Decent Progress

Decent Progress, Chapter 5

Evening All,

Well this one was hard to write but I think it turned out fine. Any comments or suggestions are welcome at DCfield90@protonmail.com. The next entry may be a bit delayed given some personal errands I need to attend to. Hope you enjoy, and be sure to donate to Nifty!

Despite the turbulence of his thoughts the previous night, Christian awoke energized and brimming with excitement. He kicked off his blankets and stood up, stretching with his hands to the ceiling. Brody was still asleep, one leg folded in a flamingo-like position, his head resting easily on one arm. But he stirred and when his long lashes fluttered open seeing Christian, he smiled languidly. Rising slightly, he extended his arms and beckoned by waving his fingers.

"What?" Christian laughed.

"C 'mere."

Cautiously, he sidled forward and bent down until he passed within Brody's outstretched arms. They snapped around their prey and yanked him in.

"Hey, chill out," Christian said with amusement.

"I'm chill" Brody said sleepily, his voice muffled by being buried in the nape of the boys neck, his nose and lips incredibly soft. Tentatively he put his own arms around Brody, somewhat awkward given his position half-kneeling, half-leaning into the bed.

"Who knew Brody was so cuddly in the morning?"

But who cares. He savored the scent of his black hair; lemon with a hint of brine. Being this close he saw it parted at his ear, which was crumpled into a cauliflower; Brody disdained wearing any headgear in wrestling.

"It's such a rough sport", Christian thought. Brody drew in a long breath and sighed contentedly into Christian's neck, the air tickling him. Christian's hand cupped one of Brody's lats, and he felt a thumb rubbing up and down his back. It was almost heavenly except for one thing.

"My side's hurting" Christian admitted, the bed frame was carving a ridge into his rib. In response Brody made to pull him further into the bed, then seemed to reconsider. He released Christian and patted his shoulder.

"Go get a burner going, I'll make eggs after I get dressed."

Christian obeyed and rose, shuffling to the door in his pajamas. He turned and looked back. Brody was about to hoist himself out of bed, but froze, poised with his arms braced. Christian looked at him curiously.

"Go on," Brody coaxed.

Once more Christian did as he was told and fished for a frying pan in the cabinets, hearing a hurried rustling in the bedroom. He found a beaten iron skillet and dropped it onto a burner. Why was Brody so awkward suddenly? He never shied away from attention.

"ooohhh...morning wood!"

Christian grinned impishly to himself. No wonder he didn't want to take the covers off, or prolong their hug. But wait, wasn't it Brody who said `accidental boners are no big deal'? What a hypocrite! Oh it's alright for Christian, but no one can see Mr. Alpha Dog vulnerable. Though Christian pondered, wasn't a raging boner an expression of power, not weakness? He could picture Brody exhibiting his own proudly as some primitive display of dominance.

"If only," the small and perpetually horny voice inside him muttered.

He dropped a slab of salted butter (another wise provision from his roommate) into the frying pan and watched it dissolve. Brody came up behind him, crotch now safely protected by multiple layers. He put his arms around Christian's waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder to see the stove. It was so intimate. Christian closed his eyes and begged his cock not to rise at the sensation of Brody's pecs against his own solid back. God, this kid would be the death of him.

"No non-stick skillets?", Brody murmured beside him.

"No, that's why I used all that butter."

"Good thinking. Here, I'll make them," he said, moving Christian gently aside. Christian made to go to the bar and sit down, but Brody held onto his arm and jerked him back.

"What, bro?" Christian said with some exasperation. Brody looked up from his work in cracking the eggs.

"Nothing, just want you to stay here." He pulled a bit and positioned Christian directly to his side, switching on the oven light for better visibility.

"So what's the plan for today?" He figured Brody would have one.

"Waves, wind, ball... I'll teach you to skim board. Tonight we may go out for dinner, but Hunter's hooked us up for a party. It's mainly upperclassmen, maybe college age too, so be prepared for that. Since you're so inexperienced," Christian opened his mouth to protest, "stick with me or you may get catastrophically drunk."

As he spoke he raised his left hand to Christian's neck and shoulders, kneading the muscles there gently, while working the eggs with his right. Just then the other bedroom door opened, and Alex came bumbling out, his wavy hair a birds nest and yawning deeply. Brody's hand slid away.

"Breakfast? Damn Brody you're awesome."

They ate at the bar after rousing Thompson, and Christian had the idea of baking English muffins with cheese to make sandwiches. Thompson scarfed three of them. Apparently the party that night was indeed for an older crowd, but Hunter (who was a senior) had reassured them they were fine to attend. The location was a distance down the beach so they would need to drive.

"Not far though," Thompson reassured, "If we're too shithoused we can sleep on the beach, it wouldn't kill us."

"Speaking of which, let's get down there," Brody said wiping his chin. The sun was only just risen over the horizon, they'd followed the wisdom of waking up early. Christian changed into his board shorts in the narrow bathroom, hesitant at first about wearing underwear beneath them. That was always a dilemma. He decided yes. Emerging he looked for the others.

"Alex and Thompson went down," Brody said from behind.

Christian would have replied, but was momentarily dumbstruck by the sight before him. It was one thing to see a photo, another to witness it in person. His skin was so much softer to look at so close, his muscles so much more vibrantly alive and easily proportioned. No veins stood out anywhere, Christian could only barely detect their faint blue traces underneath the deep cream of his skin. Brody was wearing a VERY sexy swimsuit. It wasn't quite a speedo, more a waterproof pair of sky-blue briefs. Those unbelievable obliques cut stiff lines down to his crotch; evolution or God seemed to have designed them for that purpose, to draw the eyes downwards to his sex. Christian tore his eyes away from his package, a bundle in which he could make out the plump shape of his cock, and forced himself to look at Brody's face. To his surprise, Brody seemed equally dazed. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes were heavy. His chest and rippled stomach were moving a bit rapidly.

"Ok..." Christian said to break the silence. Brody snapped his eyes up and regained his composure.

"I need you to do my back." He passed Christian a can of sunscreen and turned. Christian momentarily admired the sheets of white muscle before spraying him down. He missed Brody's hand subtly come forward to adjust himself.

"Now you." Brody commanded.

"I already did my face," Christian complained, but Brody shook his head.

"You tan more than me but you still need sunscreen. Cover your eyes."

He did so, and an ozone-depleting amount of mist engulfed him. Brody went over his front, back, arms and legs. He even tapped Christian to raise up so he could spray the soles of his feet.

"Even unexposed areas can be vulnerable to ultraviolet," Brody patronized. They took their towels and a cooler down to the beach, where Thompson had already set umbrellas. He whistled as they approached.

"Hot damn, look at these studs!"

"I never realized you guys were so ripped," Alex said with admiration in his voice.

Christian looked down, bashful but pleased to be put in a similar category with Brody.

"Christian needs to flaunt it more. We'll have to get him some nuthuggers like yours, Brody" Thompson joked.

"There's an idea!" Brody said, whirling around to Christian with wide eyes.

"No way! I can't pull that off" Christian balked, catching the frisbee Alex tossed him.

"I'll be the judge of that!" Brody said, nimbly scampering backwards to create distance.

They threw the frisbee a while before launching themselves into the surf. The water was seasonably chilled and incredibly refreshing. There was nothing like the ocean, Christian thought. It was so ALIVE, roaring and whispering and pounding all the time. It could be welcoming like a friend or menace you away like a bad stranger. He could see why sailors attributed moods to it. The four boys romped and played so happily, onlookers might think they were hysterical, but being in the water just had that effect. Brody in particular let out his puppylike aggression and no one was safe from his tackles and bear hugs. Christian was by far the biggest victim and hardly spent 30 consecutive seconds out of his grasp. Whenever he engaged with Thompson and Alex, Brody was on him again like he was a practice dummy in wrestling. This was very difficult for poor Christian. The sensation of Brody's sleek, hard body on his nearly sent him into a frenzy. He exerted every bit of his willpower in keeping his cock flaccid, and luckily the cool waist-deep water helped with concealment (and taming). Several times when Brody wrapped his legs around him and gleefully hung on him ("God help me" Christian pleaded) he could have sworn he felt a rod flexing into his buttock, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

At last Hunter, Bailey and Leslie came down to join them in the water. This had a conflicting effect on Christian since Brody's attention was now diverted to Leslie, and while it meant some rest for his crotch, it meant no rest for his jealousy. Brody didn't stop paying attention to him, but he was more concerned with hoisting the girl onto his shoulders and, laughing uproariously, tossing her into a fireman's carry and marching around with his prize. Hunter brought out a football and they had a glorious game of keep-away from the girls and Christian, who was unfortunately lumped in with them. At about noon Brody retreated from the sun ("I'm roasting like a kielbasa") and went back to the condo for lunch. Christian joined him almost on compulsion and they sat together on the porch looking out over the ocean.

Smacking his lips and briskly wiping his fingers, Brody began officiously, "So for tonight," like he was outlining a government policy. Christian rolled his eyes internally. Did this kid ever stop planning?

"I was thinking we'd bike instead of drive to the party, there's a rental place down the beach. Have you ever been to a house party?"

Christian shook his head.

"They're actually pretty boring. The music's inevitably too loud and everyone stands around pretending not to feel awkward. They have utility if you're looking to score though." (A naughty expression was on his face)

"There's nothing like laying claim to a stranger's bed."

"Right." Christian answered stiffly. The revolting image trickled into his mind of Brody rutting into Leslie atop some rich old person's fourpost bed. He suppressed the urge to gag.

"Hey, you may get lucky. There's plenty of girls who'd stoop to your level."

"Thanks."

Douchebag.

"Assuming you'd even know what to do if they did." Brody was playing idly with his paper plate, his legs extended from his chair onto the balcony railing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Christian suddenly felt in the hunter's sights. Brody swiveled his head towards him like an owl.

"Inexperienced with alcohol, inexperienced with parties, inexperienced with...everything." He lowered his gaze deliberately to Christian's crotch, who absurdly crossed his legs, as if Brody was seeing through his shorts.

"I..." He could lie. He could invent some girl and a summer camp scenario to refute Brody's insinuation, but when those dark eyes were peering at him, Christian felt he could sooner jump to the moon than tell a convincing falsehood. Their influence was like a fishing line on a little trout, reeling him back in whenever he tried to escape.

"I'm not judging. It doesn't reflect badly on you, quite the opposite" Brody said encouragingly. "Don't fuck whatever skank slithers your way just to lose your V. When the time comes, it'll happen naturally."

Christian felt comfortable again. "Is that how it went for you?" He ventured, trying not to sound too curious. Brody grimaced.

"No. Mine was a foreign exchange student from Spain, part of a group my school was hosting for a summer. The Spaniards develop, uh, a bit earlier? At 15 this girl was well-versed and I was a tender thing at thirteen. The experience was more..."

He ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

"...Bewildering than pleasurable. Afterwards she didn't even speak to me."

Christian listened to the strange tale, wondering at how weird and normal Brody could be simultaneously. He hazarded another question, one that he was genuinely curious about. Maybe too probing, but he had no idea of his age group's averages.

"Sooo... how many? Total, I mean."

Brody smiled at his frankness.

"Five."

Christian was surprised and it showed on his face.

"Really? I would have assumed tons more." Brody looked taken aback at this for some reason.

"Why?"

"Well... you flirt with girls a lot and go to parties..." Christian tried to relate his train of thought as gently as possible, but inside felt confused. Why was Brody playing stupid? Hadn't he just crowed about sexual conquests on party hosts' beds?

"So you're saying I'm a manwhore?" Brody said with a rising voice.

"No! I mean you've had girlfriends, so it's not like you're sleeping around." That was purely a guess, and unfortunately a wrong one.

"I've never had a girlfriend, which you damn well know. Sorry not everyone can be as spotless and squeaky clean as Mr. Carter," Brody said, tossing his plate onto the deck and rising.

"What the- dude no!" Brody just raised his hand and stormed into the condo, but Christian would be damned if they fell out over something this stupid. Outrage made him bold. He ran up and spun Brody around.

"Listen to me!" The fire in his face made him want to shrink, but he persevered. When he was angry, Brody's face seemed to physically alter. His cheekbones and jaw sharpened and his eyes glinted.

"Ok, maybe I DID assume something bad about you. I guess you're right, I'm clueless. I shouldn't take social media for real life but it's hard when everyone looks like they're living like movie stars, except you. Y'know?"

Brody's expression softened and he looked rueful.

`It's ok. I overreacted. It's my fault really, I help create that impression of myself."

"You do talk big," Christian said pointedly. Brody chuckled. "So what's that about `social media'? You been browsing my pages like a little voyeur?"

Fuck, Christian thought, right back on the defensive.

"Sorta. Your Instagram anyway."

"Hmm," Brody purred, stepping closer. "What were your favorite pictures?"

"Uhh..." For the life of him, Christian couldn't recall a single entry besides the photo stream of Brody's luscious body, the one which, though now clad in a t-shirt, was drifting towards him as inexorably as an iceberg.

"The party one," He said as lamely as humanly possible. Brody shook his head and snorted with mirth.

"Try again."

"Just never mind man, there were no favorites" Christian said with finality, trying to step around him. Brody moved anticipating his evasion. He still had that maddeningly knowing smirk on his face.

"C'mon. Out of your close perusal of my pics there were NONE you preferred? Not a one?" He seized Christian's sides and began tickling him unmercifully. His victim shrieked chicken-winged his arms to stop the assault.

"No, no favorites! Let me go you bully!" He bent almost double to minimize the area of attack, and Brody pushed him over the back of the couch. He tried to rise but Brody grabbed the back of his neck and held him there.

"Not until you tell me what you like." The question was phrased so oddly, Christian wondered what exactly they were talking about. But he feared he knew.

"Wuh-What?" He felt utterly ridiculous. His only view was the couch cushions, but a birds eye view would show him bent over the couch, Brody assertively standing tall with a commanding arm over his prey.

"You tell me what. you. like." Without releasing his neck Brody bent too, draping himself over Christian who suppressed a shudder. The hand pivoted to wrap around his throat, but withheld any pressure. It was just there for control.

"I liked the wrestling pictures the most, happy?" Christian tried to rewind back to the simpler question. By now accustomed to Brody's physicality, still he never felt this dominated. Not being able to see his face, only feeling his breath on his cheek and his hard belly rhythmically moving against his lower back, was causing blood to rush to his dick.

"And the reason for that was...?" Brody didn't so much speak this question, as breathe it into Christian's ear. He slid his hand up to Christian's jaw, levering his head back and forcing his mouth open. Christian gulped with difficulty, and fought mightily to preserve his composure.

"It was cool to see you win a match," He burbled out in desperation. Anything to end this episode and stop his poor raging cock from making him believe this was more than a power play. Never, ever should he think that. Thankfully he heard the thump of footsteps up the staircase, and in a moment Brody was gone, striding back to the balcony.

"Jesus Christ," Christian sighed to himself, as Thompson beelined into the bathroom and released a torrent of piss,

"What am I going to do about him?"

Brody was clearly testing boundaries, seeing how far Christian could be pushed before...what? He went over the brink into lustful insanity, whereupon Brody would immediately disengage and mock him? Christian hadn't forgotten his behavior just a few days ago, and reminded himself Brody had a dark streak. Even at this stage in their developing friendship, it'd be unwise to let his guard down completely.

"Still," He thought as he sank onto his bed and fished for his phone, "Why's he doing this?" There was no need to prove dominance anymore, right? That had pretty much been established, the pecking order was basically set in stone. They were getting along now, Christian was no longer some enemy that needed subjugation. These displays should be subsiding, not intensifying. And now that he considered it, he had a hard time imagining Brody pulling this type of stunt with Hunter or Alex.

Christian became conscious that he was very sleepy after that meal, and drifted off. It was late afternoon when he awoke, and he rejoined the group in frolicking in the water for several hours. By sundown it was time to prepare for the party so they all took speedy showers to desalinize themselves. Christian chose a pair on jeans and one of his tees, instantly feeling outclassed by Brody who was buttoning up a pristine azure tailored shirt.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

"It's the beach, everyone will be dressed like this" said Christian with false assurance. Brody just rolled his eyes with disbelief and grabbed the hem of Christian's faded t-shirt, pulling upwards.

"What're you doing?!" he said with his belly exposed.

"You're wearing one of mine tonight, now come on, UP." Christian compliantly raised his arms and the shirt was whisked off him. Brody chose a purple button-down while he foolishly stood half-naked, feeling oddly more exposed than when wearing a bathing suit.

"This one's perfect," Brody said, holding the shirt up and comparing it to Christian at eye level like a fashion connoisseur. Christian reached for it but Brody slapped his hand away.

"You'll get your greasy fingers all over it. I saw how you were eating that burger, fucking gross." Christian's mouth flopped open at this absurdity. It was fine for the shirt to touch his entire body, but not his hands? But he said nothing. Brody went behind him and raised one arm after the other, sliding the shirt over his back before coming around to the front. Christian inhaled Brody's smell, that scent unique to him alone. He felt enveloped by it.

"Looks good," Brody said approvingly, adjusting the collar and smoothing the plackets down. The slight skin to skin touch gave Christian goosebumps. He made to fasten the buttons, but again Brody swatted his hands and began to do them himself.

"Remember to stick close tonight, okay?" He intoned quietly, his head bowed as he concentrated on his work, making his way up Christian's torso.

"Okay." Christian watched the nimble white fingers steadily go. Their foreheads were almost touching.

"One of these college slags might get you in their claws" He explained, "And I wouldn't put it beyond some horny frat Neanderthal to try and get a piece of that ass."

Christian sniggered. "I thought you wanted me to get lucky."

Brody completed the buttons, fixed the collar once more and ran both hands down Christian's front, smoothing the shirt out one final time.

"Let's get moving."

It was a short drive but would have been an extremely long walk. Beyond the stretch of hotels, condos and restaurants was a bay area and a tree-lined, upscale neighborhood. The homes were mainly two-story Spanish style with impressive porticos and lofty towers exalting into the tropical foliage surrounding them.

"Whew" Brody whistled as they cruised by a haughty three-story mansion, "These people know how to live. Bet some of these places are national landmarks."

They spotted the party by the crush of vehicles outside, and the muffled boom of music that swelled to a roar whenever a door opened. Brody parked well away to spare his truck a collision ("Some drunk idiot trying to back out"), and they went up the sidewalk together. The house was more modern and modest than its neighbors, but still staggeringly expensive given the location. People were milling around the front with red cups and beer bottles. Girls wearing sequined skin-tight dresses and tall guys bedecked in neon polos or designer v-necks with flat caps and shiny watches; they looked so much older. Christian had rarely felt more intimidated when they cast appraising glances at him and Brody, and felt the strong urge to flee to the safety of the truck. But Brody strode right on in, paying them no mind. Once inside one appreciated how well the home was insulated. It was such a confusion of sound and noise as the bass thudded and people squeezed passed each other in all directions, that Christian readily obeyed Brody's advice to stick close. He saw that guys and girls were looking their way, and the girl's eyes lingered on them both, but especially on Brody. Christian followed him like a dog and wondered at their destination, until Brody hailed Hunter through a window.

"Sup bro, get out here and play pong!"

A beerpong game was raging, and Hunter's team had lost two members. They joined in enthusiastically, Christian grateful to have something to do. A new round started with fresh beer and he acquitted himself nicely, but a flaxen-haired boy on the other team had great aim.

"Lil bro you got nothin' on Jax here," Exclaimed an older taller boy on the other team. He was fairly obnoxious and spent every other second with his tongue down his girlfriend's mouth. She was a very pretty brunette, and besides paying due attention to her hungry man, she always seemed to be scanning the room. Several times her eyes alighted on Brody. Christian lost count of the cups of lager he downed, but continued on undeterred. They kept pace with their opponents and Christian felt proud his hand-eye coordination was picking up notice as Brody and Hunter shouted with approval when he sank one. But flaxen-hair simply couldn't miss, and as the beer went down, it didn't improve Christian's aim. Alcohol had the unexpected side effect of blurred vision, apparently, but it made him very jolly and he completely forgot his anxiousness. Annoyingly, one of their opponents would make out with his girlfriend every time he scored

At some point the game was abandoned, and Christian was talking to a friendly group of seniors. Then at a dining table scooping an unknown concoction into a cup from a punchbowl. Then he was on a couch chatting with a cute girl in a pink skirt who batted false eyelashes at him. His vision was still unfocused so her face was indistinct, but her shape seemed appealing. Besides, she laughed at everything he said so readily, it occurred to Christian that booze made him wittier than normal. And though his senses were slightly dulled, the way she caressed his thigh felt very good indeed. Her long-nailed hand went closer to his crotch as if it had a mind of its own and her face, still indistinct, swayed closer to his own. Suddenly the noise swelled behind him and Christian was hauled up from the couch by the armpits.

"Wut thu ffuuuck?" He slurred, stumbling slightly as his accoster pulled him along. A pair of lips pressed to his ear roughly.

"Trust me bro, not a good idea. That slag's had half the state." Brody's words vibrated right into his eardrum making him almost weak in the knees. Confusion reigned until a plastic stick was pushed into his hand, and the lights dimmed, causing a collective squeal of excitement. The music increased its pace and everyone was dancing in a phosphorescent sea.

"Crack your glowstick!" Brody grinned at him. He complied and looked back up, but the throng had pushed Brody away from him. Christian had never danced before, but moved as it felt natural, twisting and gyrating as the music moved from around him to inside him. He let it wash him away and remove every thought and anxiety, there was nothing but the music and he worshipped it with movement. The crowd swirled so he danced alongside a succession of people, growing more enthusiastic as the music grew even louder. At one point he saw Brody dancing with a girl who curiously resembled that pretty brunette. He contemplated saying something, but found himself rubbing against something round and soft: pink skirt was before him again. Her back was to him and she was sliding like a snake over his body. He'd never felt anything like it! He ran his hands down her sides and curvy hips, then across her belly, noting through his stupefied state how yielding it was compared to Brody's. It didn't feel great but there was no denying the sensations she was causing. A large bottle was being passed around, and Christian gratefully took a gulp. It tasted like bad fruit but he reckoned it was worth it to sustain this feeling. Pink skirt took a healthy drink as well and turned around this time. Christian felt something hot and moist on his mouth, then inside his mouth. When her hand constricted down below he realized his cock was trying to burst through his zipper. The bottle rotated around the room on its axis, but before it landed pink skirt was guiding him through the crowd.

"Let's find a room!" She shouted in his ear above the music.

It took Christian some time to process the words. A room? They were already in a room. Did she mean the bathroom? He didn't have to pee. Suddenly their progress was interrupted by a garbled roar from outside. Everyone was turning and straining towards the French doors with great excitement. Christian's hand parted from hers as he joined the throng.

"Let's go bro! Let's fucking go! Come on you little fucking bitch!"

The music was turned off just before Christian heard a meaty smack followed by an "OOOhhh!" from the crowd. Some were murmuring, some shouting, some laughing. Christian finally managed to peek through a window and saw a confused jumble of motion, bodies being shoved and pulled to and fro. But even through the disorder and his own impairment, he made out Brody being restrained by Thompson and some strangers, and the obnoxious boy from the beerpong table being held back by some others. The latter was spitting with rage and had a cut on his nose.

"Touch my girl again you fucking bitch! C'MON!"

He twined round his captors and charged for Brody. At the same time one of his friends shoved Thompson away as an obstacle, and in a moment they were fighting. The older boy was raining blows down on Brody who was trying to give as good as he got, but was quickly becoming overwhelmed, and started defending his head rather than throwing punches. One slipped by his guard and his black hair went flurrying from the impact. He seemed to remember his training however and dove for the older boys legs. Grabbing him behind the knees he bulled him to the ground and began hammering down with his fists from a full mount. While this was going on, Christian was struggling to push his way past the crowd, adrenaline realigning all his senses. The older boy had struggled to his knees and was rallying back, while Thompson was involved in a struggle of his own. Without thinking at all of the consequences, Christian launched himself in a flying tackle on Brody's opponent. He wasn't heavy enough to bring him down immediately, and the larger boy reeled but stayed upright. Christian powered with his legs and completed the takedown. His left arm was pinned against Christian and his right was crushed underneath his side.

"Stop!" Christian told him

"Fuck you faggot, get off me!"

That wasn't an option, and Christian had no idea what to do now. He twisted his head to look for Brody but the scrum had increased in size and the crowd was bellowing. Suddenly he was lifted bodily off his erstwhile prisoner, who was thankfully swarmed by his friends. In the confusion he heard the word "cops" repeated endlessly and they soon saw why. Red and blue lights flickered through the house windows and shimmered around its edges. The crowd which was piling at the doors and streaming out through the sides, but Brody yanked him perpendicular to the crush, batting his way through the yard's dense shrubbery at the back. Christian followed unquestioningly and they ran through the manicured gardens of several neighboring houses, crushing untold plants underfoot and stumbling over tree roots. Brody then paused to get his bearings. They were breathing hard. In the relative darkness away from the party they felt like hunted beasts, every sense alive and keen for survival. Brody motioned and they cut left towards the street. A tall hedge formed a narrow alley with the home they were trespassing on, and Brody peeked around the edge to scan the street.

"There's my truck, let's go!"

They scampered for the vehicle illuminated under a streetlight, a beacon lighting the way for their escape. Piling in Brody started the engine and roared away as Christian craned back in his seat, watching the strobe of the cop cars fade into the night.

"What the hell was that?"

"Cops arrived to break up the party, obviously. Not surprising someone called them, given the demographics of this place."

"Not what I meant, dude."

Brody didn't look at him when he answered,

"I'll explain at home. Let me concentrate here."

Christian complied but he was fuming. That morning he'd recognized hypocrisy as being part of Brody's nature, and it was amusing then but not now. Those patronizing, I've-got-things-well-in-hand older brother lectures about do's and don'ts at a party, and what does he do? Evidently feel up some college guy's girlfriend, start a fight and get the entire night ruined. The kid who's house that was inevitably grounded for eternity and possibly arrested, along with who knows how many others for underage drinking.

"And what about us?" Christian thought, dread creeping upon him like a specter.

Sure they had fled successfully, but dozens of people had recorded the fight on their phones. If the police wanted to pursue charges there was no shortage of evidence. At the very least, their names and faces would be plastered all over tiktok. Christian began to hyperventilate as the implications washed over him. Suspension from school, charges, the fear and humiliation of deputies arriving at their front door. No scholarships, no gymnastics, his future ruined. It submerged him in a miasmic pool of terror, and made him feel sick. An imminent feeling came over him as the adrenaline subsided.

"Stop the truck" he heard himself say thickly.

"We're almost there, I said we'll talk later" Brody said impatiently

"Gonna puke, STOP THE TRUCK."

Brody pulled over on the main drag and Christian unleashed a torrent of vomit. It tasted of bad fruit and stomach acid, and the sound of it sloshing up his throat redoubled his nausea. He let loose again and again until his throat burned and sealed itself shut.

"Oooohhh God," he moaned, sitting back in his seat and weakly pulling the door closed. "Oh Jesus Christ." He fumbled for the spare water in the console and gulped it down, relieving some of the sandpaper sensation in his throat. They pulled into the condo space moments later, Brody swiftly coming around to his side and inspecting the interior leather.

"Did you get any on my truck?" He asked, aiming his phone light around suspiciously. This was just insulting now. Of all the things to be concerned about it wasn't Christian's welfare, or the people who's night he ruined, or their own decimated futures, it was a bit of vomit on daddy's gift for his spoiled, selfish son.

"No Brody," Christian croaked, willing his voice to work, "I didn't puke on your PRECIOUS FUCKING TRUCK!!"

"Whoah man, chill!" He had the audacity to be taken aback.

Christian grabbed the keys from his hand and stomped up the stairs, opening the door with a bang as it bounced off the springstop. He grabbed another water from the fridge and chugged it as Brody came up too, his hands outstretched in a "what did I do" pose.

"Well primma donna, you wanted to talk, out with it."

Christian chucked the bottle into the sink and shoved Brody as hard as he could. He tumbled backwards and landed in the bathroom.

"What was that, are you crazy?!"

"No Brody, YOU'RE fucking crazy! What are you thinking, making out with a girl you KNOW has a boyfriend?"

"Hey she was perfectly willing, in fact she came on to me!" Brody defended, rising to his feet.

"You knew she was plastered drunk, you knew she had a boyfriend, and you did NOTHING to stop her. This whole thing is your fault!"

"My fault?!" Brody's face was darkening. "I get sexually assaulted by some bimbo then physically assaulted by her dickhead of a boyfriend, and you blame ME? Even all that aside, I've no idea why you're so agitated. These things can happen at social gatherings, kid, apologies for not making that clear. Next time I'll devise an entire list of scenarios, maybe put them in a nice binder, or give you a goddamn powerpoint. Would that be sufficiently like schoolwork for your taste?"

Sarcasm marinated his tone, and Christian could only shake his head in disbelief. Was this guy incapable of accepting responsibility for anything?

"If you don't know you were wrong Brody, then you're fucking hopeless. I WILL put that aside. What I WON'T put aside is this: Yeah we escaped. But everyone filmed that fight and it's going on the internet. The school will know about it, and the principle and our parents, and THE FUCKING COPS!!"

He screamed the last three words and the mocking expression Brody wore slid off his face. He stared blankly at Christian, as still as a scarecrow.

"Yep," Christian said sarcastically, glad he was getting through yet still angry at Brody's obtuseness, "Y'think they won't be interested to see that video, especially once the kid's parents get involved? The kid's we fought AND the host's parents? They'll be very fucking interested, Brody!"

His voice grew quieter and more pleading as the fight drained out of him. Brody just stared at him open-mouthed, similarly tired-looking and bewildered.

"At LEAST we'll be suspended or expelled, man. Say goodbye to gym and wrestling too, no way they'll allow us back. Still think it's no big deal, you fuckin' warrior tough guy? Just a fun fuckin' night out?"

Tears were forming in his eyes now as hopelessness set in. Maybe he was exaggerating the danger and this would all blow over, and Brody's nonchalance would be vindicated. Perhaps his catastrophizing would be revealed as the immature mindset of a child, and Brody would laugh and have a playful dig at him weeks or months from now, about how silly his unworldly little companion was on that rip-roaring beach vacation. But Christian didn't feel like that now. He felt that Brody had just been lucky, and the luck was now washing down the drain along with the pair of them.

"I just," he choked through a sob, "Want you to fucking...just..." Tears then streamed down his face and he broke down sobbing, all his artificial fury evaporating. He drew his arms around himself and cried bitterly, a truer expression of his feelings than anything he'd uttered. Brody's dazed look lingered for a second before he tentatively approached.

"Chris?" He said softly, touching him with gentle hands to feel his response, not wanting another shove. Feeling no resistance he carefully folded the sobbing bundle into his arms. Despite his anger Christian huddled into his chest and allowed himself to be held.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I just let my emotions carry me along. That's my own stupid problem and I'm so, so sorry you got dragged into this. Whatever happens-" He momentarily released Christian to raise his chin, so he could look him in the eye, "I'm gonna do everything possible to keep you out of trouble. No matter what it is. Okay?"

Christian nodded gloomily and squinched his eyes closed, causing more tears to cascade down. Brody reembraced him, petting the back of his head and swaying in place.

"I think we should go to bed now."

Just the mention of the word "bed" sapped whatever strength Christian had left, and they tottered into the bedroom whereupon Christian stripped and eased himself into bed. Brody locked the door and reduced them to pitch blackness before undressing himself. To Christian's surprise and consternation, Brody nudged him to move over before getting into bed with him. Christian settled himself into his miniaturized space and was too tired to protest, and feeling Brody's velvety skin brush against his own, that idea fled his mind in an instant. The other boy turned on his side to face him, still invisible in the blackness.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"I never thanked you for coming to my aid. It took a lot of courage to tackle that guy. You're a really good friend."

Christian felt warmth bloom in his chest.

"You said we're gonna get through whatever happens. Can we..." He swallowed. Brody listened expectantly. "...get through it together? Be there for each other?"

He sounded so weak and needy saying it, and part of him resented himself for not being angrier. But Brody reached up and ran his fingers through Christian's hair, making him sigh in relaxation.

"I'll be here every step of the way." He paused. "If the cops come here or call us, don't say anything except we wanna talk to our parents. In fact we should call them tomorrow morning."

Christian groaned. It was almost preferable when Brody was being irresponsible.

"Ok." Just then a thought occurred to him alongside a smack of guilt for not thinking of it earlier.

"Dude, do you think the others made it out alright?"

Brody stiffened and sat upright, tensed like he was going to spring, but then fell back into bed with a defeated sigh.

"Fuck. Too late to do anything now and I'm exhausted. We'll call them too first thing."

Christian nodded in the pillow they were sharing, feeling unbelievably weary. He was fading fast.

"G'night, Brody."

"Goodnight buddy. Sleep well."

End of Chapter 5