Kaimoana Tales
by Kiwi
Dylan
Part 10
The days crawled past with no progress at all. Almost everyone there was getting on fine. Dylan decided that he liked having them all there. They were family and they were nice people. He liked them and they liked him too, almost all of them did. William was still having nothing to do with him. He didn't speak - not a word - and he usually turned his back whenever Dylan appeared.
It hurt. The most beautiful boy in the world was living in his house and sleeping in his room and he absolutely would not talk to him.
Tuesday afternoon, after he came home from school, Paul went out fishing, with Dylan. They were both keen fishermen and Dylan wanted to show him his favourite spot on the Kowhai River.
William was in the car when Dylan came outside. He got out and went into the house. "Later, Dad."
"William? Wills, where are you going? I thought that you were coming fishing."
"I'm not. I changed my mind. I've got better things to do."
He disappeared into the house and Dylan got in the car. "He just doesn't want to be around me. William doesn't like me."
"Oh? Upset him, have you? Don't worry, he'll come around. Wills is not one to hold a grudge."
('Could've fooled me.')
They went fishing.
On Wednesday, they went back to school. Sarah drove all the kids down there in the morning, dropping the little girls off at the Primary School on the way. Dylan decided that he could get used to this. Being chauffeured to school was a bit of all right!
He was looking forward to the new year, the holidays got to be a bit long, and he hoped that William might make some new friends there as well. He might be happier if he had friends of his own? Yeah, of course he would. Everyone would want to know a good-looking boy like him, wouldn't they?
Wrong! They didn't.
Dylan and Emmy had most of their classes together, they were both in year 12, but William was only year 9, so they had none with him. However, it was a small school so he did see him around, off and on, during the day. He was always alone.
Dylan saw a lot of people staring at William, both boys and girls, especially the girls. They were talking about him, but no-one talked to him. It was like they were all too scared to approach him or something.
Why? There was nothing scary about him, he was just a beautiful boy. A perfect-looking boy. Was he too good-looking or something?
Emmy commented, and Dylan agreed with her, that the year 9's, the new entrants, were getting smaller every year. Did they ever look that young and lost in their big new school? William didn't look lost, he just looked alone.
Dylan felt sorry for him, but what could he do? He was not in year 9 and William didn't want to know him anyway. ('Dammit!')
They walked home after school. Dylan was, as usual, with a couple of mates. William, up ahead of him, walked alone. Dylan really felt bad for him. What was wrong with people? Why wouldn't anyone talk to him?
He skipped going to Brodie's, as he usually did, and went home to try, once again, to mend some bridges with William. As usual, William was not interested. He wouldn't even stay in the same room with him.
Walking to school next day, (Dammit - Aunt Sarah was busy), Dylan made a decision. Okay, the kid didn't want to know him, but he still needed a friend, someone his own age. So who? And, how could he help that along?
He fell in with Mac and Joyce. With them but not totally there. They were busy anyway, engaged in their never-ending, joking, arguments. The sooner those two got married, the better. They were already like an old, squabbling, married couple.
He wondered if they were doing 'it'? Yeah, probably, but with boxing gloves on. They suited each other.
There was a thought. Mac had a 13 year old sister, didn't he? Yeah, 'course he did - Miriam, known as Mooney. Maybe she'd be a friend for William.
He found her at lunchtime, sitting with a couple of other girls, and he went over and sat down with them.
"Hey, Mooney."
"Hey, Dylan," she blushed and simpered.
"Something I want to talk to you about. That kid over there, the blond with the red lunch-box, he's my cousin, William. Do you know him?"
"Ohmigod! He's your cousin? Ohmigosh, he's gorgeous! I know him. I know who he is but he doesn't know me. He's in my class, and he's really your cousin? Ohmigosh."
Dylan sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. Maybe this was a bad idea.
"Yes, he's really my cousin. Look, Mooney, he's new here and he's having trouble fitting in. Nobody seems to want to know him, and he needs a friend. Would you like me to introduce you to him?"
"What?? Ohmigosh, no! You can't do that."
"Sure I can. Why not?"
"Because, like, I couldn't talk to him. He wouldn't want to know me."
"Sure he would. You're as good as anybody. He's got nobody. Why not you?"
"No. No way! He's too gorgeous. Why don't you talk to him?"
Mooney jumped up and ran after her friends. "Holly! Crystal! Ohmigosh. Do you know what he said?"
Dylan sat and watched them bouncing around, squealing and 'ohmigoshing', and shook his head. "Bloody silly little girls. They're all mad"
Was that how 13 year old boys carried on? William didn't, thank goodness, and he was 13.
'Oh well, that was a waste of time. What's plan B? Who else do I know in year 9?'
He looked around the lunchtime crowd. Two boys were sitting outside the library, their heads close together as they both studied, and snickered over, the same book.
'Ah, of course! Joyce's brothers, they're in year 9. Well, Grant's in year 10, but Stevie's year 9. Maybe the boys are saner than the girls?'
He walked over to them. They both looked up and Grant snapped the book shut as he approached.
"Hey, Guys. What have you got there? A dictionary?'
"Yeah," Stevie grinned. "The Concise Oxford. Just improving our minds."
"Sure you are!"
"No, we are. You wouldn't believe some of the words that are in there."
"I would. I've looked them up myself, years ago. I think that most kids do."
"So, Dylan," Grant grinned. "What the copulatory intercourse can we do for you?"
"Yeah, you got me. I want a favour. Do it and I won't hit you."
"Do what?" Stevie squealed in his high-pitched voice, believing the threat.
"That kid over there - my cousin, William Scott, he's new here and he's got no friends his own age. Would you guys go over and talk to him?"
"Fuck off!" Grant replied. "We're not sitting talking to no pretty boys."
"Pretty boys? Come on, Grant. He's a nice kid and he's lonely. No-one will talk to him."
"Of course they won't, and we're not either. Don't you even think about it, Stevie. People will think you're a fag too."
"That's harsh," Dylan said. "How do you know he's a fag? You don't even know him."
"We don't. Don't want to and we're not going to. Of course he's a fag, he's far too pretty to be just a boy."
"He can't help that, any more than you can help how you look."
"Maybe, but we can help how people look at us. Fuck off, Dylan"
"Later, Guys." Dylan shook his head as he walked away.
Bloody kids! Funny, he kept forgetting that William was one of them too.
Friday night, he went to the party at the beach, but didn't stay long. It was raining, it was cold and everyone just sat, drinking, in their cars. Some party!
He went home, on foot. He was like a drowned rat by the time he got there. He dropped his wet clothes in the bathroom and had a, blissful, long hot shower.
When he went to his room to get dressed, William was in there, down on his knees and stuffing clothes into his school-bag.
"Hey, hey. What are you doing there?' He didn't expect an answer, but asked anyway and was amazed when he did.
"I'm leaving. Going home. Goodbye, Dylan. You can have your room back now."
William stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder and left, closing the door behind him.
"Leaving? Home? What're you talking about?"
He quickly threw some clothes on and went after him. The rest of the family were all sitting in front of the TV, so he hadn't gone that way. He went out the front and ran out into the street just in time to see a small figure going around the corner, under the streetlight at the end.
He ran after him, hobbling along on his way-too-soft bare feet. "Ow. Ow. Ow!"
"William? William wait up! Stop will you."
He caught hold of his arm to stop him. William tried to shake him off.
"Get off me, you Big Lug!"
"No, I won't." But he let go anyway, when he stopped walking. "William, what are you doing? You can't leave. This is your home now, you've got nowhere else."
"I'm not staying here. I hate it here. I'm going back to Wellington where I belong. I've got friends there, people who actually talk to me."
"You've got people who talk to you here - your family. I talk to you. Well, I would if you'd answer me."
"You told me not to talk to you."
"I did. I also said I was wrong and I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you did. I was just pissed at you and didn't want to hear you."
"You're talking to me now."
"I am. It doesn't matter now because I'm going."
"But you can't! How do you think you're going to get there, walking?"
"No, there's a bus. It leaves from the Adelphi Lodge at 10pm. I'm going to miss it if I don't hurry and then I will have to walk."
"You'd get picked-up - raped and murdered probably. William, you can't do this. Think about your family. Your mum, your dad, your sister - they'd be devastated. They love you. I love you. Please come home."
"You love me?"
"I do. You're my cousin. My beautiful, bright and funny cousin. Hell, the way we're living, you're almost like my little brother. I'd love to be your friend. There's nothing that I want more. Please come home."
"With you?"
"Yes, with me. Please."
"Yeah, okay," he grinned. "I've probably missed the bus anyway and we're getting wet here. Let's go home."
"Brilliant! Thanks. Let's get out of this bleeding rain."
They started walking home, both of them grinning in the dark.
"So are we going to be friends?" Dylan ventured.
"Yeah, if you want to, I'd like that too. You should know though, I'm gay."
"You're what?" Dylan stopped and stared.
"You heard me. You sure you want a gayboy sleeping in your room?"
"I don't see why not. There always has been."
"Always has been what? Oh. Are you saying that you're gay too?"
"I am. Please don't tell the family. No-one knows that, just me; and now, you too I guess. Does your family know about you?"
"Of course they don't! You think they'd put me in a room with my stud of a cousin if they did?"
"Guess not. You think I'm a stud?"
"Yeah! Well, you were. You're losing it."
"What do you mean?"
"You're starting to look weird with all that purple dye running down your face."
"It's not, is it? Damm. This stuff is meant to be water-fast. Let's go home."
Back at the house, no-one had moved front the TV. They were all sitting in there, glued to it.
'Damm,' Dylan thought. 'My whole life turned inside out and nobody noticed.' He grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom cupboard and went out to the sink in the scrub-up area in the dirt room while William showered in the bathroom.
Dylan didn't need another shower, it wasn't even an hour since his last one, but he did need to get out of his wet clothes, (Again!), to dry off and to try to do something about the dye in his hair.
The dye scrubbed off his face easily enough, but there was a problem when he dried his hair - the light-coloured towel was now partially purple! His mother would not be impressed with another wrecked towel. He decided that he'd better put it through the wash to try to save it.
While he was at it, he might as well make a load of it and get rid of all the wet clothes too. He went to his room to get the ones he'd left in there and William was already in bed.
"Hi. I'm going to put all this stuff through the wash. Where are your wet clothes? They can go in as well."
"Okay, thanks. They're in the basket there."
"Right." He bundled William's clothes with his own. "I'll go and put them in the machine. Be back in a minute."
On the way back, he grabbed a couple of cans of coke and took them to his room - their room now, he supposed. He walked in the room and looked at the boy in the other bed ad gulped. Damm! William was so beautiful, and he was naked in there! No. He'd better not think like that. He'd embarrass himself.
"Umm. Hi," he managed. "I got a coke. Do you want one?"
"Cool. Thanks." William smiled, sat up and reached for the can. More bare skin was exposed and, whoah, he'd better sit down quick.
He passed the coke and sat on his own bed to hide the growing tumescence under his towel. The boy might be stunningly beautiful, but he was just a kid, he was way too young for him, and he was his cousin. He could imagine what his family would say and it was not good.
"William, Wills, I'm really glad that you came back. Thanks. I hope we're going to be friends now."
"Yeah. So do I, Dills," William grinned.
Dylan sighed, put down his can and slid into bed. If only the boy over there wasn't his cousin. If only he wasn't so young, so beautiful, so nice - life would be great. But, he was and it wasn't.
"Time we were sleeping. G'night, Wills." He turned out the light so he wouldn't have to look at him. Not that that helped much, he could still see him, in his mind's eye - the perfect picture of the perfect boy.
In the morning when he woke, the first thing he did was to look across at William's bed. It was empty and he was alone in the room. The time? 7.30. Early for a Saturday morning. Where would Wills be?
There was a light tap on the door, he called, "come in", and William came in grinning with a plateful of toast in one hand and two coffee mugs in the other. How had he knocked on the door? With his foot? Or, with . . .
'No. Shut up Dylan. He's got clothes on anyway.'
"Good morning, Dylan. Sleep well?"
"Yeah, I did. You?"
"Yeah, very good. I brought you this."
"What've you got there?"
"Nothing much. Just tea and toast. I wanted to cook breakfast for you, but mum said no. I'm a rotten cook anyway."
"Well, thanks. But, what did you do that for?"
"Because I wanted to. I wanted to do something nice to celebrate us being friends now. Can I bring it over to your side of the room?"
"No."
"No?"
"You can't because there is no my side of the room. I'm going to rip that tape up as soon as I get up. Thanks, Wills. That was nice of you."
"Yeah, well," he shrugged. "I'm nice. Not that nice though, it's not all for you, you've gotta share. I'm hungry too."
"Okay, that's cool. Come here and sit down."
William handed him a mug and sat on the end of the bed with the toast between them. Dylan sipped the drink and tried not to screw his face up - he never drank tea, just coffee.
"Is it okay?" William asked. "I didn't know how you like it, so I did it the same as mine - milk and two sugars. I could change it if you'd like."
"No, it's fine like this, thanks. What are your plans for today?"
"I'm going fishing with Dad. He wants to try surf-casting on the beach, down at Oaro. Wanna come with us?"
"I'd love to, but I'd better not."
"Not? Why not?"
"Because I'd be in the way. It's your time with your dad. I don't want to interfere."
"Don't be silly. I want you to come. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't. I want to get to know you, Dills. You're family too."
"Yeah, I am. Okay, I'm coming and thanks."
"Thank you."
They exchanged grins.
"Wills, when you get to know me, you'll know I'd rather have coffee next time you make breakfast."
"Next time? Next time, you're making it, Cousin." They grinned again.
They sat and talked while they ate and drank. Tea was gross, but you have to make an effort sometimes. William left Dylan to get dressed in private, and went out to tell his dad that Dylan was coming fishing.
"He is?" Paul replied, eyebrows rising. "Does that mean you're not going now?"
"Course not. I'm coming, we're all going. Dylan and I are friends now, Dad."
"You are? Well, good! I'm pleased to hear that then!"
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