by Susan Laine
Nick sighed. “I have doubts, sure. This is all so sudden. Changes like this… they might not last. You could wake up one morning and regret everything. And what about our friendship? Not to mention your spiritual hiccups?”
Tom snorted. “Sure, I may be in the middle of spiritual weirdness and family problems, but those matter less to me than my relationship with you and this identity crisis about my sexuality.”
Nick saw an opening and took it. “Those things might be happening simultaneously, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re connected.”
“So now I may be gay—but I still can’t be in love with you?” Tom sounded peeved.
Nick winced. Tom had a keen ability to get to the heart of any matter in an instant. If he wasn’t too close to the issue, anyway, such as his dispute with his father and faith. “Okay, sure, something like that. I think you’re just confused. Realizing you might be into guys can be, like, overwhelming. Or did it not occur to you that instead of being gay you might be bi?”
Tom cocked his head, clash of emotions apparent on his face. “Nicky? Yeah, maybe I’m bi and not gay. But… you’re deflecting and stalling. None of that changes the fact that I really am in love with you.”
Nick hesitated. How could he not? Tom was wearing him down. To be fair, it was the middle of the night, Nick was tired after an emotional day, and he did love Tom a lot. Hell, he could even be in love with Tom. But… he was also afraid to open his heart to a man still trying to figure things out. Was it worth it to risk their friendship for a chance at love?
Tom took Nick’s hand in his, his hold shaky, sweaty, and sweltering. “If you don’t love me like that, please just tell me.”
Feverish in the head and body, Nick was conflicted. This morning had shown him he did love Tom but also revealed that he didn’t know Tom as well as he’d assumed. Nick wanted to keep Tom as a friend, but he longed to have him as a lover too. The two seemed mutually exclusive, and Nick didn’t know what to do.
“Listen,” Nick started slowly, squeezing Tom’s hand for support. “I… I do love you, Tom. C’mon, you know that. I’m happy with—”
Nick halted midsentence when he felt a familiar tug on his long hair. Tom’s gaze was aimed at Nick’s dark strands, an enamored light glowing in the depths of his blue peepers. That one act tugged at Nick’s heartstrings, and he couldn’t deny his heart’s desire any longer.
“I miss the easy rapport we have as friends,” Tom murmured absentmindedly, as if he was less than aware he was speaking out loud. “But I long to know… a different side of you.”
Nick tried his best to focus on breathing, but his vision kept blurring as he struggled for air.
“An intimate side.” Tom smiled enigmatically, pulled gently on Nick’s locks, and wrapped them around his fingers.
Though Nick felt a responding tug in his cock, a heat rising in his groin, he had to try once more to steer the situation back toward sanity. “You’re going through a lot of stuff right now, Tommy. Maybe you should—”
“I don’t want to talk anymore. I wanna kiss you.” Tom looked up at Nick, challenge in his eyes. “Kissing you would probably answer a few questions for me and a lot for you. Like whether or not I’m gay or bi or whatever. Like if you’re into me.”
Grudgingly, Nick had to admit the idea had merit. Sometimes a practical exercise revealed the truth about people better than a heart-to-heart, sexual experimentation among them.
The tug on Nick’s hair strengthened, and to ease the pressure, he had to lean into Tom—who smiled like the cat that got the cream. Their lips met tentatively, a soft press of flesh, warm and dry and intoxicating. Nick sighed at the contact, parted his lips automatically, and Tom swept right in, his tongue insistent and probing, tasting of soda and of peppermint from the candy he liked.
Nick tried to resist the kiss growing in intensity. But Tom wound Nick’s hair in his fist, keeping Nick close. Tom tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Nick wanted to resist—and at the same time, didn’t. Tom’s flavor left Nick in a daze.
Finally, after minutes of delectable tongue dueling, Nick managed to push Tom back with his palms against his chest. Tom actually growled. Nick found that ridiculously hot and flattering.
Flushed with heat, Nick coughed to get his voice back. “Th-that… that….”
“Was awesome,” Tom finished with a purr, petting Nick’s long hair. “Silky. Sweet.”
“My hair or my mouth?”
“Both.” Tom grinned, showcasing his mischievous side. “And… lo and behold.”
With a flourish, he pointed down at his crotch, where a noticeable bulge made itself known.
Nick couldn’t take his eyes off the big lump encased in denim. How had he not been aware Tom was this huge? Jesus, what a damn bull cock. Sweat popped out in beads on Nick’s forehead, and his own dick twitched and throbbed, desperately trying to claw its way out of his pants to play.
“Okay,” Nick whispered, nodding slightly. “I… I guess you… are at least bi.” Chuckling, he added, “Or really, really horny. When was the last time you got laid?”
“Last Friday. With Alexandra. You?”
Nick blushed. “Not last Friday.”
Tom laughed. “Huh. How ’bout that?”
“Okay, Casanova. If you really think you’re gay and into me, what would you be willing to do with me—in bed?” Nick knew it was stupid daring a guy who thrived on challenges.
As expected, Tom replied with a self-confident tone and sexy swagger. “Everything and anything.”
Things were progressing way too fast for Nick’s liking. This morning they’d been friends, this afternoon they’d been frenemies, and finally tonight they were lovers? It was madness, and disbelief boggled his mind.
His body, however, vibrated on some sexual frequency, tuned into Tom, in sync.
Yet Nick had to ask. “What if you regret whatever we do together and end up hating me?”
Tom leaned in and locked gazes with Nick, the look in his eyes adamant and resolute. “I won’t. There’s absolutely nothing you can do that will ever make me hate you, Nicky. I’m asking you to trust me on this.”
Nick wanted to. He’d never had trouble believing Tom—and believing in Tom—before. But there were complications. “Your dad’s already so mad at you. What’ll he do if and when he finds out you’re… sleeping with a guy? I don’t want your dad to disown you or throw you out because of me.”
That actually made Tom disengage. He let go of Nick completely. Emotions warred on his handsome features. The conflict appeared to come to no conclusion. “You’re right. I need to talk to him. About everything. And I need to do that before you and I… you know.”
Nick chuckled. “You can do it but not say it? Weirdo.”
“Nerd.” Tom shoved him lightly on the arm. Then he looked around at the dark room and seemed to remember what time it was. “Can I sleep here tonight? I promise I won’t do things to you under the cover of darkness… or the covers. No matter how much I’d love to.”
Nick’s mind and body both went ablaze. “Shut up.” He pushed Tom off the bed. “Take off your clothes. Well, not your pants. And you’re sleeping on top of the blanket.”
Tom pouted and shivered for dramatic effect. “But I’ll freeze to death or catch a cold. Then you’ll be sorry you didn’t let me cuddle you for shared warmth.”
Nick groaned. “Argh, fine! Just get in here.”
He lifted the covers and waited until Tom slipped under next to him. The bed was a regular double so it was a bit of a tight fit. Nick’s nerves might not survive the night. But Tom maneuvered Nick until he could spoon him. That, and their wearing clothes, seemed to ensure no hanky-panky would occur.
For a long time, Nick lay awake, listening to Tom breathe, enjoying his body heat, relishing the weight of a beloved guy against him. Then Tom began to snore, and Nick knew it was time for him to do the same. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.
Chapter 8
HIS C
ELL phone beeping with an incoming video call roused Nick from his sleep. Blinking, he glanced over his shoulder—and found an empty bed. Tom was gone.
Nick sighed, mostly with longing. But he wasn’t surprised.
He grabbed his cell and answered the call from his dad. “Hi, Dad.”
Familiar brown eyes studied him with mirth. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Braden made a point of checking his nonexistent wristwatch. “It’s almost noon.”
Nick snorted. “On a Saturday. Yesterday was a short day at school because of that fire drill I told you about. Besides, I had a long night.”
Braden quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Nick chuckled. “Not like that.” Then he blushed because it almost had been like that. “Tom slept over. He had a big fight with his dad again.”
Braden frowned, his pursed lips a testament to his distaste about the situation. “Charles has always been too much of a hardass and narrow-minded about certain things. Tom’s a good kid. I can’t imagine him doing anything too upsetting.”
“Tom went to Crestone without telling his dad.”
“That, uh, Zen Buddhist center where Monica liked to visit?”
“Yeah. Charles threw a fit, something about only Christians being ethical or some such.”
Braden’s expression hardened, his jaw working with a visible tick. He was livid. “That is such—” He stopped himself midsentence, clearly fighting to stay in control of his emotions. Nick understood. At last Braden said, “Please tell Tom when you see him next that whatever his father thinks or does, we will stand by him, and he can always come to us should he need to.”
Nick was so proud of his father he beamed. “Thanks, Dad. I will.”
Braden nodded approvingly. “Good. So how are your studies?”
“Still straight A’s and a 4.0 GPA, same as last time you asked me.” Nick smiled to show he didn’t mind his parents encouraging and pushing him when it came to his scholastic progress.
His smile faded when he remembered what he’d talked about with Tom, namely that to be honest with himself he’d have to be straight with his father. Nick realized he hadn’t been exactly direct and forthcoming with his parents either. That made him a hypocrite too.
“Listen, Dad? I, uh, wanted to talk about college….”
“You got into Harvard and Yale. I knew you would.” Braden shone with pride, and his grin couldn’t have appeared any wider. “There are excellent science programs in both, so you have a lot of options to choose from, but I know you’ll figure out what—”
“Dad, I also got into the University of Idaho.”
Nick’s heart practically stopped when Braden’s face fell. The shock was followed by pretty obvious confusion. “Why… what would you possibly study there? You’ve got the whole world—”
“They have a great art and design program.” Nick and Tom both wanted to go there since they could do so together and continue to be roommates and best friends. It was their first choice.
The silence that befell then deafened Nick, who was already dizzy from the rush of blood in his brain. His heart thudded so fast he wondered if he’d get his first panic attack before he even got to adulthood.
The trouble was he understood his parents’ concerns. Now, in a time of rising ignorance and stupidity, the world and their country needed scientists more than ever. Braden and Leona both had illustrious careers, counted among the best in their chosen fields. Since he’d been a child, Nick had known what was expected of him. That he’d become a scientist too. Whatever calling he’d follow, as long as it was scientific, his parents would back him up.
Too bad Nick had dreams that didn’t include research and development.
Unlike Tom’s father, Nick’s parents didn’t mind Nick being gay. But they did care what he made of himself. And artist wasn’t on the list.
“Dad?” Nick’s voice went as small as he felt. He started to shrink in on himself, fear drenching him in sweat. “It’s not like I’m doing this on a whim. My webcomic is doing well. I have a Patreon page, and I’m also on Smack Jeeves and Tapastic, so I’m making money already. I have followers and fans and, like, plans, so I’m not… wasting my time.”
Nick ground to an eventual halt as his father’s face shut down. At first he looked blank, but then a whole host of emotions flickered over his features. Anger, disappointment, sadness.
Dejected, Nick couldn’t understand why this was happening. His sudden inability to speak his mind. He’d grown up with words, so why were they failing him now? Why couldn’t he tell his parents what he really wanted? Why couldn’t he voice his dreams and desires?
“Nicky?” Braden’s tone had become cautious and reserved. Nick couldn’t speak, unable to find his own voice. All he could visualize was what a failure he’d proven to be in his father’s eyes. “Have you truly thought this through? Branching out on your own, especially with something as uncertain as art… it’s a risk. A huge risk.”
And science could help Nick build a career through publications and tenure. He’d be set for life. Nick didn’t need his father to say these things out loud. He’d had them drilled into his head from childhood, in the beginning via subtle admiration of his wise parents, later by his love of books and learning, then by queries about what scientific field interested him the most.
“Your grades, your enterprising nature, your inquisitiveness, your smarts—you could make your mark on the world. A lasting, positive change.” Braden’s sophisticated entreaty only served to make Nick feel worse.
He tried one more time to reason with his dad. “You talk about risks and making a change. Didn’t you also start your scientific career defending yourself to the academic community? Didn’t you face prejudice and challenges too because people thought you could only provide insight into the Native American mindset, history, and spirituality? They treated you like you had no other use beyond your heritage. So… why would a scientific career be any safer than being an artist? At least as an artist, I’d stand or fall on my work alone. As a scientist, I’d be judged at face value all the time.”
Nick was rather proud of his logical argument. He hoped his dad would see this and agree.
Braden harrumphed. “Nothing worthwhile is easy, Son. Science is about evidence, yes, and once you make your mark, your colleagues and the community at large will respect you and see you as a peer. Art is, by comparison, a more precarious lifestyle choice.”
Nick bit his bottom lip so he wouldn’t start to cry on camera. So art was no longer even a viable job but a lifestyle choice? He tapped to shut off the camera. He couldn’t look at his father right now, and he didn’t want Braden to see him fall apart.
“Hey, Nick?” Braden called out. “I lost the video feed. Are you still there?”
“Yeah. Must be a bad connection.” Nick had never lied to his father before. He’d kept his love of art from him while he honed his skills to master them. That wasn’t a lie, was it? Perhaps a calculated omission, but not a boldfaced falsehood.
“Oh. Okay.” Braden sounded unsure, his voice hushed and hesitant. “Listen, Nicky. Please think twice about this. I do want you to be happy, but once you discover the many pitfalls of being a full-time artist, I doubt you’ll be contented. It’ll be tough and arduous and—”
“Forget it,” Nick cut in, defeated and crushed, a hollow space filling his heart. “Harvard it is. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ve plans with Tom. Talk to you later, okay?”
He tapped the red button to end the call before Braden could say goodbye. Nick’s hand shook as he held the cell phone and stared at the black screen, despair and depression consuming his soul.
Braden was his father—but did that mean he knew best?
Even if he didn’t, how could Nick deny or ignore his parents’ wishes for him? They just wanted him to be secure in a life fraught with unpredictability and perils. Apparently not even having their son going to college close by was enough to make the option of Nick pursuing his dreams acceptable.
He’d have to kiss his beloved webcomic goodbye. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a childish dream. Maybe it was time to put away childish things and accept that life wasn’t fair and he couldn’t get everything he wanted.
Nick gripped his tablet, booted it up, and waited and watched with heartache as the Manga Studio program he used to draw his webcomic turned on automatically, as he’d specified early on to expedite his creative process. His latest panel of pictures appeared, crisp and colorful and familiar.
He’d lived and breathed this webcomic—In the Wilderness of Men—for a couple of years. He’d been industrious and always managed to update it with a new page every week. The storyline focused on two main characters, Coyote and Fox, Native American animal spirits, one a trickster notorious for getting into trouble, the other a healer and problem solver who always saved his companion. Nick had loved their interaction in the myths of his people, and he’d decided to put them into a contemporary setting with modern problems and kick their relationship up a notch by making them lovers. The story was far from finished. He foresaw years of love, sex, and adventures ahead for his mythical men. He even predicted other webcomics.
No, there’d be no more of that. No webcomics, no myths brought to life, no art. Period.
His lips trembled, and his eyes grew wet as he checked his latest Tumblr feed. A fan had left him a note saying how much they loved his drawing style and the warmth of the characters. It was always nice to hear positive feedback, and Nick found himself smiling widely.
Then he remembered what he was supposed to do. He tried to focus on closing his account and ending the comic he’d poured his heart and soul into for years. He really tried to do it. But he couldn’t. His hand refused to do it; his mind refused to obey.