Date: Thu, 29 Oct 2015 15:11:21 +0000
From: niftyaccount27@yahoo.com
Subject: New life with Denholm-submission 6

Hello readers. Thanks again for making it this far in the series and coping
with my writing style; I'm very much an amateur and as mentioned before,
any comments on my work, whether it be a criticism or an idea for a future
chapter will be appreciated. If you wish to contact me please use my nifty
email, niftyaccount27@yahoo.com

As you are aware by now, nifty relies heavily on donations from readers to
ensure the site remains free for yourselves to enjoy. Any contribution is
helpful. Thanks.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

-------

This chapter focuses heavily on Denholm and his account of the day
described in chapter 5, with the build up to the encounter with the twins
well underway.

This chapter is quite short, and is more of a teaser for you, but it leads
us nicely to chapter 7 which I have recently started writing.

Denholm's perspective

I guess I'll start off with Friday. I knew the funeral would be sooner
rather than later but I guess I hoped that it wouldn't come so quickly. The
letter almost seemed like a conformation of my mum's death, something I
hadn't quite come to accept yet.

I haven't really said much about what happened or what I saw when I found
her, mainly because it's an image trapped in my head that I'd rather not
pay much attention to. I know I can't change what happened, but what I can
do is try to remember my mum, while also forgetting the way it all
ended. You may wonder how I've gotten over it so quickly, how I've been
able to move on and be relatively happy with James. In truth, this couldn't
be further from the truth. Over the years living with my dad I've become
used to concealing my own emotions for the sake of my mum, in a way to
protect her from feeling guilty. But now, I was hiding how I felt partly
for James, as I didn't want him to worry, and I was also concealing it for
the benefit of myself. I figured if I didn't dwell on it too much it
wouldn't take over my life, and having James around to talk to when I
needed him was all that I required to feel something, to feel anything
other than sadness. I can't imagine what kind of state I'd be in if it
weren't for James and his dad, and I can honestly say I feel like I want to
spend the rest of my life with my new brother. I guess brother would be the
wrong word at this point, but it feels right to me.

Back to the funeral. I know I need to be there, to say my last words to my
mum, but I know of so many people that shouldn't be there; people that
weren't there for my mum when she needed them; People who watched on as my
dad drained the life out of her; who let a young boy witness beating after
beating, and turning a blind eye to the occasional bruise or cut that was
so apparent on my body. How could anyone stand by and let this happen? Let
alone blame the kid and stigmatise him knowing that he had no other option
but to do what he did... I'll explain this part later.

I guess I'd have to turn my own blind eye to these people, and ignore the
inevitable dirty looks I was going to receive. I guess I should tell James
about Chris before Friday, if anyone deserves to know then it's him, he'll
understand, he always does.

Later on in the day, James took me to play football with his friends-
something I wasn't really looking forward to. It's hard to explain this,
but I've never been very sociable. I guess I'd never really had the
opportunity to talk to people when I was growing up, again because of my
dad, but fuck him.

I've always found it easier to let others talk to me first, and normally
only feel comfortable around people when I know them well enough to be sure
of their intentions. With James, I had no problem with this, and I even
tended to be more forward with him, which I think has helped, especially
since I had to make it obvious that I was into him for him to respond.

He seems similar to me in that sense, reserved, patient, but he had these
traits with a clear confidence in himself, something I lacked.

When meeting his friends, I didn't need to take control and be as outgoing
since I was the younger kid, and just decided to get on with playing. I do
have the tendency to be unintentionally cocky and a little arrogant when I
find something I'm good at, which was clear from some of the lads getting
annoyed when I scored a few goals. I tried to calm down a little but then
Jack said I was good enough to play for the team, then asking if I would do
so. I agreed to this just so the lads wouldn't be so annoyed since I'd be
helping them win... (Sorry, there's my arrogance again).

When I went to the club building they were a little reluctant to accept me,
being only 12, but Jack assured them I was more than capable, and that it
would be a mistake not to put me on the team. I could see why James liked
Jack, they were similarly kind and confident, as if they were in total
control of their surroundings. He was also pretty hot too, although James
mentioned he was straight, what a shame.

After signing a few papers I noticed it needed to be agreed to by my legal
carer, which I guessed was now Richard, James' dad, but James walked in as
I hesitated about this, so I asked him to sign it instead.

There was something different about him as he walked in; a distinct lack of
colour on his face. He picked up the pen and his hands were shaking, not to
mention covered in blood. I was taken aback by what I was seeing, and
without thought, I picked up his fist and looked closer, noticing no cuts
on his hands, meaning the blood wasn't even his.

Again this brought me back to my dad. He'd come in my bedroom drunk a few
times, resting his hands on my pillow as he talked face to face with me,
his breath lingering with the unforgettable smell of Strongbow pear
cider. On a good day, he'd talk or shout or complain about something or
other and then walk out, sometimes leaving blood stained knuckle prints
next to me, which I'd later discover to belong to either my mum or someone
who'd obviously crossed him at the pub that night.

I didn't say anything in the club building, but as soon as we began to walk
home, I attempted to ask him about it, which he brushed off as if it were
nothing, although I could tell he was a little upset. We talked casually
until we got back, heading straight up to the bedroom to get changed, or so
I thought.

As I walked in, I was greeted by the sight of Matty and Sam, both
pretending to be sleeping in James' bed. Needless to say, I couldn't
contain my excitement and jumped in between them, sandwiched between my two
old friends as we talked and generally acted like the adolescent boys that
we were.

There was another feeling of belonging, but different to the feeling I had
when I was with James. I felt like a normal kid, messing around with
friends like lads my age should. Without sounding too arrogant again, I
have to say that I'm quite mature for my age, certainly more mature than
Matty and Sam, but I enjoy being with them nevertheless.

I'd completely forgotten about James, who by now had went into the
bathroom, presumably to clean the blood off his hands.

I stopped joking around for a few minutes while he was away,by then asked
Matty and Sam how and why they managed to make it to my new home. They told
me that It was James' idea, and that he'd rang them earlier in the day to
ask. I couldn't help but warmly smile, as James emerged from the bathroom,
with all three of us looking at him. I think Sam may have embarrassed him
when he told him I wasn't lying, knowing he was referring to the fact I'd
told them how good looking James was.

These few days would be hard keeping the twins from trying something with
James, especially Sam. He was always the protagonist in situations like
this, he just couldn't help himself. In fact, both of the twins were pretty
confident and cheeky, I guessed this was how I'd taken to them so much, as
they'd been the ones to start the friendship and ask me to go out with
them. They were also quite mischievous. I'd mentioned in the past that I'd
often miss school, and this was usually because of Matty and Sam, who
always convinced me to do other things, I'll let you assume what those
other things were.

Later on that night we played on the Xbox for a while on the third floor
where the twins would be sleeping. Although I think it's safe to say they'd
try and come up with an excuse to stay in James' bed with us.

When James went downstairs to answer the door for our Chinese food, Sam
came and sat next to me, looking at my eyes directly with a suspicious
smile on his face.

"Denholm, you think James would be up for a little fun later on tonight?"

I looked over at Matty, who was also looking on with more of a hopeful
expression. "I don't know, what kind of fun are you thinking?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and replied, "I don't really know, I guess I
just want to see him naked, I bet he's got a nice cock."

Matty nodded in agreement, but added, "only if it's okay with you."

Their eyebrows were both raised in anticipation, but I said, "I'll have to
talk to James, we've got two nights, so maybe tomorrow night? I don't want
to rush him into anything."

Personally, I wouldn't have minded what James did with the twins, we had a
special connection that was more than a bond of attraction, so I wasn't
afraid of losing him.  Besides, I'd be happily joining in if anything were
to happen, eventually getting the chance to go further than just jacking
off with the twins.

They both sighed but seemed like they understood. And minutes later James
came back in the room, oblivious to the request I'd just had to turn
down. They both looked at me knowingly, a smirk appearing on Sam's face. I
rolled my eyes and we all began to eat, talking generally, mainly about
football, knowing the English premier league started on Saturday, the first
match against Liverpool. When we'd finished, James went downstairs to put
the leftover food in the fridge, while me and the twins went to get ready
for bed. I was tired off playing football, and the fact that I was up so
early this morning cooking breakfast. Sam and Matty were a little
disappointed to be going to bed at ten o'clock, which was early for the
summer holidays. I told them they could stay and play on the Xbox or they
could watch a movie in their room, as I left and headed up to James' room.

In all honesty, I needed to talk to James, to tell him about Chris and to
ask about the blood on his hands, not to mention the topic of the two horny
boys in the house who wanted nothing more than to see his dick in action. I
couldn't really decide which to start with.

----------

James' perspective.

----------

I headed back upstairs from the kitchen after putting leftover food in the
fridge. Walking up the stairs, I'd noticed how tired I was, my eyes
becoming as heavy as my legs felt after a day of non stop exercise.

It was about ten o'clock, and I wasn't sure when the boys would want to go
to sleep, knowing how lively they'd been for the previous few hours.

I went back into the room where the twins were, still playing on FIFA 16,
Chelsea vs Arsenal.

"Traitors." I laughed, staring at the screen. "Where's Denholm at?" I asked
almost into thin air as they both sat in deep concentration. "Hello?"

"Ahh, sorry James, uhm, he's went back to your room. Says he was tired
after today. You staying up for a bit? You can be Barcelona?"

"Nah sorry Matty, I'm going up now too. I'm exhausted. I'll see you two in
the morning."

"Good night." I heard them say at the exact same time."

"Fuck that's weird... Night lads." I said, shaking my head as I shut the
door.

I headed to my room, expecting Denholm to be in bed or getting ready at
least. But he was sat on the bed, legs crossed with an expectant look on
his face. It was like some sort of intervention, I thought, as I asked him
what was the matter.

"We need to talk." He declared assertively.

"What about?" A stupid question, I know. There was a lot that we could talk
about, but I knew he was going to ask about my bloody fists.

"A few things..." He paused. "I need to know first what happened today when
we were playing football. It wasn't your blood on your hands, who's was
it?" He asked, pushing for a quick response. He actually seemed... Angry,
but also like he'd been let down.

I explained what happened in detail, from Harry throwing Denholm's bag up,
to me leaving the scene at the sight of him in an unconscious state.

He now looked at me as if he'd let me down. And said with more careful
tone, "so you were sticking up for me?..."

I nodded as he began to tear up, "thank you." He paused again, "what
happened to him after that?" He now said with a slight smile, as if he was
proud of what I'd done.

"Denholm this is serious. I don't know if he's okay or not, he could be in
hospital or something." I then looked down at the floor, and then back up
at denholm, noticing he'd lost his smile. "I've never done anything like
that before. I just lost it. And now I'm just as bad as your dad." I
continued, almost ranting at this point.

I then realised what I'd just said, and looked back up at Denholm who was
now looking at the wall to my left. Why the fuck did I say that? What's
wrong with me lately?

"I'm sorry," I said, quickly, "I didn't mean it like that, I'm just saying
what I did was wrong, and I'm not a violent person, I just," I paused
again, "I care about you Denholm."

A long silence followed, both of us with our eyes fixed on the bed in front
of us.

"I need to confess something too. Something worse than what you did." He
said quietly, wiping the inside corner of his right eye.

He then looked up at me, blinked once, took a deep breath, and said,

"I'm not the only child that my parents had."

..... To be continued in chapter 7.


J.S