Three Tears

Chapter 19

by David Heulfryn

When James woke he felt Tom's warm breath on his face. During the night they had fidgeted until they were close together and when turning over would occasionally knock against each other. Opening his eyes, he looked at Tom who still slept.

James had slept quite well on the beach. The temperature did cool down but it never became cold. His urge to go to the toilet had woken him before the others and he carefully stood up and made his way into the forest.

After relieving himself he made a detour to the waterhole to quench his thirst with some fresh water. On his way back to the beach he saw something strange in the water. As he emerged from the trees he could see the beach was strewn with suitcases and bags which had washed ashore.

James dashed across the sand and began to drag the cases out of the water and pile them up on the beach. As he retrieved the ones closest to the beach, he waded further in the water and began to drag those that bobbed among the small waves.

The splashing of James in the water and thuds of the wet cases as they hit the dry sand slowly woke some of the others. As they saw James in the water and the cases they jumped up to help him, their shouting ensured that everyone else was also woken. The mass of teenager crowded around the pile of cases, rummaging through and tossing away those that didn't belong to them. James was joined in the water by Tom and a couple of other boys as they got the last few cases which had started to drift away from the shore with the tide.

Everyone was concerned that their case wouldn't be among them, but all their cases were found and the morning was spent going through them, pulling out the clothes and laying them on the sane to dry. Some were fortunate to have solid and airtight cases; they just pulled out a change of clothes and went to get changed in the only hut that they had managed to build the previous day.

Everything in James' and Tom's cases was soaked. So, along with most everyone else, they hung their damp clothes to dry.

The second day on the island proved to be as strenuous as the first. A group of girls were on food and water duty, cooking the lunch and fetching plenty of water back from the waterhole for the others to drink. The boys, and a few girls, had organised themselves and were busy erecting the two remaining huts. Henry and his little clique kept out of people's way. He was happy with his hut and saw no reason to help build the others. He drank the water which the girls fetched and tucked into their hot rice and vegetables which they cooked over the fire.

Belching in satisfaction, Henry told his mates, "Come on guys. It's time we explored this place."

The four boys dropped their bowls on the sand, expecting the girls to pick up and wash them, and walked out into the forest, followed by a cameraman. James heaved a sigh as they left, the group worked much better together without him undermining them and calling out what they should do and laughing when things didn't always come together.

It took them nearly all day to finish off the two huts and build a small sheltered area for a fire and the stove. They all seemed quite pleased and proud of what they had achieved as they gulped the last of the water.

"Dinner will still be about an hour." Sophie told the group. "But I've sent some of the others to fetch more water; some of you look like you need it."

"Thanks, we do." Charlie said.

James and Tom had collapsed on the sand, sweat poured from the foreheads and out from every pore in their body. Their damp and clammy skin collected sand which scrapped as they moved. Tom suggested they have a swim to let the salty water soak the sweat from their bodies. Charlie heard and soon most people scrambled to their clothes to find their swimming costumes.

It was very polite and modest as the boys and girls split off into separate huts to change. Both Tom and James were quick and were one of the first into the water. They raced each other out to the ocean. Tom being more experienced raced ahead and stopped to nonchalantly tread water as he watched James fight the waves, his head going under and choking on the water.

They were the furthest ones out and Tom stayed were he was as James swam to him. He was panting.

"Don't know how you managed it. Every time I put my head up to breath the bloody waves came over me and I got a lungful."

"Practice and breath control." Tom smiled.

James struggled to tread water as he gulped air into his lungs. Tom talked him through the technique and soon he was brushing his arms and legs as evenly as Tom, his breathing slowing down to its usual rhythm.

"Ya know," Tom said, "this is the first time I feel that I can actually talk to you without being overheard."

"Great, isn't it? But knackering."

"I know, but worth it. We're not going to have any time together if the past few days are anything to go by. Someone will always be with us and if we do manage to get away then no doubt one of those cameras will follow."

Tom flicked his legs and got closer to James. He stopped beating his arms for a moment and let his hand brush against James.

"I was hoping we'd have more time together." Tom began to sink and pushed away from James to continue treading water.

"I know, there's still time. Tomorrow we should have all the time we want, there's nothing left to build, we've got food and water so what is there for us to do."

Tom smiled. "Good thinking."

"I say we do what Henry's done today and say we're going exploring." James began to sink and gulped a big lung full of air. "Now if you don't mind, this is just about killing me and if we don't go back now then I'm going to drown."

James began to swim back to shore. Tom called out after him. "I'll be right behind you."

He swam behind James all the way back to the beach in case he started to struggle; he'd done his life saving classes and was hoping that he would not need to use them.

Sophie and Katie greeted them as they came up the beach. "You're a bloody good swimmer." Sophie said to Tom.

"Thanks, it's the training."

"What about me?" James smiled at the girls.

"You think yourself lucky you didn't drown." Katie laughed.

"Go and get yourselves cleaned up, dinner should be done soon."

"Ta." Tom said. "We'll just take a walk to get a drink. It should dry us off."

Martin tried to wait for Phil to ring him, but as the morning ticked away he became impatient. It was just about to turn ten o'clock when he flicked through his numbers on his mobile phone and rang him.

The phone rang and Martin waited, listening to the ringing tone. He grew worried as the ringing continued, he was afraid it would click into voicemail. He didn't want that, he hadn't prepared what he'd say.

Suddenly the ringing stopped and he heard a strange noise. It wasn't voicemail but neither was it Phil. He heard a dull thud and then a distant grunt. He listened intently, waiting for someone to say something.

"Hello." Phil sounded dozy.

"It's Martin. How are you today?" He tried to sound casual but it had the effect of raising the tone of his voice an octave.

"Oh, err. Not bad. You woke me up actually."

"Sorry." Martin squeezed in his apology.

"But now I'm awake I feel much better. Still got a bit of a bad head but at least I don't feel like shit anymore."

"Glad to hear it." Martin paused hoping that Phil will fill the silence. "Do you want me to pop round today? Or do you just want to rest in bed? I don't mind. Tony's staying with a mate for a few days so it's not like I'm babysitting. But you need to rest, get yourself properly better." He felt himself begin to ramble.

Phil spoke as he heard Martin draw breath. "I would love it if you gave me some company. I'm all alone today and it's not much fun."

Martin smiled down the phone. "I'll be round soon then."

"Good, I'll leave the door on the latch, just come on in."

They said their good byes and Martin took the phone away from his ear. After he pressed the red button to disconnect, he slipped the mobile into his pocket and started to get ready to go out. He was already dressed but he just made sure he looked alright and topped up on his deodorant just in case it had begun to fade already. He picked up his bottle of after shave and was about to pour a few drops into his palm when he reconsidered. Shaking his head he put the lid back on and placed it back on top of the chest of drawers. He didn't want to smell too much, it might appear he was trying too hard. Content with just the faint smell of the aftershave he put on first thing in the morning and the quickly diminishing whiff of deodorant, he left the house.

As promised, the door was on the latch when he arrived at Phil's house. He closed the door and flicked the latch to lock it.

"Hi, Phil. It's me." Martin called out.

"Up here." Martin heard the disembodied voice.

Martin found Phil still in bed; he was sitting up watching his small portable television.

"Thank god you're here. You can save me from that trash." He gestured to the screen and the shouts from the studio audience as the presenter introduced a prostitute who wants to marry her pimp.

"Restores your faith in mankind, doesn't it?" Martin quipped.

"Now, come here gorgeous," Phil smiled, "and give us a kiss. I'm feeling much better now and I seem to remember you owing me one."

Sitting on Phil's bed, Martin leant in and kissed Phil. Their arms wrapped themselves around each other and their lips parted to allow their tongues to touch and feather each other. Martin brought his hands down Phil's naked back and felt the rough elastic waistband of his pyjamas. His fingers eased their way underneath and Martin rested a finger along the base of his crack.

Groaning into his mouth, Phil pulled Martin tighter against him and felt a pressure against his hard crotch. Wriggling, he ground his hips into whatever was pressed against him. Martin's hand came up Phil's back to steady himself from the extra pressure he felt. Their bodies writhed against each other as their lips and tongues brushed together.

Gasping for air, Martin pulled away, breaking contact and breathed heavily. Their eyes were locked into each other as their chests rose and fell in unison.

"Why don't you make me a cup of tea." Phil said as he touched Martin thigh. "I'll take a quick shower and be down in a few minutes."

"Sure, don't be long though."

Martin was sitting in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea when Phil came downstairs. He wore just a pair of shorts and t-shirt and the scent of shower gel wafted into the room.

Breathing in the scent, Martin pushed a cooled cup of tea over to Phil.

"Feel much better after the shower."

"You look much better too. Yesterday you looked terrible."

Phil sat down across the table from Martin and took a sip of tea. "And I can taste again. Not sure if I feel up to breakfast yet, but you can't have everything."

Martin looked at the dark brown liquid in his mug, wanting to say something but was nervous. He felt like they should be talking incessantly to each other but also enjoyed the silence between them and how Phil's presence made him feel at ease.

Swallowing the last few drops of tea, Phil stood up and suggested they go into the back garden. It was a warm and sunny day; the few clouds which could be seen were high and appeared to slowly melt. A wooden table with a large parasol shaded the patio and the two lounge chairs which looked out onto the neatly cut grass and the row of high trees at the back of the garden.

They reclined on the chairs; Phil stretched out his hand and took hold of Martin's. They held each other and let their arms form a bridge between them. As they soaked in the sun, they looked a strange pair. Phil dressed in his shorts and t-shirt looked like he should be out in the sun, but Martin in his jeans and short sleeved shirt looked a little over dressed and uncomfortable. The sun soon warmed him to a point where he was sweating profusely.

"It's way too hot out here for me." Martin said.

Opening his eyes, Phil looked across at him. "I'm not surprised dressed like that. You should wear more summery stuff; it is the summer you know."

"I know."

"Do you even own a pair of shorts?" Phil smiled.

Thinking a moment, Martin replied. "No, I don't think I do." They both smiled at each other and broke their connection. Martin stood up. "Do you mind?" He nodded into the house. "It really is too warm out here."

"I could always lend you a pair of my shorts." Phil stood up and went inside.

They sat in the front room, it was much cooler there; the sun didn't come round the front until much later in the afternoon so the room stayed cool and pleasant most summer mornings.

Phil commented that he would get his A-level results in the next few weeks, then he would have to accept one of the offers he had received from the Universities. Martin asked about the offers he had received. The three Universities that had offered him a place on a course were quite a distance away. Martin suddenly realised that there would come a time when Phil would leave him. He started to withdraw into himself again, his mind running through the possibilities.

"Don't worry." Phil patted Martin on the thigh. "I'll only be a train ride away. Beside I might not get the grades and have to re-sit."

"I doubt that." Martin shrugged.

"Hey, cheer up." Phil tried to put a positive spin on him leaving. "When term starts we'll both be busy studying, we can ring each other during the week, spend the occasional weekends together, you can come up to see me and I can come back. And then there'll be the end of term breaks. We can see as much of each other as we want."

"I know. I've really got to concentrate next year to ensure I get good grades. I don't want to go to any tin-pot Uni that you've applied for." Martin teased.

"Tin-pot Uni. I'll get you for that."

Phil leaped over at Martin and started to tickle him, starting under his arms, Martin bucked and pushed his chest out, his hand trying to grab Phil's wrists to stop him but he kept jerking them around, tickling different places, his belly, his chest, back to under his arms and then the inside of his elbows. Martin kept trying to grab him but couldn't, he was writhing too much, his body jerking like he was having a fit and laughing hard. He slid down the sofa and onto floor, Phil moving with him and his fingers relentlessly tickling. Martin gasped for air through his laughs and giggles, Phil straddled him, and pinned his arms to floor. Both were panting and could feel the heavy breaths against their faces.

They just looked at each other as their breathing slowed, then Phil slowly lowered himself until their noses brushed against each other. Titling his head to one side, Phil pressed him lips hard against Martin's. He released Martin's arms and felt them wrap around his neck pulling his face closer and his tongue deeper into him.

Rubbing his hands down Martin's flank, he held onto his hip and pushed it into the carpet. Martin dragged his hands down Phil's back, feeling the ridges of each vertebrae through his t-shirt until the flesh on his lower back grew fatter and his skin more pliable.

As Phil released Martin's hip, his body pivoted into Phil and he traced a line until his palm and fingers cupped the bulge in his jeans. Phil squeezed the hard mass and felt Martin's groan reverberating around their tongues. He rubbed harder through the jeans and felt his own hard groin tent his flimsy nylon shorts and into Martin's hip. He pressed himself harder onto Martin as he grew frustrated with the rubbing against the thick fabric of the jeans.

In an attempt to get closer to him, Phil brought his hand underneath Martin's shirt and felt his warm skin. It was soft and dry, his hand gliding smoothly across the surface. He tucked his fingers under the waistband of his jeans, hoping to feel the heat of his crotch, but they were tight and put too much strain on his hand to force a path deeper.

Denied access to Martin's groin, Phil pulled his tongue out from Martin's mouth and collapsed next to him.

Martin looked across at Phil and his rising chest. He saw the fullness in his shorts and brought his hand against it. Gripping the hard knob, he squeezed and stroked it through his shorts.

Leaning over, he kissed Phil again and pushed his hand inside Phil's shorts. His fist gripped Phil's hard and sticky shaft; it felt warm and throbbed in his grasp.

Pulling away and bringing his hand out of Phil's shorts, Martin fell back to the floor. "Sorry, I got carried away." He whispered.

Reproduced with David's permission from Screeve. © David
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