Disclaimer: This is a FICTIONAL story describing the love triangle of a teenage boy. If you are not over 18 years of age, or if you find this type of story offensive, or viewing this material is illegal where you are, then refrain from reading it. The story consists of lust, passion, teenage romance, interracial, love and all the rest of the good stuff in that order... Prepare for sin. Tinkerbell metaphor is on account of Bogus.
Chapter 23: From Turning Point to Exclamation Point /~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~////~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~////~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~////~~~~~
They told me my best friend was dead.
They explained how he died.
They explained when he died.
I still didn't get any of it.
"We were having a party," T-Boy said, trying to withhold his emotions, "Shane and Yolanda were here. Everyone was here. Then 'she' came."
"Mercedes?" Someone had asked most likely Byron.
"Yes, Mercedes and her brothers came for Yolanda," T-Boy explained, "I guess they were trying to kidnap her. Shane and I tried to stop them from taking her. A gun they had went off by accident Shane died."
Shane was dead. Mercedes and her brothers had still kidnapped Yolanda.
The cops were looking for Yolanda actively. There were news teams around my house. T-Boy said it was an accident, but the only one I could blame was Mercedes. Shane was dead
T-Boy had explained it the following day as we all gathered at Shane's old house. His grandmother was there and so was his mother. They were all crowded around listening to a preacher give words to ease their grievances. Truthfully there was no way to sooth this kind of lost. I found myself avoiding my old friends. I tried to stay completely clear of Sampson, Byron and T-Boy. I also tried to stay away from Lamont. Everyone wanted to talk about what had happened. Yet, no one could explain exactly what had happened. No one could explain why Shane had to die. "You should all look at this as a time as rejoicing," the preacher said, "Rejoice because Shane is in a better place " Fucking lies. I used to believe that. But, how did he know? If he believed in this faith of a better place then why didn't he kill himself? If it were 'his' best friend being carried off to a morgue, he would be so upset. The preacher continued, "We must come together to give strength to those who survived Shane." The preacher spoke stupidity. Shane had no one to take after him. The rest of us were all useless wastes. Sampson, Byron, T-Boy, Big Rob and even I were just nothing really. Shane was the basketball player. He had gotten the scholarships. Shane had his future written in blood. All he had to do was carry on. His mother turned to me, "Syn, we lost Shane, didn't we? Did we really lose him?" She had never spoken to me before. I had seen her a couple of times, but there never was a reason for us to really speak to one another. Now that she did speak, it felt like she wanted answers. They were answers that I could not give her. I wasn't the one to offer that helpful hand. I wasn't very optimistic about the whole death thing. I was more realistic now. It happened oh well I shook my head, "He's gone. He can't get more lost then that " She broke down into more tears and I felt bad for having to tell her, but the preacher would have beat around the bush forever. Shane was gone. As far as the whole better place thing went I didn't believe in it anymore. I believed he had died and he'd suffered till his last moment. I believed that his existence was erased and the only trace of Shane left was in the memory that we carried of him. Shane's mother was leaning into me for a hug. I backed off. I couldn't do it. I couldn't. I turned around the room to see Sampson and Byron. Sampson was crying hard in his hands and Byron was over him rubbing his back. T-Boy was on the other side of the room explaining the story to more people. He'd explained what happened a thousand times. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Medusa. She had tears filling her eyes as well. She was dressed in all black like this was the funeral already. She was crying even as she talked. The house was full of mourners. The house was full of such sorrow. Medusa started by saying, "I I don't know what I can say " "Don't say anything then," I replied. I went home after that. I couldn't take the sorrow. It was making me depressed. It seemed like each tear I heard caused my stomach to be hollowed in a little more. I kept feeling my own tears forming at weird times and I felt so horrible to show them. I felt as though since everyone else was crying, I had to be that rock. I had to be that person to set an example of strength and persistence. The truth was Brunswick was doomed. Shane was the only hope for Brunswick. Shane was the perfect person. He was a straight, tall and handsome man. He was tender and humble. Shane was not prejudice against anyone (he had gay best friends). He was ideal. He was brave. He was popular. He was the All-American boy. He was our only hope of redemption. Now we would burn in our sins. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I walked the streets thinking about everything and trying not to break down. I knew it was coming soon. I couldn't help it. Everyone else around me was breaking down. It seemed like I should have too. I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn't contain so much passion. My front lawn was crowded with reporters. Every news station from NBC to ABC to WB and UPN had come to get the scoop on the story. A couple of the attention-loving kids were there. I saw Monica and Erica posing in front of a camera telling their tragic story about what happened at the party that weekend. It seemed like they were trying to win an Oscar for best dramatic role. "Sir!" "Hey Sir!" "No comment," I said, trying my best to get past the cameras and into the house. The house was empty which was great for me. It seemed like every one had become so overwhelmed with this. I needed an empty house though. I needed time to think about how things were. There was no more Shane. Yolanda was missing. Trash had definitely gotten her ultimate revenge and I doubted even she wanted to go this far with it. This was such a horrible thing. I knew how horrible it was and that was why I didn't really sit around the rest of the mourners. They didn't understand exactly how horrible this was. To them, this was just sad. To me, this was horrible. Life would never be the same without Shane, just because Trash wanted to get her petty payback. The phone started to ring in the house. I could hear it and I really didn't want to even pick it up. I managed however to cross into the dining room and get the nearest line. I did it lazily. These were among the worst days of my life. I definitely needed to soak them in. <What?> I didn't care who it was. I seriously wouldn't have made it a formal greeting if it were the president on the phone. I just wasn't in the fucking mood. <Syn? Hi!> It was Nicole. Her squeaky voice had a bit of panic in it. It seemed as though she had just heard the news about what happened. She was so fucking late. For someone who had the scoop about everything, it seemed like she was out of the loop on this one. <What do you want?> <Oh dear God! I want to express my deepest sympathies > I hung up the phone. It was so fucking hard. I couldn't hear any more sympathies. I couldn't hear any more people saying that they felt sorry for me. What the fuck was I going through? I was alive. It was Shane who was dead. All these sympathies seemed like ways to make me want it to have been me who had died instead of Shane. I would have given my life in a second to replace Shane. He could have given Brunswick something to hope for. I was just giving Brunswick something to talk about. Then again, fuck Brunswick. Shane was the only good thing that came out of the fucking place. Everything else was shitty, like me. There was knocking on the door. I had told the fucking reporters to stop knocking on the door but I guess they didn't hear it the first time. I was in the worst mood at this point. I didn't want anyone to speak to me. I didn't want anyone to even be heard by me. The knocking was getting on my nerves. I couldn't take it. I crossed the room with hell in my eyes. I was carrying with me all my anger. I was angry, depressed and sad. I had so many emotions that I didn't know how to define them. To summarize them all, I was on edge. I opened the door. "Didn't I tell you fucking assholes not to knock on the fucking door!" I shouted. I realized that I was screaming in Lamont's face. He gave a slight smile, "I'd love to have actually seen the face of the person you meant to be talking to." I raised my eyebrow, "Well, love doesn't live here anymore." I stood there, waiting. I didn't want to deal with anyone. That included Lamont. He was standing here, looking neater then usual. He was dressed in dark colors as well. I wondered if we had gone back to Halloween or something. It seemed like it. Everyone was dressed like Goths. "Can I come in?" I just noticed that I was still waiting and had forgotten to allow him in. I silently fell back a little so he could walk past and when he did I saw a ton of flashes from the cameras outside. I shut the door immediately. "I got these for you," he told me. Lamont showed me this bouquet of flowers that he had hidden behind his back. There was a large amount. I tried to smile at them. They were beautiful. I just didn't see the reason to smile anymore. My soul was screaming and it seemed like no one was even listening. "Why?" I asked, a little withdrawn. I didn't really care about flowers "Well, they are really for the Shane's family," Lamont explained, "But I figured you could give it to them. Actually, this one is for you." He pulled out a single flower and gave it to me. It was a regular carnation. I guess it was a sweet thing. He smiled as he gave it to me. He probably thought he was making me feel a lot better. Truth was it was just a flower. I never got the whole craft behind flowers. I had my mind thinking about my best friend being dead and the best gift he could think about is a flower? Maybe I was a little messed up but my emotion was turned up to high. I turned around to see Lamont in a different light. His clothes seemed different. He wasn't really gothic. I could see that he was actually a bit nicer then he usually dressed. He had on blue jeans and a black sweater over it. It was a nice brand name sweater. He actually had his ears pierced, which must have been new. He was dressed decently and that was a step up from his normal K-Mart Express outfits. I had to admit that Lamont was looking really, really sexy. "Have a seat. You look different." I couldn't sound to ecstatic about it. I wasn't too cheerful about anything. My mood was in a definite deep trance where everything seemed black and white. He went to go sit in the living room while I put the flowers in a big vase that was already in the kitchen. I heard his voice from in the living room, "Well, you know. I figured I'd make you feel better and take your advice. I tried to dress better. This is my best imitation of a Syn outfit." I thought about smiling. He had actually come close to making me smile. It was nice to know that he had tried to dress nicely on purpose and actually tried to dress like me. I definitely didn't wear that many sweaters though, but the fact that he was casual but appealing did seem to relate to my own personal clothing choice. "Thanks," I muttered, joining him in the living room, "I thought you would be a total asshole to me after what happened on the mountain." The whole "kissing" issue was what I meant. Straight guys had this extreme hate for anything that was gay. They would be friends with a gay guy, but they didn't expect the gay guy to have gay behavior. I guess they figured gay guys were asexual or something. "Yeah," he hesitantly said, "Truthfully, I was kind of second guessing our friendship, but when this happened, I figured I didn't care. This made the whole gay kissing issue look small " I caught that feeling in my chest again. It was that tough feeling like you wanted to cry or you wanted to pound your fist in a wall. I just wanted to get something out of my mind. I kept it in though, hoping that Lamont would leave soon so I could let it all out. This just wasn't fair. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did Shane have to be the one to die? Of all the people that could have gotten 'accidentally' shot, why did it have to be Shane? I dreadfully muttered, "We were up there worrying about that, while Shane was dying " It seemed like nothing had a point. He paused as though wanting that moment to pass. He probably still found it disgusting that I suggested he practice how to kiss girls on me. I guess I had been stupid or just been real horny from seeing Byron go at it with Sampson during the entire trip. I wish I had been here, with Shane, instead of up there. "Is your cousin Yolanda still missing?" Lamont asked. I nodded, "The cops are searching for her and Mercedes now. There aren't any leads though." "Well," Lamont said in a clich‚d tone, "All we have to do is believe in blessings." "I don't believe in blessings." I rolled my eyes at the entire idea. I hoped Yolanda would be found. I really did hope, but if they did find her I wasn't going to blame it on a blessing. There was only luck to me. God didn't have the time to bless everyone and he probably got annoyed that so many people kept asking. "Syn, you have to believe in it sometimes," he said, more in a commanding tone then a convincing kind of tone. "I can't," I explained, "When I was 7 years old, ABC aired Peter Pan. It was a weird show. It had dumb little hopes and dreams all in it that put children's expectations too high. That was the last straw for me." Lamont look real interested, "Why?" "Tinkerbell drank poison in Peter Pan," I continued, "I guess it was to save his life. I don't really remember. Either way, they said that all we had to do is believe Tinkerbell would get better and clap our hands. I didn't want her to get better. I didn't clap my hands. You know what happened?" I bet he did know, but he still asked, "What?" "Tinkerbell got better anyway," I explained, crossing my arms, "It just proved to me that believing in blessings was a waste of time. Whatever happens with Yolanda just happens." I sounded pessimistic, but I guess it was because the only things that came to my mind were negative things. I couldn't understand how there were so many levels to this mess and it was just really beginning. There were so many ways of looking at all of this. This wasn't just a turning point in my life; this was a fucking exclamation point. There was a knock on the door. Nighttime had come around and I knew that meant that most of the reporters were probably done doing interviews and what not. If they weren't done then they just took their job too seriously. It was like a double tragedy and the whole entire neighborhood was letting out one big sigh. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I opened the door to immediate drama. T-Boy was the first to come in. He was crying. I kind of expected him to be sad, but I didn't expect him to cry like he was. He and Shane never really got along since Shane had helped Sampson with those love letters that one time. I figured maybe it was worse for T-Boy because he was actually there when it happened. Byron and Sampson came in after T-Boy. Sampson looked like he had been crying. His eyes were bloodshot red and he was kind of in the same pressures that I was in. His mood just seemed to be set to an extreme. Byron looked sad, for all it was worth, but he didn't seem as excessively as Sampson and T-Boy did. Byron seemed more like I should have been. He had a sort of silent thing going on. Byron knew Shane when the three of us used to hang out, but out of the group (excluding Lamont), he knew Shane the least. "So what are we going to do?" Byron asked, almost like some kind of official announcer as they joined Lamont and I in the living room. I got up. I wanted to go upstairs, but I didn't just yet. I wanted to know what they were going to talk about first. I went to the cabinet that Byron kept all his liquor. I needed something to ease my emotions. I took out the bottle of brandy and put it in a shot glass. Fuck the coke, I was drinking it straight up. T-Boy looked a little subjugated, "What can we do?" "Well Yolanda is missing," Byron noted, "so we have to do something. The cops aren't helping. We have to think of something. Shit, anything would be better then what the cops are doing." He was right. The cops were trash. If we left it up to them to find Mercedes then she would basically be haunting me forever. I took a heated shot of the brandy and swallowed it down. It burned my throat. I blamed this all on Mercedes. This was all because of Trash. "We got to be calm," T-Boy said, crying again as he said it, "Lets deal with Shane first. We should raise money for his funeral." God. It sounded hard hearing it. Shane was having a funeral. I looked across the room at T-Boy. He seemed to be openly shedding the most tears. It must have been hard for him to see Shane being killed. It seemed to have shaken his nerves and tested his courage. He seemed so defeated. Sampson was real quiet the entire time. Byron was holding his hand in a kind of comforting way. Sampson didn't look comforted though. He looked like he had a lot on his mind. He wasn't crying but his eyes were redder then T-Boy's eyes were. "I want to make sure Yolanda is safe, first," Byron argued. He continued to care about Yolanda. He had been soft on her since the day she came into the house and he continued to do so. "You know what I want?" I finally spoke, taking my second shot of Brandy before I spoke. It was hitting really quickly. It usually took more brandy to upset me, but I was getting tipsy because it seemed like my emotions were already affecting me. Byron noticed me, "What is that?" "I want to get my hands on that BITCH Mercedes!" I shouted violently, "I want to get her ass back! I want her fucking dead!" The tears had come! Shit, I knew once they came, there was no way to control them. I was cursing and leaning forward. Suddenly I fell forward and ended up on my knees. My hands buckled under me and I was on the floor. I was crying on my hands and knees. Everyone was looking at me as though completely shocked. No one probably expected for me to be the one crying like this. They all looked at me as though wondering what the world had come to. Everything was changing. Everything had become opposite. "You'll have everything you want," Sampson solemnly promised, "I swear I will get her. I made the mistake of trusting her one time, but now it's on." He kneeled next to me and let me cry on his shoulder. I did cry on it. I remembered the Sampson that usually let me hug into him and just let out my emotions. That Sampson was back as he stroked my back. He didn't judge me or break down with me. He seemed like a rock. He blamed Mercedes just as much as I did. "Sampson, don't encourage him," T-Boy finally said, "We need our heads straight. We can't be talking reckless at a time like now." "You got the nerve to call us reckless!" Sampson yelled at T-Boy, "We leave you here for a week and we come back to have Shane dead!" "You blaming this on me?" T-Boy asked, in a very low and very, very serious tone. "Everyone shut up," Byron explained, "We are off topic. First we need to help Yolanda." "Fuck Yolanda!" Sampson suddenly shouted, "She got herself into this mess. She was the one who taped Mercedes. Let her deal with her own issues. Shane was the only innocent victim last weekend." He was right. He had probably taken the words right out of my mouth. Byron looked a little surprised that his precious Sampson was screaming at him and holding me while he did it. Sampson seemed to be defending my entire belief system as he held me close. He wasn't just supporting my mental state, but he seemed to be speaking my words as well. It sounded exactly like something I would have said. "So what, we going to leave her!" T-Boy yelled back. I thought about it. T-Boy and Sampson were known for getting into heated arguments. This was a route we definitely wanted to avoid at any cost. "Mercedes is principle," Sampson said to T-Boy, "First she tries to hit you with a car. Then she gets her brothers to chase Syn through the woods. Then Mercedes kidnaps Yolanda. Then she kills Shane!" T-Boy shook his head, "It was by accident. She didn't just aim at him and shoot." "She still did it! She kidnapped Yolanda too. Why you protecting her?" Sampson was pissed off. T-Boy looked to me like he just wanted all of this to end. Part of me felt that way. The issue of Mercedes had gone on for too long. I just wanted her out of my life. However, I couldn't have that. I agreed with Sampson in this matter. Mercedes needed to get what was coming to her. Sampson wasn't like this. It bothered me. Sampson was the nice, forgiving type. I would more have expected T-Boy to be this angry. Everything had changed. I was here being emotional. T-Boy was being weak. Sampson was angry. It was almost as though everything had gone haywire. "I'm not. I just think our priority is in locating Yolanda!" "Who is going to find me!" I hissed, getting up away from Sampson and finding myself falling onto Lamont. I was lost. My attitude had changed. Who was going to find me? We needed to find ourselves before we found Yolanda. We weren't like we were supposed to be. "Syn, you're drunk," Lamont said, probably smelling the brandy on me. I ignored him. He never talked and now that he was talking that was all that he could say. Sure I was drunk. I was also sad and pissed off. Why didn't he say all of that? I dizzily took the bottle of Brandy and struggled to stand up straight. I dipped the whole bottle in my mouth and looked around the room. It was spinning. Byron, T-Boy, Sampson and Lamont were there. Fuck them though. They were weak just like me. Fuck me. None of us could save Shane ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Somebody take the bottle away from him," I drowsily heard Byron say. "I may be tipsy, but I hear you talking," I replied, "Why don't you try to take my fucking bottle away buddy!" Lamont took a few steps towards me as though I didn't see him. I don't remember how he came at me, but I remember spitting a mouthful of brandy at him before he came close. He backed up and I didn't have to spit anymore, so I guess he didn't try to come try to take my brandy away again. I looked around. The brandy tasted disgusting. I needed something sweeter and stronger. I needed some of that blue Hypnotiq drink. "He needs to get over his pain," Sampson defended me, "Let him have it, just for tonight. He'll wear himself out. What we need to do is plan a way to get Mercedes." "No!" T-Boy shouted back, "You can't just let him get drunk!" "I'm not letting him do anything!" Sampson cried, "He's old enough to decide. He's in pain. His best friend just died. Mercedes " "Stop talking about her," T-Boy replied, "I can't stand it." "Baby, Tommy is right," Byron agreed. Shit, it looked like Sampson was getting ganged up on and he was losing this little battle. I took that as my cue to leave before they really tried to turn their efforts towards me. I found myself slipping down the stairs and having to fight off another one of Lamont's attempts to take my bottle away from me. I think I bit him or something. Truthfully I don't care or remember. I remember crawling up the stairs so that I wouldn't lose my balance again. T-Boy, Sampson and Byron were still talking, while Lamont looked like he was just out of place even being in the room with people who knew Shane so well. I stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at him. "Stop lookin' a' meh," I slurred and cursed, "Bitch! Go learn how to kiss gals!" Lamont begged me, "Syn, come downstairs. I just want to help you." "Fuck you! I'll hurt a' you, I swear!" I was the smallest one in the room, but I knew I could put up a good fight. I also knew that if in the case Lamont chose to fight, that T-Boy, Sampson and Byron would probably kick his geeky ass. Lamont looked hurt for a moment and then he probably left the house. I wasn't sure, but I knew he wasn't at the bottom of the stairs anymore. I grunted at my victory. If only Shane was around to see me. Shane I started to cry again. I couldn't help it. I went to my room. I was crying so much. I looked at my hands and cried into them. I don't remember where I put the bottle of brandy. I guess it was gone. I guess I must have dropped it or maybe somehow Lamont did take it from me. I had no idea. All I knew was that I was long drunk and I was crying. I couldn't stop crying either. Where was I when my best friend needed me? I was in the mountains trying to get Lamont to kiss me and trying to get Sampson to notice me. I felt as though I betrayed him. "Syn hey ok? " I turned to see that it was Sampson. I couldn't make out all of his words. They were drowned in my heavy and emotional cries. I guess it must have been an hour later. It seemed like it by the way he was just coming in the room. He said some other things too. I hated him seeing me like this. I had to make him leave. I had to scare him away. I remember ripping a drawer out of my dresser. I flung it across the room, so that it smashed in the mirror. I slapped everything from the dresser off. I threw the dresser hard on the floor and started to stomp holes in the back of it. "Shane!" I shouted. It was all I could think about. I don't know where I got the matches from, but all of a sudden I was trying to strike a match. Ever try to strike a match while you were drunk? It's some hard stuff. It was all that mattered at the moment, but hell, I gave up because it was an impossible fete. I felt Sampson come over to me and grappled onto me. He held me tightly in a bear hug and I struggled to let go. I was going to paint the room with my anger. He was annoying. "Syn, calm down!" "Get the fuck off of me!" One of my hands somehow got free. I punched him hard in his face. At least I thought I did. I really didn't know how strong I was in this state of mind. Sampson didn't budge though. He put my hand back in his hug and his grip got even stronger. I felt restrained completely. I realized that I wasn't the only one crying. Sampson was crying now too. It didn't take much and he cried silently but still a lot of tears came down. "I don't want you to see me like this," I finally muttered, "I am so weak. I can't take all of this anymore. I can't let you see me look like this." "Shh," he hushed me, "You've never been so beautiful to me..." He said some other shit that I basically ignored. I couldn't help it. His arms were getting less restrictive and more comforting. They were soft and I rested my head on his shoulders. He continued, "I've never knew you had so much humanity left " After that I just started to ignore him. The world seemed to almost fade away. The liquor had completely overwhelmed me. The emotion had completely taken control of me. I had tried to fight all those feelings off, but they came and I couldn't help it. Shane was dead, ya'll. It was hard, but it was the truth. There would be no more advice. There would be no more confidence in knowing Shane would back me up no matter what stupid shit I put him in. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~ I didn't dream that night. I couldn't. How could I dream knowing that Shane couldn't dream anymore? He was at the end of his line and he was so young. I knew his family would be getting ready to bury him soon. I just couldn't handle any of this. My mind was overwhelmed. I wished I had never gone on the fucking trip to the mountain. It was near worthless anyway. I woke up drowsily. My head rang. It felt like I had just been hit in the head with a brick. My entire body hurt. My sheets felt wet underneath me as though I had been sweating all night. I turned my head. My bed felt heavy. My body felt loose as though I was naked. I had to be naked. I didn't even have to look under the sheets to know that. How had I gotten naked? I didn't remember undressing to go to sleep last night. Honestly, I didn't even remember going to sleep the night before. As I turned around I saw Sampson! He was lying close to me. He was lying too close to me on the bed. One of his arms was on my shoulder. The other arm was on my bottom thigh. I couldn't believe this shit! What the fuck had gone on last night! I pulled the covers up to peer underneath them and see if it really was as bad as it looked. It was! Sampson was naked and so was I. It wasn't his arm that was on my thigh! It was his enormous dick! "Sampson!" I said, pushing him. Truthfully, I didn't mind the dick being on my thigh and I damn sure wasn't going to move it. Shit! No wonder my body hurt. I felt a mix of so many things. I was excited, angry and surprised. Why were we both naked? He grunted a little. He woke up steadily, pulling the comforters away from his shirtless torso. He definitely looked like he had been working out since the last time I saw his chest. He was really built now. He made my chest look like I was a little kid. "Syn. Syn? Syn!" he said looking kind of surprised. He looked at me and then probably felt that his skin was sticky from sweat. Then he did just like I did and peered underneath the sheets. The look on his face was priceless. He was shocked. He slowly picked his python of a dick off of my thigh as though kind of embarrassed about it. "What happened last night?" I asked, letting out a little laugh. It was embarrassing, but it was also kind of funny. I mean; it was the first time something like this happened. I never really got so drunk that I couldn't remember what happened. He panicked, "God I remember, you were drunk. You came upstairs. I followed you upstairs to see if you were ok." "Yeah, I remember that part," \I explained, "I remember I was drinking. You didn't drink though. Why come you don't remember anything." "I did drink," he said. I looked over and saw the bottle of brandy. It was on the bed. I picked it up and turned it over. It was completely empty. No wonder my head was hurting so much. I laughed a little, but Sampson just stared as though not believing it. He looked a little worried. "Wow we must of tore this shit up last night." "Yeah," he said, still trying hard to remember, "I recall you were crying and panicking. I calmed you down and you started to say some things to me." "Like what?" I asked. I couldn't control what I said when I was sober. Can you imagine what I would say if I was drunk? "You were saying how you loved me and all that," Sampson explained, "It was real emotional. I know now it was from the liquor, but I guess last night with all the emotion, I believed it." It disappointed me that he thought it was the liquor that was speaking. I guess the old saying was right. When you were drunk, you spoke the truth. Sampson really didn't seem to believe it though. He seemed like what happened yesterday was a mistake. "Oh " I said, trying not to sound disappointed, "What did you say back?" "I don't remember," he explained, "I drank the rest of the brandy and then I remember you leaned in to kiss me. After that I don't remember anything." I looked at him weirdly. Shit. With all the emotion that had come from last night, it seemed really weird that this happened. I would have expected me getting drunk and breaking a few more things. I didn't expect me getting drunk and having a drunken fling with Sampson. This was unexpected. I wished I remembered. "You think " I said, getting so nervous I felt like Lamont, "You think we went all the way?" "Yeah, I'm kind of sure we did," he shyly admitted. "How you know? I thought you were drunk too." "Um look at this " He lifted up the sheets. I must have missed it all when I looked under the sheets the first time, but I couldn't see how. We had made an absolute mess underneath all of the sheets! I did kind of realize that I didn't have a lot of tension in my body, but I thought that was just because of a good night's sleep. Sperm stains were everywhere. The sheets were wet, but with both sperm and sweat. There was sperm all over my stomach. There was sperm on the sheets. I quickly flashed a look over at Sampson. He had sperm on his stomach as well. He had it all over the tip of his dick. We'd clearly both had an orgasm more that one time. Shit it seemed like he had 5 or 6 each! The sperm stains were everywhere. "Geez!" was the only thing that I could say. I fought desperately not to have a hard-on, by the look of it all. It was really difficult to do since Sampson kept the sheets up for a while. I pulled at them and he got the idea to drop the sheets and hide all the evidence of what happened last night. "Yeah I know," he said with a monotone, "Do you um do you have any " "What?" I didn't understand what he was trying to say and he was taking a while to say it. Shit, I knew we were both nervous though. This had to win some kind of award in my life for awkward moments. "You know. You got any cum in your " I knew what he was talking about. My right hand swung around my backside and made my way to my ass. I lifted a leg to get access to the hole and find out. I didn't even have too. My ass hurt. That was enough evidence. Still, I felt around. There was definitely his sperm everywhere around my ass. It was on my asscheeks and in my asshole. It was a complete mess. I should have been panicking, but I didn't. I was unusually calm. I nodded, "A lot of it." He looked really, really nervous as he sat up, "I'm so so sorry! Shit, I didn't know what was going on, I swear. I guess I was too drunk to even use a condom." I guess I was too drunk to use one too. My ass felt like a train had run through it. The lingering feeling was bearable though. Shit my dick was definitely hard now, knowing that Sampson had fucked me last night. "Its ok," I calmed him down, "I trust you." I knew he was clean. Now if it were a guy like Byron who had did it, I would have been panicking. Sampson definitely didn't have any disease and I knew that for sure. Even though he'd been messing with Byron, I was sure he was always protected. Sampson was just that type of guy. Besides, there was nothing I could do about it anyway. He looked complemented, "Thanks, I trust you too. Still all this is horrible " "Yeah, I guess so," I agreed, "We both were drunk though. I don't think Byron should even know about this." He paused. I guess he was really thinking about his boyfriend now. I knew he regretted what happened between us a little. Still, I knew he had to have been a little content that we got all that sexual tension we had between us out. Even if we got out the sexual tension through a night of drunken, sloppy, unprotected sex. Sampson continued to look heartrending, "It isn't all about Byron. He's a big part, though. This is horrible because I don't want to complicate things. You know what I mean?" "Right," I said, "Shane's death is hard enough." "Exactly," he explained, "What I really meant though is that things between us were already complicated enough. Lets just admit it. There has been a lot of, what's the word? There's been a lot of enticement floating between us since the first day we met." Hell. He was right. Even back then I was attracted to him. I guess he was admitting to being attracted to me in the past as well. I thought, "Yeah, but maybe its just another of Shane's attempts to bring us back together again." I laughed. "Maybe " he replied. It was weird. I had been joking, but when he agreed I felt as though it made sense. Shane wanted Sampson and I to be together when he was alive and now that he was dead, it seemed like Sampson and I were being pressed back together on account of drinking to our bereavement. "So what happens now?" I asked, a little weary. He looked down at the messy sheets, "I don't know, but I know this complicated things a lot more." He was right. My desires for him had definitely increased. I didn't know why, but all of a sudden Sampson looked like some kind of beautiful piece of delicacy that needed to be worshipped forever. I understood his hesitance, "I guess I know what you mean. When something terrible happens, people usually strive to get back to that state of normalcy. It is understandable." He smiled, "Exactly. I don't know what to make of all this. Maybe Shane is trying to put us together or maybe it was just drunken sex. Either way, I think we should try to decipher what happened, later though, when we aren't so moody." We had come to our decision and done it without hurting any feelings. We agreed to ignore what happened because we were all too moody to really understand it. I kind of did want to come back to this at some point and see if we really should give 'us' a shot, but it had to be when we were thinking clearly. Now I was just too emotional. I wasn't sure if what I wanted now was the best thing for me. I did kind of feel disappointed about Sampson suggesting we not take what happened too seriously, but I did completely understand his train of thought. ~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`///~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~///~~~~~~~~~ I left the room ten minutes before Sampson came downstairs. We figured we would do it like that so no one got suspicious. After a while, we both ended up walking into the kitchen at the same time. He flashed me a little smile that was just an innocent friendliness. I gave a half smile back. "You are looking a lot better," Byron said as I sat down at the breakfast table. "You have no idea " He wouldn't either. Byron leaned over and gave Sampson a kiss as Sampson sat next to him. The whole idea of it all was making me kind of excited. I knew cheating was wrong, but the fact that it had happened the way it did had brightened up my day a little. It brightened up my day because I thought maybe Shane's spirit must have really been trying to make me feel better. It was because of him that I was so sad and I drank. It was because of him that I had sex with Sampson the night before. "Where were you last night?" Byron asked his boyfriend, "I went to sleep without you and when I woke up and you weren't there." Sampson looked a little nervous as he lied, "I slept on the couch down here. I didn't want to disturb you." "You can never disturb me baby." Byron leaned over and the two kissed each other. Sampson stopped the kiss and gave me a look. He probably didn't want to make me feel jealous or anything. I didn't feel it though. I was envious, but I wasn't really jealous. There definitely was a big difference between the two. T-Boy walked in the room at that moment. He was the only one who looked the same as the day before. He was wearing the same clothes. His hair wasn't brushed or anything. His eyes were red and he just looked real rough. "You look like shit boy," I commented, not wanting to lie to him. "The phone was ringing all night," T-Boy explained, "Didn't anyone hear it?" Byron cut in at that moment, "Well Sampson was right here in the living room right?" T-Boy shook his head, "No he wasn't." Byron and T-Boy both stared at Sampson at that moment. I thought quickly. Sampson's face was stiff like he didn't know what to say. He sort of shrugged and smiled like a dummy. "Don't complain, T-Boy," I suddenly cut in to bring the attention off of Sampson, "Who was it that was calling anyway?" T-Boy shook his head as though remembering how annoying the calls were, "Oh god, Medusa called twice to speak to you. Big Rob and Erica called for me. Some lady named Lopen no, it was Lopez. She called trying to speak to Byron." I thought about it, "Dr. Lopez?" "Oh yeah. She said she was a doctor." I sighed loudly and Byron quickly cut in, "I forgot to tell you guys. Dr. Lopez wants all four of us to come in and talk to her about Shane's death. She said it will be some kind of group therapy kind of thing." "That sounds decent, if she's not some fake ass shrink," Sampson agreed. "Shit, who is paying for it?" T-Boy asked, quickly like price was going to be the reason if he went or not. "Its free. She made it complementary," Byron tried to convince us, "I think Dr. Lopez can help us try to accept Shane's death a little more." I sighed loudly again, "Fuck all that." "Syn, you should consider it," Byron explained, "I don't know what happened between Dr. Lopez and you, but you may need some guidance. You know she's good for it. Shane is the third person you lost this year." He was right. My parents had died during the summer. I didn't want to talk to Dr. Lopez about my parent's death and I definitely didn't want to talk to the bitch about my best friend's death. Byron only trusted her because she had her little mind trick dug up into him already. He was like her little puppet now. "Can you stop acting like my fucking father?" I snapped, trying to sound polite but not really giving a fuck how he took it. Byron rolled his eyes, "You must really be feeling better " "Anyway," I stated turning away from him and back to T-Boy, "Who else called?" "Some more reporters called. The priest from yesterday called," T-Boy explained and then he raised his finger, "Lamont called. Syn, I seriously don't know why you still talk to that loser " T-Boy still thought Lamont was a loser. It was kind of weird to me that Lamont still was shy around all my friends. He didn't talk when he was around them. He still seemed completely frightened of them. "He's not a loser," Sampson protected him, probably just to start something else with T-Boy, "Just because you don't understand the kid, that doesn't make him a loser." "He is a loser," I correct Sampson, "But he's still my friend, so lets drop it. T-Boy, who else called?" T-Boy shot a harsh stare at Sampson, "There's one last person. Mother called. 10 times." "Damn for real?" Sampson asked, panicking a little. "No, for fake," T-Boy sarcastically answered, "She said to remind you to come over in the morning and drive her to Shane's house to give his family her sympathies." "Shit! I'm late. You had to save me for last, huh?" T-Boy laughed at Sampson's irritated stare. The tension between them was hilarious. Even though we were all grieving, they found a way to make it a personal thing between the two. Sampson quickly got up, gave Byron a quick kiss and the rest of us a wave before running out of the front door. Byron continued to talk to me about why I should give Dr. Lopez's little appointment a second thought. I really didn't feel like even seeing her again. Dr. Lopez saw her patients as trophies that she had to win. We weren't even human to her. She was a good psychiatrist. I didn't doubt that, but the fact that she had tried to make me look crazy was still upsetting me after all this time. There was a knocking at the door. Everyone looked at me. "I'm not getting it," I said, folding my arms, "I am the one who lost his best friend. You guys should be helping me out." I was dead serious too. I wasn't trying to use Shane's death as a crutch, but it really was. I was finally at a point where I was returning to my real attitude. My mood was fragile right now and I knew it wouldn't take a lot to swing it. I didn't need to be dealing with any police or reporters (if those were the people at the door) early in the morning trying to get the story for the 100th time. T-Boy got up and went to the door. Byron looked at me as soon as T-Boy left and I knew exactly what he was going to say as he stared at me with this hopeful look. "I'm not going to see Dr. Lopez," I explained, "Fuck all that." Byron put his hands in the air as though giving up on me. I didn't give a fuck. I could get over Shane's death on my own. I didn't need Dr. Lopez to help tell me how I needed to let go of Shane and shit. I knew what the fuck I needed to do. I needed to find Mercedes and her brothers to beat them till they begged for their cowardly lives. That was the only way that I could get over Shane being dead. T-Boy walked back in the room and sat in his chair, "You guys, Sampson acting weird as hell. I can't deal with this shit right now " Sampson walked quietly into the room. He kind of strutted into the room actually like we should all pay attention to him. He stared at T-Boy as though confused that T-Boy had been just excusing him. T-Boy looked a little tired from not sleeping last night and just being moody about Shane's death. I didn't blame him. Byron quickly added, "Did you change?" I realized that Sampson was dressed different. His attire was more sophisticated. It was expensive. He had this Armani button-down shirt on and these sort of casual khakis. Then I realized his watch. It was the most expensive looking thing that I'd ever seen. This definitely wasn't fucking Sampson. "You're not Sampson!" I said. "Syn, what are you talking about?" Byron asked. T-Boy laughed, "It's the brandy still talking." "That isn't Sampson, dumb ass," I got pissed at T-Boy as I examined the boy in front of us. It definitely wasn't Sampson. He was too sophisticated. Sampson was the leaned back type of guy. "I'm not Sampson," the boy suddenly said, breaking us up and then turned to me, "You you again. You are the one who cursed me out at that diner party. I should have expected." T-Boy seemed to be catching on. His eyes filled with horror, "Holden?" He probably got that idea because I'd installed it in his mind that Holden was still alive. For a moment I hoped it was true so I could say, "I told you so." But no, Holden was really dead. The boy shook his head, "Damn haha wrong again. I know who 'you' are though, Tommy." "Who are you?" "His name is Zion," I explained to Byron and T-Boy, "He is Sampson and Holden's third brother."