by Dirk Hunter
“You skipped a question. Why did I do it in the first place?”
I tried to be reassuring. “I know why. You don’t have to —”
“I don’t think you do.” He took a deep breath. “My dad came home, on Christmas.”
Not what I was expecting. “Oh,” I said, because I’m always so good at knowing what to say.
“Pete and I got home from visiting Mom, and there he was. Really drunk. His friend was there, waiting with Dad. Said he didn’t know where else to take him.” Adam smiled bitterly, nearly a grimace.
“Apparently Dad’s run away from everyone, not just us. He… said some things. A lot of things, really. One thing he kept going on about was whose fault it was. The cancer. Who he blamed. Doctors. God. Himself. Me and Pete. I don’t know if he really blamed us the most, but that’s what sticks in my memory. I can’t stop seeing him, standing there with that look on his face….” Adam cleared his throat. “I remember that night, laying here, I kept thinking, he’s right, but not for the reasons he was saying. It was my fault. We were being punished because of me, because I was… with you.”
Holy shit. “Adam, of course it’s not —”
“Please.” He cut me off. “Just… don’t. I know it’s not my fault. Obviously. But it’s what I felt then. I wish you would stop dismissing my struggles because you think they’re easy.”
“I….” I don’t do that, is what I had been about to say. But before I could even finish the sentence, our entire relationship flashed before my eyes. I saw myself behaving like I always had to reassure him, hold his hand, and lead him down the path to gayness. I had been trying to help, to be understanding. I realized how it must have felt, to have someone continually saying “I know why you’re scared. I was there once. But don’t worry, one day you’ll catch up to me!” But mostly I remembered New Year’s Eve, and the overpowering need I had felt to act superior.
Condescending.
“I’m sorry,” I said instead. “I don’t mean to.”
“I know. It’s okay. I mean, you’re stupid and I hate you, but that’s not new.”
“Oh yeah. We covered that way back in the third grade.” We grinned at each other. A small bit of that carefree atmosphere seeped back in, so naturally I had to immediately go and ruin it. “So what happened?”
“I tried to be straight.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that, dumbass. I was there for that part. I meant, why did you stop?”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I just didn’t really want to talk about it.” “I’m sorry. You don’t have to.”
“No, I want to.” He fell silent. I waited for him to continue.
“I visit her almost every day.” He winced. “Visited, I mean. Usually, Pete wouldn’t come. She would ask what was bothering me. You didn’t really know her, but she had this way about her sometimes. Like she already knew everything, but was waiting for everyone else to realize it. So when she asked, I kept feeling like she was expecting something specific. But I’d always say it was nothing. Or I’d tell her about school. Something. She always accepted my answer, believed it, but the next day she’d say the exact same thing, in the exact same way, like she hadn’t quite gotten the answer she wanted yet. I’m not dumb — I think a part of me knew what she was driving at. I guess I was scared or couldn’t admit that I hadn’t hidden it as well as I thought, or something. Then one day I realized that she —” He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing.
“That she might die, and I’d never have the chance to tell her. That I was letting fear take my choice away. I started to think that she was holding on, just for me, to give me that chance. The doctors had been saying since January that any day could be her last. But every day, there she was, asking what was bothering me. Then one day, when she asked, the words just bubbled up. ‘I think I might be in love,’ I said. And she said ‘yes.’ Not, like, ‘oh yeah?’ like it was a question, or she was confused. Only ‘yes.’ Like I had finally said what she wanted to hear. ‘With a boy,’ I said. I was still scared, but I had already started. I knew I had to say it. And she said ‘Good.’ She smiled at me, made me promise I would be happy. Suddenly I didn’t want to pretend anymore. The next day, I broke up with Tiffany. A week later, Mom was gone.” He surreptitiously wiped away his tears with the heel of his hand, looking annoyed at his own display of emotion. “And that’s how it happened.” He looked down at me, his naked body bathed in moonlight from the window, and saw something in my face. “What?”
“I love you.” It surprised me. Not that I said it, exactly. I had felt it coming. But by how much I meant it. It made me kind of nervous. “I just realized that I hadn’t told you. That I’ve never told you how much I care about you actually. ’Cause I do. Care about you, I mean.” I clamped my mouth shut before I babbled myself to death.
Adam smiled. “I know,” he said.
“Really? Is that all you’ve got to say? No ‘I love you too’? Typical.”
“I already said it!”
“Actually, what you said was more like ‘I love him.’ You didn’t even say it to me.”
“Oh, same thing.”
“Plus it was in the heat of the moment, so it doesn’t count.”
“Seriously?”
“How am I supposed to know it wasn’t just the excitement talking?”
“Fine. Dylan O’Connor, I love you.”
“You were clearly only saying that ’cause I coerced you….”
He growled and grabbed me. I yelped and tried to roll away. We wrestled, laughing, until before long he was on top of me, pinning me down. Then he kissed me.
“I love you, you stupid fairy,” he said.
“I love you, you fucking jock.”
“Do we really have to fight, even about loving each other?” he asked with a smile.
“Wouldn’t be fun otherwise, now would it?”
“I suppose not.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE NEXT morning I discovered that Adam’s bedroom had east-facing windows, and that he had hung the stained glass pendant perfectly so that the morning sun shone through it. I awoke, wrapped in the arms of the man I love, bathed in scintillating, multicolored light. It was perfect.
Of course, it was quickly ruined by the same scourge that plagues every lazy morning, an urgent bladder nagging for relief. I ignored it, luxuriated in the moment for as long as I could, until I hit the point of diminishing returns where the scales finally tipped in the direction of discomfort. Even so, I put off getting up for another few minutes, until I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to get up.
Adam had other ideas. “Nope,” he said as I tried to slip out of his arms. He pulled me back against him, snuggled in, and promptly fell back asleep. I couldn’t exactly be mad — I hadn’t wanted to get up in the first place. After a minute, I tried again but couldn’t make his arms budge.
“You’re not really asleep, are you?” In response, Adam began to snore loudly. He was obviously faking. “Come on. I really have to pee.” Adam thrust his hips slowly forward, rubbing his hard cock against my ass. “Me too,” he said.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said sarcastically.
“Mmm,” he replied, thrusting again. He reached around and grabbed my cock, stiff with morning wood.
“Yeah, as much as I appreciate this — and don’t get me wrong, I really do — anything that comes out of there will, best-case scenario, be only one part cum for every three parts piss. As much as I’m sure watersports are fine and dandy,” I said sarcastically, “maybe your bed isn’t the best place to test that one out.”
“Watersports? What’s that?”
I flipped around to face him, see if he was serious. Apparently he was. “You’re gonna have to use context clues to figure that one out, bub.”
“Ew, people really do that?”
“Yup. It’s certainly a strange one. Have you never watched Internet porn?”
“No. I’ve always been too afraid someone woul
d catch me, or find the browser history.”
“Well, you’re about fifteen seconds from experiencing it firsthand, unless you let me get up.”
“Fine.” Adam kissed me. “I suppose —” Another kiss. “— I could be convinced —” Kiss. “— to let you go. But I’m —” Couple of kisses that time. “Coming with you.” He finally let me go, and we both climbed out of bed.
Adam unselfconsciously strode straight out of his room without bothering to get dressed. I was a little more nervous, poking my head out the door and looking both ways before sprinting after him, cupping my junk in my hands. I mean, I was barely comfortable walking around my own house naked unless I was absolutely sure no one was home. Even then I felt kinda weird about it. And there was a distinct lack of a violently homophobic brother at my house.
The morning bathroom ritual was more silly than sexy. We both peed at the same time, giggling, which made me feel particularly silly.
Toothbrushing was punctuated with a good deal of elbowing and snide-comment-making. The being-naked part just made the whole thing that much more fun. Besides, this was the first time I’d been able to just be around a naked Adam for such a long time. Sure, there’d been a good amount of nakedness before, but we were mostly pretty occupied at the time. There was a definite appeal to being able to watch him be casually naked, admire his body in its entirety. Of course, there was only so much of that one could take until one’s body began to notice and perked up with interest. So we fumbled our way back to the bedroom to take care of that before heading downstairs.
Getting dressed proved to be an equal disappointment for us both.
It was still kind of weird to think that Adam got as much pleasure from watching my body as I did his, but that was apparently the case. It was only my body. It wasn’t even that special. But when I put on pants, he complained far more loudly than I did when he dressed. Quite the ego boost. I found myself laughing, almost uncontrollably, out of sheer happiness. Adam laughed too.
The laughter cut off when we walked in the kitchen. Pete was there, standing in front of the stove, preparing something. He acknowledged our presence with a quick glance and a nod, turned right back to his cooking. He poked at something in the skillet, an unconvincing attempt at seeming busy. I looked at Adam with an expression that was part “now what,” part “holy shitfuck run away!” He shrugged, sat down at the table. I followed suit. Cautiously.
To my surprise, it was Pete who broke the silence. “How many pancakes do you want?”
Adam looked from Pete to me and back. Clearly, he had no idea what to expect. This conversation was completely uncharted waters for us both. It was possibly much more frightening to him, though if it was, he didn’t show it.
“Um, two for me, I guess.”
“What about —” Pete hesitated. “I don’t actually know his name.”
“Dylan,” I introduced myself. “And I’ll have, like, six at least. I’m not a pussy, like some people.”
Pete laughed, a sort of awkward, taken-off-guard kind of laugh. It cut off kind of abruptly, and he self-consciously cleared his throat.
“I’m, uh, really sorry about last night. I was totally out of line.” I thought Adam’s eyes were gonna pop right out of his head, he looked so shocked. “It’s just, I was a real mess last night. Everyone being there had set me on edge. I had too much to drink. Dad never showed up, not that I even expected him to….” He trailed off, cleared his throat again.
Emotion had clearly overwhelmed him, and desperate not to let it show, he had no idea how to continue.
Incongruously, Adam looked to me, wide-eyed, as though for guidance. I inclined my head toward Pete, pulling my best “get your ass over there and comfort your brother, stupid” face. Me? he mouthed. Yes, you, I mouthed back. Why me? I gave him a flat stare until he finally got up and stepped across the kitchen.
Adam hesitantly placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Dad’s an asshole,” he said.
Pete gave a mirthless laugh. The two looked at each other in some silent solidarity before clearing their throats nearly in unison and stepping away from each other. It was the weirdest display I had ever witnessed, especially because they were both so clearly uncomfortable as though they had somehow gotten too emotional.
“So you two are, um, together?” Pete asked, sounding like he was trying at nonchalance but failed in the follow-through.
Adam tensed visibly. “There a problem with that?”
“What? No, dude. I mean, fuck. Yes, it weirds me out a little. But you’re my baby brother, I don’t want to be shut out of your life. If you want to be gay, I won’t try and stop you.”
“It’s not really a question of want, Pete.”
“Fuck, dude, you know what I meant.”
“I do. And thank you. I was really worried you wouldn’t….” Adam trailed off.
“What, love you anymore? Naw, dude, fuck that. What gave you that stupid idea?”
“Seriously? You’ve always been such an asshole, maybe not as bad as last night, but —”
“Well, maybe if you had told me earlier I’d have known better than to be such an asshole —”
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such an asshole, I’d have actually felt like I could tell you —”
“If you weren’t such a pussy —”
“Douchebag.”
“Nerd.”
“Idiot.”
“Gay nerd.”
And suddenly the two were laughing. This had the feel of an old ritual, sibling bickering that had gone on so long it had become nostalgic. The two of them hugged then, a quick backslapping affair. Then Pete turned back to the pancakes, and Adam sat back down by me.
“Dylan,” he whispered, “are you crying?”
“What? Acceptance makes me emotional. Shut up.”
Adam grinned a big dopey grin. “Yeah, that was pretty cool.”
The pancakes were done, and we all ate together. If Pete was at all uncomfortable around me, he gave no sign. Indeed, the three of us laughed and joked, and had an all-around great breakfast. And when Adam reached out and held my hand, on top of the table, I’d like to joyfully point out, Pete even smiled. But the morning was soon ruined, like so many great times inevitably were, by parents texting and saying they’d be there in five minutes to pick me up. By the time I had grabbed my nice clothes from upstairs — Adam insisted I keep the clothes he had lent me; they smelled like him, so I wasn’t about to argue — my dad had pulled into the driveway.
“I guess this is good-bye,” I said, lingering at the front door.
Adam’s eyes lit up, remembering something. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” A moment later he returned, carrying the stained glass pendant from his bedroom. “Here. It’s a little late, but Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks,” I said, voice catching in my throat. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“You already got me the best present of all,” Adam began.
“Just stop right there. There’s no way you could possibly end that sentence that doesn’t result in me rolling my eyes and making fun of how cheesy you are for the rest of your life.”
“I can think of one thing you wouldn’t make fun of me for.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Instead of responding, Adam pulled me to him and kissed me, deeply and passionately. From the kitchen, Pete called, “Ew, gross,” but Adam ignored him.
Breathless and giddy, I said, “See you Monday,” and ran out to the car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“SO, WHAT’S going to happen now?” Kai asked as we walked down the school hallway toward the lunchroom.
“I don’t know. Do I look like I’m psychic?” I snapped. I could feel Kai and Mel exchange looks behind my back. I knew what they were thinking, but I wasn’t being irrational. I was just on edge.
“I mean, do you want an honest answer?” Mel began, in her typical playfully mocking tone. “’Cause I have noticed….”
/> Kai cut her off. “What I meant was, haven’t you two talked since yesterday?”
“I mean, we’ve texted, but it was mostly just, like, casual flirty stuff. Sorry I didn’t immediately start demanding ‘What happens on Monday when I see you? Do I have to go back to lying?’ ’Cause that was a little hard to work into the conversation.” A sudden thought paralyzed me. “Oh my God, what if he’s been avoiding me all day? Usually we see him by now, right? What if everything is just going to be back the way it was? I don’t know if I can —”
“Whoa, Dylan, breathe, dude,” Kai said. “I’m sure everything will be fine. Adam’s a good dude. Presumably. I’m still kind of taking that one on faith —”
“Focus, Malachi,” Mel whispered.
“— but whatever, you guys seem to like him now, I’ll take your word for it. I mean, he told his brother, Dylan, which is a pretty big deal. He said he loves you. It’s still hard for me to imagine those words coming out of his mouth —”
“Seriously? I said focus!”
“— but that only makes it even more profound, coming from him, right? And then there’s that stained glass pendant, which is apparently significant?”
Mel nodded. “Dylan did bring it up like six times.”
“Right? I’m still fuzzy as to why.”
I cut them off. Left alone they might have gone on like that forever.
“Shut up, guys, It harkens back to our first night together, when I started sharing parts of myself with him.”
“Stained-glass-related parts?” Kai said.
“What? There are sides of me you don’t know about.”
“That’s exactly my point. How long have you lived this secret stained glass life? Do you have secret stained glass friends? Is there a secret stained glass Kai? Oh my God, do you like him better than me? Are we the ‘other family’? ”
“What Malachi was trying to say, before his neuroses got the better of him,” Mel broke in, “is that Adam is not avoiding you, you’ll go in that lunchroom, and whatever happens, we’ve got your back. It’ll be fine.”