Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/camping/canvas-hell/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
I just stared at the flames, confused and worried and discontented. Dr Eaglas finally sighed deeply, patted my shoulder and walked toward the Mess Hall, leaving me to my unsettled and unworthy thoughts. A soft, predawn breeze tickled the fire and suddenly there was a single, taller, stronger flame. My heart wanted to think that the three had merged, but I felt in my soul that one had blown out and only two remained to dance together. I cried quietly as the sun began to tickle the sky before going back to Tent Canvas Hell to start the day anew.
***** Canvas Hell 16: Too Cold for Snow
By Bear Pup
T/T; self-discovery; stupidity; jealousy; love
Jim and Karl seemed completely unfazed, which only fuelled my grump. Both were cheerful and had slept well. I grabbed the shower-kit of all three of us whilst they watered the beeches. Jim chattered like the bird he resembled and Karl occasionally got a word in edgewise. We showered and dressed and got to the Mess Hall as the triangle rang. I was a bit taciturn but neither was paying me the slightest attention. Their smiles drained away instantly, though, when we got through the door.
Chef was back.
Today's primary option was eggs benedict. Did you know that it was possible to poach an egg until the yolk was green? Or that mayonnaise was a key ingredient in hollandaise sauce? There was a mass rush on the cereal boxes, with the three of us each scoring two, plus some banananananas (have you ever tried to stop spelling the yellow, curved fruit?). Thankfully, our guardian angel St George had procured the steaming black 'milk' that made life possible at this hour.
We were easily halfway through our breakfast when Jim stopped talking. It was a rare enough occurrence that both Karl and I looked up. Jim was staring at me, brow furrowed. "Out with it, Patrick."
"Wha, what?"
"You've been sulking since we got up, and you were up hours before us." Interesting; how could he have known that? "So what's going on?"
Jim and Karl just looked at me. I looked around the bustling Mess Hall and whispered, "Can we talk in the canoe, please? Please?"
They didn't like it, but agreed. Well, hell. That gave me 30 minutes to figure out something non-humiliating, non-paranoid and non-pouty to say. Sigh.
I got luck. Sea today had changed things up. The first hour of the lesson would be a mass canoe race. Half would go upstream until we heard his whistle, then back. The canoe that went the farthest each way got an award, and the ones what got back fastest got a lesser one. No one got anything if they didn't get completely out of sight of the docks
We were back in our original positions, Karl in the bow and Jim in the middle, me steering as much as paddling in the stern. When Sea blew the whistle to start, I was almost thrown out the back of the canoe. Karl was a goddamned machine! It was like he was angry with the water. Jim had improved a lot and was attacking the river. I worked to keep us from running afoul of the more-energetic and less-concerned canoes, contributing bursts of speed when I could. We were outdistanced by a four-man crew and by a two-man canoe when the whistle blew, but no one else was even close.
I pulled us hard round and Karl basically decided to pretend to be a boat engine. We practically flew back downriver, passing canoe after canoe. We had an actual wake. We all three put on a final burst of speed, but came in second to a different two-manner, by perhaps a half-length. Karl slumped back and began to massage his arms. Jim scooted forward and started chopping inexpertly but with great enthusiasm into his shoulder muscles, which Karl seemed to enjoy and that made me boil. The fact that we hadn't won either prize didn't seem to faze Karl; if anything, he was exhilarated that no other canoe had come anywhere near top-three is both categories.
The leaders came round passing out tackle. Today we were going to fish reed-beds near the far shore up and down the river, using special lures that had a sore of spring-loaded hook that would theoretically keep them from getting snagged in the vegetation. The fact that we'd be fishing for at most 30 minutes and we'd been given four such lures apiece did not exactly fill us with confidence in their bona fides.
Karl drove us far, far upstream, knowing that I'd just delay again if we weren't private enough. Damn! That was precisely my plan. It took up a while to get there. We cast several times before Jim finally looked at me. "Spill. Now."
I looked from one to the other. Playing for time, "Don't you want to fish some first?"
Jim smirked at me and chin-pointed to his tackle tray as he cast again. In it were four perfectly-dry lures. I looked to Karl's and saw the same. The little shits had put sinkers on the end of their leads. They had as much chance of catching a fish as they had of catching a unicorn. Having smart friends SUCKS.
"Talk, Patrick. Talk now or you swim back to the dock." I almost laughed until I saw Karl's face. Jim had very clearly arranged with Karl to enforce exactly that punishment if I didn't come clean. I looked around Not a single fucking canoe within earshot.
I mumbled something like, "{ishdmv}."
Jim took in a deep breath and I knew more threats were coming. He was actually getting mad at me, and I quailed at the thought. Jim mad or sad, the very idea hurt me.
"With the Buggers gone, there's room in Cabin 6," I informed the riverback.
"So? Why do we care?"
"I, um, I was thinking that I should, well..."
"Should what, Patrick? You are making zero sense!"
"...that I should move to the cabin."
"What? Why?" This was from Karl. I saw from the corner of my eye that Jim was looking at me as if I was speaking Swahili.
"Well, you know..."
Jim again, now clearly pissed. "No, we don't know, Patrick, cuz you won't frigging tell us!"
"Well..." I sucked in a shuddering breath. The reeds and trees of the riverbank began to swim and blur, and I knew the tears would come soon.
"Well now that you, you know," my voice shaking and so soft I could barely hear myself now, heart breaking, "have Karl. I don't want to be in the way."
Karl sucked in a gasp. I looked up and saw his face had gone bone-white. Jim's voice came low and harsh, "You want to try that again, Patrick?"
I couldn't look at either of them and told the river, "I don't want to, you know, get in your way. I mean, I know I can't measure up to Karl. I know you w-want him and I th-th-think you, you know, should be happy and I can clear out really easy."
Jim's voice was back, and it broke like a little kid. "N-no one has e-e-e-ever said any-ANYTHING that m-m-m-mean to me. Ever. W-w-why w-would you? How could you d-d-d-do that? How can you be so mean?" He started to bawl like a kid and I sat there, shaking and horrified.
Karl stared at me, hard, face no longer white but so deep a red I could see his veins throb. "I trusted you. And you're just Winner in a different package." He turned away and cast his non-lure so hard upriver that I wasn't sure it would ever hit the surface. I just sat, lip trembling and tears not yet flowing but terribly close.
All three of us leapt at the deep, powerful voice behind us and the canoe would have tipped over if Sea hadn't been holding the gunwale. "What's happening here, gentlemen."
Karl was the first to recover. I could hear the iron control he was forcing into his voice, "Jim just hooked himself with his lure, sir."
Sea looked down just as I had and clearly saw the four untouched lures. "Yes, that can really hurt. How is your...?"
I said, "hand" just as Karl said, "thumb."
Sea's eyes narrowed and his voice was hard and harsh. "You men are the furthest upstream so you need to start heading back. Go see George about a band-aid for his handthumb. And, gentlemen, if either of you make his handthumb feel worse while I'm anywhere nearby, I promise that you will regret it for a long, long time. Am I clear?"
We nodded and suddenly the Voice of Doom rang out, "AM I CLEAR?"
All of us again jumped and babbled things in the key of, "Yes, sir!"
"Head out." Sea spun his kayak in an instant and was off to the next canoe, downstream perhaps twenty yards and along the far bank. I manoeuvred us around and we all started stroking toward the dock. As we went, Sea was always nearby, setting more and more canoes in motion. We got back and the inevitable scrum of boys trying to turn in tackle and get out of canoes without a dunking ensued. When I next turned, Jim was nowhere to be seen.
Karl, though, Karl was right there, eyes smouldering and jaw clenched. He was close behind as I trudged toward the Mess Hall, never more than ten feet away. Any time I worked up the guts to glance at him, the look of disgust and contempt was not just palpable, but like a physical blow. The triangle wouldn't ring for at least fifteen minutes and the door wouldn't even open for ten, but I just stood near the door, staring at the sky. There were birds calling and breezes rustling leaves, but all I could hear was the silence of Karl's feeling of betrayal.
When Chef unlatched the door, I nearly dove through. I don't know what I ate, nor did I care. What made it immeasurably worse was that Karl didn't go off and eat by himself. He sat full-square across from me. Any time I looked up from whatever Chef had done to us, Karl's fury again washed across me.
My stomach was a clenched knot, and not only from the horrors of Chef's cooking. I couldn't stop shaking and felt guilty without even know what I'd done wrong, terrified without knowing what I feared.
I nearly crapped my pants when a heavy hand took my shoulder. "May I have a word, Mr Kennedy?" It was Dr Eaglas. What was left of my self-control drained from my quivering belly. I let him lead me outside, well away from the rest of the campers. When we were out of earshot, he sopped and stood there until I looked up at him.
His eyes were kind, but sad and utterly, completely disappointed. "This is not a lecture, Patrick. It is not about blame or about reasons or about being in trouble. It's about you and Jim and Karl. And right now, you are in an incredible amount of pain, and after the canoe trip, so is Jim and from what I saw in the Mess Hall, so is Karl. Patrick, you are a good man and a good friend. You are also the only one who can fix this.
"I can't tell you how to do it. I can't tell you what to say or who you need to say it to. I'm not even saying that you have to stay in Tent 9 or that you can't move to Cabin 6 if that's what you need. I'm saying that you have two really good friends, and all three of you are in a lot of pain, Patrick, and I can't fix it."
He looked at me for a long time, watching me try desperately to wipe away the tears and snot. He finally turned and walked back toward the Hygiene Hut. I walked like a movie zombie to the edge of the treeline and sat where I could see the Activities Pavilion, where I next would have leatherworking with... I drew in a gasping sob, with Jim. I could not face the idea.
I went toward Tent Canvas Hell and watched from a distance, making sure that the flaps were open and no one else was there. I waited at least ten minutes past the triangle's announcement that the afternoon session had started, making sure that neither Karl nor Jim were approaching, then crawled in and pulled the flaps. I curled up in a ball and tried to think.
Jim's broken voice, "How can you be so mean?" Karl's hot rage, "Winner in a different package." I lost Jim last night, I knew it, as soon as I saw that amazing, heart-wrenching kiss. I knew in the depths of my soul that they should be together. That I had to make it right. That I had to make them understand that I was ok-k-k-kay with it. That was my last coherent thought as I dissolved in my signature silent sobs.
I jumped when I felt the pallet below me move, but I was scared to look up. I couldn't take Karl's look of betrayal, Jim's look of pain, Dr Eaglas' disappointment. I couldn't. It didn't matter who it was, it was someone I couldn't face.
"Why, Patrick?" Jim's soft voice. FUCK I hated that word. 'Why' started my whole 'I kissed Karl' meltdown. 'Why', specifically 'why not me' is what brought me into the idea that I might be good enough for the beautiful and amazing Jim.
I forced myself to turn and look at him. His eyes were puffy but not red; the crying was lost but the pain and confusion remained. But he deserved an answer.
"Jim..." my voice jumped, shook, seeming to flit about like a bat hunting. "Jim, Karl is amazing. He's handsome and kind and strong and an incredible guy. You are... the most wonderful person I've ever known.
"You two deserve to be happy. You deserve to have that without me here to f-f-fuck it up. I want you to be happy, Jim, it's all I want in the world right now. And I want Karl to have someone special, someone like you, Jim. Really wanted to be selfish. I really, really wanted to hold on and never let go. But it's wrong, Jim, it's selfish and wrong and cruel. Deciding to move to the cabin is the h-hardest thing I've ever done, but I know it's the most-right."
Jim stared at me, lips tight, fury and something else battling from control of his face. I never even saw his hand move, but the impact as he slapped me literally threw me to the side. My eyes flew wide.
"You stupid, fucking moron. You self-absorbed, martyr-complex ignorant fucking MORON!"
My mouth worked like it was on a spring even as my hand came up to thee stinging-red handprint on my face.
"I wanted Karl to k-k-kiss me because he was lonely and felt left out. Not because I want him. I, I, I..."
Jim crumpled like a matchstick house and I sat frozen.
"I want you, Patrick. I want YOU, you fucking... brainless goddamned asshole! I. What happened yesterday was the gr-greatest thing in my life and had nothing to do with... you know. It was because you HELD me Patrick. Because you Kissed me. Because I th-th-though you l-l-l-loved me." As swiftly as he's crumpled, he was up and out of the tent. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I didn't think. It was as if my mind and body simply... stopped. What's more, I didn't cry. It was like winter, when it's so cold it can't even snow. I was so... destroyed that crying simply couldn't happen. As if, like the snowless skies of the coldest winter, something as mundane as tears were unthinkable.
Karl's voice was next, deep and hard and cold, from just outside the tent-wall behind me. "Good job, Patrick. Really, really good job." I heard him turn and walk away.
Well, that was intense. Let me know your thoughts. orson.cadell@gmail.com
Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Karl & Greg: 18 chapters .../incest/karl-and-greg/ Canvas Hell: 16 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 7 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 8 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Mud Lark Holler: 7 chapters .../rural/mud-lark-holler/ Babe in the Woods: 2 chapters .../rural/babe-in-the-woods/ Off the Magic Carpet: 2 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/