Discovering Brazil
by Zustara Orur
A story (C) 2002/2003 by ZUSTARA ORUR. Contact address: zustara@hotmail.com 2.0 May not be redistributed, commercial use prohibited!
English is a second language to me, so please excuse any goofs present herein regarding grammar, spelling. I try to do the best I can!
Legal mumbo-jumbo BS: this story features explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting male youths. The story is fictional, and only took place in my mind. If this sort of thing bothers you; you are under-age (and anybody cares about it); reading this story happens to be illegal wherever you may be right now; etc, please STOP READING. I won't get in trouble, but you might, who knows. If all is hunky-dory, feel free to continue, if that is your wish.
Also note that this is a real STORY centering around love rather than sex, those mainly interested in long descriptions of copulation and such may want to look elsewhere.
SPECIAL DEDICATION: My love and sincerest gratitude goes out to Dwayne, Pointblue, Daniel, Caeru, Blue, Taryn, Leonard, Warp1, Ryan, Ratatosk, Michael, Odius, Squidsgerbil, Tamsyn, Maxy and Genesis, all of you listed in reverse order of appearance, just to be a bit different. *Grin!* Special thanks to Jalaki for approving my posts in a prompt and regular fashion, my close friend IOMfAtS for looking over my stories and hosting them on his incredible website and finally, Comicality for having created the Library forum. Visit it at http://www.voy.com/17262/, read a story and give an author some comments. We all love it, please come and share the fun!
Chapter One - Theft of a Heart:
I sat on my bed and cried. I didn't just cry, I wailed and screamed, wanting to crumple up the note, tear it to pieces, burn it out of existence by focusing all my anger and rage and despair on it in a mental blast of some sort. Of course I couldn't do any of those things. Ali had written it and then mailed it without anyone else knowing, the last thing he ever did.
Oh Ali! Why did you have to do it? Why did you kill yourself?! I loved you so much! I was going to come visit you after school ended for the summer, I promised! I knew your life was shit, but I loved you! Loved you so much, couldn't you feel it...? Why did you have to do it...? I will miss you FOREVER.
My father held me, trying to dampen my feelings.
"Shhh, Nathan... There's nothing you could have done..."
I knew he was right, but I didn't want to accept it. I wanted to blame someone, anyone. "No!", I yelled angrily and sprang up from the bed. "I hate him! Why did he have to do it? I hate him, and I hate you too! Why did we have to move? If you hadn't dragged me here, Ali would still have been alive!"
"Nathan..." My father sighed tiredly. "You can't be sure of that."
"Fuck you! Shut up, I don't EVER want to talk to you again!" I slammed the front door to our new house shut and took off running, still crying my eyes out. I ended up at the nearby playground where I scared the kids with my incessant sobbing, not really caring I was becoming quite the attraction myself.
Of course dad had been right. Ali had had SO many issues on various levels to come to grips with. Not just his horrible, HORRIBLE parents whom he never let me try to talk him into leaving, but also school and all the bullying, and being gay - which he never really accepted. It wasn't that he really wanted to be attracted to girls, he never even said that. He found them kinda yucky actually... It's just that he felt everything about him was wrong I think, including his sexuality. Like, he didn't want girls. He just didn't want to want boys either. In fact, it was just barely he allowed my love, he could be all tense and weirded out about it one day and more open the next. When he did accept me though... Oh god how sweet it'd been!
We had both been each other's first lover. I had showed my wang to some other guys before when I'd been little, just like they had showed me theirs, but that was basically it. Just flashing wangs at each other, getting a boner while the other was looking. Me and Ali though, we went all the way, I even let him stick his dick up my bum just to show him how much I loved him. You'd think he'd freak at the thought, but he and his parents came from the middle east, and the attitude towards anal intercourse between two males is a bit weird there I think... Don't know how he would have reacted if I tried to do it to him, just having him do it to me was enough for me. Not saying I didn't like it, because I did I guess (even though it's kinda gross when you think about it!), it was mostly just an act of love on my part, showing I trusted him and was willing to give myself to him fully and completely.
We liked the sex once we got to that point, both of us did despite Ali had difficulties actually approaching physical intimacy. Usually we would make love right after me discovering he'd cut himself again. He promised over and over not to do it any more, but he always did. First I'd get angry with him, and then I'd get upset and cried, and then HE would cry too, and then after that, usually while still weeping we'd start to kiss and make sweet love. It was real love too, not just sex, we really loved each other.
...It didn't help though. No matter how much love I gave him, he never stopped. He never became comfortable with himself and what he was, or with me for that matter. Me moving away just meant it happened faster than it would have otherwise. He was slipping, had been slipping virtually all his life. Little by little, losing the grip. I don't want to think he'd resigned to the fact, I suppose he had, but it feels better on the inside if I just ignore it and pretend it wasn't so.
"Why did you do it?", I wailed quietly to myself. "I loved you, dammit..." The pain and feelings of loss tore at my chest relentlessly, without mercy. My eyes wouldn't stop dripping tears, and my nose was all runny too. Not that I cared at that point.
I felt Kurt sit down next to me. I'd seen him skating around on the other side of the playground and I guess he decided I'd been there weeping long enough now, that he dared to approach me. "Hey", he asked softly. "What's up, buddy? Please tell me what's wrong." Kurt's the only friend I got in school so far. Real friend, I mean. Okay, I don't know even him that well yet. Others I'm just on a 'hello-basis' with, we say hi when we meet in class and maybe ask if it was page 112-135 that the world history test was about, or page 112-139 or something like that. Nothing really intimate and personal, you know? Kurt's...different. At least a little. I don't know why, but I just feel like I can trust him somehow. I wouldn't say he took to me instantly when we first met, but he was more eager to be my friend than anyone else I'd met so far that's for sure. Maybe it's because he's the only guy in school I live at least fairly close to (and hence, other way around too), and maybe he too needs another friend, I don't know. No, come to think of it, Kurt's got buddies already. They're all skaters, but not bad people from what I can tell.
I couldn't stop sniffling and sobbing, so soon Kurt became really worried! He put an arm around me and that just made me cling to him, sobbing even harder! "He-hey, guy... You're scaring me here. Did someone die or something?", he asked jokingly. Of course that only made me sob even louder!
"Yes!", I almost yelled back at him.
Poor Kurt, I didn't mean to make him feel bad! "I'm sorry man, I didn't know..." He was starting to let go of me because maybe he felt he should leave after screwing up like that. I just held him even harder in return.
"Don't go!", I pleaded... "He was my best friend...", I whispered. Then I shuddered as more sobs wracked me. "He... He killed himself..."
"Oh man!", Kurt said, his voice deep with sympathy. "I'm sorry! I can understand you're upset!" He held me almost like my father had, though he's not really any bigger than I am. He's taller, sure, but he's really gangly so our total mass is about the same. Yet it suddenly felt much better too... My tears were drying out, and soon I could raise my head from Kurt's shoulder and look at him. I guess I must have looked a mess with my red, puffy eyes and teary face, because he kinda jerked when he saw me.
"It's okay. You couldn't know...", I mumbled.
He hugged me, he actually hugged me. A friendly, nice hug, and then he patted my back. "It's okay, Nate. I'm your buddy, right? You can talk to me." He paused and dug around in a pocket. "Here. Use my hanky."
I managed a weak grin. "Thanks man", I said. "I'll make a real mess of it, I promise!"
I kept it too, but he wasn't angry. Kurt stayed with me for a while to make sure I was okay, and when he had to go home to watch his lil sister whom his dad was bringing back home from the daycare center before he had to go back out again. I gave him another hug and said he was a really great friend. That embarrassed him a bit, but I didn't care! He should know I thought, and thus I told him and he blushed...
Neither him nor I really thought we could be close friends I think, but we connected, and next day in school he hovered around me making sure everything was alright with me and that I wasn't totally going to fall apart like the previous day. I still felt like I wanted to break out in tears about every thirty seconds or so, when it struck me I couldn't email Ali anymore just to say 'I love you!' (could never call - problem with his parents, stuff like that). I'd NEVER be able to mail him again, or see him during summer or any of those things we'd planned and promised each other that we'd do. He was GONE. Poof. Finito. No more Ali, and I was so very alone...
He was gone, but my love for him was not. It was a ragged hole in my chest, straight through my heart, and it struck me over and over and OVER that I would never see him again but it never really sunk in. I'd forget it, sort of, and I'd think of him, something I wanted to tell him, some funny little thing that happened that would make him laugh his quiet, reserved laugh and kinda nudge me in my ribs with an elbow and tell me I was silly, and WHAM! It struck me again. He wasn't there, I COULDN'T tell him. Gone, forever.
It wasn't even possible for me to blame him even though I very much wanted to, not after that first shock. I sorta knew I think that it would happen sooner or later, at least subconsciously. One day he'd simply cut a lil deeper than he used to. Wouldn't really matter to him when he did it. One day would be as good as another, it would be totally on a whim. I knew him too well, I had always been able to read him like an open book since we'd been friends basically since we were old enough to make real friends. We'd been friends forever, and I would miss him forever...
Now he was gone, and only a small miracle kept me from having a full-blown nervous breakdown. Part of it was knowing I'd start working part-time in dad's store, that would help me take my mind off things. Now that I'd turned fourteen and was a bit more responsible he thought I could get to help out for a few hours most every day (well, weekdays anyway, and not if I was too busy with school), and I'd even get paid for it too just like his other staff.
That was the reason for moving in the first place. He got an offer to take over a big sports goods store when the previous management had succeeded to run it into the ground despite a good location in an affluent shopping district. Quite remarkable, everybody thought, well except me of course. I don't know anything about such things! Of course, it meant the whole family had to relocate. Oh, who am I kidding? It was me and him. Dad was divorced, mom had custody of my (much) older sister who was nineteen and really not in her care anymore anyway. I didn't cry any tears that the two females in the family were gone, we never got along anyway. Men and women were like cats and dogs in our family, going out of our way to make each other miserable.
It was kinda neat working in the store, meeting customers and helping them, and it made time pass. It made me able to not think about Ali quite so much... Also, it sure beat doing housework which is the kind of duty he'd put me on instead. I don't know of any other parent that makes his KID wash up after dinner. Not just the plates and glasses and such, but EVERYTHING, pots, pans, the whole caboodle. He'd always say he made the meal so it was my duty to clean up, to share the burden. He never offered to let me cook and then do the dishes afterwards, but now that I worked in the store he actually went out and bought a dishwasher. Lazy bum! Think of all those years I stood with my arms down in soapy water cleaning greasy plates!
Dad chuckled SO MUCH when he saw my face after the new kitchen appliance had been installed, it was the laugh of a lifetime for him. He knew I had this really upset, almost murderous expression on my face, but when I saw him laughing like that of course I couldn't help joining in.
Anyway, back to the store. I took care of the streetwear section mostly and helped out a bit with skating and rollerblading questions since I know at least some about that stuff. I don't actually know how to do any tricks, but I know which equipment is suitable for which person and such.
It was a HUGE store and despite we got it cheap it still brought our economy to the brink of total bankruptcy (I think dad even emptied out my college education account actually), so I had to double up as a mobile security camera also. We couldn't afford people stealing too much, and a sports goods store has lots of stuff lying around everywhere that long-fingered people feel like pilfering. They don't keep as good a watch around kids though, so I busted several people within just a few days. I'd check out suspicious persons and when I knew for sure I'd alert Chuck, our security guard, and then he'd deal with them until the cops arrived. Chuck's nice. He's broad as a barn door over his shoulders but not that tall. Usually he just has to glower at a person and maybe poke them with a finger and tell them to stay put and they do it. One guy got agitated though and claimed to be falsely accused. He was the screamer type of person, one of those guys that rolls down the window when stuck in a traffic jam and hurls abuse at other drivers, but Chuck wasn't fazed. When the guy called him fascist however (Chuck has a 3mm buzzcut on his blonde head), he got a little ticked off! He wrestled down the screamer on the floor and sat on him until police arrived. That was so funny! The policemen that came to pick him up got angry too after the man said all kinds of not so nice things about them as well.
About two weeks after I had started working, I felt a light tap on my shoulder while I was re-stacking sweaters on sale that people had made a mess of. It was Naomi, a lovely ebony-skinned girl (who plays a mean game of street hockey and doesn't mind to catch you in places where it hurts A LOT with the club if she thinks it's to her advantage. I swear, I will wear a cup next time I play against her!).
"You see that guy over there, the one with all the braids?", she asked and pointed without making it obvious. "Keep an eye on that one, things always seem to be missing when he's around."
SURE I saw him! He was like a ten-pointer on my scale! Then it struck me, I'd SEEN that guy in school! Only glimpses in corridors though, never fully. How could I miss him? His hair was all thin braids. They started at the top of his head and ran straight down all sides of his skull like the spokes of a wheel, even past his forehead, there must have been dozens of them. Each thin braid was a deep honey-blonde color, so deep actually they almost but not quite shifted over into brown. They were all tipped by a small black glass bead too. A sweatband encircled his head, keeping his dangly hair in place. The band had three stripes on it; red, green and yellow. The boy was dressed casually, a Rebook tee on top with a large collar that showed lots of lightly tanned smooth skin, (and a necklace with big black spheres thread on it adorning his tall boy neck) and faded jeans cut-offs that ended just above the knee. I looked at his butt as I approached. Not bad, not bad at all!
"That's a great pair of cross-country running shoes", I said, standing behind him as he squeezed at the shoe he held in his hands.
The boy jerked at the unexpected sound. "Huh?" He turned and I in turn almost jerked! He had the sweetest, prettiest face I'd seen since moving here... Ali, oh Ali! I miss you so! He had soft, rounded facial features and bright shiny eyes that made him seem kinda impish and kid-like. I had a hard time believing he was my age, but I guess he was. He reminded me of what I looked like when I'd been twelve! His neck was really graceful, and so slim! I could easily see the thick veins running down either side of it, and his collarbones and everything. The large neck opening showed so much skin compared to normal tees I actually started going hard in my pants!
"Sorry, I thought, maybe you needed some help finding some good shoes." I looked at him. No, he couldn't be no shoplifter! He was so PRETTY, that was just impossible to imagine!
The braid-adorned boy looked back with big green-brown eyes. "What? Do you work here?"
"Uh-huh", I said and nodded at him, smiling back slightly. We then started talking shoes, giggling and kidding around like young people do when they're meeting a new friend for the first time. I became more and more convinced though, Naomi HAD been right. There had been fear and guilt in his eyes when he first looked at me and again when I asked if I was part of the staff. He'd looked scared before he saw I was 'just' a kid, and I started to think what to do once we ran out of things to say to each other and he needed to leave.
For some reason though, we didn't... We just continued to talk! I told him I was kinda new in town. He knew that, he'd seen me too in school at a distance and noticed I was a new face. I mentioned my dad owned the store and he seemed suitably impressed. Finally, when I had shown him most of it and we'd talked about all the everyday things you can do with someone you don't really know all that well yet, I pulled him aside.
"Open your pack, man", I told him.
He immediately became incredibly defensive. "What? What for?" He gave me a sharp, almost angry look. "What the fuck's this about?"
"Look, man. I know you got some shit that belongs to us in there." He got even angrier, but I cut him short before he had a chance to speak. "Hey, I'm only trying to help you! You see that guy over there?" I pointed. "That's Chuck the 240-pound gorilla security guard. He'd nab you and squash you like a bug if you tried to leave now." I saw the boy look. He must have seen Chuck before, but now the buzzcut ex-marine seemed even more imposing and threatening. Slowly the boy backed down.
"Shit, man. I... I didn't mean to steal fromja." He seemed sad rather than angry all of a sudden.
I frowned quickly at him. "No, that was before you knew who you'd be stealing FROM", I told him. "Until we started talking the owner of this place had no face, heck there might just as well not have been an owner at all." He seemed more than a little shamefaced and I knew I'd been right. It's easy to steal from people you don't know, that you aren't friends with. "Now let's see what you got in here..." I started rummaging through his pack and goggled at what I found. There was more than I imagined would fit in that small backpack, and it didn't bulge in a suspicious manner either! "Damn! How did you squeeze all this in here?", I asked quietly, probably sounding a bit impressed.
The braid-adorned boy smiled. "There are ways to accomplish that...", he said with a secretive edge to his voice. "Takes lots of practice." He winked, but I still don't think he was kidding.
"Okay Brazil", I told him. "Tell you what we'll do-"
"Uh, 'Brazil'?", he interrupted me.
I grinned. "Yeah, you haven't told me your name and I gotta call you something. Hence, Brazil." He blinked, clearly not comprehending. "Your headband, man! That's the colors of the Brazilian flag", I said and pointed.
He started laffing his ASS off at me! "No man!", he giggled when he'd managed to get his laughter under control. "Brazil's flag looks totally different! I don't know what this is though, probably nothing at all!"
I started blushing really bad! "Uh... Alright then." I giggled a little too. "Well anyway, BRAZIL, here's what we'll do..." I explained my plan to him, and he seemed satisfied. I picked up all the stuff he wanted and walked off towards the exit.
"Hey, Nate my man. You gonna have all that?!"
"Yeah, just put it on my tab", I told Rick who worked one of the cash registers today.
He shook his head. "Okay... Don't tell me I didn't warn ya!" He went, 'whoo!' and shook his head again. "Christ, this comes out to over $250! You sure you wanna do this?"
I giggled. "You know I get this stuff at cost anyway."
"Yeah, but still!"
"It'll be all right! I can manage! Just stuff it all in a bag okay?"
He shook his head at me one final time, grinning. "Okay, it's your money man..." He put all the stuff in a bag as ordered and handed it to me. "Okay, take care now, see you tomorrow, alright?"
I gave him a smile. "Yeah, see you tomorrow!" Rick is such a nice guy. He and all the others were working in the store since dad took over, and they all say they like it much better now. Maybe that's because dad raised their wages, I dunno! Rick likes me too, he always says hi when I come in the afternoon and bye when I go, and helps out if I get a tricky customer who asks stuff I don't know much about. He's a rock climber by the way and has a strong, wiry body. If we're going to expand with a bike shop too, Rick would sure be the guy to help run it, because he knows lots about such things too. He competes in downhill racing and such when not swinging from one mountain-ledge to another.
Anyway, me and Brazil, like I'd grown fond of calling him, exited, saying hi to Chuck on the way out. He nodded and gave me a quick smile. He wasn't anywhere as fearsome really as I'd made it look like to Brazil (unless you really wanted to piss him off!), I just wanted to rattle the boy a bit to make him understand.
"Now", I said as we walked down the street, passing other high-street shops with consumer electronics, watches, music, bookstores, all that kind of stuff. "This is when I give you the bag so you won't have to steal any more stuff from us again."
He stopped, grabbing my arm to make me stop too. "I can't accept a gift like that, are you crazy?", he said, his face all pale despite his light suntan. "It's too much money. Besides, I don't even know you!"
"Oh, so you could STEAL 250 dollars worth of stuff from us, but you won't take it as a gift? Alright, have it your way then, we look to be about the same size..." I winked at him, but also made sure he knew I was serious. I started rummaging in the bag and pulled out a nice lycra workout tank-top made to breathe, was scientifically engineered not to chafe, all that stuff. It had a sticker price of almost $60. I held it up to my chest. "Yeah, seems to fit nicely on me."
He seized me around a wrist. His hand felt very warm on my skin... "Are you serious?", he asked, obviously being totally serious himself.
I grinned and held up the shirt to his chest. "So you would like to have this stuff after all, huh?"
Author's Notes:
Sometimes I get people writing me and asking how I come up with my ideas, how I write my stories... Well, it's all a step-by-step process really, and it often varies greatly from story to story. Let me tell you some about this one...
I started this one a LONG time ago. It was just a few paragraphs of text initially, some ideas on a scrap of virtual paper, nothing more... It sat there untouched on my hard drive, the first scraps I'd written down keeping the rest of my ideas alive in my head.
One of the first scenes that crystallized itself into reality, THE first scene actually, was right after my two boys had been to the movies together and Nate looked at that guy's butt as he walked past. The actual visit to the movies came later (because the bridge my characters pass over isn't very far from a multiplex cinema in my city), as did the names of the individual characters, and most of their personalities as well, but the scene actually came from ME looking at a hot dude's butt and thinking what if someone noticed me doing it! (Imagine that huh? LOL!) Brazil's actually kinda angry words were there right at the beginning. It might have been the very first thing I wrote down as the story began its first slow, tentative steps towards completion.
Brazil was a lot more sullen and distant in my earliest concept of this story, as that very first line hints at. He was still a straight guy who became curious and got turned on by a gay guy, but he wasn't really quite as nice and pleasant initially as he is now. Eventually he simply grew into this incredible cock-tease just because I wanted to write a story featuring a boy that behaved like that... I knew he was a thief early too, the scenes in the second half of the first chapter where Nate buys Brazil clothes were also in my initial concept, though I fleshed them out considerably by the time I actually started writing the story for real. I had been to a sports goods store myself to buy some stuff, and I thought up this dialog exchange where one boy forced the other to empty out his backpack.
I think Ali materialized about ten seconds before I actually started writing. Maybe just five. He simply appeared out of nowhere, and he quickly became such a definitive character in my story even though he really isn't 'in' it at all, if you know what I mean... I wanted to have the element of loss and healing as part of the plot, and Ali is another of my boys I care deeply about. I hope you came to love him just as much as I do.
The name for Brazil came a little later after those first two scenes. The image for Brazil is a boy I passed in early spring one day when the weather was exceptionally warm for the season. The hair with the braids and the hairband was all there on that kid, though the real boy's a few years younger than in this story, and I added the beads just for effect. I looked at flag sites trying to find those colors on his hairband, and they simply weren't there. However, 'Brazil' simply was too good a name NOT to use, so I kept it anyway...! Nathanael is the name of a super-hunky Australian guy I had the pleasure of sharing room with for just one night at a youth hostel in London last year. He talks weird stuff in his sleep and have blonde dreads and an awesome, athletic body...! Nate as a character, in contrast to Brazil, is mostly pretty straight-forward apart from the points where he is joined with Ali; he's mostly just our narrator, the moon that circles the homeworld; Brazil. We discover the story through Nate's eyes, the strange and curious creature that is Brazil...!
Maybe this explains things. Maybe not, maybe it just raises more questions... I don't know. Anyway, if you liked the story, drop me a line okay?
Oh, by the way... 'Left Luggage' is a wonderful movie. Watch it.
*ZUSTARA*
A K A L V
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