Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and not intended for minors or those judged unable by law to read this material. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental and unintended. All ages depicted are actually understated and the term's 'boy', 'youth', etc. do not in fact mean that the characters are less than 18 years of age.
Benedict didn't awake early the next morning, in fact he'd slept deeply, and his alarm clock took some time to awaken him. He showered and got dressed for school. Coming to a decision, steeling his self for what was to come, he ran downstairs to breakfast. Dominic, as ever, had already finished eating his breakfast and he was in the sitting room watching TV along with his younger sister, Sarah. Ben gulped down his breakfast and popped his head around the sitting room door.
"Hi," he said, to the younger members of his family, though his eyes looked only upon Dom.
"Hi Ben," said Sarah, not bothering to look up from the television.
"Ben," nodded Dom, not quite trusting himself to look his older brother in the eyes.
Ben stood there and waited and sure enough he was rewarded with the sight of his younger brother finally turning to acknowledge him. Locking eyes, Ben motioned with his head for Dom to follow him upstairs. The flick of the imperial head had an air of command that could not be disobeyed and Dom, feeling a little sick in the stomach, nodded acknowledgement and slid reluctantly off the sofa.
Dominic knew that he and Ben were going to have to talk but he wished it didn't have to be now. There'd been a determination about his brother's jaw, an air of steely will in his manner, that couldn't somehow be denied and Dom slowly trudged up the stairs after his brother, like a condemned criminal climbing the hangman's steps. If Ben was the hangman then it was ironic Dom thought, that he himself had fashioned his own noose. His emotions were still raw and tender, and he felt worse for the fact that only an hour ago he'd been in the bathroom with Ben's briefs stuffed in his mouth. Only last night he'd promised himself not to do that any more. Still grief stricken at what he regarded as the ruination of his brother's pure love, feeling entirely culpable for what had happened, he'd found himself in the bathroom this morning rock hard. Taunted and tormented by the images and sensations of his tumble with Ben, as he had been all night, Dom had not been able to stop himself. It had suddenly occurred to him that Ben's briefs should be in the laundry basket, the one's from yesterday. They should be gooey and sticky, like his own had been, and Dom was suddenly desperate to get his hands on them. He'd thrown open the laundry basket and although he'd searched thoroughly all he'd come up with was a pair of familiar white CK's.
Dom had been puzzled for a moment before he realised that his brother's briefs weren't there. It was either that or he'd gotten the whole thing wrong, and his brother hadn't in fact cum. Dom wasn't sure if that pleased him or not. If Ben hadn't in fact spunked, then he was inclined to feel even more guilt than he did already. Though the thought of his brother hiding the sleazy pair of briefs was attractive too and a part of him wondered where they were and why his brother was hiding them. He briefly considered trying to look for them later before rejecting the idea as an even greater violation than the one he was undertaking now. Shrugging his shoulders he'd settled down to working on his prick and in fact the white Ck's were pretty good. While they didn't hold what he'd hoped, they did contain a great odour and Ben had obviously strained and sweated a great deal in them. The only problem with that of course, was that it made this the likely pair and seemed to confirm that his brother hadn't shot his load with him. Even as his straining young manhood had begun to throb and shoot, splattering his arms and chest, he begun to slide even further down into the dark hole of the trap that had ensnared him.
The boy had spent the whole of his evening trying to work out what to do or say next. He'd run through dozen's of conversations in his head with his older brother. None of them had seemed convincing, and Dom felt a lump in his throat as he followed Ben into the older boy's bedroom. He'd tried to stay awake and wait for Ben to come home last night, but he'd fallen asleep. He'd been really worried that Ben might take the chance to have a word with their parents, while he and Sarah were in bed. Coming downstairs this morning had taken real courage and he'd dreaded meeting his mum or dad. They'd said nothing, so it was unlikely Ben had spoken to them, though his mother had fussed over him and thought he'd looked a bit 'peaky'. Now, as Ben closed the door behind him, trapping Dom in the room, the moment of truth had arrived and Dom didn't know what to say or what to do.
The events of the day before, his experience with Dom and the searing words of Simon had changed Ben. There'd been that moment with Simon's hand too, the touch so soft and gentle. Simon had actually patted his hand, in public! If he weren't so distracted by things between him and Dom Ben would have been living off that moment even now. The change was only a beginning, a tiny one at that, but he felt he had begun to turn a corner. He'd been thrown up against the truth, at first he'd rebelled about what it had revealed to him, though eventually his native sincerity had won the day, and he'd decided to start acting rather than reacting. He might not have a very high opinion of himself at the moment, in fact it was downright lousy, but that shouldn't mean that others must suffer too, especially his younger brother and Simon. Ben was looking forward to meeting Tom later, he thought he knew what he needed to do, but it would be good to clarify things, chew them over and perhaps consider things he'd not thought off. But first he needed to speak to Dom, it wasn't the best of times, but it had to be now, before his courage halted and faltered. He couldn't spend a whole day worrying about the burden he'd placed upon his brother's shoulders. It was tearing him up inside and he was desperate to break free of his guilt and begin unburdening his dreadful load. The change starts now, he told himself, as he took a deep breath and regarded his brother, and it begins with me.
Dom stood before Ben, not three feet away, he could reach out and touch him. The smaller, leaner, more compact, blond haired blue eyed mirror image of himself; pale before him, almost visibly shaking, the eyes doleful and sad. Ben didn't trust himself to reach out and hold his brother, though he very much wanted to hold him and comfort him, instead, screwing up his courage, he began, fitful and unstable,
"We haven't much time Dom, so I'll keep it brief. What happened yesterday, whatever it was, whatever it meant--" he hesitated, "well, lets just say it mustn't happen again."
Dom seemed to be about to speak and Benedict held up his hand.
"Let me finish Dom," he anguished, almost pleading with his younger brother, fearing dismissal and rejection before he'd even started, he continued, quickly,
"Fuck! This is so hard! I'm not saying forget it, let's pretend it didn't happen, or any of those things. It did, period. You know it, I know it, we both know it, okay?"
He looked at Dom, desperate for some sign of understanding, just a hint that the boy was still with him.
Dom nodded slowly, though it still looked to Ben as though he wasn't really listening or taking any of this in. Who could blame him? Certainly not Ben, that was for sure. However, he'd started and he meant to finish, so the older boy plunged on, recklessly allowing his brother a glimpse of the truth.
"In fact," he continued, his speech slightly slurred, though his voice sounded tight and strung, "in fact, I'll probably always remember it. How could I forget it? You're my brother; it'll always be with me, inside of me. But, the worse thing is Dom,"
And here Ben's eyes began to sting and fill with tears the vision of Dom suddenly becoming hazy and blurred. Committed though to his path, and feeling the need for another deep breath, he inhaled and continued,
"--the worse thing is that I enjoyed it."
His cheeks stung with tears and shame, he felt hot and flushed, suddenly naked before his younger brother. Wasn't he the one he was supposed to protect and serve? This was not the example of an older brother that his parents surely had in mind whenever they exhorted him to behave, show some sense or 'look after your brother and sister'.
"Even though I enjoyed it, don't think I haven't regretted it since, God knows I have," his voice, anguished and pained.
"It was all my fault Dom, I should have known better, should have done better to. It won't happen again, I promise. I didn't mean to hurt you, or harm you, I'd never do that, wouldn't allow it either. I just got carried away for one mad moment, try not to hate me for that, it really is all my fault. You can go now, you don't need to speak, let's put this behind us and move on and maybe, eventually, you'll work your way round to forgiving me. I hope so, you're a great brother, the best, and I had no right to ruin our friendship."
Benedict, of course, had won several prizes at school for his speeches and debating skills. He'd run this one over and over in his head since waking. It hadn't quite gone to plan however, the pressure of the occasion was like no other stage he'd experienced, the audience more demanding than any he'd ever faced. It had all gone wrong, his words had just suddenly tumbled out, in the wrong place and at the wrong time. The things he'd meant to say, he hadn't, and things that he'd no intention of saying, he had. He sure hadn't intended to tell Dom he'd enjoyed himself. Fuckin hell, where had that suddenly come from? Even more worrying of course was; what Dom was going to make of it all? He couldn't believe his own stupidity at that moment, cursed himself for his impatience, why couldn't he have waited, allowed himself time to get set? Now, the cat was out of the bag, or at least as good as, and Ben felt terribly uncertain and afraid. He'd just surrendered himself to the tender mercies of his brother. It was not a quality that 14-year-old boys were exactly famous for, and if his brother realised that Ben was actually gay...
Ben wiped his eyes and peered at Dom, suddenly focusing intently upon his younger brother, trying to determine between the mist and haze exactly what his fate was to be.
Seeing his older brother, suddenly looking so vulnerable and aged had shocked Dominic, quite possibly more that anything else. Ben was, well, certainly not the boy who stood before him now. No, his brother was always so confident and relaxed, so at ease with himself in a way that Dom could only envy. The unwanted discovery of clay-feet upon his idol was yet another example of where his folly had led him. Terrified to begin with, he'd listened to Ben intently, trying hard to concentrate and follow his brother's halting flow. When Ben had said it mustn't happen again he'd instinctively wanted to reply; to shout yes, well, and no too, he was after all, still very confused. Ben though had silenced him and ploughed on. To hear his brother taking all the blame on himself had broken his heart. That wasn't right, he'd thought, its not true, I was to blame not you. The really scary bit though was when Ben said he'd enjoyed it. Despite himself, Dom had found his cock stirring at that. If it weren't for the fact that his tackle was trapped down in his briefs, he knew his trousers would be tenting with his hardon, it was weeping like his brother, though in its case there was no uncertainty or remorse, only a relentless hunger.
It made perfect sense to Dom that his brother had enjoyed the experience. Who wouldn't, he thought? It had been great! It was real live sex, and to Dom, that's what all that seemed to matter at the moment. It didn't really mean anything more than that, wasn't that was his brother was telling him? As for all that stuff about harm and hurt, well Dom didn't really follow that. He'd never dreamed that Ben would ever hurt him, and at no stage had he ever sort to blame his brother. So what was there to forgive? Well, Dom understood that family members weren't supposed to have sex and he knew he didn't entirely feel good about yesterday's experience. It wasn't the fact that he'd cum with another boy that bothered him. Well, it did, but he was dealing with that on his own, there was no need to involve Ben. It was the fact that it had been with Ben that was bothering him, so in his heart of hearts he guessed Ben's words made sense, sort of. So I suppose, he concluded, Ben's saying it isn't right and we definitely can't do it again, and well, he's probably correct, pity.
Although Ben had told his brother that there was no need to speak he rather hoped he would. It would be better to have some sense of understanding, at least some insight into what his younger brother was thinking, and while pulling himself together he watched and waited. Dom seemed to be cogitating furiously, and as Ben's sight came into focus he suddenly saw that his younger brother's eyes were tearful too and that the bottom lip was shaking a little.
"You don't need to forgive me Ben," his brother suddenly burst forth, as though his mouth had been sealed up and had just broken free.
Tears began to fall upon his cheeks, and Ben, overcome by the sight couldn't stop himself from reaching out to grab his brother's shoulders. He gripped the young yoke tightly, feeling sinew and bone, and moved forward slightly to lower his forehead onto the front of his brother's hair and head.
"Don't cry Dom, please, anything but that. I really am so sorry," he said his voice strained and breaking.
"Its you," began Dom.
"Like I said, I'm sorry," interrupted Ben.
"No!" cried Dom, suddenly asserting himself.
"Listen for fucksake, you're not always right! Its you, watching you upset that's making me cry!"
Chastened Ben listened, continuing just to hold his brother and rest at his crown. Dom continued, suddenly in full flow,
"If anyone's to blame its me Ben, not you! I enjoyed it too; it was ... like so cool, so sexy. I've never done anything like that before, believe me, and well, I guess I've wanted too for a while. I feel like I'm the one to say sorry... As to not doing it again I understand, well sorta, but I'll handle it."
For the first time Ben felt himself beginning to relax and he eased his grip on his brother's shoulders, suddenly aware of how tight he'd been holding him.
"God, you're wonderful Dom," said Ben, "I'm so glad I can't tell you. I'd have hated it if we'd not talked to each other; it would've driven me mad.
For the first time Ben, actually allowed himself a small smile, he continued,
"But we mustn't do it again, okay? Its not right."
The tears had stopped flowing down Dom's cheeks and the younger boy suddenly pulled his head away from his brother, his hands were stinging from the nails on his fingers, they'd been biting into his hands and he hadn't even noticed,
"Yeah, you're right, as bloody usual," he said, and then his face was lit up by a smile, with a cheeky grin and a gleam in his eye he said,
"Pity though, as now I know you enjoyed it I could've done with some more."
Ben just laughed, amazed at his brother's daring; he loved his innocence and charm, his dry self-deprecating humour. To Ben it seemed as though his brother was truly recovered from the experience, although a part of him knew better, and now that all the tension had gone he shook and trembled with laughter.
Dom laughed too, like his brother, the uncertainty had passed for now and light headed and giggly he chuckled away at his own joke. Except it wasn't quite a joke, and a bit of him couldn't help but feel disappointed. Knowing that Ben had accepted him again was all that mattered at the moment, the rest would just have to wait.
Benedict remembered Adam's animal cry, his younger brother's name upon his lips when he'd shot his load. Still laughing, he said,
"Hey, when I was your age I didn't get anything. I'm sure someone will come along, don't sweat it."
"Hmm, I guess so," agreed Dom, not entirely convinced. It ceratinly didn't appear that way to him. Though he was a little surprised that his brother hadn't been getting any at his age. He couldn't help but wonder, why the hell not?
The two brothers had shared a forbidden experience, but then hadn't they done other things wrong too? They'd covered up for each other, broken things together, entered places they shouldn't have, and done all the countless things boys aren't supposed to do but do all the same. What was so different about this? It was just another secret to be shared and kept close, and, when no one was looking, to take out and examine and to remember all over again.
Seeing the time, Ben suddenly exclaimed,
"Come on we'll be late! Lets move it."
"Okay, said Dom, "But thanks Ben, you're great -- for a streak 'o piss that is."
"Yeah, you're not a bad shortarse yourself," replied Ben.
Suddenly the two boys hugged each other and Ben patted his brother's back. Both boy's had leaned forward slightly, touching only at the chest and head, as though each feared the genital resonance of the other would trigger an unwanted response. Unwanted? Well, if the brother's had been entirely truthful they'd have admitted that this was different. They'd hugged loads of times, but now the action carried with it the remembered scent and feel of yesterday and its shuddering all-revealing climax. Sensing that they were both having difficulty breaking their hold, as though neither of them wanted to break the spell of this special moment, Ben smiled and pulled away from his younger brother. The two boys quickly straightened themselves out and Ben waited for Dom to pick up his backpack before the pair set off to school together.
Ben suddenly realised that there wouldn't be time to make his usual diversion and call at Simon's. He sensed somehow that this might not be a good thing, particularly given how things had gone last night, but there wasn't much he could do about it, and he hoped Simon wouldn't take offence. Instead he found himself walking to school with his brother. This was very unusual, the rigid hierarchy of the teenaged years usually meant they travelled separately, with their own friends. Today was different, indeed rather special, and the two brothers' were soon chatting away as though nothing much had happened. Their youthful powers of rapid recovery, of concentration solely upon the moment, were never better illustrated than now. However, their relationship had changed, and subtle indications could be found in their conversation as they made their way quickly to school.
As Adam and Eve discovered long ago, there is nothing so tempting and so desirable as forbidden fruit. If the two brothers displayed charming naivety, a certain ingenuosity, then they were merely being true to their two distinct but very similar nature's. Although Ben had glimpsed this truth, had been nearly overwhelmed by the power and passion he'd released, Dom had yet to discover that the raging hormones of youth were not so easily mastered or stilled. Although both boys' had attempted to root out the growth of their desire, and therefore, at the moment, regarded the whole affair closed, they had not been able to remove the seed that still germinated deep inside of them. Their rich youthful soil, though at present barren after the harvest of yesterday, was still fertile and productive. Already indeed, fresh roots were appearing, weaving their tendrils of lust and desire, whispering their resentment at what had been forbidden them.
Simon Jones had been kept waiting, he hated waiting, but what bothered him more on this occasion was the absence of Ben, his friend. He'd thought last night had gone okay, eventually that is, towards the end there'd even been a sign of the old Ben; the Ben he knew and loved. Fuck! Did I say love? 'Knew and fuckin loved?' That was what really was at the bottom of it all, that was what had scared him shitless the night before, when he'd arrived home and had sat down to consider his feelings after his evening with Ben.
He'd returned home still feeling a little queasy and had soon got stripped and into bed. His brother Luke had met him when he'd come in, "How'd it go?" he'd asked. There wasn't anything unusual in that, but his brother's question had seemed different somehow. Simon thought there'd been a funny look in his eye. He'd shrugged that off eventually, decided that his brother couldn't have possibly meant anything by it. More likely it was himself, he definitely felt funny, not right, and he'd quickly gone up to bed. Slipping between the sheets his mind had suddenly filled with pictures of Ben. It was Ben in the showers or Ben playing squash, Ben swimming and Ben at school or just simply Ben at play. Suddenly Ben was before him, beside him and inside him. It was stroking Ben's hand that had done it, he realised that now, and his fingers still seemed to burn where they'd touched the gilded youth. Ben's skin had felt smooth and as soft as silk, robed with wondrous soft golden hairs; it had been hot to the touch and had trembled beneath his hand, animated and alive.
Simon's right hand had wandered over his smooth olive chest, pausing briefly at his dark round nipples, which had suddenly become so painfully hard and demanding. He tweaked the hard fleshy stone at his left, rolled it like grit between his fingers, and his chest flared with pain and pleasure. Trotting over the 6pack, of which he was so secretly and inordinately proud, the probing fingers promptly abutted the waistband of the cotton shorts he habitually wore to bed. The boy would have been amazed to know how intimate Ben was with those shorts, quite shocked to have heard where they'd been and what they'd endured. His cock was simply raging inside, he'd never quite known an erection like it, and Simon was no virgin. He'd had several girlfriends, had kissed and fumbled with all of them, one had even consented to giving him a blowjob and another had finally let him fuck her.
Sex, as he knew it, was overrated he'd decided. Both experiences had been okay, but something had been lacking too. In fact when it had come to the point of actually entering Rachel Hobson, his nerve had nearly failed him and the hurried thrust and shove had resulted in a very unsatisfactory climax. The major plus point had been getting the monkey off his back with regards to his virginity. Simon knew that most people's first time wasn't supposed to be that hot and he reckoned that next time it would be better. Perhaps it was his feelings for Rachel that had failed him somehow, though he'd genuinely liked her at the time. Whatever it was, it hadn't worked out between the two of them and Rachel, a nice girl really, was soon added to the pile of past girlfriends that always seemed to grow and showed no sign of stopping soon.
The intense throbbing in his shorts was being matched by a prodigious leakage of lubricant. Simon, so neat and tidy, didn't want to mess up his shorts. He hated it when he had a wet dream and soaked the bed, his mother, how embarrassing, telling him it was natural and not to worry. So the now tortured teen eased the elasticated band over the tumescent head and pushed his shorts down onto his thighs.
It had been a constant irritation to Ben that Simon's briefs and shorts generally lacked any great evidence of cum, and here was the reason why. Simon, unknowingly, had just deprived his friend of a tasty treat.
As Simon had released his prick from the constraining shorts his thick meaty pole had swung and slapped against his stomach. Cradling his large balls with his left hand, fondling them gently, warming them in his palm, he attended with his right hand to his now infuriated cock. Simon knew his friends mocked him and called him 'big balls', he was actually quite proud of it, though he would never admit it. What his friend's didn't know however, was that he had the whole ensemble, a suitable cock to go with them. Slowly he pulled back the foreskin of his meaty pole, he loved to try and take it as far back as possible. The experience always gratified him; he loved to consider his hot throbbing meat, all angry and red, become increasingly glazed with the precum that inevitably flowed when he did this. His fist would become matted with the rich resin and, in truth he needed it, in order to get to work on his cock and satisfy its appetite for release and spunk. His cock was 8 inches long, and getting on for 2 inches thick, its dark red pink shaft was studded with thick pulsing veins, they ran along the slick oiled sceptre to feed the blood engorged crown that was a deep velvety purple. On his lean compact, 5 feet 9 inches frame, the cock looked monstrous and huge. It seemed to have reached manhood before the rest of him and was evidently pausing, allowing the rest of his body to catch up. At the base of the cock was Simon's fertile garden, a deep rich black bush thick and luxuriant, overgrown and spreading. Still on the cusp of manhood, the bush was still held tight around the groin. Apart from the path that led to his deep sunken navel, it had not yet dared to flare and trespass toward his lower stomach. At this moment his cock was burning, crazed with lust, and just pulling back the foreskin had brought Simon close to orgasm.
Slowly the boy began to pump, using one had to hold down the foreskin he rubbed and pulled on his raw and tender shaft. He'd hardly seemed to build up speed or expend any effort when his cock erupted and spewed its rich manly prime all over his chest and arms. Torrents of the thick teen cream had splattered against his firm braced stomach and while he continued to work his shaft he pushed his hips up and smeared his shooting piss-slit into the valleys of his 6 pack, rubbing the fiery sensitive head against his hot trembling flesh. Soon the ridges were crested and glaciers of spunk flowed like rivers into the lowlands of his stomach covering it like a flood-plain. Even though the cum had stopped flowing Simon still continued the frenzied agitation of his cock, as though he was trying to weed out the images that seared his brain. Finally giving up, excepting the fact that he'd voided himself, whole and entire, the boy had brought his cum drenched fingers to his mouth and licked and sucked them dry.
He'd not tasted himself for years, not since he'd first discovered he could produce the hot white fluid. The last time he'd tried it Simon had been almost sick, as the thin watery liquid, all chemicals and salt, had played upon his tongue. A lot had changed since then. Now, his spunk was thick and rich, and to Simon it tasted salty still, yet somehow sweet as well. Finishing with his finger's he'd sought more, rubbing his finger around his stomach like a whisk, scooping up the cream in huge glistening globs on his finger. Shite, why the hell am I doing this he thought, temporarily disgusted with himself.
It was because of Ben. He'd been thinking of Ben, he'd had a 'waking dream' and this time his mind had seen what, in part, it had always known. Simon would now have to confront the truth, that at the moment of his ejaculation it had been Ben's cock that he'd seen and felt, not his own. That it wasn't his; it was Ben's cum that he'd been trying to drink, to stuff and cram down his sex-parched throat. The clean, tidy, well-ordered world that Simon Jone's inhabited had collapsed at that point. Beyond caring, hardly noticing, he pulled up his shorts and the bed linen, to be stained and polluted with the remains of his orgasm. Rolling over, feeling cum slide off him and seep into the mattress, he turned out his bedside light. His eyes remained open though and they continued to stare, blankly, into the dark, as though looking for refuge and searching for peace.
This was madness! Why the hell had he done that? After all this time too. He had known Ben since primary school, since the age of 6 for fucksake! He'd never had a clue, not for what moment had he thought ... what? That I'm gay? Immediately, he rejected that, was not willing to entertain the possibility even for a moment. I've had girlfriends haven't I? I've fucked one too! I mean, hey, I wank at least once a day, often more and I've never thought of Ben, only girls. Never thought about boy's at all, well 'cept to check 'em out in the changing rooms but we all do that, don't we?
Another part of his mind was already tackling his objections, demolishing his arguments one by one. Could his relationships with his girlfriends ever be called successful? What about his much vaunted first fuck, hadn't that really been a bit of a disaster? Never thought of Ben? Hmm, what about those times when you've pictured the two of you taking a girl together, you mean your thoughts never ever strayed? Yeah, sure we all check out other boy's tackle, we know that, but do we all linger as long and hard as you?
Even as Simon had answered his self, he'd still been unwilling come to any agreement, perhaps even to give a little ground. All the data said he liked girls, now that was fact. Fact two, he was definitely not right, probably something he'd eaten. Fact three, Ben had been acting funny lately, he was obviously upset about something and Simon was perfectly willing to concede he cared about his friend a great deal. So, fact three was probably a case of his reacting to Ben's plight. He'd tried to sympathise with his mate, help him out, and for once, just once, had in his dreams, in his dreams mind you, given his friend the ultimate relief, one that always helped sort out things for Simon. There, that seemed pretty reasonable, like an exercise in physics or chemistry, he was good at those. He'd crossed his 'T's' and dotted his 'I's', had provided a perfectly well reasoned and rational argument. True, he might have gotten a little carried away at the end there, but, well he was a horny teen, and didn't his mates do daft things all the time?
By 1.30pm in the morning Simon had agreed with his self that it was a 'phase', that's all. Like Dominic, he too had heard of this strange phenomenon, and even though it might, by some, be considered a little late in the day, Simon didn't think it was regarded as being too unusual. Although, he would soon be 18, he still felt plenty young and if it was now his turn to undergo another stage of 'growth' then so be it. It would soon be over, it didn't take long he remembered, and he sure as hell was going to go anywhere with it he'd decided. Knowing his 'true' nature made that clear, this was an aberration, might indeed, have already passed. Whatever, he was hardly going to mention it to Ben now was he? Although he wasn't sure what success Ben had had with his girlfriends, he was pretty sure he must have had some by now. The two friends strangely enough had never really opened up to each other about their girlfriends. They'd shared nearly everything else, but somehow never that. Other mates knew Simon wasn't a virgin anymore but for some reason he'd never gotten around to telling Ben. Anyway, what the hell, it all stops here, and, refusing to be budged any further, the troubled teen fell into a restless sleep.
In the morning, Simon had managed to succeed in building sufficient bricks in his mind to cordon the problem off. Ben being late however had brought the crumbling rickety edifice tumbling down and now Simon was picking up the pieces. His biggest fear was that by grabbing Ben's hand like that, in public too, his friend might in fact, even now, be thinking he was queer. That had brought Simon out into a cold sweat, the last thing he wanted was Ben thinking him a puff while all these strange thoughts were running loose in his head. Perhaps that was why he wasn't here now?
The other worry of course, the one he wasn't acknowledging, because he hadn't yet recognised it for what is was, was that his heart was aching. He was still worried about Ben, if he was really okay, if he'd stopped hurting yet from whatever it was that ailed him. Ben not being here was a bad sign, and a part of him was worried sick, producing that fizz and sense of emptiness in his stomach that Simon still thought of as being the residue of rotten food.
Full of doubt and uncertainty, anxious and afraid, he'd set off to school and hoped, feared also, to find some answers there.