Insignificant

by Graveyard Greg

my sides as Raffe placed his hands under my triceps, ready to spot me.

  “Dude, your arms are huge,” Raffe said. “They look bigger than your head.”

  “Not quite,” I said, raising my arms up over my head, and then lowering them. “But maybe in another year or two, I’ll have some freaky sized arms.” I finished my sets, and I placed the barbells on the mats, taking a moment to rest before the next exercise.

  “Let me see how big those arms are, big bro. Flex them for me.”

  “Why? They’re small compared to your big cannons,” I said.

  “I’m not trying to compare your muscles to mine, Gir.” Raffe then gave me that old puppy eyed look; the one I said wouldn’t work all the time even though it did whenever he used it on me. “Come on, dude. Show me your stuff.”

  “I hate it when you use that look on me, Squirt,” I said, smiling as I flexed my arms as hard as I could. They were solid, without an ounce of fat on them. They might not have been bigger than my head, but they were big enough to give me a hard time fitting them through shirt sleeves, so I usually didn’t wear shirts with sleeves. Tank tops were my favorite choice of clothing, and even they were tight around my body.

  “Gir? Can… can I touch them?” He asked this timidly, which reminded me of when he was nine years old and asking if he could start working out with me. I almost expected to see that nine year old again when I looked up at Raffe.

  “You want to touch them? Why?”

  “I want to know what they feel like, that’s all.”

  I didn’t understand why he wanted this, and I voiced my lack of understanding. “Squirt, you’ve got your own muscles, so why do you want to feel mine?”

  “I know what mine feel like,” Raffe said, “but I’ve always been… I’ve always wanted to know what someone else’s feels like.”

  “This is weird, Squirt.”

  “I’m not asking to touch your dick, big bro. Come on, please?”

  He had a point, even if it was a bit weak, so I raised my arms again, flexing them. Raffe slowly placed his hands on each of my biceps, his fingers almost long enough to encircle the muscles and touch his thumbs with his index fingers. I admit I felt awed at seeing this display of size, and it would have outweighed the weirdness of the situation had I not looked up at him and saw him licking his lips. “Raffe,” I said, my awe now taken over by concern, “I think you should let go of my arms now.”

  Raffe blinked his eyes as if snapping out of a trance. “Huh? Oh… oh yeah, sure,” he said, releasing my arms.

  My eyes drifted down to his crotch, and I prayed I wouldn’t see what I knew I was going to see; a sizable bulge was between his legs, the sight of it making me recoil from him. I felt shocked, and maybe a bit disgusted. My brother—my baby brother—was getting aroused from feeling my muscles. “Okay, this has gone from weird to borderline sick.”

  Raffe winced at the word “sick”. “I can explain, Gir.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know.”

  “It’s not what you think!”

  “Oh, so that’s not a hard on in your shorts?”

  Raffe didn’t have an answer to that question, lowering his head so I couldn’t see his eyes; a second later, his shoulders started trembling. “Look at me, Raffe,” I said, and he did. Tears were starting to trickle down his cheeks, which confused me, and made me a bit angry. What right did he have to be upset? “What the hell is going on? Why’re you crying?”

  Raffe tightly squeezed his eyes shut as he whispered the reason. “I’m gay.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” I said, expecting Raffe to give me what I thought would be the truth. What I didn’t expect him to do was to lunge for me, grabbing up the front of my tank top in his big fist, lifting me off my feet and slamming me hard against the wall. As I tried to regain the breath that was knocked out of me I saw spots before my eyes, but then I realized it was Raffe’s face, his muzzle touching mine.

  “I’m not lying to you!” he said through clenched teeth, his breath hot against my face and smelling slightly of the lunch he barely had. “I’m gay, so now you know what’s been bothering me! I haven’t told anyone else, and I was afraid to even tell you, Gir.” His voice lowered to a near-whisper as he slowly let me down, letting go of my tank top when I was back on the ground. “I didn’t mean to get turned on; I thought I could control it.” He then started towards the door to the inside of the house. I was still stunned from the impact of hitting the wall, and when I came to my senses, he was already gone.

  “Raffe, come back! I’m sorry!” I said, running after him, but he had already made it to his room; I heard the door slam shut, and when I got there I wasn’t surprised to find out he had locked the door. “Raphael Gianoli,” I said in the most authoritative tone I could muster, pounding on the door as I spoke, “you open this door, you hear me?”

  “Go away,” Raffe said, paying no respect for my authority.

  “I mean it, Raffe. Open this door. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  Instead of replying, I showed him “or what” by slamming my shoulder against the door. I might not be as huge as Raffe, but I’m still a couple hundred pounds shy of a half ton of muscle. The door splintered as it flew open, and I saw Raffe stand up from his bed as I charged into his room. “Get out of here!” he said, ready to throw me out, which he could have easily done had I not tackled him, throwing my arms around his knees and pushing forward as hard as I could. It was like trying to topple a tree, and I was going to feel the consequences in the morning, but he fell back onto the bed. I climbed up onto his chest, pinned his shoulders down even though I knew if he really wanted to get back up there wouldn’t be a thing I could do to stop him physically, so I had to use the opportunity while I had it.

  “Listen to me, Raffe,” I said quickly, “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you told me you were gay.” The anger in his eyes started to fade, so I continued, though a bit more slowly. “You needed me, and I let you down. I’m not going to forgive myself for that for a long time, but I hope you can forgive me.” I got off of him, sitting beside him on the bed. He sat up, but remained quiet as we looked at each other for more seconds than I was comfortable with. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and I’ll admit I was scared he was going to break every single bone in my body. I’d deserve each and every break, but that didn’t mean I actually wanted them.

  “I wanted to tell you, Gir,” he said, looking subdued. I hated to see him like that, but I didn’t know what to do or say that could make him feel better. I still tried, placing my hand on his shoulder. “I was afraid to, though, because everyone else seems to think being gay means you’re sick.” He placed his hand over mine, and I could see his eyes were getting watery again. “I’m not sick… am I, Gir?”

  I shook my head, wishing I could go back in time to stop myself from using the poor choice of words in the garage. “No, you’re not sick, Raffe. I should never have said that.”

  “Are you ashamed of me?”

  “What? No, of course I’m not!” I stood up on Raffe’s bed, hugging him tightly. “I don’t care if you’re gay; you’re still my little brother.”

  Raffe sighed, a bit of a smile on his face as he rested his head on my chest. “Thanks, big bro.” We didn’t say anything for a while, lost in our own private thoughts until he lifted his head to look at me. “There’s one more confession I have, but it’s not as traumatic as the last one.”

  “Good, because tackling you isn’t easy,” I said, ruffling his hair.

  Raffe chuckled, pulling his head away from my hair abuse. “It’s your own fault for being a good trainer all these years, big bro.” He ran his fingers through his hair in an effort to comb it out. “Anyway, I have to admit something you’re not going to believe, so give me a chance to explain, okay?”

  “I’ll even pinkie swear it if you want me to,” I said, raising my hand with the pinkie extended.

  Raffe smiled, shaking his head. “It won’t be necessary, Gir. I’ve�
�” His voice trailed off, and I could see him thinking, struggling to find the right words to use. “This is hard to admit, but I’ve been jealous of you for a long time.” He was right, I didn’t believe it but I kept my promise, letting him continue without interruption. “I don’t know if I can explain it, but when I see you either working out or posing, I mentally compare you to me, and you know something? If you were my height, you’d be bigger than me.” He must have seen the disbelieving look on my face, because he added “It’s true, big bro. I even did the math, and you’re bigger than me.”

  I looked at Raffe’s arms, and then raised one of mine to study it. I didn’t have too much of an imagination, admittedly, but maybe if we were the same size I’d be bigger. That bit of information made me stand up a bit taller, and I even found myself puffing out my chest. “Since when did you get so good at math, Squirt?”

  Raffe playfully poked me on the chest. “Ever since I wanted to make my big bro proud of me, that’s when.”

  “At the risk of sounding sappy, I’ve always been proud of you.” It was true, too. Even though I felt insignificant around my family some of the time, Raffe treated me like I was the most important person in his life, which I obviously was in his eyes. “I love you, Squirt.”

  Raffe hugged me against his chest, resting his muzzle on my shoulder. “I love you too, big bro,” he said. He then looked over at