Volume Seven.

I looked out the window too, but I looked for something different. I was looking for stability. I was looking for clarity, an answer, maybe. My eyes were fixed on the rotting brown leaves in hope that they might have found some understanding of what was going on. I didn’t find what I was looking for either.

Just when I was formulating what I was going to say next Trent got up.

“Where are you-“

“I just want to step outside.”

I followed him out my front door, which again, was in my bedroom. Another benefit of my room was that just outside the front door I had a huge patio that was covered and perfect for hanging out on a nice day. He still looked out into the distance as he took a seat like he didn’t want to engage my question; hard to blame him. I honestly didn’t want to ask it again either.

He looked so handsome. He had on a black tank top which he most likely threw on after he ran for track practice. It, of course, was very tight and showed off his arms very well. He had very nice arms. Tanned, toned, yet they were still lean, long, and appealing to the eye. The top fit him so snug that every twitch in his body was completely visible through it. He had on a loose pair of running shorts and the view from where I was sitting on the patio furniture gave me a fantastic view up his shorts. I couldn’t see his jock strap (or possible lack thereof), but I still got a nice rare view of his upper thigh.

Ah and how could forget his hair. Of course he had gotten sweaty and it looked as if he had held a bottle of water over his head at some point during his run, because his hair looked very damp. It gave him a rather sympathetic look. He smelt of sweat also. I hate smelly guys in most cases, but I couldn’t get enough of him when he smelt sweaty. Maybe it was because I found him appealing so my mind told me to like the smell, but I found it simply arousing. I just wanted to run my nose up and down every crevice of his from.

Strange thing to think about isn’t it?

As I was still admiring him he spoke after what seemed like forever. I honestly forgot the exact nature of the question until he had finished his answer.

“I don’t know why I did it. I’m honestly afraid to even be saying this to you, but I guess I did it because I wanted to. At first I thought I did it, because I wanted to thank you for being there for me, but I don’t think that was why. I’ve questioned my sexuality once before when I was young, but I never told anyone and I have since been very strictly straight. So, this is confusing for me and it scares me. I do know one thing. It means a lot to me that you were there for me and…”

…What?”

He stared away slowly and plopped his eyes down into his fingers to push back what appeared to be tears.

“…it means a lot to know that you have someone who cares about you so much. I’m sorry I’m acting like such a wimp. It’s been a shitty week. I'm so sick of everything.”

I had never seen him like this. After he lost his mother Trent had become a very different person. He was so passionate, yet it scared me somewhat. I remained wary of his words and his actions.

“Damon…I care about you too…but I don’t know what to do. I can’t just be gay with you no matter how much you care about me. I don’t even know what to say about my attraction to other dudes. Do you know what people would do if they found out either of us even had the slightest interest in each other? I am not doing that.”

“I know.” I said quickly as it seemed he wasn’t finished.

“So, as of right now, we are just friends, and neither one of us will breathe a word about any of this to anyone else.”

I didn’t like the sound of that idea, but I gave him the answer he wanted.

“Sounds like an idea.”

For the rest of the afternoon we played games, listened to music, ate junk food, and talked about all the memories we had made. For a while, it felt like old times, but then he started talking about his mom.

“I’ve felt like shit this whole week. It feels like a completely different house without her. I don’t even think it’s fair to call it home anymore. Dad has done nothing but yell and when he isn’t yelling he won’t speak. He won’t speak to anyone, especially me.”

“You can stay here anytime you want to, dude. Anytime you’d like.”

“You know makes me sick more than anything else?”

I didn’t dare ask.

“The last thing I ever said to her was “bye.” It wasn’t even one of those good heartfelt ones either.”


“Trent, don’t do this to yourself anymore. None of this is your fault. There was nothing you could have done.”

He kept going.

“It was one of those goodbyes you say with your head down as you get ready to open the front door. The last thing I heard her say was “don’t forget to feed the dogs when you get home.””

“…I’m sorry, Trent. I'm here for you if you need anything. I love you, and you don't have to beat yourself up anymore.”

I leaned across the couch and put my hand around him, but he still remained pissed at the world and kept getting angry at nothing and pointing and yelling at nothing.

“I didn’t even remember to feed those fucking dogs either.”

At that point his eyes were wet once again. That seemed like a completely different person to the friend I had grown up with. The Trent I knew was always light hearted and would make jokes with you no matter how awkward or depressing a situation was. He was always fun to be around and never ever had “bad moods.”

That was a different Trent; A Trent that had been locked away for a long time.

I decided to go to bed before the matter got any worse, and so did he. He slept on the couch. This was the norm as all of my friends remained on the couch during the night. This was truly for my benefit as I was always afraid to share a bed with some of my friends. I always had a fear that in my sleep I would have put my arm around one of them and cuddled up with them in their sleep. So I made sure there was a couch in my room. That is the last thing I needed to happen on this night.

I fell asleep thinking about everything that had happened, but after a while all I could focus on was Trent. It was like that most night. I thought of his body, his smile, his smell, his laugh, the way he tousled his hair, and his eyes. I especially thought of his eyes as I drifted into my dream.

It was the dream I usually had about him; my very favorite.

It was amazing. Deep into REM I had everything I wanted. He was on top of me. He ran his fingers up and down the side of my body ever so slowly as I felt his lips touch my neck. I turned my head in pleasurable response and nuzzled it up against his palm as I felt one of his hands caress my jaw and neck. With his other hand he ran his fingers through my hair and rested it on the back of my head.

It was a dream I had had many times over. I felt a pain this time though. It seemed unexplainable, this pain. This was different. I felt it in my right leg.

“Owww…” I said, in the dream or maybe aloud. I wasn’t sure. I felt startled and more alert and aware, but it still felt like a dream.

But what I realized next was so unexpected that I almost jumped out of my bed in surprise. I was not, at the time, sure what my hands were touching, until I heard a voice whisper back.

“Are you okay?”

It was my dream…except it wasn’t.

“Trent?”

“Did I hurt your leg?”

I moved my hands slightly. As I did I felt the sides of his body. Lean and fit. He didn’t have his shirt on. I was not about to say anything that might have made him leave my bed so I said I was fine in a stuttering reply and then I pulled him back down towards me in utter, giddy, excitement to finally fulfill my “wildest dreams.” I was not thinking. Thinking would have ruined that, asking questions would have ended what was happening. So for the first time ever I just did, instead of think.

I couldn't see a thing, but I think that made it even more exciting. The pleasures of darkness make your other senses more alert, and that they did. The darkness made it so easy to let loose.

The 2nd time around I participated too now that I realized that I was not, in fact, dreaming.

I ran my hands all across his back as he finally found my lips. His lips were sensuous. I had never observed his ability to kiss, but it was the hottest, most passionate, thing that had ever happened to me in my entire life. I had never wanted something more than to meet lips with him and I finally had him, and he had me. As my hands continued to fondle his upper torso his remained on my neck and behind my head. It was tragically sweet. The whole time our feet were filtering in utter excitement of the experience we were sharing.

He kept his shorts on, but as he began to settle down I worked up the courage to cop a feel of his butt and I didn’t regret it. I gave it a light squeeze threw his shorts as he persisted to continue kissing me; it was barely a squeeze really. I couldn't work up enough courage to really "dig in."

All the while we had to deal with one another’s boners rubbing against each other. I really rarely focused on that. I mean I was more interested in everything else. Did I want to take his pants off? Yes, but at that point I was enjoying the passionate physical expression of his feelings for me and mine of him. It meant more to me than fucking and I wasn’t going to ruin that for us.
As the night wore on things cooled down instead of heating up, but really I think that was how it was supposed to end on that night. Trent, at one point, had laid his head down on the right side of my body, but continued to kiss my neck until he fell asleep. I was so happy. I remember never wanting that moment to end.

It was everything I had ever wanted, him.

But, as he drifted to sleep the questions left unanswered, the questions I had tried not to think about began to fill my head and no amount of cuddling was going to make them go away…


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