Somebody

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Somebody, part one By Butters2020

Archie, age 14

We were fourteen, Jonathan and I, and best friends. I'd been nervousing for two days, ever since I decided to tell him. No one else knew, but you don't keep secrets from your best friend, and this was a Secret with a capital S. If I could trust anyone, I could trust him. He and his family had been in Anderson visiting his grandparents. I'd made up my mind to tell him when he came home. To make sure I didn't chicken out I texted him, asking him to come over as soon as he got home. "It's important."

"U OK?" he texted back.

"Just need 2 talk," I replied. I was committed now.

Now we were on my old swing set, each of us on our own swing. "I can't believe our legs didn't use to touch the ground," he said. He swayed back and forth, bumping into me.

"Yeah," I said. I wiped sweat off my face. I was regretting this. I knew I could trust him but why tell him now? Why not wait? Till we were thirty or forty? What's the rush?

He stopped swaying and looked at me. "Archie, you look like you're going to puke. What's up?" He suddenly looked worried. "Are you moving?"

I forced myself to look at him. "I'm gay."

He raised one eyebrow, something I couldn't do, and held out his hand in a "go on" kind of way. When I didn't say anything else, he said, "And?"

"What do you mean, 'and'? Isn't that enough? I'm gay."

"No shit."

"What do you mean, 'no shit'? I'm sharing my deepest secret with you."

"Okay. Now I'll share my deepest secret with you: Fire is hot. Oh, and water is wet."

I looked away from him and tried to wrap my brain around what he was saying. "You knew?"

"Dude. Last year you ranted for an hour that Tiger Beat should start publishing again because their website isn't nearly as good as the magazine was. You DVR RuPaul's Drag Race. Yes, Archie, I knew."

"Do other people know?" My voice squeaked.

"I don't think other people know what shows you record, so unless you go on and on about Tiger Beat to other people, I don't think so. But I didn't think it was a secret between you and me. I mean Tiger Beat? Really?"

I think I blushed. "Well, there is no comparison. The magazine was great and the website---"

"You covered all of that last year. The point is, it didn't matter to me that you were gay when I thought you came out over a year ago and it still doesn't matter to me now. Just don't try to cop a feel on me or anything."

Which was the only downside to the conversation. Because that's exactly what I've wanted to do forever. Instead, I said, "You wish. But you're not my type."

Archie, age 16

For six months Jonathan was the only one who knew. Others may have suspected. Apparently I wasn't as clever as I thought I'd been about keeping my secret. But when I saw that he meant it, that it made no difference to him, I decided fuck it. On my fifteenth birthday I came out everywhere: Home, school, hell I told the cashier at McDonald's and all she said was, "Do you want fries with that?"

Now here I am, sixteen years old, the only out kid in school. I'm a fucking hero. Yay me. For all the good it's done me, I may as well have stayed in the closet. I've never had a boyfriend. Never been laid. Unless you count my mom, grandma and aunt, I haven't even been kissed. All this stuff I keep hearing about how promiscuous gays are is bullshit. I'm still a freaking virgin.

But even after all this time there's really only one person I want to be with, and he's 100% straight.

Jonathan, age 16

Some people assume that because Archie and me are best friends that I'm gay, too. I don't get mad when they think that, but I'm 100% straight. I read that "all" boys have gay thoughts during puberty or whatever and it's not uncommon to mess around. Not me. Never even thought about it. I almost wish I had. Sometimes I think Archie has a little thing for me. If we'd fooled around when we were eleven or twelve maybe he could have got me out of his system. He's not a bad looking guy. He'd have no trouble finding somebody. There's no way he's the only gay kid at school. He's just the only one brave enough to say so. But damn, where are the closet cases? Can't someone on the downlow hit on him?

We used to hang out all the time but ever since I started dating Margie, me and Archie haven't been hanging out as much as we used to. I don't think he hangs with anyone now. It doesn't seem to bother him, but it bothers me. I don't think he's going to go psycho and shoot up the school or anything but I don't like thinking of him all alone on Friday and Saturday nights. At least once a month I make it a point to go to the movies or Chi-Chi's with him. Margie used to make comments about that. "Who's your girlfriend, him or me? What are you guys really doing when you hang out together?"

I don't play that shit though. I love her and I told her that, but I also told her that I loved Archie and he's been my bro for a lot longer than she's been my girl and if she tried to make me choose between the two of them she wouldn't like the outcome. She worked up a snit for a couple days till she saw I meant it. And hell, her best friend is Kim Trainor and I don't pitch a fit whenever they get their nails done together or whatever the hell girls do.

I just thought of something. If there is someone at school who's in the closet, and If he did have a thing going with Archie, he wouldn't want anyone to know. He would swear Archie to secrecy. Archie wouldn't tell anyone, not even me, right? So maybe I'm worrying about him for nothing. Maybe he's getting more head than I am.

Still, I thought there were no secrets between us.

Sean, age 14

I read somewhere that people who are serious don't cut across their wrist but make a cut down their arm toward their wrist. That doesn't make sense. You could completely miss the artery going lengthwise, but going across, you're guaranteed to slice it. Just more proof that most of what you read online isn't true.

And razor blades. It's impossible to find old fashioned razor blades. Even normal razor blades are locked up behind a glass case. Thank you very much, shoplifters. The paring knife from the kitchen is barely sharp enough to peel apples but the knife Dad uses for cleaning fish is super sharp. I grabbed it on my way to my room.

I don't know how long ago that was. I'd been sitting here, holding it, making up my mind? My mind was made up. Working up the nerve? I wasn't afraid.

I was just so tired. Now that I was in my room I didn't have the energy to raise the arm holding the knife.

Until Mom knocked on the door. That seemed to wake me from whatever trance I was in. "Sean?" The doorknob jiggled. "Open the door. My phone has been ringing non-stop all day. First Sister Bernadette, then somebody I don't even know, the parents of some boy, then Father Michael telling me you're suspended and probably expelled. Are you listening to me?" the doorknob jiggled again. "Sean open this door!"

The knife didn't feel so heavy anymore.

Archie, age 16

I'm tired of everyone telling me to get a life. That's not how they put it, but that's what they mean. I have a life, it's just boring, okay? Except for the one night a month I hang out with Jonathan, I mostly to stay home, is that such a crime?

Jonathan: "You'll never meet somebody if you never go anywhere." I've already met somebody and he's perfect for me, but he's not into guys. Why do I want to meet anyone else? And just where does he think I should go to meet them? When I came out, some teacher started a gay/straight alliance at school. Except for me, the GAY/straight alliance is full of nothing but straight allies, all of them girls. I'm the only gay and the only boy. So there's not even any chance of there being any closet cases there. Most everyone is supportive and cool with me being out, but supportive and cool doesn't equal "wanting to hang out with." It's not like I'm staying home because I'm turning down a bunch of invitations. And anyway, I've already met somebody, but he's dating Margie Hamill.

Dad: "For God's sake, Archie, you're going to grow up to be one of those crazy cat ladies. Get out of the house! Go do something!" Uh, I'm going to grow up to be one of those crazy cat MEN, Dad. I'm gay, I'm not a woman. How many times do we have to go through this? He's trying, though. He really is. I cut him some slack. He didn't disown me or throw me out when I told him I was gay. Jonathan was with me when I came out to my parents. He could see how badly I was nervousing. He didn't say anything. Didn't even sit with me. He was on the other side of the room. But he was there if I needed him. I know he's into Margie but I wonder if he might be bi. If I ask him and the answer is yes, then my life would be a fairy tale happily ever after. But if he says no, it will make things major uncomfortable between us. If he's bi, he'll tell me. There are no secrets between us.

Mom: "Are you agoraphobic? Do you need to see somebody? You never leave the house."

"I leave the house, Mom." She just doesn't know it.

"Going to school doesn't count."

"I hang out with Jonathan."

"One day a month. I worry about you, Archie."

I know. Everybody fucking worries about me, and I wish they wouldn't. I'm fine. But I'm tired of everyone telling me to get a life, so I asked Mom if I could borrow her car. She was thrilled. She knew I didn't have plans with Jonathan. "Yes! Where are you going? Who are you going with?"

"Out with friends," I said. She didn't ask for details which was good because I didn't have any details to give her. I took the keys off the hook in the kitchen.

I went to the drive-thru at Frank N' Stein and got a couple hotdogs and a soda and then drove to Jonathan's house. I parked three houses down. It wasn't the first time I'd done this but it was the first time I'd asked mom if I could take her care. He and Margie were on a date, I don't know where or doing what. I ate the franks and fries in the car while I watched his house. Part of me felt like I was on a stakeout. Part of me felt like a stalker. Most of me felt pathetic.

I was still sitting there three hours later. The soda was long gone. I'd gotten out of the car an hour ago to piss by the side of the road, hoping none of the neighbors noticed and called the cops. Hoping even more that Jonathan wouldn't come home while I was standing there peeing. I was in the front seat when he turned the corner onto the street just after one in the morning.

His parents' cars were in the garage. He parked on the street, got out and walked to the front door. I waited until he let himself in then started the engine and drove home to try to jack off. Lately it's been hard to do even that. I may be the youngest person in the world that needs those boner pills.

Jonathan, age 16

The Key Club is sponsoring a talent show at school. Our friends Corey and Mark are in it. They're doing an act where Corey pretends to be a ventriloquist and Mark sits on his knee and pretends he's the dummy. It's pretty funny. Me and Archie and Margie are going to the show together. They've both been nagging me to enter it. I play the guitar but I can't sing for shit. I'm too nervous to play in front of a big crowd of people, so they can just keep nagging.

Some of the acts completely suck. They should have had some kind of audition process instead of just letting anyone perform who wanted to. At least they alternated the sucky acts and the good acts. Corey and Mark were hilarious. After them was this chick who did a monolog or something. It gave me cramps listening to her.

Then this senior came out and sat at the piano and started playing a song I never heard of. I looked at the program. "Somebody" by Depeche Mode. I'd never heard of it before. His voice was--- what's the word? Plaintive. Or maybe wistful. But he could really sing: I want somebody to share Share the rest of my life Share my innermost thoughts Know my intimate details Someone who'll stand by my side And give me support And in return She'll get my support She will listen to me When I want to speak About the world we live in And life in general Though my views may be wrong They may even be perverted She'll hear me out And won't easily be converted To my way of thinking In fact, she'll often disagree But at the end of it all She will understand me Ahhhh, I want somebody who cares For me passionately With every thought And with every breath Someone who'll help me see things In a different light All the things I detest I will almost like I don't want to be tied To anyone's strings I'm carefully trying to stay clear Of those things But when I'm asleep I want somebody Who will put their arms around me And kiss me tenderly Though things like this Make me sick In a case like this I'll get away with it.

There was more, but I didn't hear it. There are some people you're just linked to. Archie and me are like that. I felt it more than I heard it. I looked at Archie who was sitting on my left. He was crying. Not loud but tears were pouring out of his eyes like water from a faucet and his face was all crumpled up.

"Hey," I whispered. "You okay?" Which was a stupid question since he obviously was the complete opposite of okay. It was as if he hadn't heard me. I put my hand on his arm. "Archie?" He turned to look at me and just like that he stopped crying, like somebody flipped a switch. But it was like he wasn't looking at me. He was facing me, but not seeing me. Like he was in a coma or something.

"Archie!" I said, no longer whispering. I took a firmer grip of his arm and shook him but it was as if I wasn't there. "You're scaring me, man. What's wrong?" People turned to look at us. Archie was like a rag doll. The kid on the other side of him got up and left, as scared as I was.

On my other side, Margie said, "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," I said.

Then a teacher was there, leaning over him. "Young man? Can you get up?" She tried to help him out of his chair but he wasn't there. Wherever he was, I wished he'd come back.

Sean, age 14

"Therapy works best if you're honest," Richard said.

"You already know everything," I said. I ran my right hand over the bandage on my left wrist. Then switched and ran my left hand over the bandage on my right wrist. Richard sat behind his desk. I sat in a yellow chair in front of it. I thought when people see shrinks they were supposed to lie on a couch.

Richard said, "I know you tried to hurt yourself. I know what your mother said. I know what the nun and priest at your school said. I'd like to know what you have to say."

I thought back to that day. I'd been on my way to lunch when Jordan said, "Come with me to the cloakroom." He didn't tell me why but it didn't matter. All that mattered was Jordan noticed me. Every time I looked at Jordan it gave me fluttery feelings in my tummy. And other places. I knew what the feelings meant. They were wrong. But I liked them. I'd only been playing with myself for a couple months and when I did I thought about Jordan. The thoughts were vague. But they were about him. So, when he said, "Come with me to the cloakroom," I didn't ask why, I just followed him to the cloakroom.

When we got there he closed the door behind us. He said, "Three months ago you were a little squirt, but now you're almost as tall as me." Not that he was all that tall.

"I guess," I said.

"Anything else happen in those three months?"

"Like what?" I felt those flutters in my tummy and other places.

"I don't know. Like have you grown any dick hair? You didn't have any before."

My face felt hot. "How do you know?"

"Cuz I looked. In the bathroom. Just like you look at me. You think I don't notice? You never noticed me looking back?"

I didn't answer.

"So. You got any dick hair yet?"

The flutters had turned into a boner. I shyly nodded my head.

"Show me."

"What if Sister Marguerite comes in?"

"She's in the lunchroom. Come on, let me see. I'll show you mine." He undid his belt and dropped his pants and pulled down his underwear. He had a boner too. And lots of hair. "Your turn," he said. He grabbed his boner and played with it.

I copied his actions, and my boner, not as big as his, but bigger than it had been a few months ago, was on display. My new pubes crowned my erection.

"Nice," he said. He reached out and grabbed it, making me gasp. "Do me," he said. I didn't need to be told twice.

We were masturbating each other when the door opened and Sister Bernadette walked in. She screamed, we screamed, we all screamed, but not for ice cream. Jordan said, "He made me do it! It was his idea! He's homosexual!"

Sister Bernadette grabbed us both by the ear and dragged us out of the cloakroom and down the hall to Father Michael's office, not even letting us put our dicks away first.

Jordan lied about whose idea it was but he was right about me being a homosexual. And now everyone knew.

Richard said, "Sean? You with me, Buddy?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said.

"What is it you don't want to talk about?"

I rubbed the bandages on my wrists.

Archie, age 16

"Therapy works best if you're honest," Richard said.

"I don't believe in secrets," I said.

He smiled. "That's good. 'No secrets' is one of our mottos."

"Does that work both ways? The honesty and no secrets? You won't bullshit me?"

He nodded. "Both ways."

His desk had a six inch wooden tray on it with two big white cubes side by side on it. Each cube had a big black number on it, like they were dice. Right now, the cubes were laid out to say 19 but tomorrow you could change them to say 20. The base of the tray had the month on it. It was Richard's desk calendar. The talent show was the 18h. What happened to yesterday?

I said, "What happened to me?"

He said, "What's the last thing you remember?"

I folded my arms in front of me. "What happened to 'no bullshit'?"

He smiled. "Let's take turns. You had a dissociative episode. What's the last thing you remember?"

"What does that mean?"

He smiled again and shook his head. "Your turn."

"I think I'm going to call you Dick instead of Richard."

"Only if I can call you Archibald instead of Archie. What's the last thing you remember? This works best if you're honest."

I didn't like this guy. I said, "I was at the talent show." Richard didn't say anything. We sat there in silence for over three minutes like we were having a staring contest. He knew there was more. I sighed. "And this guy sang a song about me and Jonathan."

"Who's Jonathan?"

"You asked me what was the last thing I remembered and I told you. Then I woke up here and yesterday was gone and so was my cell phone. Where is it?"

Jonathan, age 16

Archie hasn't answered any of my texts. I even called him and I never call people, but it went to voicemail. His mom says he's okay but I want to hear that from him. Why isn't he answering me? Is he still in that coma thing he was in at school?

But a couple hours later I got a text from him saying he was home but couldn't leave the house. I replied, asking if I could come over. The little bubbles were on my phone for nearly three minutes. I thought he was typing a book but when the answer finally came all it said was "yes."

Twenty minutes later we were in his room. His mom made him leave the door open. I said, "is she afraid we're going to make out?" He didn't laugh.

"She's afraid I'm going to check out again, even with the pills I'm on."

"What's wrong with you?"

"You're Somebody. And I'm nobody."

"What the hell are you talking about? You're not nobody."

"But I'm not Somebody."

He wasn't making any sense but I didn't want to upset him. I figured the pills, whatever they were, were fucking with his head. I tried to make him feel better. "Okay, but I'm not somebody either."

He didn't check out again but he looked miserable.

I said, "You're doing better, right? I mean they didn't keep you at the hospital."

He said, "You're really not Somebody?"

I had no clue what he was talking about. "I don't think so."

"I'm really tired," he said. He got into bed, still fully dressed and turned his back to me. He pulled the covers over him. I left the door open when I left.

Sean, age 14.

I'd had two sessions with just me and Richard. He wants me to start going to group therapy too. I don't know what that can do that our one-on-one meetings can't. I told him I'd think about it. He seemed to think "I'll think about it" means "sign me up to start next week." But if that means getting out of here sooner, I guess I'll do it, not that I really have a choice.

Jonathan, age 16

I was having an excellent dream. I mean Excellent. If I'd been allowed to finish it, it might have needed some Kleenex, If you know what I mean. But I wasn't allowed to finish it. Mom woke me up, shaking my arm. When I was awake enough to know where I was and who was shaking me I was also awake enough to realize my cock was hard as shit and I only had a sheet over me. I lifted my knees to cover the bone.

She held the landline out to me. "Archie's mom is on the phone. She's really upset." That finished waking me up.

I took the phone from her. "Hey, Mrs. Moore."

She was crying. "Jonathan, Archie isn't answering his phone. Will you ask him to call me?"

"Umm He's not here."

"You don't need to cover for him. He's going to be so mad at me, but I put one of those tracker apps on his phone and it says he's at your house. Please put him on the phone."

"I promise, Mrs. Moore, he's not here. I was asleep when you called."

She started crying harder. "But it says he's at your house!"

Mom was standing by my bed. My boner had wilted but I was still wearing just my boxers. I waved her out of the room. "Let me get dressed and I'll see if he's outside. I'll call you back in two minutes, I swear." I hung up and got dressed. Mom was in the hall. I told her what was going on. She followed me outside. At first we didn't see anything. I sent Archie a text. DUDE WHERE U AT? UR MOM IS FREAKING OUT AND SO AM I. I hit send and Mom said, "There!"

I looked where she was pointing. Three doors down was Mrs. Moore's Camry. I jogged over to it. Archie was behind the wheel but he was also someplace else. I opened the door. "Arch?" No response. I grabbed his arm and shook him. "Archie?" It was the talent show all over again.

Mom said, "should I call 911?"

I said, "No, I'm calling his mom."

When they got there, Mr. and Mrs. Moore got him out of the car and drove him away, back to the Heritage Hospital. I had the feeling he wouldn't be coming home after getting a bottle of pills this time.

Sean, age 14

There were five other people sitting in the circle. One of them was Richard so that was okay, but I didn't know the other four, two boys and two girls. They were all older than me. I still didn't know what group was supposed to do that the one-on-one sessions couldn't do better. I saw one of the boys looking at me and I looked away, toward the floor and rubbed the bandages on my wrist.

Richard said, "Hello. Welcome to the Cardinal Group. Each group is named after another bird. It helps me keep things straight with my recordkeeping. I'm here to facilitate the group, but I'm not in charge. This is your group, not mine. But I do want to establish some ground rules. This works best when we're honest. No lies. No secrets. But no coercion. You're free to pass. No self-harm, either here, or outside of group."

He kept listing things we weren't supposed to do. He'd said he wasn't in charge but it didn't sound that way to me. I looked up from the floor to check out the other people. The boy who'd been looking at me before was looking at my wrists now. I tried to hide the bandages on them, which was stupid. No secrets. Soon everyone would know why I had them.

Richard finally finished his list of rules. "Let's start with a check-in. Who are you, why are you here, and how are you feeling?" I thought he'd call on someone, but nope. Richard likes to "let the silence work." I hate that.

The guy next to me said, "I'm Bryce. I cut myself. I feel like this is bullshit."

"I hope you're wrong," Richard said. "But we'll find out together."

The chick next to him said her name was Sparkle but no way is that her name. But if that's what she wants to be called, fine with me. She sure didn't look sparkly. She's here because she o.d.'ed on her mom's Ambien when her boyfriend dumped her. Then Sheila said she's a sex addict and she feels ugly and Bryce said maybe not all addictions were bad and after group he and her could get together and talk about it, and Richard reminded him about the no enabling rule.

That just left the guy who'd been looking at me earlier. He was a couple years older than me and if I'd seen him on the street instead of the loony bin I would have definitely looked twice or even three times. He wore a ballcap but front ways instead of with the bill facing the back of his head. His eyebrows were raised like he was expecting to be surprised, but you got the feeling he was also waiting to be disappointed. It was down to him and me and we were having a staring contest. I was about to speak when he said, "I'm Archie. I'm gay. I check out sometimes. I forget what the real name is called. I'm nervousing really bad right now." Bryce snorted and repeated "nervousing" and Richard repeated the Judgement-free zone rule. Archie's eyebrows lowered into a scowl and he gave Bryce a dirty look.

I was shocked that Archie would just come right out and say he was gay. Is that why he was here? Everyone was looking at me now. I said, "I'm Sean." I held out my wrists for everyone to see. "I tried to hurt myself. I'm glad I'm not the only one who's nervous. Nervousing." I smiled at Archie but he was still scowling at Bryce who was still perving on Sheila. The Cardinals were off to a great start.

Archie, age 16

Richard gave us homework. We each had to think about why we were feeling what we were feeling and bring that to our individual sessions. Dumb. So, Sheila has to work on why she feels ugly? Cuz she's stupid. I'm gay and I can see she's hot as fuck. Bryce has to work on why he thinks this is bullshit? Cuz he's an asshole? Or cuz he's right and it's bullshit? I haven't decided yet. Maybe he's an asshole AND he's right.

I have to work on why I'm nervousing to be around a bunch of psychos? Cuz they're a bunch of psychos, okay? Homework complete. Can I go home now?

Of course, it wasn't that easy. I won't go into the hour I spent with Richard. I'll just say I failed homework, though He didn't put it that way.

I'm here for thirty days but of course I don't have my own room. I have a roommate. Well. I HAD a roommate. Bryce and me were assigned to room 222 but it turns out he has a problem rooming with a gay guy. First he raised a stink with me about it. Oh, I'm sorry, Bryce, let me turn straight for you. Oh, sorry, I can't. So then he raised a stink with Richard. Then he raised a stink with someone else. I don't know who. But when I came back from lunch he was gone. I have a feeling we'll be talking about it at group tomorrow. I can't wait.

God, I want to go home.

My new roommate is that Sean kid. I don't know what they told him but he must think I'm going to burst into flames or something. He won't stop looking at me. When I look at him he averts his eyes and pretends he wasn't staring. I already pissed off my first roommate. I don't want to get a rep as being the guy no one wants to bunk with so I don't call him out. I pretend I don't notice. But I end up snapping at him anyway.

"Are you really gay?" He asked me the fifth time I caught him looking. So, it wasn't that he thought I was going to burst into flames, he thought I was going to burst our flaming.

"Jesus, I promise I'm not going to rape you in your sleep."

He turned red and looked away for the sixth or seventh time. "I know! I didn't mean...I'm sorry." He really did sound sorry, so now I felt like a jerk. He said, "I just never knew any gay kids before. And you said it like it was no big deal. Like it was easy to say."

I didn't know any gay kids either. I'd heard of gaydar but if I had it, it wasn't fully developed. Still, something about the way he said what he said made me wonder. I said, "I've had practice. And time to get used to saying it. It wasn't always easy."

He nodded.

"You're Sean, right?"

Another nod.

"How old are you, Sean?"

"Fourteen."

"I was your age the first time I said it. I thought I was saying it to Somebody, but I just said it to my best friend." He looked confused. "It was the scariest thing I ever said. But I picked the right person to say it to." He rubbed the bandages on his wrist. "If I'd picked the wrong person, I don't know what I would have done." He nodded a third time.

He said, "Your parents didn't get mad? Or try to get you fixed?"

"My dad was . . . disappointed I think. And he gets confused about what being gay means sometimes. But he's trying his best. But no, he wasn't really mad. Mom was always cool."

"But what about hell?"

I rolled my eyes. "I thought that's what this place was."

I remembered what it was like to be fourteen and I know what it's like to be horny, but Jesus, the damn bathroom is down the hall. If Sean needs to rub one out that bad, go into the stall and do it there. I sneak a look at my watch. It's 1:35 in the morning. I was asleep when he started. I should give him a break. Why go down the hall if your roomie is asleep?

It was the squeaking of the bed that woke me up. I don't bother peeking through my eyelashes or anything like that. If he wanted privacy he shouldn't be doing it in the room. He's in bed, on his back with his pajamas down to his knees. It's kind of cute. Who even wears pajamas?

His bed is on the other side of the room. Even though it's the middle of the night, the room isn't in total darkness. There are built-in nightlights in two of the walls that shed enough light that I can clearly see Sean fisting his dick. Except for internet videos it's the first time I've ever seen another hard cock. He's paying as much attention to his tiny patch of pubes as he is to his dick and I get the idea that they're still new.

He spits on his palm and keeps jacking off. He's cut, with a plum shaped head. The way he touches himself, almost tentative, I don't know if he's trying to be careful because someone else is in the room, or if the pubes aren't the only thing new. Maybe jacking off itself is still fairly new. It seems every time he touches his cock it brings a new pleasure he's never experienced. His whole body shudders. I'm jealous of him. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed playing with myself that much.

I'm getting hard watching him but if I join in he'll know he's being watched and I don't want to embarrass him. Actually, I don't want him to stop, and I'm afraid that's what would happen. So, I just lie there with my hard on, watching him stroking his cock which is a pretty good size for his age. Even though I have a halfway decent view, I wish the lights were on. He's not Jonathan but I've never been this close to another naked boy, let alone another boy jacking off. Part of me feels horny but part of me feels sad, knowing what I've been missing out on all this time.

Sean makes a noise and I can tell from the way his body is reacting that he's cumming but there's not enough light to see how much. Hell, he might still be shooting blanks for all I can tell. It would make clean up afterward easier. But no, I see him scoop something up and lick his fingers. Then he pulls up his pajama bottoms and pulls up the sheet.

I still can't rub one out or he'll know I was watching. Just one more thing to endure in this hellhole.