This is the second part of the story of Dan Reed and Milo de Beer -- D'n'M. As before, it includes scenes of sex between teenage boys. However, sex is not the main driver of this story and often there is none at all.
All the characters and events in the story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at pjalexander1753@gmail.com
D'n'M Part2
From Chapter 11:
Milo left the store by the back door and made his way around the building and back to his bike, which he had simply abandoned on the ground before going inside. He was just in time to see a woman and two teenage boys going in through the front doors. Not the other Mr. Roberts then. Phew! At least helping Milo wasn't going to cost Tye his job. Thank crap for that. With that positive thought in mind Milo fired off a short text before picking up his bike and riding home, this time at a much more leisurely pace than earlier.
Chapter 12:
As he pulled up outside his house Milo realised two things; first that he was back much earlier than he would normally be after Saturday swimming practice, and second that he had no bag of wet swimming gear to prove where he'd been. Oh well, nothing he could do about either of those things now, he'd just have to hope he wouldn't meet a parent -- mostly his mother -- and have to come up with some sort of credible explanation.
Thankfully luck was on his side and he was able to make his way across the kitchen, stopping off on the way for much-needed supplies, and slip up to his room without being caught and interrogated. Once there he made a start on the milk and the fruit pie he'd liberated from the fridge and waited for a reply to the text he'd sent from outside AR Sports. To pass the time he fired up his elderly and battered PS2 and settled in for a marathon shoot-out.
It was nearly two hours later when Jamal's text arrived and, Yes!, it contained the information Milo had requested. At this point it would have been very easy for Milo to get ahead of himself and believe that everything was about to come good, with D well on the way to being able to put all the horrors of the last few days behind him. But Milo knew he was only half way to the winning post, if that. Being honest with himself, and not crazily optimistic, he knew the hardest part of what he had in mind was yet to come and that it was still possible for things to go totally belly up. And what if he'd got it all wrong and the puzzle he'd so carefully put together was not of the right picture after all? Maybe this was all too much of a risk and everything would blow up in his face. Then he remembered, again, how dreadful things so obviously were for D and, at that moment, he knew that no risk was too great. He picked up his phone and called the first number Jamal had provided.
The first call went a lot better than he had any right to hope. The boy at the other end of the line was one he sometimes hung out with at the skate park so they at least had something in common that Milo could use to kick off the conversation. What he heard in the following twenty minutes (`Just between you and me. You promise?') pulled the picture into much clearer focus, giving Milo a lot more understanding of what had been going on. It went a long way towards confirming what Tye had implied. Milo was genuinely shocked as he began to realise just how long things had been going bad. Suddenly he had an empty feeling low down in his stomach and he could feel his anger building, in line with an almost overwhelming sense of disgust.
The second call was much shorter and more tense. This was someone who had much more to lose than his team-mate and it took a lot of persuasion on Milo's part to get him to provide even the most rudimentary confirmation of what had been happening within the whole soccer set-up at the school. But it was enough.
Milo collapsed back onto his bed. Jeez. You heard about this sort of crap on the news from time to time and it all seemed so distant and unreal. Here it was, happening in his own school, and it sounded as if it had been going on for years. How, Milo asked himself, could this sort of thing be allowed to happen? Just how many kids had been made to suffer? Sick, or what? He was whacked, more in his head than his body, and needed time to process everything he had been told. If what D's two team-mates had said was true, and he was 99% convinced that it was, then what he now knew was a huge deal for a pretty average fourteen year old boy to get his head around. He genuinely had no idea exactly what he was going to do with the information he now had rampaging around in his head, especially as Tye and the two members of the soccer squad he had just spoken to had all made him promise not to reveal their names. What he did know, however, was that he was much closer to being able to help D, and for now, that was enough. More than enough.
Sleep, they say, is a wonderful healer and when Milo roused after two hours of blissful unconsciousness the frantic rampaging in his head had calmed down to a gentle pandemonium. He looked over at his phone and saw how long he'd been asleep. Crap! How could he have slept for so long when D needed him? He still had no idea what he was going to do with the information he had gathered over the past few hours but for now his priority was to get over to the Reed house to start making things better. A quick visit to the bathroom to pee and wash his face was followed by a text to D's mum:
I think I may be able to help. Coming straight over. Don't tell D.
He included the last part because he was worried about how D would react if he was told of his imminent arrival. Look what happened the last time he knew that Milo was going to visit.
He was literally on his way out of the house when he heard his mum's voice behind him. The tone was not friendly
"And where do you think you're going Milo?"
"Out." Well, what else was there to say?
"To Dan's house I suppose. Well, you can just turn yourself around. Your dinner is almost ready and I'm not having more of my time preparing a meal being wasted by you."
There was anger in the voice -- nothing new there -- but also something else that Milo didn't recognise. He turned round determined to try to take some of the simmering heat out of the situation and was shocked to see his mother standing in the middle of the kitchen, propped up by the central island unit, holding a glass in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. So that's why she sounds odd,' he thought. She's drunk! Or at the very least, more than half way there.' And if his memory wasn't playing tricks on him, this wasn't the first time this week he'd seen her drinking. What was going on? Well, whatever it was, it would have to wait. D was his priority and nothing, not dinner, not his mother's anger or the evidence of her being more than half blotto was going to keep him away from his friend. He paused long enough to deliver a dismissive, "Whatever," and continued out of his house, onto his bike and straight to D's, his hopes and expectations higher than they'd been for days. It was gonna be okay. At least, if he told himself that enough times, he felt sure it would be true.
"Hello!" he called out as soon as he walked in through the Reeds' backdoor. "It's me, M. Is anybody here?"
"In here M," came a reply. Milo followed the sound, through the kitchen to the lounge at the front of the house. Walking into the room he instantly noted that there was no sign of D, not that he'd really expected to see him but his high hopes were instantly brought back down to ground level. Both Dan's parents were in the room, Helen Reed hunched up in a corner of the expansive sofa, while Roger Reed was on the far side of the room staring out of the window to the front garden and the street beyond. Without a word being spoken, all three moved to the middle of the room where they met in a tight and enfolding group embrace. Milo felt himself relax, just a little, for the first time in days. He felt as if he'd come home, but then instantly regretted such a disloyal thought.
As the hug disintegrated Milo turned towards the two adults. Neither looked as if they'd slept in days, and it was obvious that Helen Reed had only recently stopped crying. D's parents both started speaking at the same time.
"Do you have any idea what's going on with D?"/"What can we do to help him?"
The desperation was clear in both their voices. Milo suggested they all sit down and, with nothing said between them, they half walked, half shuffled over to the large sofa. It was as if, having finally connected with each other, they couldn't bear to break the contact. Milo glanced up to see two stressed and anxious faces. D's mum and dad, always so collected and positive, looked as if the very bottom had dropped out of their world and they were staring down into a bottomless hole. He knew how they felt. He also knew that, no matter how much his heart went out to them and how much he wanted to take away some of that stress and anxiety, there was a limit to how much he could say; a limit to what he could tell them about his suspicions regarding D's recent experience and the reason why he was in such a distressed state. He knew he had to tell them something, but how to begin?
"How is he?" That seemed like the most natural and obvious question to ask.
Between them, D's parents explained that they had barely seen their son for days, that he'd hardly eaten and that he wouldn't let them into his room. Milo certainly knew the reason for the last item but he wasn't about to tell these very worried people that their deeply traumatised son had comprehensively trashed his room. They went on to say that D had told them nothing other than he was off the team and was never going to play soccer again. Apart from that incomprehensible piece of information he had not spoken to them and that, as far as they could tell, he had not watched his t.v. or used his games console. They were at their wits end and could think of nowhere to turn.
"If you know anything, M, you've got to tell us," begged Helen Reed, her voice breaking. "We're going out of our minds here. The way he's behaving is completely out of character for Dan. I'm just so scared he'll do something ... something stupid." And the tears came, not just one or two Hollywood movie-tears, gently making their way down her cheeks, but genuine desperation-tears which rapidly became uncontrollable sobs. Roger Reed pulled his wife to his chest and held her tight. When Milo looked into his face he saw that he, too, was sobbing. Milo had never seen adults reduced to such a state. He was suddenly very aware of the horrible weight of responsibility he now carried for the whole family. He gulped back his own tears and began to speak.
"I'm not sure that I do really know what's going on but I've got a sort of idea and ..."
"What is it?" interrupted Roger Reed.
"And if I'm right," Milo continued calmly, "it's not great but it's not the end of the world." Under the circumstances he reasoned that a certain amount of underplaying the truth was the kindest course of action. Time enough later for them to face the full and deeply uncomfortable truth, if truth it turned out to be.
"We'll do anything," croaked Helen Reed. "Anything. Won't we Roger?"
Roger Reed nodded his agreement and Milo proceeded to tell D's parents stuff that he knew they would find hard to accept. It didn't take long as he carefully left out some key names and details, just like he's promised. "Like I say, I'm pretty sure what I've been told is true but I need D to confirm it. Until then I can't tell you anything more."
"But you must ..." began Helen Reed.
"I promised, so I can't. You'll have to trust me. You know how much I love D."
Milo realised with a jolt of surprise that he'd never said that out loud before, but he also knew it was true. He did love D and he always would, whatever happened to them and their lives in the future. It was, simultaneously, a pretty scary and a very comforting thought.
"Do you, can you, trust me?" This was so weird. Milo felt that, of the three of them sitting on that sofa, he was the grown up there. Yes, definitely weird.
As both parents nodded, the silence was interrupted by a growling sound coming from Milo's stomach, and then it dawned on him that he hadn't had anything to eat since the milk and fruit pie several hours before. He was starving. He instantly regretted walking out on the meal his mother had made for him. His stomach groaned again at the thought of it.
"Well I'm glad to know some things don't change." Helen Reed forced a half smile onto her face. "No matter how bad things get, teenage boys are always hungry. Come through to the kitchen and I'll make you a sandwich. It'll give me something useful to do." And so they went into the kitchen, still staying close together for the reassurance that it brought.
"So what's the plan, M?" asked Roger Reed as Milo made short work of a large BLT, a slab of chocolate cake the size of a boulder and half a pint of milk.
"There isn't one, really. I need D to confirm to me the things I've been told by other guys on the team. It'll only be then that we'll be able to work out how to start to make things right."
"But he won't talk about it. For days we've been trying to get him to explain to us what's been bothering him," said Helen Reed.
"I'm sure that's true, but I think -- I hope -- that he might be willing to open up to someone his own age once he realises that I already suspect the truth. If I'm wrong, then I have no idea what else to do."
"And how are you going to get him to open up? Like we said, he's spoken barely half a dozen words to us in five days, and we're his parents." The frustration in Roger Reed's voice was plain for all to hear.
"I'm just going to be with him, stay with him, until he feels ready to tell me. It might take just a couple of hours or it might be days. Who knows? I'm just going to wait. If that's okay with you both," Milo added. "There might be a bit of a problem, though."
"What's that?" asked Helen Reed as she cleared away the remnants of Milo's meal.
"Well, my mum and dad know where I am, at least my mum does, but we had a bit of a disagreement before we left, so they might not be too happy about me staying here tonight." Milo hoped he could leave things as vague as that. He really didn't want to have to go into any details of the scene he'd left behind at his house earlier.
"Leave it with us, M. We'll give them a call and smooth things over," reassured Roger Reed
Milo wasn't sure it would be as easy as that, but he chose to keep that thought to himself.
"Now, is there anything else you need?" asked Helen. Milo shook his head and turned towards the door. "Well, remember we're never far away." The shake turned to a nod of understanding.
"Oh, and Milo?"
He turned.
"We love you too. Never forget that." Now everyone was nodding and Milo could feel a surge of emotion rushing through him. Before he could be engulfed in a surge of tears he turned, left the room and walked up the stairs to D's bedroom. Outside the door he stopped. What the hell was he doing? He'd felt to be out of his depth so many times during this last week, but now he feared he was actually drowning. What could he do? -- he was only a kid. A kid on his own. Okay, so he thought he knew what had happened to D, but what if he'd got it all wrong and it had nothing at all to do with Mr. Rogers and sex stuff? What sort of trouble would that get him into?
And at the back of his mind was the picture of his mum, in the kitchen, barely able to stand, glass and bottle in hand, obviously more than half way drunk. But at the front and centre of his mind was another picture, one of his best friend who he loved more than anyone else on the planet, suffering like a wounded animal and he, Milo, might just have the means to make him better again.
He opened the door.
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