Date: Fri, 07 Mar 2003 12:14:00 +0000
From: tommy nofeet <tommynofeet@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brian part 1

WARNING: the following story might offend -- it's really not all that good
and you might get angry with me for wasting your time. Oh yeah, I should
probably mention the possibility of a little dirty stuff here and there,
happening between boys who aren't old enough in the eyes of most laws.
Needless to say, if this isn't your thing, or if it's highly illegal and the
cops will be knocking on your door for just reading the story, then don't
read it. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it.
If you do like it, perhaps you'd like to tell me, at
tommynofeet@hotmail.com.


Brian -- Part 1

I fancied the hell out of Brian the first time I saw him. It was in the
first English class I went to at my new school, and he was seated four
chairs in front of me and to the right. He sat there absorbed in something
he was doodling on a pad, his hair flopped slightly forward and shoulders
hunched. I could see that under his t-shirt he was about as thin as I was,
and the observation was backed up by the claves which jutted out from
beneath his long board shorts and disappeared into white socks surrounded by
his artfully untied Nikes. There was a light blonde fuzz on every bit of his
tanned flesh that I could see, though since that included the back of his
neck, one forearm and a couple of claves, that wasn't too surprising. He
would have been the student paying least attention to the class had I not
been totally absorbed in watching him.
Let's backtrack here for a minute. At the time, I was the only gay person I
knew. At thirteen, I was definitely gay. I wasn't going through a phase. At
ten or eleven, I might have been going through a phase, but three years
later? I don't think so... I was also lacking a certain level of physical
development, which as any young boy will tell you is the worst thing in the
world. Sure, I'd grown a little, and not only in height, over the past few
years, but certain things that would have made me happy were conspicuous by
their absence. I don't think I need to go into the gory details.
I was sitting in a new English class in a new school because my dad had been
relocated. Not for the first time, I might add, but at least this time it
looked like we might have settled properly for a while. The new position was
pretty permanent -- you either stayed in the management place for about ten
years and then got promoted, or you got made redundant. I knew my dad was
pretty good at what he did, so I figured that there was every chance we'd be
in the same city for long enough for me to reach adulthood. Which was great
because it looked like I might actually be able to make some friends and
keep them. I was kind of glad that I never came out and found a boyfriend in
the previous place we'd lived in, so there were no strong connections torn
when we left. All the friends I had made were in contact via e-mail, and I
could see them once in a while anyway, so I didn't feel that displaced.
Of course, by the time I'd spotted Brian, I was still friendless in the new
town. I didn't worry -- it was usually a while in a new place before I found
the kind of people I didn't have to act up around, so I figured I'd bide my
time and things would sort themselves out.
I sat ignoring the English teacher, whose name I'd conveniently forgotten,
instead closely watching Brian. Fortunately my little friend was behaving
himself, and there was no tent to hide in my pants for once. Usually when I
stared at a hot guy and daydreamed about him I would get hard as nails and
nothing would make it go down except a quick visit to the toilet. This time,
though, I was able to sit fairly normally, and hide my staring by pretending
to be intently focussed on the blackboard rather than on the boy twenty feet
in front of it. His hair was truly amazing, brown with blonde streaks, a
little long but not enough to fall past his ears, and silky smooth by the
look of the way the light fell upon it. I watched the muscles on his left
arm flex slightly as he drew, wondering what he was making a picture of, and
also wondering whether I could remember the last left-handed boy I had
fancied. Of course, given time it came to me -- Nathan. Two schools back,
when I was only ten. He had shoulder length blonde hair and gorgeous
feminine looks, and the closest I had ever got to him was being on the same
swim team for a couple of weeks. I don't think we ever spoke more than two
sentences to each other, but I lusted after him from afar, and envied his
abilities as a swimmer. I was a strong swimmer -- the only sport I was any
good at, since everything else required levels of coordination that I simply
didn't possess -- but Nathan was like a fish. He would cut through the water
as if he had been born there and it was unnatural for him to be walking
around on land. After the first time I saw him swimming, I really had to
check his hands and feet for signs of webbing. Needless to say I didn't see
any, though that didn't stop me checking him out. Anyway, I digress, this is
a story about Brian.
The end of the lesson came and went, and I suddenly realised people were
moving around me. Snapping out of my trance, I quickly shoved my books into
my bag and slung it over my shoulder as I stood up. Straight into Brian. At
the time, I still didn't know his name. Face flushing bright red, I mumbled
an apology, which was graciously accepted with another mumble and a shy
smile. His face was just as lovely as I remembered it from when he walked
into the room at the beginning of the lesson, and the smile only served to
heighten his good looks. And then he was gone again, moved along in the tide
of students pouring from the classroom. I was left standing, rooted to the
spot, though fortunately my predicament was hidden by the fact that I
couldn't barge my way through the crowd anyway. I couldn't believe the
effect he had on me with that one smile. My heart was beating hard and fast,
so much so that I could hear it pounding in my ears.
I kept looking for Brian for the rest of the day, but to no avail. He wasn't
in any more of my classes, and I began to worry that it might all have been
a dream, that I'd imagined the fantastic vision of boyhood. That thought,
though, flew out of my mind at my locker after school that afternoon when I
found that Brian's locker was right next to mine. I closed my door to find
him looking my way, and once more he gave me that electric smile. He
extended his hand, and spoke.
`Tom, right?' he asked. I could only nod my head and grin like an idiot as I
shook his hand. His voice was angelic, untouched by puberty. `I'm Brian. You
nearly had me on my ass there in English, you know.'
For the briefest of moments, I thought he was angry with me, and I was about
to apologise when I saw the grin on his face -- he was joking. I really can't
remember what I said, but it can't have been the most intelligent response.
And then he was gone once more, explaining that he'd be late home if he
didn't hurry, and his mum was expecting him. I watched him go, daydreaming
once more, and was startled out of my reverie by the nasal voice of the
rent-a-nerd who'd shown me around the school the previous day.
`You don't want to be seen too much with him, Tom,' said the boy, whose name
I hadn't even tried to remember.
`Why not?'
`Well, he's.. you know!'
I didn't know, and didn't have the chance to ask, because the other boy was
soon gone himself. I was left alone in what suddenly seemed like a very
empty corridor. I stood thinking for a minute, and then it occurred to me
that `you know' might just have meant `gay'. I held myself back from
fantasising that it might be true, but only for a few minutes. Then it was
daydreaming all the way back to my new house, then all afternoon and half
the evening, sat at my desk failing to work as I stared out of the window.
Every so often a boy would wander down our street past my window, but none
of them were Brian. That night my daily fantasy was filled with thoughts of
what Brian might look like topless, or even naked. I imagined the soft,
downy fuzz on his arms and legs. I dreamed of kissing his soft, full lips.
And above all, I dreamed of slowly making love to him. It was one of the
most amazing climaxes of my young life.

I woke un-refreshed from a night full of dreams. Dreams of Brian and nothing
else. I stumbled sleepily around the house, so much so that my mum asked
whether I was ill or not, and said that she thought perhaps I better stay
home form school. At that suggestion, I perked up considerably -- I wasn't
the world's biggest fan of school, but it wasn't that bad, and there was no
way I was going to pass up the opportunity to see Brian again.
I spent ages at my locker that morning, trying to find a reason to stay
there until Brian turned up. I was just about out of excuses not to go to my
first class when he strolled up, flashing me a smile before delving into his
locker briefly. When he'd got his books, we established that we both had
history together first thing, and decided to walk to the class together,
chatting along the way. He seemed a really nice guy, and I couldn't imagine
any reason why people would want to stay away from him, even if they did
suspect he was gay. Walking into the class, I could see that the reception
wasn't exactly friendly, though nor was it hostile. It was simply
indifferent. People didn't notice Brian, and he didn't seem to notice them.
He just put his head down and walked to the back of the class. I took one of
the few remaining empty seats, the one immediately to his left, and when he
saw me sitting down he smiled.
Throughout the day we had a handful more classes together, and by the time
school was finished for the day we were firm friends. It amazes me to think
back to a time when I could make friends in a day. Adult friendships are so
much more complicated! Once again, Brian had to rush off, since his mum
expected him to be home right after school. I was later to find out that
this was because he had to look after his younger sister while his mum, a
single parent, went out to work a night shift. But before he left, he'd
already invited me to his house over the weekend, and I'd agreed. I walked
home on cloud nine, almost losing my way because I wasn't concentrating on
where my feet were taking me. As it was, I found myself wandering through
the park our house backed on to and entering our garden through the back
gate. I had to convince my mum that I had intentionally taken a walk through
the park because it was such a nice day, and I think she just about believed
me. I told her about Brian in the most restrained way I could -- she still
wasn't aware of my orientation, and I wasn't about to start mentioning boys
I fancied at school.

The weekend couldn't come fast enough for me. Though Brian and I had a few
more classes together on Thursday and Friday, and spent lunchtimes together,
we really didn't have enough time to satisfy me. Or him, it seems, because
we spent an hour on the phone chatting on Thursday evening when he rang me
out of the blue. My mum was just happy that I had made a new friend so fast,
and I don't think she expected anything. I went round on Saturday morning,
following the map that Brian had spent a whole lesson drawing for me. It was
a masterpiece, which I kept for ages afterwards. He always insisted that he
couldn't really draw that well, but as far as I could tell he was a genius.
I found the house with no trouble, and smiled to myself as I saw that it was
laid out to exactly the same plan as my own, both having been constructed
during my new town's economic boom several years previously. I knew the
master bedroom would be at the back of the house on the right, that there
was just enough room in the back garden to put in a small swimming pool if
you were so inclined, and that there was a den downstairs that was almost
inevitably the place Brian and his sister spent their free time. The bell
was in exactly the right place, and made the right sound. And before long
the door was answered by a woman so similar to my mother that I wondered if
I'd misread the map and just walked round the block.
`Hi, you must be Tom. Brian's not stopped talking about you all week,' she
said, stealing my mum's `friendly and welcoming' smile.
`Mum!'
I could hear the embarrassment in Brian's voice before I could see his
red-tinged cheeks. He needn't have worried, though -- my heart was doing back
flips in my chest to think that I had been the hot topic of conversation at
his house for the last few days.
I dutifully followed him up to his room, which was exactly the same one as I
had in my own version of the house, and not decorated too differently. I'd
been fortunate to inherit another boy's room when we moved in, so I didn't
need to change the colour scheme at all. It seemed every young teenager in
the town had the same idea. The walls were covered with posters of sports
cars of all types, and pictures of sports teams -- you know, the usual stuff,
nothing out of the ordinary. Brian seemed like just another nice kid, and I
again wondered what he could have done that was so bad he was shunned at
school.
We sat on his bed and talked about nothing for a while, before his mum came
up and suggested that we do something with our Saturday rather than just
sitting around the whole time. And so we ended up at the bowling alley.
Neither of us could throw the damn things straight to save our lives, but we
seemed to both appreciate the comedy of the situation, dissolving into fits
of laughter after almost every ball that landed in the gutter five metres
down the lane.  We played around on the arcade machines for a little while
after we'd finished our game, until Brian's mum came to pick us up. Back at
their house I was treated to a really good meal, Brian's mum turning out to
be as good a cook as my own, and seemingly eager to please.
It was getting fairly late by the time we were done, and Brian asked if I
would like to stay the night. He said he had stuff I could wear to bed, and
he could fold out his sofa for me to sleep on, so I didn't need to go home
to get anything. It seemed there was only one obstacle, however: Brian's
mum. When he asked her whether it was ok if I could stay, she looked pained,
as if it was a big issue between them. Excusing both of them for a couple of
minutes, Brian's mum led him into another room to talk to him. I struggled
to hear what was being said, but to no avail. Eventually, they emerged,
Brian looking upset and shaken. He walked over to me, unwilling to make eye
contact.
`My mum says that if you're going to stay here you I have to tell you
something first, and see if you still want to stay.'
I was confused. What could he possibly have to admit to me that would make
me want to leave? I followed him to the den that I knew would be downstairs,
and we sat down on opposite ends of the sofa, facing each other. Brian
seemed unwilling to speak, but I decided that prompting would probably only
make things worse, so I waited for him to compose himself.
`Tom, I have to tell you something before you stay the night. If you don't
want to stay, I'll understand, and my mum will take you home. I hope we can
still be friends.'
With that, he seemed to retreat back into his shell again for a while.
Eventually, the suspense was killing me, and I tried to lighten the mood and
encourage him to speak.
`Come on, Brian, it can't be that bad. You're not dying are you?'
He just looked at me, his eyes on the verge of welling up with tears, and
suddenly let it all out in one go.
`Tom, I'm gay, ok? That's why the other kids at school didn't want you to
speak to me and be my friend. My mum made me tell you because my old best
friend's mum found out and stopped him seeing me. Now my mum makes me tell
anyone who's going to stay the night in case it bothers them.'
He really was crying by this time, but continued to speak.
`It's ok, you can go now if you want, I don't blame you. I didn't want to be
this way, but there's nothing I can do about it. I lose all my friends this
way,' he said between sobs, and buried his face in the crook of his arm. I
felt a massive surge of sympathy for him, and got up off the sofa to move
closer. He felt the weight shifting and looked up at me, the sadness tinged
with a little anger.
`Go on, just go and leave me alone!' he wailed.
I just moved closer, and said in the softest voice I could manage,
`No.'
Brian's face came up slowly once more, and his eyes searched mine.
`You mean you don't mind?'
`No, Brian, I don't mind.'
`And you're still my friend?'
`Well,' I said, boldness sweeping through me like never before, `I'd kind of
like to be more than that, if that's ok with you.'
The look on Brian's face was priceless -- confusion scrunched his features
up. I wouldn't say he looked ugly, but he was certainly not his most
beautiful right then. I couldn't stand to see him trying to work out what I
meant, so I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. The
confusion was swept away, replaced by joy as Brian jumped up and grabbed me
in a bear hug. It as then I noticed his mum watching us from the foot of the
stairs. She smiled at me, before turning and leaving us, closing the door
behind her.


WELL, that's the end of part 1 of my new story, folks. That's three I have
on the go now (the others being Stall Stories and Brothers & Lovers). Hope
you like the way things have started, and providing there's sufficient
interest, I will continue with the tale. Let me know what you think at
tommynofeet@hotmail.com.