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The Kiss

by N Fourbois

Future

Adam was walking along the shoreline ostensibly looking for any flotsam or jetsam the previous night's storm might have washed up. Ostensibly, for his mind wasn't really on searching, but directed inwards in a wave of self-pity for his own situation. He was an only child, a lonely child, an introverted and introspective child, one who had everything he needed materially and, or so it seemed to him, nothing he needed emotionally, although his thirteen year old brain did not formulate those thoughts into such a concise concept. Over the past few months his life had been torn apart by three letters of the alphabet: A, G and Y, although not necessarily in that order.

Present

It had begun at school and then spread to home. One night he was lying in bed. He had been asleep for the best part of an hour, but suddenly woke up feeling refreshed and not the slightest bit sleepy. Whether he had simply woken up or whether he had been woken by the row taking place downstairs between his father and his mother, he did not know. It wasn't important. What did matter to him was that that from the raised voices and vituperation he could only make out one repeated word and that was 'gay'. 'They're arguing over me!' was his immediate thought, 'but how could they know?' It had pricked his conscience to such a point that he was thinking back, as said, to both home and school.

He was sufficiently astute to sense that all had not been well at home although this was the first time he had gained any proof as such. Both Mum and Dad had been particularly nice towards him, not that that they were ever horrible unless he was in trouble, but this was different. Adam could see no particular reason for it. It wasn't his birthday. It wasn't Christmas. There had been no recent school report. On the other hand there had been an atmosphere, nothing tangible, just that the air was as if electrified.

Whether it was to try and block out the unpleasant sounds wafting up from the kitchen or whether it was yet another attempt to explain his situation to himself, he did not know, but his logical brain wanted to work through events chronologically. He cast his mind back to that day at school which seemed to be a turning-point in his existence.

Past

Adam had been in the toilets with David Wayte, a classmate, but not a particular friend. Adam got on with everybody. There was no reason why he shouldn't. He fitted in; if there was anything unpleasant about him he kept it to himself. That was it. He had no particular friends.
"I bet you can't do this," started David as they were both standing in front of the urinals.
"What?" replied Adam.
"This. Look!" and David interlaced his fingers, put his hands behind his head and began to pee neatly into the bowl.
"What's so special about that?"
"No hands. I bet you'll wet yourself if you try it."
"Bet I won't." Adam didn't know whether he would or not, but he hated being put down. He was vaguely conscious of having started this thing called puberty. He knew his voice was changing. He'd had to leave the school choir. He was aware that his cock was growing longer and thicker and his balls had begun to feel uncomfortable in his trousers, but he hadn't dwelt on the fact. A bit of surreptitious re-arranging with his hands in his pockets dealt with that. His natural enterprise made him take up the challenge with a a petulant riposte of "I bet I can." He had just unzipped his fly when David nudged him, put his finger over his lips, pointed towards the cubicles and held his other hand to his ear, all this in midstream. They could hear a shuffling sound and a low muffled moan. David had finished peeing by now, shook his dick and hurriedly put it away. Then he made another hand signal to Adam, the one with a clenched fist waving up and down in six inch strokes, you know, the one that means 'I have formed a particularly low opinion of your intelligence.' With a grin on his face David waved Adam towards the cubicles, still with an admonishing finger on his lips. Only one cubicle door was closed, so they each took the empty cubicle either side and climbed up on the lavatory pan to peer over the partition. Their heads bobbed up simultaneously, their mouths opened simultaneously for whereas they had expected to catch some unfortunate jerking off they in fact disturbed two unfortunates in a tight embrace indulging in the deepest and most passionate of French kisses.

"Whaayyy!" bellowed David at the top of his voice. The clinch was broken and both Year 10 boys looked up and spotted David.
"You little shit!" bellowed one of them.
"Get him!" said the other. Meanwhile Adam had had the common sense to duck down and quietly lock the door of his cubicle. One of the Year 10 boys climbed over the partition into David's, but he had managed to rush out in time, only to be pursued by the other out into the corridor.

Adam sat there absolutely amazed at what he had just seen, his amazement more a product of his naïvety than anything else, but that amazement soon giving way to curiosity, to a prurient interest, so much so that when he returned to planet Earth he noticed that his cock had stiffened up and was now poking through his still unzipped trousers. It hurt as his bladder was still full. He stood up and tried to pee into the pan and it was even more uncomfortable. In the meantime he judged it to be safe enough to leave and as his attention was diverted elsewhere his dick went limp, he achieved what he had come in there to do in the first place, unbolted the cubicle, washed his hands and went off to the dining-hall to have his lunch.

Adam was holding the tray with his food on and looking around for David. No sign of him. 'I wonder if they caught him?' he said to himself, spotted some of his classmates sitting at a table with a spare seat and went across and joined them. Before he even had the chance to sit down he faced a barrage of
"Have you heard about Carter and Griffiths?"
"Who are Carter and Griffiths?" Adam asked automatically. He knew very well who they were for hadn't he been the silent witness to their interrupted moment of passion?
"You know. They're in Year 10. Carter's the U15 soccer captain and Griffiths is in the School Boxing Club."

He didn't really know Griffiths apart from being able to put a name to a face, but Nick Carter was an entirely different matter. At that stage Adam didn't really understand the concept of a 'crush' and the such like, but for him Carter was some kind of hero, a boy that made him go weak at the knees, but one he had never dared speak to. He had even delayed on the way home if there was an after-school U15 soccer match, and he had a note of them in his diary. For him Nick Carter couldn't put a foot wrong. He was David Beckham, Michael Owen and Alan Smith rolled into one and his heart would melt and legs turn to jelly to see him in that royal blue and gold shirt and those white shorts dashing down the wing with the ball to make the cross that ended with a goal for the school side.

"No, I don't. What about them?"
"They've just been caught snogging in the bogs." Adam did a double take. He didn't want to be associated with what he had just witnessed for his own personal safety's sake. A good actor when he needed to be, he just said
"What? Boys don't do that. Well, not together. Pull the other one."
"Yes, it's true," said another of his friends. "David Wayte caught them at it just before lunch." 'God, that got round the school quickly enough. At least that means they can't have caught up with him. If he's lucky they won't even have spotted who it was. I wouldn't like to be in his shoes if they do, though,' he thought.
"Adam, did you hear that?"
"Yeah, sorry. I just find it so hard to believe," he feigned after being a prime witness.

After the initial excitement the boys got on with their lunch, talking about the impending history test that afternoon when all of a sudden a great cheer went up. Everybody stopped eating, looked up and joined in the cheering and jeering, the loud juicy smackeroos made by various boys kissing the back of their hands and the occasional shout of 'gayboys' and other such niceties, everybody that is except Adam who just shuddered. Carter and Griffiths had turned up together (unsubtle!) for lunch. In unison and with red faces they waved back at their newly formed fan club, but omitting to use all of the fingers on their hands. The master on duty immediately summoned them across to him and took them outside. Meanwhile David had turned up with an obvious and smug grin on his face. At least he was safe - for the time being.

Adam couldn't concentrate that afternoon, despite the need to do well in the history test. If only the causes of the First World War would imprint themselves on his memory as deeply as the vision of his hero and god enjoying the deepest and sexiest of mouth to mouth resuscitation. He couldn't even remember seeing anything so intense and exhilarating on the television or films. He even imagined himself there instead of Griffiths, at Nick Carter's mercy and enjoying every moment of it. What made it worse was that every time his mind drifted back to that lunchtime scene his dick just grew hard, and why did he have to wear boxers to school that particular day?

Adam didn't know how, but he'd just scraped home by answering all the questions on the test paper his history master had handed out, but he knew he hadn't done his best. With the papers gathered in, the bell rang for the end of the period. He took his time gathering his things together for he knew that if the others caught him with an enormous tent pole in his trousers, they would immediately forget the events of that lunchtime and he would become the butt of their humour for the rest of the afternoon.
"Come along, Adam Byford," chivvied Mr Evans. "You'll be late for your next lesson and I know you'll blame me."
"Sorry, sir." At last he had packed his schoolbag and carefully holding it in front of his hips slowly made his way to his next class.

The rest of the day passed in a flash, only because his mind was preoccupied with this obsession.
"You're quiet this evening, Adam," remarked his father over tea.
"Am I?"
"Hard day at school?" asked his mother.
'I suppose that's one way of describing it,' he thought. "Only a history test, otherwise it was just a normal humdrum day," he replied rather, over-egging the pudding. He still wondered why he was so interested. The words 'boys don't do that' echoed and re-echoed through and round his head. He felt he ought to find it disgusting somehow, or funny even, like his schoolfriends did, but he didn't and the idea that he would have done anything to be in that embrace with Nick Carter in Griffiths' stead still wouldn't leave him. Finally it was bedtime. He said good night to his parents and went upstairs.

He took his time getting undressed. Something about that day's events had made him peculiarly aware of his own body. Standing in front of the mirror he slowly peeled off his clothes one item at a time, stopping to admire, no! that's the wrong word, to study his body, fascinated with the way his cock stiffened as soon as his mind went back to Nick Carter and the kiss, and relaxed as he thought of something else. He was cool with his body. He gelled his short black hair, adored his melancholy blue eyes, his chest and stomach were firm and he marvelled at how much he had recently developed between the legs. So far he had managed to avoid the curse of acne and his only body hair was a neat tuft above his dick. He thought back to Narcissus in Greek mythology and had he not first spotted Nick Carter he could have easily fallen in love with himself.

Finally he crawled under the duvet, naked tonight, for while standing in front of the mirror he had discovered that gently moving his foreskin back and forth over the tip of his cock gave him a pleasant feeling. At first it hurt if he pulled it back too far, but then something seemed to 'snap' and it moved easily over the glans and the pleasure increased. He lay on his back, still daydreaming of Nick Carter, folded the duvet down the bed so that he could use his hand unimpeded, closed his eyes, fondled his balls with the other and enjoyed. This must have gone on for ten minutes or more. He had no concept of the time when suddenly the pleasure intensified and a white liquid spurt out of his cock covering his chest and face. He had had his first orgasm, his first wank. The spunk dribbled down his upper lip and into his mouth and he could not help but taste it. He remembered thinking to himself that he should find that gross. After all, you had to keep urine away from your mouth and wash your hands after peeing. But he didn't. He savoured the flavour - salty, or was it sweet? and a bit like the smell of bleach. His heart was still pumping hard, but otherwise he had a relaxed feeling of well-being. Suddenly he became aware that his jizm had gone cold and was all sticky. He started to clean himself up. 'I'll shower it off in the morning. I can't be bothered now. But what I will do is make a note of all this in my journal. It has after all been a bit of a special day really.' He got out of bed and put a pair of shorts on '...just in case Mum or Dad come in,' booted up his iMac, decrypted his journal which was disguised as a document called Homework, made some notes of all that had happened and encrypted the document. He now felt relaxed enough to go to bed and sleep. He closed down his computer, got into bed and switched off the light.

Adam slept a deep and dreamless sleep that night, but woke early, half an hour before the alarm. He quickly cast his mind back to the previous evening's first experience which he was now keen to repeat. He slipped on his dressing gown to cover his morning wood and tripped off to the bathroom to empty his bladder. Once back in bed he used a vision of Nick Carter to trigger his cock and repeated what he had discovered the night before. He purposely tasted the product this time having first savoured what he knew very well from clandestine discussions at school as precum. He was just calming down from the second orgasm of his life when the alarm went off. He thought he had better get off into shower quickly before his mother brought him a cup of tea and discovered the detritus from his nocturnal and matinal activity.

And so for a few days life for Adam returned to its dull routine. There was a little excitement at first when he employed the school's traditional method of advertising one's first successful jerk off session by making the label stick up out of the back of your shirt or pullover. In Year 8 it was acceptable to do that. It caused a 'managed it at last?' reaction from those already qualified to a 'what was it like?' or a 'how did you do it?' reaction from those yet to discover the delights of their loins. Either way there was some close questioning at break and over lunch from classmates, partly out of general nosiness and partly to establish that it really had happened and that he was not claiming 'honours' that were not due.

However, this dull routine did not last long, until Thursday afternoon games in fact. Afterwards there was the usual noise of boys showering and changing when Year 10 came in. Adam was quietly getting on with the job of drying himself off when who should come and change next to him, but Nick Carter. Usually the year groups kept to their own part of the changing room, but obviously Nick had been getting a bit of stick from his peers after the previous week's outing. He completely ignored Adam, not in an unfriendly way, but simply because there were two years difference in their ages, and got on with the job of stripping his kit off for the shower. Adam quickly covered himself with his towel as he felt his dick hardening up, but it had barely reached its full length and height before Nick was off into the shower leaving Adam with a vision of tight, pert buttocks, a plain view of his spine and ribcage with the bonus of a chance view through his legs of his bollocks hanging just under the cleavage of his bottom. Adam quickly finished off drying and pulled on his underpants — a red bikini slip today to help guard against unwanted pop-ups — and his trousers, but then went into slow motion. Nick had left his towel behind and Adam just could not prevent himself from waiting for his idol's return. He did not have to wait long before he won the corresponding front view of Nick Carter. Adam put his towel up to his head and rubbed his hair dry, but made sure his eyes weren't covered as he took in the full view of an outstanding musculature, proud dark red nipples and an even more outstanding set of genitals (not that that was the word he used in his own mind) capped by the smallest tuft of light brown pubic hair on an otherwise hairless body. He could admire the blond hair, blue eyes and noble facial features any day; in fact he did, but this was a one-off opportunity to imbibe the rest. He felt his trousers tightening, but he was enjoying the feeling. Despite the towel the two boys' eyes met and held the gaze. Nick was enjoying being admired and Adam was enjoying what he was admiring. Not a word passed between them; it didn't have to, but after a five second eternity they continued to get dressed, Nick as quickly as Adam was slow. Finally Nick stuffed his kit into various plastic bags which he then packed into his sports bag and without more ado turned to go off home. Straightaway Adam noticed that he had left his shorts behind, those white shorts that held the packet he had for so long searched out during those U15 games. He wanted to call him back, but hesitated. What should he call him? Nick? That was too familiar for a boy two years his senior. Carter? That was so impersonal, but when 'Carter' eventually did come out, Adam's voice just dried up into a scarcely audible and incomprehensible croak and by that time his Adonis was gone.

Adam's cock was still hard in his trousers as he stared at the shorts. What should he do? He knew the correct procedure was to hand them in to a member of staff for lost property, but, as the saying goes, a standing dick has no conscience and he slid his own sports bag a foot along the bench and quickly collected them up among his own kit, finished dressing and said cheerio to his mates.

When he got home, he said a cheery hello to his mother.
"Good day at school, dear?"
"Yeah, fine, Mum."
"Is that more dirty sportskit you've got there, Adam?"
"Well, sportskit."
"I know. There's a difference between a mum's definition of dirty sportskit and a boy's. Put it in the linen basket and I'll get it into the washing machine later."
"Okay," replied Adam, relieved she had not unpacked his bag for him there and then and discovered the extra shorts. "Can I get a plastic bag?"
"Of course. You don't have to ask and you know where they are." Adam fetched one and disappeared up to his bedroom. He unpacked his dirty kit and put it into the linen basket as per instructions, then carefully wrapped up the contraband shorts in the plastic bag and hid them at the back of one of his desk drawers. He would deal with that later. It was too risky now and anyway his father would soon be home and then it would be teatime.

Adam got on with his homework that evening, then recorded the afternoon's happenings in his journal. He went and kicked a ball around in the garden and afterwards watched some television with his parents until it was time for bed. He kissed his mother and father goodnight and took the stairs two at a time. He noticed a brand new box of extra strong Kleenex tissues on his bedside table, but the significance escaped him.

After cleaning his teeth he slowly undressed, again in front of the mirror. He had a painful little lump by his left nipple. It wasn't the first one. Then his mother had taken him to the doctor for there hadn't just been the warnings in the media of breast cancer, but it had also been reported that a man had contracted it. However, the doctor re-assured them that it was a breast knot and he looked it up on the internet when he got home. Boys his age got them from time to time. They came and went and although painful, were nothing to worry about. He took all his clothes off, scratched his balls and admired the size of them and his cock. 'Why did they always look bigger in the mirror than when you looked straight down at them,' he wondered. 'For the same reason other boys' tackle always looks larger,' he answered himself. He eased his foreskin back and forwards, took some spit and rubbed it underneath and pushed it back and forwards a couple more times. He had decided to sleep naked again that night. He went across to his desk drawer and retrieved the bag with Nick Carter's shorts in it and climbed under the duvet. He felt himself hardening up already as he cautiously unwrapped the bag. He took the article out and without any further thought put it to his nose and inhaled the aroma, a mixture of sweat and he didn't know what — 'Nick Carter, I suppose'. He didn't know what made him do it. He just knew it made his cock harder and throb even more. He carefully unfolded the screwed up shorts. He felt an ache in his heart as he read the woven nametape — 'N P Carter' in red letters on a white background. Then as he carried on unfolding the shorts, something fell out... his jockstrap... his used jockstrap likewise with woven nametape. No wonder there was such an aroma. The idea shot though Adam's mind: 'I must get a jockstrap. I think I'm big enough for one.' At that he could hold bac k no more and slowly at first, but then with more and more vigour tossed himself off to the point he was about to come when he caught his spunk in the pouch of Nick Carter's jockstrap. Adam lay still for five or ten minutes letting his heartbeat slow, pulled on the illicit shorts, put out the light, stuffed the jock down the bed and inbetween his legs, rolled over and went to sleep.

It was still there when his mother came in with a cup of tea to wake him.
"Good morning, Adam."
"Morning, Mum," replied Adam.
"Gosh, it smells of boy in here," she said as she crossed the room, drew the curtains and opened the window. The sun was shining. When she had left, he immediately became conscious of the illicit shorts covering his morning wood and the jock nestling between his legs. He thought 'It's a good job the duvet didn't fall on the floor. I'd have had a hard job explaining that to Mum. Now what do you do with a pair of stolen shorts?' The word had finally been uttered. For the first time he realised that what he had considered a trophy had in fact been stolen from a fellow pupil and he was not that kind of boy! He wrapped them up carefully in the plastic bag and stowed that at the back of his desk drawer, the one he kept locked.

Adam's conscience was rattled by the thought of having stolen Nick's shorts and jock. 'But I haven't really stolen them. He left them behind and I picked them up. I tried to call him back, but... So I'm looking after them... But I want to keep them... Then that's stealing, depriving the owner of his rightful property.' Finally after a morning of agonising he came to a conclusion, a plan of action. Tomorrow I'm going to wear them all day, even if it is under my jeans. I can go into town and buy my own jockstrap. Sunday evening when Mum and Dad are nextdoor playing bridge I'll wash them, put them in the dryer and Monday morning I'll give them back to Nick.

Adam was as good as his word. Admittedly he was walking round with a hard-on for most of the day, but the boner was a bonus, he liked the feeling and the jock keeping it under control. Sunday evening was the easy bit. As soon as his parents had gone off, he put the stuff in the washing machine along with some of his own clothes. It would be no big deal if his mother and father did come back early because he had been encouraged to make himself useful at home and no one would notice with his own clothes there. The hard bit would be Monday, plucking up the courage, not only to talk to a Year 10 boy, but to talk to one he found so hot.

Adam went into lunch early to make sure he would catch him at some stage. Fortunately most of his table had finished by the time Nick came in. Clutching the plastic bag, Adam cleared his plates and cutlery away and before Carter joined the queue at the servery he hesitantly went up to him. This time fortunately his voice worked.
"Excuse me. Are you Nick Carter?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember last Thursday? You were changing next to me after games."
"Yees?"
"Well, you left these behind and I accidentally packed them with my stuff," Adam lied and went deep red. "It's your shorts. My mother washed them," he compounded the lie, "and here they are."
"Wicked. I got a hell of lot of hassle when I got home and my parents are making me pay for the replacements. I don't suppose my jockstrap there, is it?" Adam blushed even deeper as he remembered the pleasure he had got over the past few days from that particular article of sportswear.
"Yeah, it's in the bag with the shorts."
"What's your name?"
"Adam, Adam Byford."
"Thanks a lot, Adam. I owe you for that, and thank your mother too. Remember, anything I can do for you, let me know." Adam could think of a thousand things Nick could do for him, but he didn't dare ask for a single one of them. "I mean that," continued Nick. "I never forget my friends, ... nor my enemies." Adam immediately thought of David Wayte.
"Well, thanks, Nick. See you around."
"Just a minute. Don't I know you from somewhere?" Adam's face went white with fear as he thought back to the incident in the toilets. 'So he did spot me.' Adam shuddered. "I know," said Nick. "You sometimes come and watch the U15s' soccer matches." Adam breathed a hefty sigh of relief, but the deep blush returned.
"That's right," he stammered.
"You like football, do you?" Adam couldn't say no, could he? "Well, if you want some coaching tips, just ask me and thanks again." Nick held out his hand to shake Adam's. Adam wasn't a great hand-shaker. He just exploited this opportunity to touch him. When they had parted, Adam sniffed at his hand. It had that 'Nick smell'.

He went off to his maths class. He happened to be sitting next to David Wayte. The teacher hadn't arrived yet.
"You weren't talking to that faggot Carter, were you? He wasn't chatting you up, was he?"
"Piss off. I'll talk to who I want to. He's a nice guy."
"Fancy him, do you? Are you gay, as well?"
"Just shut up all that crap. If you go on like that, I'll tell him who outed him and see how you like that." At that point the maths master arrived and the class stood up. End of conversation...

...Except that for Adam it was the beginning of another conversation, one with himself, for what David Wayte had said made him realise something about himself. He stayed in his bedroom for most of Monday evening. When he'd finished his homework he wanted to record the day's events in his journal while they were fresh in his mind. Next, that question of David Wayte's was nagging him in the back of his head, so he went onto the internet. Finally he just lay on his bed and ran the events of the past couple of weeks past himself and based on his natural introspection and intellect he came to what for him was the only logical conclusion: 'I am gay, you know,' he whispered to himself.

Oddly enough for Adam it was no big deal. He had come to this conclusion after weighing up events, thinking step by step and doing some minimal research. It might be a phase; it might not. Time would tell. By answering the question he had simultaneously come to a decision. There was no room for emotion and in any case, if being gay meant that he was like his hero Nick Carter, what could be wrong with that? He had an ally. In fact he was going to redeem that favour sooner than he knew. On Thursday afternoon in fact.

He was in the changing room getting ready for games. Indeed, it was the first try-out for his own new jock. Not strictly true. It was the first official try-out in a games lesson for his new jock. He had already had to wash it so that it was clean for the games. He was standing there just in his jockstrap looking in his sports bag for his shorts when who should turn up to change next to him, but Nick Carter.
"Hi, Adam," he said straight away and high-fived him.
"How's it going?"
"Good." answered Adam with a broad grin on his face. His body language gave everything away. "Nick, you know you said you owe me? Is that really true?"
"It certainly is, little buddy."
"Can you spare me five minutes at the end of the games lesson?"
"I sure can. I've got to wait for my lift tonight. My mum's got a staff meeting at her school and she'll be late. I'd only be doing homework in the library."

Adam was as if on air during the games session that afternoon. A private audience with his Adonis. Adam and Nick happened to get back to the changing room together at quarter to four, which meant they could change together and more important for Adam, they showered together. Nick was still getting a bit of a rough time, but at least people were talking to him and although he was still boyfriends with Mike Griffiths they had decided to stay apart during school time and meet outside. Finally Adam and Nick were ready. They stowed all their kit in their lockers and decided to walk round the playing fields to talk. There were various practices going on. Adam was now feeling a little afraid, but he prepared the ground again after the reassurance that he could talk to Nick about anything. He started.
"You know you were outed earlier this term?"
"How could I forget? If I ever find out who the little bastard was that did it, I'll make his life hell."
"Are you really gay?"
"I sure am."
"How did you know?" Nick told him.
"Why are you asking, Adam?"
"Because I think I am as well, and I've got no one else to discuss it with."
"Are you out to anybody, like a your parents or a boyfriend?"
"Oh no, only to you, Nick... now."

The conversation continued until Nick suddenly looked at his watch.
"Hey, little brother..." Adam glowed at the term of endearment 'little brother'. He felt there was a bond between them now. "Hey, little brother, it's five o'clock and I've got to get going. Can we give you a lift anywhere?"
"It's okay, thanks. I live a ten minute cycle ride away."
"Look, Adam, if you want to talk again, do. Or if anyone's hassling you, let me know. Only you can decide whether you want to come out. In the meantime be proud." They high-fived and Nick ran off to fetch his kit and find his mother. Adam walked off to fetch his and carried on to the bicycle shed.

Adam's life at present was a rollercoaster. Becoming Nick's 'little brother' meant he had reached a peak. The peaks though are necessarily followed by a dip.

Present

The row his parents were having seemed to be lasting for an eternity. Adam had never known them argue like this before. He knew it must be something serious and yet listen as hard as he could, he still could only make out that one word, and it didn't matter whether it was said by his mother or his father. 'They must be talking about me.' He tried covering his ears. He tossed and turned in bed, or at least turned, for worry had conquered lust that night, trying to get some sleep. Eventually he heard his mother say
"I'm going to bed and you can sleep in the spare room." Adam's eyes filled with tears and at last he cried himself to sleep.

The following morning, Friday his journal reminded him, he woke up with the alarm. Within ten seconds his mother appeared with a cup of tea. She looked dreadful with great black rings under her eyes.
"Are you okay, Mum?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He saw the tears well up in her eyes.
"Just a bit of a headache. I'll take some aspirins," and she disappeared even more quickly than she had arrived.

Adam drank his tea, got up and showered with a heavy heart. He did not even take time to admire himself in the mirror, he was so preoccupied. He went down to breakfast.
"Where's Dad?"
"He's gone to work early."
"Why? Has it got something to do with last night?" At that his mother completely broke down in tears. Adam put his arm round her shoulder and let her cry. It seemed odd, he later reflected in his journal, for after years of comforting him this was the first time the roles had been reversed.
"Adam, I'm going to spend the weekend with Auntie Janet." That was his maiden aunt. She was a career woman who had never married. She owned a thatched cottage a couple of miles out of town in the country and Adam was her only nephew. "Your father will be here."
"Was it that argument?" Adam had to know.
"Your father will tell you all about it," his mother replied mechanically.
"Was it about me?" he begged fearing that they had somehow found out he was gay and he had caused the split.
"No, darling, not at all. Whatever made you think that?" That relieved Adam of some of his burden, but not much. "Come on, Adam, you'll be late for school."
"Does Dad know you're going to Auntie Janet's"
"Not yet, but he will do. I'll phone his secretary. Now, you've got Auntie Janet's phone number, haven't you? And my mobile number. And you know where your clean clothes are and if want to cycle out there, you can..."
"Yes, Mum," he answered before she got into too much of a frenzy. He had never seen her in such a state before and at thirteen didn't know how to deal with it. He just got ready for school with the single thought of 'Why, if they weren't talking about about me, did I keep on hearing the word 'gay'? Or was that my conscience and I was imagining it?'

It was with a heavy heart that Adam cycled to school that day. He could not concentrate on his lessons. None of his classmates were close enough for him to confide in them, no best friend. There was no one he could talk to. At lunchtime he held back and went into the dining hall late, not that he felt that hungry, but he was sensible enough to know that he needed some sustenance. He took his tray with a sandwich and a glass of milk and sought out a table off in the corner away from everyone else. As he wallowed in self-pity, he suddenly saw light at the end of the tunnel. There was after all one person he could talk to and he hadn't seen him come into the dining hall. There was Nick. He waited and waited. Finally he saw Mike Griffiths come in, like him alone. That was his one point of contact, not a subtle one, but a lifeline at least. Adam waited until Griffiths sat down, quite close to him likewise in outcasts' corner. Picking up all his courage he went across and said
"Excuse me, Griffiths, I'm trying to find Nick Carter." Adam was half scared he might get thumped or sworn at for associating the two, but Griffiths simply turned his head, looked at him with watery eyes and a noticeably red nose and croaked in a hoarse voice
"He's not at school today, mate. He's at home with laryngitis," and added in a whisper "Sorry, I think I'm losing my voice too." Adam's spirits took a dive. The light at the end of the tunnel was only a train coming the other way.

Adam somehow survived the afternoon. He had geography and PSE. Geography was the one subject he could see no point in with its eternal dogma about global warming and populations movements. Why didn't they do useful things like map-reading? What were they discussing in PSE? One parent families. A perfect opening for Adam to say something, but there was no one in the room with whom he wished to confide his troubles, especially the woman teacher who took the lesson. He had always felt that she was driven by unadulterated curiosity and tried to delve into the boys' personal lives out of sheer nosiness. And therefore it was a perfect downer, as if he needed another one.

Without lingering Adam left school sharp at a quarter to four and quickly cycled home. He saw his father's car in the drive. As he walked into the kitchen, his dad was sitting down at the table with a cup of tea.
"Hi, Dad!"
"Hi, son!"
"Where's Mum?" He knew jolly well, but he had to broach the subject somehow.
"She's gone to Auntie Janet's for a few days." 'The weekend had now lengthened into a few days.' thought Adam. "She's not feeling too good. Would you like a cup of tea, Adam?"
"Who? Auntie Janet?" Adam responded, deliberately obtusely.
"No, your mother," his father replied pouring Adam a cup of tea.
"Wouldn't she be better here looked after by us?" asked Adam tenaciously.
"Look, Adam, sit down. We've got to have a talk."
"Is it about last night?" Adam took his backpack off and sat down at the kitchen table opposite his father.

"Adam, do you know what a homosexual is?"
"Of course I do. I am thirteen, you know. It's a man that loves another man or has sex with him." His father was taken aback with the forthrightness of this answer. Adam was shocked at the factual tone of voice with which he had answered the question and thought he had better calm down a bit. "Is this about me?" asked Adam and immediately wished he hadn't. He had opened his mouth without putting his brain in gear. Fortunately his father appeared to ignore the significance.
"Goodness no, son. Certainly not. It's about me. I've tried to hide the fact all my life, perhaps even from myself, fight against it, but when you live with someone, especially as man and wife, it's impossible to go on hiding things. Your mother found out I'm gay."
"How? What have you done?"
"I've not exactly done anything... except talk in my sleep. Your mother asked me about what she'd heard me say and just flipped."
"And was that the row you had last night?"
"Oh! You heard that?"
"How could I not? So what happens now?"
"I don't know. Frankly, I don't think it's just a mood your mother was in. I think she simply can't cope with it. She found being with a gay man repulsive. What do you think about having a gay dad?" Adam blushed. In a flash his mind worked it out that this might be the right moment to come out to his father — kick a man when he's down, as it were.
"What would you think about having a gay son?" 'Put that way, I still give myself an escape route.'
"Well, I couldn't object, could I? Something about the pot calling the kettle black?"
"In that case you've got one," retorted Adam brutally. They both rose from the table and rushed into a hug, tears streaming down their faces.

After five minutes of sobs and hugs Adam's father finally said
"Is it true? Are you sure?"
"Ninety-nine percent."
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Only if you tell me about you."
"Are you hungry?"
"I am now. I've hardly eaten a thing all day, I've been so worried."
"Well, we can't go out for an intimate talk. What about if I order a takeaway?" Adam nodded. "Chinese, Indian or pizza?"
"Pizza'll be great."
"By the way, I wouldn't mention any of this to your mother yet. You'll have to sooner or later, but it wouldn't do either of you any good at present." Mr Byford went off to telephone while Adam went off to shower and change. The light at the end of the tunnel was no train this time.

Father and son settled down to eat after the delivery boy had called.
"Would you like a beer with that, Adam?"
"I don't know. I've never tried it."
"Take a sip of this," said his father while he was pouring one. "If you don't like it, I'll drink it."
"Yeuk! It's too bitter for me." Adam went and poured himself some lime and lemonade.
"What makes you think you're gay, son?"
"Two things, Dad. I just feel different from the lads at school, always have done. They talk about girls and I just can't work up any interest."
"But you're only thirteen."
"What did you feel like at thirteen, Dad?"
"Oh, it was different then."
"How different?"
"Well, you know..."
"I don't, Dad. Tell me," said Adam earnestly.
"Much the same as you described. Then I had a best friend and we'd go off for camping weekends and we'd... well you know... we'd do stuff together. At university I had lots of gay friends and I enjoyed their company and there were a few flings. I didn't really consider myself one of them and then later I met your mother and we fell in love, or she fell in love with me, I don't know... we married and you came along. Don't worry. You weren't the product of a virgin birth. But I always had these doubts in the back of my mind and I never found the role of a happily married man easy, but I worked on it and we managed it somehow... Until I started talking in my sleep. And your mother still won't tell me what I actually said. What about you, son?"

Adam gave his father a censored account about what had happened at school, how it had affected him, his crush on Nick Carter and the realisation he positively loved all things to do with boys.
"So, Dad, that makes you bi... or what?"
"I don't know what I am. Let's forget labels. They're irrelevant. For all these years I've been able to put it out of my mind — forget it. It hasn't been important. Now, over the last forty-eight hours everything's gone pear shape, been destroyed." Adam looked at his father's careworn face. He felt empty. He didn't know what to do or think. He couldn't take sides. He didn't want to take sides. His experiences over the past few weeks made him entirely sympathetic towards his father, though. It even provided Adam with an answer to the 'Why me?' question.

It was getting late. Father and son were sitting there, just being there for one another.
"Dad, I'm going up to bed now. Do you mind if I go and see Mum tomorrow?"
"Of course not, Adam. I've got nothing against your mother. I still love her. I just want her back here with us, but I understand that might not be easy."
"Good night, Dad."
"Good night, son." And father and son hugged each other tight. Adam lay on his bed, thinking over what had happened. Finally he booted up his iMac and wrote in his journal before going back to bed and falling into a deep tearstained sleep.

The next day was Saturday — no alarm. No cup of tea brought in by his mother, either. That's when events hit Adam. He sobbed his eyes out, his face buried in his pillow, and fell back to sleep. He needed to cry and when he woke up twenty minutes later he felt purged, he felt he could face the future. There was a knock at the door and his father came in.
"Adam, are you awake?"
"Morning, Dad." He could see all the cares of the world engraven on his father's face.
"Didn't you say you were running the line for the soccer match today? You'd better get a move on." Adam looked at his alarm clock and as soon as his father had closed the bedroom door behind him he sprang out of bed. 'Of course I did.'

Adam was not good enough to be selected for the school U13 soccer XI. He knew that, but he also knew that the U15s were playing on the next pitch — they always did — and it was one way he could get to see his hero, white shorts and all. He was in desperate need for something positive and at the time that was the only thing on the horizon. After showering he put on his tracksuit and trainers, first making sure he was wearing his new jockstrap. He looked at himself in the mirror. He liked the shape it gave to his packet. He swallowed a hasty, but small breakfast, got his bike out and pedalled off to school. Then it hit him. He remembered that Nick had been off school the previous day because of laryngitis. Another body blow, but he had a commitment to fulfil and he doggedly made his way towards school.

His team was already out on the pitch warming up. He reported to the master in charge, apologising for his late arrival. The match kicked off and half time came. The school was one goal up, although he was not terribly interested in the score line that morning. Adam dutifully crossed the pitch to run the opposite line, the one next to the U15s' pitch. Their game was still going on. Then came the whistle for half-time. It made him jump and as he looked towards where the blast had come from, who should he see? None other but Nick Carter, white shorts and all. As the team went to get their oranges, their eyes met. Nick waved and Adam waved back, but nothing was said. Adam's heart soared. During the second half he looked over at the U15s when it was safe to do so. He noticed that someone else was wearing the captain's armband, but that didn't matter. The U13s' match ended with a draw. The U15s still had some minutes to go, so he turned to watch them. He could swear that his eyes met Nick's again; not only that he could also swear that when they did, Nick's game moved up a gear. He shifted the ball up the wing avoiding two of the opposition's tackles, made the cross and goal. Nick ran back for the restart giving Adam the thumbs up. Adam suitably replied, lowered his eyes to Nick's shorts as he ran past and was transfixed by the bulge and the trace of the straps across his buttocks. He thought back to when he was wearing them for a weekend and immediately hardened up. At age thirteen he had not heard of the concept of a fetish.

He watched the remaining bit of the match. Nick ran up to an opposition player and took the ball off him. In a couple of minutes the final whistle went for the U15s' match. Evidently that last goal had been the decider. The teams clapped each other off the pitch, then to Adam's amazement Nick broke away from the rest of the team and came across to him.
"Good to see ya, little brother," Nick mouthed in a hoarse whisper and they high-fived.
"I didn't expect to see you here, big bro," answered Adam likewise in a whisper and trying his luck with the 'big bro'.
"Why are you whispering, Adam? I'm the one with the laryngitis."
"Sorry," said Adam in a normal voice "but people do that automatically when someone's lost their voice. I don't know why. Nice tackle that!" said Adam. Nick glanced down at his shorts and they both blushed. "Great goal too," Adam went on in a fit of giggles. "It was yours really even though you didn't put it in the net."
"Well, that's a team game for you. Anyway, people don't seem to like hugging me any more after a goal these days. I've no idea why. I suppose they don't want to catch laryngitis. Hey, are you all right, little brother? You look as if you've got all the cares in the world on your shoulders."
"I'm okay. Things are a bit difficult at home, that's all."
"Do you want to talk?"
"Yeah. I looked for you yesterday. That's how I knew you weren't at school. You're the only one I can talk to about this."
"Yeah, well. I don't mind taking a Friday off, but I'm not missing a soccer match. Mum took a bit of persuading though. Let me get changed and we'll go for Pepsi somewhere. I'm stopping in town anyway this afternoon. But don't expect me to say too much."
"You've not done badly so far, big bro. See you in a bit," Adam grinned, and then shocked himself. Without any further thought he patted his hero on the backside as he turned to go off. He looked at his hand in amazement. 'I'll never wash that hand again,' he thought in jest.

He enjoyed his chat with Nick, not only because he was sharing his company. He discovered that he too was only child. He also discovered his address and telephone number with an open invitation to ring, should he be in trouble. It made him realise the benefits of that little act of kindness in returning Nick's shorts washed and ironed, whereas if things had taken a different turn he would never have got to know his hero, might even have been beaten up for witnessing or revealing the little scene of intimacy and perhaps, worst of all, never have had this opportunity to come to terms with his own sexuality, all that from having a petty theft on his conscience.

Adam cycled home a happier bunny. His father prepared a snack meal. Then he took to the road again on his bike to see his mother. He was at a loss as to what he was going to say or to do. At some stage she would get to know he was gay, but what would happen.? Would she reject him as impulsively as she had rejected his father? Or would she, because he was her flesh, have to come to terms with the fact, and that might help her get back together with his father?

He rang Auntie Janet's doorbell. She answered the door and took him in a hug. He liked that. It was the preferred alternative to a sloppy, wet kiss. As he went into the sitting room he saw his mother sitting on the sofa. He felt awkward. At least she looked better than she had the previous morning. She got up and hugged him too.
"We'll have a cup of tea," said Auntie Janet. They sat over tea trying to make small talk. How was school? What are going to do this weekend? Finally Auntie Janet announced that she had some pricking out to do in the potting shed and left mother and son together.

"When are you coming home, Mum?"
"I don't know yet. Your father told you?"
"Yes. He hasn't done anything wrong, you know." Silence. "Or has he?" His mother couldn't look Adam in the face at that remark.
"Give me time. You know Auntie Janet's got a spare room, don't you? You could come and stay here."
"Not at the moment. That would leave Dad on his own. You have Auntie Janet." It wasn't going well for Mrs Byford.
"You know that whatever happens I will always love you, Adam."
'Whatever happens?' he pondered. 'I bet you said that to Dad often enough.' He didn't mean it resentfully. 'What will you do when you find out that I'm gay too?' "I know, Mum." Auntie Janet came in from the potting shed still wearing her Marigolds. "I'm off home now, Auntie Janet. Thanks for tea." He hugged his mother who remained seated on the sofa. Auntie Janet went out with him to unlock the garage so that he could get his bicycle. "Get Mum to come home. Please. Dad needs her."
"I know. From what I've heard, and I've only heard one side of the story, I don't think your mother's right. But she is my sister and needs support. I'll do my best."
"Thanks, Auntie Janet." They hugged. Adam put on his cycle helmet and left. He so didn't want to take sides, but he could not help thinking his father was the injured party.

Future

It was now the summer holidays. Adam had little prospect of going away. Mother had decided to move out. The divorce had come through. It was clean cut — no open bitterness. It was all suppressed and everyone tried to put a smile on their face. Mother attempted to re-assure him it was for the best. At Adam's request his father was given custody. He had even plotted a scheme for the eventuality that she would demand custody. He would come out to her either to stop her wanting him to live with her or to undermine the reasons for the divorce if she'd insisted he did, but common sense prevailed and it hadn't come to that. Divorce brings out the worst in everybody, even in the non-combatants. He had been delegated the awful task of supervising the removal of certain articles from their home into the furniture van. Thankfully not a lot for Auntie Janet's cottage was pretty full already.

Adam was walking along the shoreline ostensibly looking for any flotsam or jetsam the previous night's storm might have washed up. Ostensibly, for his mind wasn't really on searching, but directed inwards in a wave of self-pity for his own situation. Later in the day as it warmed up there might be the added bonus of spotting a hot kid his age in Speedos sunning himself on the beach, but he'd probably be with family or friends and Adam would never have summoned up the courage to speak to them anyway. He watched a Continental ferry heading for the harbour entrance. They always looked top-heavy and he wondered how they remained upright. The divorce had left its scars, but he would get over it, he told himself. He'd be fourteen in September and in Year 9. Would fourteen be any better than thirteen? It couldn't be worse.

Adam came to the end of the shingle beach where the shore in front of the castle consisted of huge rocks and you were forced onto the promenade for a mile or so. It was times like this he wished he had a dog. It would be company and fun to throw a tennis ball into the sea for the dog to retrieve. By the station for the miniature railway he jumped back down onto the shingle beach. The tide was ebbing and a line of seaweed lay along the high watermark. Nothing of interest on the beach. 'I wonder if a metal detector would help?' When he was younger he would ride on the miniature train. It used to be powered by a steam loco, but that had been replaced by diesel. Nowhere near as interesting. Adam carried on past the hovercraft station towards the west pier where the shingle beach ended again. Up onto the promenade and along to the Old Town which contained the small commercial port and overlooked the harbour with its naval dockyard and the ferry port.

As you got to the end of the promenade you could either descend to the road or follow a path through a series of ramparts and old fortifications which guarded the harbour entrance in olden days. He chose the latter and was just passing through one of the forts when he spotted a small body huddled in a sleeping bag and sat against the wall. Normally Adam would ignore beggars, but this was not an ordinary beggar, not, as he was later to find out, a beggar even. What struck him at first was a shock of curly blond hair on a boy about his own age and as he got used to the light a pair of sapphire eyes in a dirty and tired face, a dirty, tired and handsome face, he thought.

"Are you all right there, mate?" he called across, acting against all his instincts and entirely out of character.
"Yes, I'm okay, thanks."
'There's something odd here,' thought Adam. The voice, recently broken, was not that of a street urchin. The pronunciation was quite refined and he said 'thanks'. "Are you sure?" he asked again taking a seat on the ground next to him his back leant against the wall.
"Well, no," and he heard a sob. At that time of day there would be few people around, even in the holiday season. Adam heard the boy's stomach rumble.
"When did you last eat?"
"Yesterday lunchtime." For some inexplicable reason he had immediately felt a bond with this boy. Okay, under different circumstances it might have been because of a certain twitch in his loins, but this was different, supplementary, as he would later write in his journal.
"Come on. There's a café just across the road. Let's get something to eat."
"But I haven't got any money."
"I have. Enough for a burger and a drink and the bus fare home. I'm Adam by the way."
"Pleased to meet you, Adam by the way." Adam didn't find the joke terribly funny, but he was pleased to spot a spark of humour.
"My name's Freddy." They shook hands and Adam used the handshake to pull Freddy up onto his feet. He climbed out of the sleeping bag which despite the smell Adam rolled up while Freddy gathered his things together into his backpack. They concentrated on getting across the road to reach the café. Once there Adam ordered a giant burger and two milkshakes.

"How old are you, Freddy?"
"Thirteen."
"So am I."
"What are you doing out on the street?" With Freddy sitting opposite, Adam could look through the grime and the tear stains on the face and see a beautiful, even a hot boy. Now he did feel a stirring in the underpant department.
"I've run away."
"What? From home?"
"Sort of."
"What do you mean sort of?" Freddy dissolved into tears again.
"You see, my parents were killed in a car accident and I've got no relations in the country and they were going to put me in a home."
"Who's they?"
"Social services. And I've heard what they do to kids like me in those residential places."
"What do you mean, Freddy, kids like you?"
"Gay kids... I suppose you're going to call me names now and walk off."
"Why would I? I'm gay as well." A light lit somewhere in that face, somewhere in Freddy's eyes. Adam's heart was broken. He had already forgotten his own troubles. Here was somebody far worse off than himself. "Come on. Finish your grub. We're going home."
"You're not going to tell social services or the police, are you?"
"Well, they're have to know sooner or later because you'll be a missing person, but I've got another idea first." Incredibly trusting of each other, Freddy followed Adam to the bus stop. The bus arrived. Adam asked the driver "How far can we go for sixty-eight p?"
"How old are you?"
"Thirteen"
"The market. Where do you want to go?"
"The BP garage by the Co-op."
"That's £1.20 for both of you." Adam and Freddy looked at one another. The driver could see they were in difficulties. "Come on, boys. Climb abroad. Give me sixty pence. You can stay on to the Co-op and if the inspector gets on, I'll take your names and addresses." The boys' faces broke out in smiles as they said thank you.

They arrived home. Adam took over as the organiser. He was used to that since his mother had left. He took Freddy up to the spare room and showed him where the bathroom was. He ran a bath for him and put out soap, some shampoo and a towel.
"Freddy, have you got any clean clothes?"
"No."
"Have you got any more clothes?"
"No," he replied with an embarrassed look on his face.
"Okay. No worries. You're about my size. When you get undressed, leave all your clothes on the landing and I'll put some of mine out on the bed for you. Take your time. We've nothing to rush for."

Adam went into his room to sort out some clothes. He paused for a minute and a moment of wickedness took over. He could not deny that he had been smitten by this thirteen year old stranger and for a couple of minutes he fantasised about how he would like to see him dressed. As that wasn't possible he took out a white tennis shirt, white tennis shorts, white socks and one of his favourite Hom Ho1 black slips. 'It's not cold today,' he mused. He put them on the bed in the spare room, picked up Freddy's clothes from the floor outside the bathroom, and holding them at arms' length because of the smell took them down and put them into the washing machine. As he unfolded them and checked the pockets of his jeans he noticed that his clothes were all good quality brands. After he'd switched the machine on he went to the telephone in the study and closed the door.

"Mr Byford's secretary."
"Hello, Mrs Williams. This is Adam Byford. Can I speak to my father, please?"
"I'm afraid he's in a meeting with a client at the moment. Can I take a message?"
"Yes... please. Could you ask him to ring me at home and tell him it's urgent?"
"Yes, I'll do that, Adam. Bye for now."

Mrs Williams was as good as her word. She knocked at the door to Adam's father's office.
"I'm sorry, Mr Byford, but I've just taken a call from your son. He'd like you to ring him at home. He says it's urgent."
Mr Byford said "Thank you, Sandra. Will you excuse me for a moment, Brian? My son doesn't normally do this, so it makes me think it must be urgent." He went out into his secretary's office to make the call.

"Hallo, Adam!"
"Hallo, Dad. Sorry about this..."
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No, not at all. Can you come home at lunchtime?"
"Sure. What's the problem?"
"It's too complicated to explain on the phone, but I've got somebody here who's run away from home. He's in the bath right now, but he needs someone to help him."
"I'm with a client right now, but I'll come home as soon as we're finished. See you soon. You've done the right thing, Adam. Bye"

"Sandra, what's the state of my diary for the rest of the day?"
"Staff bonding session at two. That's it."
"I shall be pleased to squeeze out of that. Peter will be there anyway. Would you send my apologies? I won't get there even if I can." With that Mr Byford returned to his client.

The freshly bathed Freddy was an entirely different picture from the smelly tearstained Freddy. Dressed all in white his teenage beauty had blossomed.
"What size feet have you got, Freddy? I don't think those trainers are going to last much longer. You'd better try a pair of mine." He was in luck. Adam's trainers fitted just as well as his other clothes. "Come on let's get something to drink and sit in the garden. Are you still hungry?" Freddy nodded. "Here's a packet of biscuits. We'll get a proper meal when Dad gets home."
"Is your mum at work?"
"Yes, but she doesn't live with us any more. It's a long story and I'll tell you once you've told me yours."

They went out and sat on the swinging sun lounger.
"Do you feel you can tell me about it?"
"Oh, Adam, I need to tell someone. I feel so alone." Adam thought Freddy was about to start crying. He put his arm round his shoulder and just sat there quietly. "It happened last week... Wednesday. I'd been out with friends and when I got back home there was Mrs Anderson, that's our nextdoor neighbour, in our house with policewoman. They sat me down and told me my mother and father had been in a motor accident. A petrol tanker had veered across the central barrier from the other half of the motorway, crashed into several cars and burst into flames. They died instantly. When I stopped crying, the policewoman asked me if I had any relations I could stay with. The only relations are my mother's brother and his family who live in Australia. She then said she would have to get in touch with social services and I'd be taken into care. When she said that, I was almost sick. She told me to go and pack a few things together while she telephoned. I was not going into care. I knew I'd get picked on if they found out I was gay, or even worse." Adam looked genuinely shocked, but Freddy wasn't looking at him. "I went up to my bedroom, put a few things in my backpack, collected together what money I could find in the house and climbed out of my bedroom window, over the conservatory roof, down into the garden and out of the back gate.

"Finally I got to the motorway junction and thumbed a lift. I got one with a Spanish truck driver who was going to the ferry port. He could hardly speak English and I couldn't speak any Spanish. He dropped me off at the entrance and I made my way down to the beach. I had nowhere to stay and the money was running out. During that storm we had yesterday I sheltered in that old round tower and that's where you found me."

They heard the sound of tyres on the gravel drive.
"That's Dad," said Adam. He called out "Dad, we're in the garden." Mr Byford came out of the side door of the garage carrying a large plastic bag. They could smell fish and chips.
"Hi, boys! Everything okay?"
"It is now," replied Adam. "This is Freddy. His parents died last week in an accident." Mr Byford's face dropped as he realised the seriousness of his son's phone call.
"I am sorry," he said as he shook Freddy's hand and then took him in a hug.

They went inside and Adam got plates and cutlery ready for the fish and chips. Over lunch Freddy told Mr Byford what he had already explained to Adam.
"So where do you live, Freddy?"
"Cheltenham."
"Dad, can Freddy live here with us?" Mr Byford drew in a long breath through his teeth.
"For the time being, yes, but it's a bit more complicated than that."
"Would you like to, Freddy?" His face answered the question quicker than the words. "Okay," said Mr Byford. "I'll make a pot of tea and we'll form a plan of campaign, but if there's anything you don't like about it, Freddy, for goodness sake say so. You said you were gay. You'll fit in with us okay, if that's the case." Freddy and Adam both giggled.

After an hour's discussion and note taking Mr Byford said he was going back to the office, not to work, but to contact his firm's legal department. It should be a priority, he said, to let the police know that Freddy was safe, but he didn't want him snatched away by social services. At four o'clock he returned home and announced a certain amount of success. The Byford family solicitor would go with him and Freddy to the police station to let them know he was safe. He had managed to contact Freddy's family solicitor who was dealing with the family bereavement and affairs and get a fax supporting Freddy from him with the statement that in the absence of anyone else Mr Byford was to act as temporary guardian to Freddy. The Cheltenham solicitor intimated that once everything had been settled, there would be a significant sum of money held in trust to provide for Freddy. Over tea that night Mr Byford explained all this to Freddy with Adam sitting by and listening, and making sure they were complying with Freddy's wishes. At nine the following morning they would present themselves at the local police station to confirm what the solicitor had informally told the police over the telephone.

"Adam," said Mr Byford, "I think we'd better get Freddy settled in." All three went upstairs to the spare room. "Freddy, this is your room for as long as you want it. The bed's made up. We'll kit you out with some of Adam's clothes until we can go to Cheltenham and pick up your personal belongings. That'll probably be Saturday. Tomorrow after the police station we'll go to the shops and get anything you need urgently. Now, you are to make this your home until you decide otherwise. And please, if you decide to leave, discuss it with us beforehand. We won't stop you, but no sneaking out of the bedroom window and across the conservatory roof. Besides, this one's made of glass and won't take your weight. No standing on ceremony and I think you had better call me Terry if you're going to be a member of the family."
"Thank you, Mr B... Terry. I just can't think why you're doing this for me. After all you hardly know me."
"Let's just say that Adam and I have a hunch it will work out. You can explain the house rules, Adam. Not that we have many."

Fortunately the boys had the summer holidays to sort themselves out. They did not have a holiday as such planned, which worked out for the better, but Terry promised the boys they would go away somewhere for half term. As arranged they motored to Cheltenham to pick up Freddy's belongings and to meet the nextdoor neighbours. The following week they returned there for the funeral of Freddy's parents. Otherwise everything was in the hands of the solicitors. An offer was made for Freddy to go to Australia to live with his uncle and aunt's family, but he turned it down and his guardianship under Terry Byford was eventually made legal and official with a view eventually of full adoption. In time the house at Cheltenham was sold and the financial arrangements completed, which pleased Freddy as he would have felt uneasy about open-ended unpaid hospitality, although that wouldn't have concerned his guardian.

Things settled down in the Byford household. Having Freddy there, especially with his need to overcome the bereavement, took Terry and Adam's minds off the divorce. They had someone else to care for. Another job coming up was to enrol Freddy at Adam's school.

After the initial difficulties of officialdom everything ran smoothly for the boys. Adam still chronicled the minutest detail in his journal, which meant, although he could not explain it, that love at first sight when he saw Freddy huddled in his sleeping bag, was growing. Nick Carter was still his hero, he was untouchable, on a pedestal, but perhaps most important of all already taken by Michael Griffiths. With Freddy it was different. He could touch him and Freddy touched him back. He could put his arm round him. He could hug him when something great happened. There was no embarrassment, no pulling back. It just felt naturally good when they were together. Of course they had their arguments, but they were healthy arguments, each feeling for and extending the boundaries in their growing relationship.

In August Terry announced to Adam and Freddy that he would have to be away for two days on business with an overnight stay. Under different circumstances Adam would have spent the night at Auntie Janet's with his mother, but that was not possible with the two boys and although she knew about him, Freddy had not been introduced to her yet. Adam shied away from that for the time being.
"I've arranged for Mr and Mrs Farthingale nextdoor to look after you. The arrangement is that you'll go there for meals, but sleep here. Does that sound all right to you two?" Both boys nodded. "It's a special privilege and you're to be on your best behaviour."
"Aren't we always?" protested Adam. Terry cleared his throat in a deliberate manner.

The appointed day came and Terry checked that the boys had a definite programme for the time he was away. They would play tennis in the morning and go to the beach to swim in the afternoon. Home in the evening, probably the same on the second day. The two boys loved swimming in the sea. It was better than the swimming pool with its chlorine and in August the water was really warm. Neither boy would admit it, but they liked wearing their Speedos in public, each showing off to and admiring the other. Adam had fallen for Freddy's cute little bottom, while Freddy adored Adam's smooth chest. Neither was particularly hairy, which was to be expected at age thirteen, going on fourteen. After they swam, the two boys lay on their beach towels, sunbathing, but also typical of moonstruck adolescents, just looking into one another's eyes grinning and giggling. Over the few weeks together they had become experts at non-verbal communication. It was as if they were natural brothers rather than brothers by adoption. The game was on with one willing the other to get an erection. Adam stared at Freddy, licking his lips and pouting. Freddy looked at Adam with the sweetest of come-on smiles on his face, both trying to control themselves and arouse the other. Then Freddy looked down at Adam's Speedos, pointed and said
"Hee hee, you've lost!" Adam had indeed lost, but Freddy had broken his concentration and immediately followed Adam's example. They simultaneously decided it was time to sun their backs and giggling they rolled over onto their stomachs before they attracted an audience.

They duly arrived back home in time to go nextdoor to the Farthingales' for dinner.
"You boys are in a good mood tonight," remarked Mr Farthingale. "You must have had a good day." Adam and Freddy agreed they had and talked about some of the things they'd done. At nine o'clock, after suitable time to be courteous, they returned to their own house and played computer games until it was time to go to bed. They said good night and Adam spent time bringing his journal up to date. He went and cleaned his teeth, undressed and climbed into bed naked. He was tired and soon fell asleep. The next thing he was conscious of was his bedroom door opening. He put his bedside light on, blinked and saw Freddy standing there stark naked. He pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming. He wasn't. The creature standing there was sheer perfection, the ultimate in youthful beauty. The white part of his body where he had worn his Speedos took his immediate attention and in seconds Adam grew hard. He knew this was the moment.
"Adam, I can't get to sleep. Can I come in with you?" Without a word he drew back the duvet and nodded. Finally he said
"Come on, Freddy."

Adam was next woken up by the telephone. He wondered why he was feeling so hot until he became aware the body lying next to him. He carefully got out of bed, felt a sharp pain as skin became unstuck from skin and ignoring his morning wood went downstairs still naked to answer the phone.
"Are you two boys all right?" It was Mrs Farthingale. "It's nine o'clock and your breakfast will spoil if you don't get over here soon."
"Sorry, Mrs Farthingale, we were still asleep. We'll be over right away." He ran back upstairs and shook Freddy. "Come on, Freddy, we're late for breakfast." The two boys did what they had to do, slipped tracksuits on and hurried nextdoor. When they got back they made the decision to get up properly. After a night in each other's arms they decided to save water and shower together. "Freddy," Adam said as the warm water cascaded over them, "does this mean we're not only brothers, but boyfriends?"
"I'm cool with that." Adam put his arms round Freddy's waist, placed his hands on his buttocks and pulled him into an embrace. Freddy did the same to Adam. Their lips met, then their tongues and finally they felt their dicks pushing against each other. Adam was quickly learning to appreciate Nick Carter and Mike Griffiths' moment of passion during that episode at school from earlier in the year. They did not stopped until the hot water ran out, cooling their ardour.

September arrived as it inevitably does after August, ending the long school holidays which had started so miserably and finished so well. Adam had finally introduced Freddy to his mother, but he still hadn't judged it prudent to come out to her and the word 'boyfriends' certainly never cropped up in the conversation. If she hadn't been so prejudiced, she might even have noticed something about the relationship from the boys' body language, the love in their eyes when they looked at each other, but her closed mind would have automatically repressed any such thoughts, making the love in her own heart dwindle. She did, however, help Freddy in getting his school uniform together. She had reluctantly accepted him as Adam's adopted brother, but only after her son's earnest request that she should.

Before school began, however, there was one event to celebrate which provided its own hurdle. The event was the greatest coincidence with odds of 364 to 1 that Adam and Freddy shared their birthdays on September the 3rd. Same age, same birthday. The hurdle was connected in the following way.

After that night when Terry Byford had been away it was nothing remarkable for one boy to make his way to the other's room in the middle of the night and snuggle down in his bed. Terry even heard them in his waking moments, but thought no more about it and so in one way it didn't come as a surprise since he'd already heard the evidence and in another way it did, because he had naïvely thought no more about it, when the following conversation took place over Sunday lunch.

"Have you two boys thought of what you might like for your birthdays?" Adam and Freddy looked at each other sheepishly.
"We have, Dad," answered Adam "but we thought it might be a bit too much." Terry immediately thought of the cost. Adam had chosen his words carefully.
"Try me. There are only two answers, yes or no, and business is going well just now." The boys looked at each other. "Go on. I shan't be cross or anything." The boys were still diffident in carrying on with the conversation. After a few seconds of silence Adam started.
"What would think if we said..."
"No, Adam," Freddy interrupted. "We said we would ask this one together." They took a deep breath and said: "Dad / Terry..." and then in unison "...what would think if we said we wanted to sleep together?" The boys almost ducked under the table in anticipation of the answer, but there was no explosion, just a silence, then after what seemed to be an eternity Terry sat back in his chair and calmly said
"I think I need notice of that question." The boys looked at him. They looked at each other. Terry's face was utterly deadpan, no sign of emotion, though he could not deny the love that had grown between his son and his new son over those few weeks, no sign of an answer. They hurriedly got on with their roast pork.

Eventually Terry interrupted the silence which itself had only been broken by the sound of knives and forks scraping on plates.
"I'll tell you what. If you two clear away the first course, get it washed up, then serve up the pudding, I'll promise to give you an answer. I'm going to sit in the study. But tell me first what this has to do with your birthday presents." Undeterred Freddy said
"Easy," and together
"We want a big bed!"

In the study Terry wondered at his new family. If he viewed them one way, adversity had forced them into being young adults. He thought it unfair for them to have lost their childhood in the first year of their teens. Then when he took another view of them, he found that they were still children, especially when they laughed and for each of them every laugh was a bonus, a marker on the return to normality. Adam depended on him as a child, as any son would. At first Freddy depended on him as the provider of a home, but as he opened up he was beginning to accept him as a father figure. They had even asked Terry if they could call themselves brothers and he knew there would come a time when he would no longer be Freddy's guardian, but his father by adoption, and he had no difficulty with that. He easily sensed the love that was growing between the two boys and thought back to his own years as a teen, to how he could have had a love like that with all its emotional and physical yearnings and turmoil, and perhaps it might have been better for everyone if he had. But then Adam would never have existed and Adam was the one in the world he loved more dearly than anyone or anything else. And if Adam didn't exist, neither would Freddy, at least as far as he was concerned. In fact, while in the study he gave no thought whatsoever to their original request at all. Other things were occupying his mind, pleasant things.

Out in the kitchen the boys were getting on with the chores.
"That was easier than I thought," said Adam.
"What do you think our chances are?" asked Freddy.
"Can't say. All I can say is that he'll look at the implications from every angle and the answer will be far longer than a simple yes or no."
"Your Dad's a crafty one."
"He's your Dad now, or step dad."
"He's still crafty. He's got out of doing the chores," and they laughed at their own gullibility.

"Pudding's on the table, Terry," shouted Freddy. Terry came back into the kitchen, sat down and began to devour his spotted dick and custard with great relish. The only expression on his face was one of enjoying his food.
"Is there any more?" he asked when he had finished his pudding. Freddy got up and fetched him another portion. Freddy and Adam finished off the custard between them. "Who's going to make the tea?" asked Terry.
"I will," answered Freddy. Adam knew from old that his father had made up his mind and was just building up the suspense.

With tea on the table Terry said
"Are you listening boys?" They leant forward, elbows resting on the table and looked straight into his face. "You realise what you are suggesting is illegal?" Adam and Freddy looked at one another downcast. "On the other hand you have made it so obvious how you feel about each other and knowing young people as I do, you will find your quiet moments to enjoy each other's company despite anything I say. I know you've been... what shall I say? ... visiting one another already. Also, I do find it a bit difficult to deny you something I will admit just to you I enjoyed at your age. If you want a double bed, you can have one..." At that Freddy and Adam rose to their feet, ran round the table and hugged Terry, giving him a kiss, one on each cheek. "It might stop the somnambulism."
"The what?"
"Sleepwalking... And beds really count as furniture for the house and so don't have to be a birthday present. Perhaps more important even, I do not want to know in the slightest what you get up to, okay? Just look after and care for each other." Despite the echo of 'boys don't do that sort of thing' in Adam's head, the boys were ready to promise anything.

Adam and Freddy celebrated their first birthday together. It was too soon for the promised bed to arrive. They made the arrangement that it would go in Adam's room as the bigger one, but they would otherwise retain their own rooms so that they could have some privacy if they wanted it. It was all a quiet affair. Freddy and Adam used the afternoon as a final opportunity to go swimming in the sea before school began. In the evening Terry took them out to dinner at a country inn. Their exchange of presents was interesting. Adam gave Freddy a jockstrap to match his own and Freddy gave Adam a plain black 'vanity case' containing a bottle of massage oil, a tube of K-Y gel and a packet of condoms.
"Are you trying to tell me something, Freddy?" asked Adam as he gave him a hug. These gifts were in addition to a DVD and a computer game which were the official presents. Terry gave each of the boys a skateboard.

On the first day of term Adam took Freddy to school and introduced him to their classmates. Later, passing in the corridor, Adam met Nick Carter. After almost two months apart they high-fived and picked up their relationship where it had left off in July.
"Hi, little brother, did you have a good one?"
"It was all right, big bro. Hey, have you got time for me after school? I've got someone I want you to meet, but go gentle with him. He lost his parents in an accident."
"How about lunchtime, in the dining hall?"
"Won't we get some stick if we sit together?"
"Nah. What if we do? I can take it. I've had to take it for the last two terms. I couldn't care a toss now. How about you?"
"I'm cool with it. See ya there, big bro."

The first day of the school year was chaos as usual, even for old hands, with its assemblies for this and meetings for that. Terry Byford had secured a promise that Freddy should be in Adam's tutor group, and the same classes, at least until a report came through from his former school. For Adam lunchtime couldn't come too soon. For some reason he was a different boy in Year 9 from the one he had been in Year 8. 'For some reason' was not the correct phrase since to any experienced observer the reasons were obvious. At school he finally had his first 'best friend', even though they viewed themselves at home as brothers and boyfriends wrapped into one. He had someone to care for, he was responsible for someone, someone who needed gentle nurturing after some horrific experiences. Adam also felt more mature in himself and at last, and perhaps this was a boast, he was enjoying a fulfilling sex life which he was pretty sure the others could only talk about, even if as str8 guys they neither could nor would want to dream of it.

After a nominal period five Adam showed Freddy to the dining hall, wasting no time.
"You are about to meet the hunkiest hunk outside of our house."
"Who's the hunkiest hunk inside our house then?"
"Why, me of course," replied Adam.
"In your dreams." Freddy looked him up and down. "Although I don't know... mmm..."
"Do you fancy me or something?"
"I need notice of that question," answered Freddy, mimicking Terry on that decisive day. They collected their food and took their trays to the far obscure corner away from the crowd. They didn't have to wait long until Nick Carter came along by himself. He had spotted Adam and gave a slight nod of the head. He queued for his food, then brought it over to where our two lads were sitting.
"Hi, Nick."
"Hi, little brother."
"I want you to meet my new best friend and adopted brother and..." His voice dropped to a stage whisper. "...boyfriend, Freddy Armitage."
"Hi, Freddy. How're you making out?"
"Frequently," Freddy came back as quick as flash. The two younger boys blushed.
"Puppy love. Huh!" said Nick in mock scorn.
"Shhh!," said Adam. We haven't come out yet..."
"...and we're not going to at school, either," finished Freddy. Nick was good at getting Freddy to talk about why he had left Cheltenham and come to live with Adam, which he managed without a tear in his eyes.

Time went on without their noticing until the first bell went for afternoon school. They looked around and the dining hall was nearly empty. The dinner ladies were hovering for them to take their plates and cutlery to the trolley.
"You know, Adam, you're a very lucky boy," said Nick. "If I didn't have Mike, you'd have a very serious rival there." Freddy purred at the compliment to himself and Adam purred not only at the compliment to his good choice, but also because of his own personal pride in Freddy and the way their friendship had started and blossomed. "Just a pity you're a rugger bugger and not a soccer jock, Freddy, but we'll convert you and it won't be for two points over the sticks. See ya, little brothers." At that Nick walked off and both boys watched in admiration.
"What do you think to a little wife-swapping?" said Adam.
"Wicked, but I don't think much of yours, even though I haven't seen him yet," replied Freddy.

When they got home that evening, they went to put their bikes away in the garage which they found unlocked. Inside they found a huge package. On the invoice was written 'King-size bed'. Beside it was another - obviously the duvet and bed linen they had chosen. The path of true love never did run smooth and when they came to assemble the bed they found it wouldn't fit into Adam's bedroom with all his other stuff. So at Terry's suggestion they embarked on a rapid plan of redecoration. At first Adam thought he would have to sacrifice the first U16s soccer match of the season. He so wanted Freddy to see Nick in action, not to mention in his football kit, but when he came to study the school diary more closely he realised it was an away match and he wouldn't have been able to go anyway. Terry and the boys started Friday after school and beavered away until Sunday evening. The result was that Freddy and Adam had a communal bedroom, while Freddy's room, freshly decorated, remained as his hideaway and Adam gained the other spare bedroom as his new den.

Four o'clock on Sunday afternoon the three of them slumped down in the sitting room, more than content with their weekend's work. As Adam sat there with his arm round Freddy, he heard a sob and noticed he was crying.
"Why are you doing all this for me?" pleaded Freddy through the tears. Although the answer was obvious to the other two, neither father nor son could put it into words. Finally Adam came out with
"Because we love you."
"Both of us," added Terry. Adam signalled with his eyes for his father to leave them alone. He took Freddy in a cuddle on his lap, just in the right position for him to sense Adam's true feelings, and kissed him while gently slipping his hand inside Freddy's shirt and softly stroking his nipple. The tension in Freddy's body fell away as he responded to the love that was flowing between them.

The following Saturday the U16 XI was playing at home and with a devil may care attitude Nick arranged for Adam to run the line for the U16s, while Freddy volunteered to do the same for the U14s, on adjacent pitches of course. Adam admired Nick's physique. He noticed how he had grown over the summer. His body displayed more muscle, it was harder and he still gazed at those shorts he had so stimulatingly worn that weekend all those months ago, unable of course to ignore the contents, but there was a difference in his attitude. He was admiring this stud in the way a farmer might admire a prize beast at local agricultural show. The longing he felt for Nick had been completely eclipsed by his love for Freddy.

After the Future

The story of Adam and Freddy really ends there, but one or two loose ends need tying up. The two boys' love for each other not only deepened, but they helped each other to overcome; Freddy to overcome the sudden loss of his parents through such a remorseless traffic accident and Adam to overcome the loss of his mother through divorce. Of course he visited her frequently, with or without Freddy, but he had lost her in spirit, if not in body. Although he knew he ought not to take sides, she had after all left him as well as his father, and because of his own situation in life and her reaction to his father's, he no longer felt close to her and indeed he never did come out to her. Whether she realised or not, she chose not to say. It was two years before Freddy had completely come through his bereavement, but he was proud to have done so through his own inner strength and the acknowledged help of Adam and Terry. No counselling for him. The words 'social services' would still send shivers down his spine. He did successfully become a soccer player who regularly represented the school, giving Adam a double reason to run the line on a Saturday. The following Christmas all three took up an invitation to spend the holidays with Freddy's family in Australia.

In his quiet moments Adam the Introspective would often reflect not only on however bad he considered his own situation, there were others far worse off, but also on how a small kindness had indirectly led to a greater kindness which had further led to the ultimate happiness of three people in a reconstituted family. It could have gone so horribly wrong for any of them.

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