand. Go
figure. I slink out of the bathroom and into the computer room. I find
comfort in the padded chair my dad bought for the room.

	I log onto the internet. I check my email, surf the web for a
while, and then visit some forums that I am a member of. Quite honestly,
I've forgotten about Ian, until I visit one of my forums.

	I create a new topic on QT2 (Queer Teens Today), a message board
where young gay teens chat and hang out.

	SUBJECT: Help?
	POSTED BY: Anonymous
	MESSAGE: I was just curious. Have any of you been attracted to
someone that you know you shouldn't be attracted to? Like your best friend,
or someone in your family? Please help. I need advice.

	I hit the submit button before I give it a second though. A feature
that I like about QT2 is that you can make your posts anonymous, so no one
knows who's posting it. I thought it might be helpful in this situation.

	I didn't hear Ian walk into the office. I didn't even notice the
shower turning off. But I sure as hell noticed his half-naked body standing
in the doorway. He was wrapped in a white towel, and I found myself liking
the way the blankness stood out against his tanned skin.

	"Knock, knock," he says.

	"Hey." I'm just so good with words.

	"Mind if I get on the computer in a few minutes? I need to check on
the prices of a few parts for my car."

	"Uh, sure. Just give me a second."

	"Kay," he says with a nod, leaving.

	I sigh, logging off of my email, QT2, and the other windows I had
open. Out of habit, I clear the Web History, so no one can see what site`s
I have visited. I don't think my family would like seeing that I've visited
all of these sites for struggling gay teens.

	I knock on Ian's door once as I pass it.

	"Ian! I'm done," I yell, already heading into my bedroom.

	"Kay!" he yells back. Apparently, we're both good with words. Not.

	By dinner, my thoughts have settled, and my hormones are no longer
raging for my brother, albeit they're still raging. I'm a teenage boy,
after all.

	So, full of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and fresh salad (my dad's
the cook in the family, and he loves to prepare big meals), we all stumble
off to our separate destinations. Mom and Dad go out to see a movie. I
elect to stay home.

	Coincidently, Ian does, too.