Date: Fri, 4 Jan 2013 05:56:11 -0500 (EST) From: Erik Pruett <erik.pruett@aol.com> Subject: Please Don't Go (6) - Young Friends The regular warnings apply. Don't read this if it offends you, or if it's illegal to do so. So, I'm back. The holidays are over, finally. All the big projects are out of the way, finally. I don't have to spend my every waking moment studying for exams, finally. So now I can resume writing. I want to thank everyone who sent holidays wishes, and really everyone who has taken the time to write me their encouragement, criticism, praise, even the one or two rather scathing emails I've gotten. Good or bad, feedback lets me into the mind of the readers, and while I'm no expert, I'm pretty sure that's an important place for a writer to be if he/she wants to last long. Anyway, happy holidays, and enjoy! =] PS- Sasha isn't the narrator this time. Like I said before, wheneve there's a change in narrator, a jump in time, or some combination thereof, I'll be writing the name and age of the POV narrator before the story. This happens to be the first time it's come up, hence the warning. In all future installments, I'll spare you the pre-story briefing. =P --- JAIME - Age 14 After Sasha came out to me in sixth grade, for a while our friendship didn't really change. We hung out constantly over the summer, had sleepovers, went to the movies and the mall. He even came with my family on our annual trip to the beaches in California. He was my best friend, and I was his, and that was enough. That twelve year old summer, it was as full of sunshine and laughter as any I'd ever experienced, and at the time I really couldn't imagine that one day our friendship could be any different. But time has a way of sneaking up to you, and it's true what they say, that nothing is ever really static. Not buildings, not people, not even relationships. Things began to shift when we got into seventh grade. We didn't have any classes together but lunch and gym. In middle school, we had to do gym every day, and so each morning without fail we'd meet up in the locker room, change, and head out to the bleachers. Only now, something was different. It was like he didn't really want to be seen, by anybody, but especially not by me. I guess I could understand, I mean, he had come out to me, I could only imagine that being naked around your crush every morning was probably awkward, especially when it was out in the open and unreciprocated. Maybe it was the bruises that'd always litter his back and arms and legs those mornings he did change next to me. I never did say anything, even though it hurt to keep quiet knowing Sash was suffering. But the strange part was, the more he drew away, the more I caught myself steal glances. We were starting to change; I was already taller than almost all the other guys in school, and nature had been pretty kind in granting me athleticism that most hadn't of the other guys couldn't touch. But Sash was changing differently. He got taller, but he never gained any weight. Sometimes I'd glance his way after his pants hit the floor, see him bent over pulling on his PT shorts, catch the gentle curve of his hips, his impossibly skinny, hairless tanned legs or the slight roundness of his ass hugged tight by his underwear, and something inside me would start to tingle in a way I couldn't explain. Once or twice I almost said something, but I always decided against it. At lunch, that was another story. We sit with eachother, a few or our various mutual friends, and of course my girl Veronica sits next to me. She's gorgeous, a brunette bombshell, the prettiest girl on the cheerleading team and one of the prettiest in the entire school. He never said anything, but without fail every time she was around, Sash got different, a bit more distant. It was obvious why, but for the entire year I just pretended I didn't notice. I mean, what else could I do? How do you reconcile your loyalty to your best friend and your girlfriend? The year drug on, and things between us got gradually more distant. It started off subtly. Sleepovers became super infrequent. Either his father would say no, or I'd be on a date with Veronica, or he'd be out with some other friend of his. Before too long, our plans started clashing, and not long after it seemed like our schedules never seemed to sync. The few times I confronted him about it, he assured me it was just a coincidence, that he would never ditch out on his best friend. He'd brush the bangs from his eyes, smile in that shy way he was so good at, and I'd believe him. But by the time our thirteenth summer began, there was a void. And eighth grade? That was even worse. We didn't share a single period that year. Our lockers were still next to one another from the year before, but aside from the ten minute break between classes, we never saw one another. After school he would always insist on walking home; even if my Mom was around to give him a ride, he'd politely refuse, flash us both the shy smile, and be on his way. He always had some excuse for why he couldn't chill on the weekdays, and on the weekends it was all I could do to get him to return my calls. That school year came and went without much interaction outside of those little ten minute blocks I got to see him between classes. Before long I found myself craving them. As far as I was concerned, I still believed nothing could ever change between us, that he was my best friend in the world, and no matter how many times I asked him he always assured me that I was right. But you see your best friend more than once a month when they live ten minutes away, don't you? Finally, about three months before the end of the school year, fate saw fit to shove us back into immediate proximity. But like they say, the universe is balanced, and it wouldn't give us a blessing without delivering a curse in the same breath. --- I'm in bed, sweating my ass off in just a pair of boxers when I first get the call. I take my phone off the night stand, open it without even checking the number, expecting it to be one of Veronica's late night calls. "Hey babe", I yawn into the phone. "Jaime...", I hear a weak voice on the other end of the line, and my blood immediately goes cold when I recognize the gentle sound of tears being shed. "Sash?! What happened? Are you okay?" "It's my.. my father. We w-were coming... coming home from a drive. He was a little drunk... all my f-fault...", his words are choked between sobs. I'm sitting up now, can't even feel the summer heat. I only feel fear. "Please tell me you're okay!", I shout. "I'm fine. Just beat up a little. The d-doctors fixed me up fine. It's... it's my father." He starts crying harder, and I rush to my parents' room. Inside of twenty minutes we're pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. I rush into the place still in boxers and an old tank top, see Sasha in the waiting area with a dozen bandages and gauzes, his jeans and tee stained all over with blood. The moment he sees me, he runs over and throws himself at me. I wrap my arms tight around him, he shoves him face into my chest and starts crying. My parents come in behind us, immediately start consulting the doctor. "It's gonna' be okay, buddy", I whisper to him, stroking his golden blonde hair. "It's all my fault", he replies, again and again and again. --- "Don't forget to set the alarm, okay dude", Sash groans as he drops his jeans and pulls his shirt off. I try not to stare at his incredibly lithe, bronzed figure as he slips his socks off, but lately my eyes have been moving of their own accord. His underwear, those tight white trunks, they hug every boyish curve he's got and contrast sharply with his tan. He chucks his socks over by his Vans and slips himself into bed. "If we're late to school again, I'm gonna' have to see the principle, and that's a pleasure I could do without." "Yeah, yeah. I've got it dude", I reply. I set the alarm and pull my own clothes off until I'm just wearing boxers. I make sure the alarm is on for once, set it for six thirty. For two months since the car accident, Sash has been living with my family. His father nearly died in that car accident, it's really a miracle the man made it out with his life. But recovering from an injury like that requires quite a bit of therapy, physical and otherwise, and while his father was away for recovery, it was thought best by all parties that Sash stay at my house in the meanwhile. While certainly not the ideal way to get my best friend back into my life, I'd be lying if I said I was unhappy. Part of me knew that sort of happiness was wrong, but with Sash back, I really can't say that it bothered me much. I slip into bed next to him without a word, push him a bit closer to the wall so I can fit. The moment my head hits the pillow, he starts to groan. He rolls over, looks at me a little confused and I shrug. It's not like this is the first time this has happened. "Figured you could use someone to sleep with, especially after last night's nightmare, you know", I say. It's a lie, but a good one. "Thanks Jaime", he whispers. "No problem." He rolls onto his side, facing away from me, then snuggles himself tightly against me. I drape my arm over him, and his body goes stiff for a moment. "Are you uncomfortable?", he asks without turning to face me. "Not at all", I reply, and his body relaxes. I settle into him from behind, close to the point that we're spooning. His hair, like always, smells like strawberries, and the proximity of his body next to mine rouses in me that familiar tingling sensation I always get in my stomach but still don't have a name for. Inside of five minutes his body is rising and falling with the rhythmic breathing that tells me he's asleep. I snuggle in a little bit closer, even though my room is practically a sauna and his body heat is only making me sweat. I close my eyes. My breathing syncs to his, and my nose is filled with strawberry sweetness. I start to relax, the room starts to fade, and finally I drift into sleep. --- I wake up to the the shriek of the alarm coming from somewhere just behind my head, and groan loudly. I throw my arm into the space behind me and my open palm drops hard with a loud slap onto the alarm clock, silencing it. Relieved, I move to resume my slumber, when I realize something isn't quite right. My nose crinkles when an odd smell hits it, and when I look down, I nearly scream out loud. Sticking out of the fly of my boxers is my erection, solid as a stone and pressed up hard against Sash's ass. And it gets better; my tool, the back of his underwear, and the over the area between is covered in cum. My heart drops to my stomach. Humiliation doesn't even begin to explain my mental state. I pull back, jump off the bed. I've slept next to Sasha more than a few times, even woken up with embarrassing morning wood before, but we're fourteen, that sort of stuff isn't out of the ordinary. This certainly was. And I as stand along the side of the bed staring wide-eyed and dumb-founded, my now flaccid cock still hanging out of my boxers, Sash rolls over and sits up, a confused look on his face. "Dude, it smells weird in here", he says. "Don't move", I start to say, but he shifts a bit and his brow furrows in further confusion. He sits up and touches the back of his underwear, and it's only when he brings his sticky hand back to his face that his eyes go wide as saucers. "Oh gosh..." "Sash, I am so, so, so sorry", I manage to stutter out. My face is burning up. "What... what were you doing, dude?", he replies curiously, and I nearly faint. He wipes more of my cum off the back of him and makes a face. "I swear to God, dude, I just woke up that way. Oh God, I am so sorry." The words can't come out fast enough. My cheeks are scarlet and I'm embarrasse to the point of illness, but Sash doesn't seem particularly phased by what's happened. "I mean, it's no worries, Jaime", he says with a shrug. He wipes his fingers off on my sheets. I almost die. "Seriously? You're not mad?" "Mad? Of course not. Things happen, you know?" I don't know what to say. At the risk of sounding conceited, never in my fourteen years has there been an occasion in which I've literally been rendered speechless, but at the moment I can't think of a thing to say. I can't even really move. "You might want to put yourself away", Sash giggles with a soft blush. "Shit. Yeah, thanks", I mumble as I tuck myself back into my boxers. This morning gets better and better. Without really saying anything, Sash bundles up the sheets and throws the whole thing into the corner of the room. And then, just as unexpectedly, he drops his underwear to the floor and kicks them over to the pile. I gasp, reflexively. Sash and I have had probably thousands of sleepovers, we've shared the same gym classes, he's lived in my house for two months; but up until now I've never seen him naked. Without anything covering him, I'm aware of exactly how thin he really is. Whereas I have flat abs, a broad chest and strong legs, his body almost resembles a skinny girl. He's completely hairless, everywhere, and somehow that golden tan of his extends well into the parts of him that don't see sunshine. My eyes follow the path from his belly to his sharp hipbones and settle unabashedly on his junk. "Stop gawking, jerk. It's rude", he mumbles playfully, though his cheeks are as rosy as mine. He covers himself with his hands. "Get me a towel, would you?" Immediately I bound to the laundry pile, pull out a towel and throw it to him. He wipes down the back of himself, affording me a nice view of his ass in the process, and despite myself, I can't stop staring. It isn't until he pulls on a new pair of underwear that I finally snap out of the trance. I shake my head hard. "Guess you enjoyed the show", he quips in a shy voice, gesturing with a nod down at my erection, once again sticking straight out of the fly of my boxers, rock hard. "Christ's nails, I am so sorry", I say. I throw my face in my hands and sigh, not even bothering to cover myself up. "No worries", he says. He points down at himself, and I see that he's just as hard as me, albeit his is safely constricted by his underwear. "Happens all the time", he giggles. "Yeah, all the time", I reply, laughing even harder. And just like that, things feel exactly the way they did two years ago, the night he first came out to me and we kissed. No awkwardness, no bad feelings, just two best buds goofing off together. Only this time, something's tingling in my stomach. He goes to walk past me to the dresser, but when he gets next to me, my body reacts without permission from my mind. Before I can even think not to, my arms wraps around his tiny waist, and I pull him into me. "Jaime!", he says with a squeak, cute like a mouse. In a single moment my other hand reaches up into his hair, gently pulls his face to mine, and I press my lips into his. He resists for just a second, then moans and shudders and I feel his body fall against mine. He kisses me back, his arms practically clinging to me to keep him from collapsing, and it's absolutely intoxicating. But just as the heat between us is starting to increase, I feel primal urge groaning from between my legs, and I have to pull myself away before I completely lose control. He staggers backward, drops onto the floor, panting breathlessly. "J-Jaime... oh gosh." "Wow", I reply for lack of anything better to say. He just stares up at me. "What w-was that?" "I uh... well.. we should probably get dressed, Sash. We're gonna' miss the bus again", I stammer. He looks at me, confused for a second, the expression on his face so adorable that combined with everything else that's happened this morning, I just have to laugh. And that's exactly what I do. I burst out laughing, regularly at first, but gradually harder and harder as he eyes me like I'm a lunatic. But before long he's laughing too, and when my mother knocks the door in to shout at us about being late, the two of us are holding our sides and laughing so hard that even she starts cracking up. "Lord, you two are crazy", she says once we calm down a bit. "Y'all be sure you don't miss that bus, or you'll be in for a world of trouble." She closed the door behind her. The emergency alarm Sash set on my cell phone goes off and the two of us scramble to get dressed, still giggling a bit at the sheery lunacy of this morning. He pulls on his jeans, I toss him a shirt, he throws a shoe at me, and just like we imagined we would, we both end up missing the bus and having to sprint to school. It's just another ordinary day, with a not-so-ordinary start. But even as we rush to school, I'm acutely aware of the fact that something about the way I see my best friend really has changed, and I'm still not sure how to feel about it.