Summer Stories 4: The Quiet Boy

by Zustara Orur

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 young boys. 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.

I:

Stan tried to jump away from a kick aimed squarely at his posterior.

"Queer!"

"Faggot!"

"Pansy-ass!"

"You're such a pathetic little cock-sucker, Stan!"

"Hahahahaa!" The laughter was rough and intended to be nothing but hurtful. It was the final break of the day, just before last period. Soon that hellish school day would be over, and there would be a few hours' respite before the next hellish school day would start and everything would repeat itself all over again.

He felt as if he was about to lose it entirely. His life was falling apart, it felt as if almost everybody was his enemy, and the final irony was he wasn't even gay! He was small for his age and thin-limbed, and girls thought he was really cute he'd heard from his few friends, but that was it! He didn't fancy guys! The schoolyard bullies simply teased him because he was an easy target to pick on.

Even though Stan thought he was going to cry he simply bottled it up and screwed on the cap really tight to make sure nothing leaked out. If he did break down it would just be used as more ammunition against him the next day. Fortunately, the bullies were done with him for the moment, they let him sneak off to the furthest corner of the huge school's property without further incident. There some old horse chestnut trees grew, their huge trunks and extensive foliage shadowed a large patch of ground where two thick, slightly more than waist-high masonry walls intersected. As Stan followed one of those walls, absently kicking an old dried-out husk of a horse chestnut along the ground, he noticed another boy sitting on the wall right at the intersection.

He tried to remember where he'd seen that boy before, but couldn't. Something was familiar about him, but what, Stan could not figure out. He was dressed in really short-legged soccer shorts that you seldom see kids wear these days, and a soccer T-shirt belonging to some Italian league team, the letter 11 on it and the name of a player Stan had never heard of. He had long socks up his rounded calves in the same colors as the shorts and shirts, and soccer shoes on his feet with large protrusions on the soles for extra grip in the grassy surface of a soccer pitch, they seemed rather old-fashioned and new at the same time, made of leather rather than synthetics.

The boy's skin was ivory white, and his hair raven black in a near buzzcut around his round skull; the hair an half-inch long, not much more than that. He seemed as short and slim-limbed as Stan himself, and most strikingly, he was so incredibly pretty. Even Stan could see that for himself, even though he really had no interest in other guys (or really, other girls for that matter since he had barely started getting into puberty yet). He couldn't tell exactly which part of the face it was that completed the picture of total beauty. Was it the almond-shaped jade-green eyes with their thick black brows and long, curved black lashes? The crimson red moist lips? The delicate and defined bone structure of the face? The small button nose or the graceful small ears? His pointy but not jutting boy chin? It wasn't possible to decide.

"Uh... May I join you?", he asked quietly, and the boy nodded.

Stan sat down on the wall and tried to breathe more easily to calm down, it was difficult at first, but as he looked at the other boy he managed to start to relax. The din of all the other students seemed less all the way over there where he was sitting, and he couldn't see much of the school itself either, the enormous building was mostly hidden by the ballplank at the end of one of the basketball courts.

Stan was fourteen, and Jewish, though his family wasn't very hardcore about it. They celebrated the holidays, they went to the temple, they prayed too of course, but it was all done out of reflex and tradition, not really because they actually meant it, Stan thought. Like it was a chore almost. None of the others in his family knew he was being teased, his sister attended a different school for kids with special music abilities (she was sixteen and an excellent flute player), and if they knew none of them would understand. They'd look at him, take note his girlish appearance and conclude it was all true. They'd take him to a different school to make the teasing stop of course because they weren't monsters, and then shun him emotionally at home. That was actually his greatest fear, because he really loved his family despite the lack of attention and appreciation he felt he got from them.

It was as if his parents took him for granted, that he'd always be there and behave and be a good boy simply because he was their son. They didn't actually have to deal with him because he wasn't a baby anymore and could mostly take care of himself, they seemed to think.

As he sat there and thought about that, a single tear squeezed out of one of his eyes and he blinked rapidly to make it go away. Too late, it started rolling down his cheek and one of his hands whipped out to wipe it away really quick so the black-haired boy wouldn't see he was weeping like the pansy he'd been accused of being. Right then he felt a cool hand on his shoulder and he looked up. It was the pale-skinned boy, who had edged up right next to him and looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

"You don't want to be seen with me", he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You've heard what they say about me?"

A nod.

"Aren't you afraid they'll treat you the same?"

The strange, yet strangely familiar boy shook his head. He smiled slightly, in a friendly manner meaning, 'I think you're alright.'

Stan smiled a little too. "Thanks."

They sat together in silence until the bell rang, and the teased boy hopped off the wall and walked back to the school, followed by the pale, quiet boy. He felt safer now for some reason. Protected. He heard the plastic protrusions of the other boy's shoes scrape against the asphalt, it sounded funny in a way, but it felt good to know he was there.

When the school day was finished, Stan rushed out the doors as fast as he could and let his eyes scan the yard as he ran across it. He saw the quiet boy way over there in the corner already and changed direction to meet up with him, his backpack bouncing merrily behind him. He asked the other boy if they could go home to his place, and with a quick nod, a positive answer was given. Stan didn't bring people home to his place, his parents didn't like it for starters (they wanted him to concentrate on his homework and get straight-A grades, which he always did like the good boy he was). The second reason was, he didn't really know that many other kids either. This time it felt different. He needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. How could he know the quiet boy was someone like that? Well, he couldn't, of course! That's what was so strange! He had to start trusting someone though, or he'd simply break into little pieces and scatter before the winds...

He started talking to the quiet boy the minute they reached home. About the gay stuff. About the lack of affection and appreciation he got at home. Everything. Tears came too of course, and he cried his eyes out, yet all the quiet boy did was to be there and absorb everything dumped on him, and smile comfortingly and be a good friend. Stan wept for almost two hours straight, and when the time came for his parents to get back home with his sister in tow (who spent most afternoons in band rehearsals), the quiet boy let the other know he had to go.

Stan knew they'd see each other again, and they hugged quickly before the quiet boy exited the apartment. Stan sat down and smiled to himself in a giddy manner. Someone had finally listened to him! Someone had finally made him feel a little bit good about himself!

Everything felt so much better. He went to his room and closed the door, laid down on his bed and fell promptly into a restful sleep. His mother and father came to wake him at dinner-time, concerned because he didn't usually sleep during the day. They asked if he was sick, which the boy denied. They shrugged, and then ragged a bit on him for not having done his homework, but even that was not enough to ruin Stan's good mood.

II:

Rich was the class clown, and he almost looked the part too. He had curly reddish-brown hair in a funny kind of hairstyle that sprouted this way and that, and lots of freckles on his face and shoulders and upper arms too. The boy was always ready with a quick joke whenever the opportunity presented itself, and often when it didn't. That's what made Rich's fourteen-year-old life so danged difficult, he just couldn't shut up! If one of the jocks stumbled in a corridor, some quick quip would hop like a frog out of his mouth, and he'd get the living shit kicked out of him as thanks. If a teacher screwed up, he'd point that out too in some suitably insensitive and entertaining manner, and of course, to save face the teacher would send him to the Principal's office. Rich was one of the most frequent visitors to see the Principal, and though he was aware of Rich's basic problem - a chronic runaway tongue - he wasn't very understanding, nor particularly forgiving either. Rich did detention most every week, and had several suspensions under his belt too.

He did his best to hide the fact he was miserable with an overly cheery exterior and quick wit. Even though he got beaten down time and time again he just seemed to bounce back again, grinning. Every day that grin became a little bit more strained though, a little bit more fake, and he felt even more hollow on the inside. He was becoming more and more of a fraud as he pretended to be nothing but a happy-go-lucky, carefree guy. Being rather gangly and shrimp-like didn't help either. He knew the girls didn't look at him like he was prime rib exactly, both from his appearance, which wasn't very impressive from a physical point of view, but also because they saw him as nothing but the clown he acted like.

"Oh shoot!", he said angrily to nobody in particular and picked up a small rock from the ground and threw it as far as he could as he leaned up against the stone wall. The rock hit the ground and bounced off in a semi-random fashion until it came to a stop on the deserted schoolyard. There it would lie, probably forever, until the end of time. He hadn't managed to throw it very far, and nobody ever seemed to hang around in that abandoned corner. Rich had just come out of another round of detention and needed to blow off some steam before he got home to get spanked by his father again for getting himself in trouble for the fifth time that month. Why the hell couldn't he just shut the fuck up for once in a while, huh? He swore at himself for both his stupidity and big mouth.

The boy jerked, startled, as a pair of soccer shoes suddenly lowered themselves down into his view from somewhere up above. He rightened his back and twisted around to take a look. He saw a kid sitting there up on top of the wall with his slender yet muscled legs dangling, a boy no older than he was. Very pale skin, very dark hair, very green eyes. His breath actually caught in his throat as it sank in, that this was probably the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen, and those green eyes now looked back at him in an intense, direct, yet friendly way. The boy waved at him with a slim-fingered, thin-wristed hand, saying hello without uttering a single word. 'Hey, you... I understand how you feel', the wave said. 'Why don't you join me for a while so we can talk?'

At seeing such a genuinely friendly face, Rich's lower lip suddenly started to quiver, and the boy hopped down to the ground and sat himself next to him. Without either saying a word, they made their way home to Rich's place as the class clown did his best to keep his emotions in check. Rich couldn't remember much of the trip back home, he just knew that suddenly he was in his room with this strange, yet strangely familiar boy in his arms as he cried like he'd never done before in his life.

There had been a note on the table in the hallway from his father saying he and his mother would be gone for the evening. Attached was some money and no further explanation other than an ominous message expecting Rich to be home and waiting for his parents to return so they could discuss his general behavior...

Rich felt such peace and calmness wash over himself as he held the boy in his arms, was held by the other's arms. He knew he wasn't a homosexual, but there was nothing sexual about the way they held each other, the word 'gay' never even entered into his mind. There was just this great feeling of acceptance and understanding... With the quiet boy, Rich didn't have to pretend. He didn't have to play any of his countless roles that he practiced on his few friends every day. He felt safe, and he couldn't stop crying for hours. When his parents returned from the movie and dinner they'd shared together, their son was fast asleep. With the door to the sleeping boy's room closed behind him, his father let out a roar as he tore off the sheet from the bed, tipping Rich onto the floor with a startled yell and proceeded to give his son's nearly naked body a strapping like he never experienced before in his young life. Rich screamed and pleaded, but to no avail, and then the door to his room slammed shut once more and he was left alone, bawling and stinging and quivering. Thankful that his father hadn't raped him again...

Then he remembered the calmness and serenity he'd felt not very long ago and relaxed. Rich fell back into sleep right there on the rug and dreamt peacefully all till dawn broke.

Some time passed. Stan and Rich had both made the quiet boy a part of their own respective circles of friends in a way, though small as they were, and even though the boy never joined them at school they felt as if there was one more person in the world that cared. The quiet boy was there for them at home when each of them needed him, when they felt upset or distraught, when everything seemed hopeless, when things were teetering on the brink and about to come crashing down in a total mess. He was there, he'd sit with them in their room and let himself be cried upon and hugged. He would absorb the frustration and negative emotions.

The two sad kids never met, never talked, barely looked at each other when they passed in the hallways, since they were part of different circles in the huge school. All they had in common was the quiet boy.

III:

Ben shuffled through the school hallways in a daze. There was just one thought on this troubled fifteen-year-old's mind; Bev. The most attractive girl in school, amber hair, hazel eyes... Unfortunately, she would never ever even look at him, coz... Well, Ben was more than slightly overweight. His mother just smiled at him and said he had a heavy bone structure, but a mother is always blinded by love. He knew he was fat, and that was all there's to it. If he'd somehow managed to miss it himself or forgot it, he was reminded of it daily by some kind people in school just to be on the safe side.

He even wrote her the most amazing haiku the other day and slipped it into her locker - anonymously of course - and of course she assumed it was some hot stud that had written it. Bev wasn't the most popular girl, oh no. She was of a poor family, and a tomboy kind of girl who spent most of her time rough-tumbling it with other boys, playing their games. She was better at sports than most boys, had a great body and along with her incredible looks made her truly despised by the other girls, who did their best to discredit her at every opportunity and make her life miserable. Ben didn't care, to him she was the most beautiful and attractive thing ever.

She was as beautiful as the evening star... And just as far out of reach for him.

Ben saw the boy sitting in the far corner of the yard. He thought he'd seen that boy before, somewhere, but couldn't quite remember where. That pale skin, the black hair... The soccer outfit. All of it rang a bell in Ben's mind, darned if he could figure out what it was though as he found himself waddling over in that direction.

Not really knowing why, he heaved his heavy bulk up on top of the wall (which was quite a feat for the youth actually) and sat next to the strange boy, preparing to waste away the first break in total silence.

"I'm never gonna get her, am I?", he asked nobody in particular. The other boy looked at him with his head slightly crooked.

'How can you be so sure?', his green eyes asked.

"Just look at me man! I'm never gonna get kissed!"

The boy's utterly, supremely pretty face broke out in a big smile! 'Don't say that! You'll never know what's going to happen in the future!'

Ben sighed hopelessly. "Yeah right!", he said in a grumpy voice and felt like pouting for a bit. Then he felt an elbow poke him.

'Hey, don't just sit there!', the boy let him know with his actions. 'Talk to me!'

So Ben did... He came back, again and again and talked. Talked about everything, his hidden love for Beverly, his wish to become an engineer, and his fears none of it would ever come true. He talked about the bullying too, knowing how much it hurt, and the fact the only thing that seemed to soothe the inner pain of being so hopelessly WRONG was eating more, while knowing that only made things worse, which made him have to eat even more... A most vicious circle.

He came home that day to his mom's small apartment finding the place stacked to the brim with comfort food ready and waiting for him. His mom wanted him to grow big and strong, and thought she was doing him a favor. The quiet boy led him past all those temptations however, straight to his room. There the two settled on the bed - which sagged considerably under the big youth's hefty weight.

He continued to talk, mostly about Bev, how perfect she was, how gorgeous, how attractive, how sexy, and Ben noted absently how the quiet boy seemed to gravitate towards him ever so slowly as they continued to talk, maybe due to the way the sagging bed made a huge crater-like depression right where he was sitting.

"...So THAT'S why she will never want to kiss someone like me", Ben lamented, and that was when he felt a moist pair of lips touch the skin of his cheek. He turned his head and found the quiet boy so close to him they almost touched, and he smiled softly.

'You're nowhere as ugly and horrible and gross as you think you are!', the smile said. 'In fact... There's nothing wrong with you at all!' Then Ben leaned forwards for a second helping, getting it served right onto his hungry lips.

It was not a kiss of passion, because that was not the kind of sustenance Ben needed. He couldn't kiss like that with a boy, because he wasn't a homosexual. He liked girls, but the quiet boy understood him, Ben felt so safe and comfortable and confident even when the two kissed. In a way, it was practice. Practice for things to come later in his life he hoped.

He felt the blocks inside him groan under the pressure of years of keeping stuff hidden inside him. Multiple Hoover dams worth of emotions. As he shuddered he felt reminded of how others looked at him with disgust, like he was just some blob of blubber, a person totally lacking self-control, scarfing up anything and everything that was edible. Ben felt, in the eyes of others he was barely human at all, and then the dams burst. The boy cried for the first time in years, and the quiet boy continued to kiss him, again and again, until Ben had control of himself once more. Not by re-building the dams, but by starting to understand his own feelings, and even accept them in some small way.

They continued to press their lips together over and over, holding their arms around each other, all until just before Ben's mother came back from her job as a waitress.

IV:

Eddie was fifteen too and being smothered by his mother just like Ben, but in a very different way. He was the shrimp of a kid that had all the diseases in the world and had to be handled with utmost care not to break... Or so she thought. If there was even the slightest perceived wrong with him, she rushed him to the hospital emergency room and screamed and made a ruckus until a doctor would come see her son, and she wouldn't leave until she got some kind of prescription for him.

She owned every textbook on medicine there was and she read them all from one end to the other, learning everything about all the conditions her son suffered from. Eddie hated it, but there was nothing he could do about it except take his medications and be a good boy, his dominating mother made sure of that!

At school, people made fun of him for being such a wuss, and he became increasingly afraid of approaching people, even those he knew, because if he caught something or even just fell when he ran around and played, his mother would turn heaven and earth upside down because of it. Girls were completely out of the question, because God knows where THEY had been! They were all suspect in his mother's eyes, even though she'd been one once (hard as it may have been for Eddie to imagine; she seemed to have been born the dinosaur she now resembled). No, Eddie's mother was a chaste woman who had only strayed once in her life, and she would make sure her son did not repeat her mistake!

The youth didn't want to be with his friends that day. He wandered around the yard, following the perimeter until he came to the shadow of the horse chestnut trees. The voice of his mother was suddenly echoing in his head telling him to stay out of the sun because UV rays gives you cancer and malign melanoma can sneak up on you before you know it, and you always die from it, just an ordinary mole can be fatal. Eddie, being the obedient boy that he was, listened to his mom and sat down on the wall and felt the cold stones under his bum. He wondered if that maybe would give him a bladder inflammation or not ('cystitis', his mother would call it), but he decided to not give a damn this one time in his life.

The thought made him feel a strange tickling sensation deep down in his gut. He knew he was defying his mother, and the fact she didn't even know he was defying her felt even better! He now had a secret all of a sudden, and that felt really good!

He didn't even jump when he suddenly saw a strange boy sitting down next to him. They both had the same black hair, but Eddie's skin was a lot darker since he was of Asian descent, and seemed to be approximately of the same build too. Fairly short and slim, but the kid's legs were more toned Eddie could see, probably because of the soccer gear he wore. It must feel nice to be allowed to dress like that, Eddie thought. So cool in this stifling heat! He on the other hand had to wear thick pants and sweaters even at the height of summer to protect him not only from the sun, but from dirt, scrapes, germs and colds too.

Even the strange boy's hair was short and radiated freedom and individualism in Eddie's eyes, and as they looked at each other, they couldn't help smiling at one another.

"Do you think girls really are that horrible?" Eddie felt startled the odd thought had just vocalized itself like that. He blushed, but felt relieved the boy simply smiled comfortingly at him instead of teasing him like most every other kid would have done! "I mean... They can't ALL be sluts can they?" Eddie blushed again as he felt he'd embarrassed himself further by trying to explain his reasoning.

'No, of course not', the quiet boy's smile said in return.

"Well my mom sure thinks so!", Eddie replied in a morose tone. "I don't think there's anyone good enough for her..." He sneezed all of a sudden, then pulled out a paper napkin from a pack in his shirt pocket and blew his nose. "Darn it, she's gonna have a fit when she finds out I got the sniffles again...!"

The boy looked at the other with sympathy and understanding. 'You're not sick, Eddie', his eyes communicated. 'You never were, you know that right?'

"Yeah right... Good luck trying to convince HER of that!" He sat there sullenly for a while, but couldn't get to grips with what he was feeling. He was starting to get into gear in his body's most profound metamorphosis, starting to discover the opposite sex, but he was far, FAR too shy to ever dare to approach anyone, and none of them looked at him. He was just the sickly little shrimp with the weirdo mom, NO THANKS, they all said. Not in words exactly, but in actions. "Oohh... I'd really like to feel what it's like...", he whispered. "My mom won't ever let me, not even when I'm 40 years old!"

Eddie shivered with delight as the quiet boy pushed him down flat on his bed and crawled up on top. He'd never felt so relaxed in his life. His asthma was simply gone, every breath came easily and freely. Part of it was all the tears he'd shed against the quiet boy's neck, tears generated by the frustration he felt by being his mother's virtual prisoner, constantly watched over, constantly fussed over in the worst ways possible. Made a fool of constantly in front of his few friends when she came screaming at the top of her lungs to stop what he was doing (which was just ordinary playing), because he'd hurt himself, and get home to take the medicine he'd forgotten (which he really hadn't, just tried to escape for a few hours).

The quiet boy's lips parted slightly as they approached their target, but before they reached it, Eddie's own mouth darted upwards and placed a tenth-of-a-second peck on the other boy! Then waiting less than a second he came for it again, wrapping his arms around the quiet boy's pale neck and pulling him down on top of himself.

He felt a rush of feelings coursing through his body, and found himself smiling. "So THIS is what it's like?", he said to himself. He continued to explore his natural curiosity with the boy, without feeling any shame whatsoever for once. Especially not about kissing another boy so passionately even though he'd never once in his life considered such a thing. Only thing worse in the eyes of his mother than slutty girls were homosexuals, whom were rife with sexually transmitted diseases all of them, walking germ-bombs. And they were sex-crazed too, ready to jump anyone at any time and rape them, infecting their victims with all the gruesome horrors they carried. Eddie didn't feel bad about it though, because he wasn't gay, and the quiet boy was merely helping him, making him feel comfortable with himself and his life.

Some time passed. Stan and Rich, Ben and Eddie had all made the quiet boy a part of their own respective circles of friends in a way, though small as they were, and even though the boy never joined them at school they felt as if there was one more person in the world that cared. The quiet boy was there for them at home when each of them needed him, when they felt upset or distraught, when everything seemed hopeless, when things were teetering on the brink and about to come crashing down in a total mess. He was there, he'd sit with them in their room and let himself be cried upon, hugged and kissed. He would absorb the frustration and negative emotions.

The four sad kids never met, never talked, barely looked at each other when they passed in the hallways, since they were all part of different circles in the huge school. All they had in common was the quiet boy.

V:

Will was so pissed off he didn't know what to do. He was in a way the typical image of an angry black man, but he didn't WANT to be! He'd been on the verge of doing something really stupid for over a week with his drunken slob of a father riding his ass about anything and everything, telling him at every opportunity what a useless, worthless son he was, and now his own girlfriend pulling that shit on him the previous day! It upset him so bad he wanted to start crying, even though he felt angry enough for his head to explode. He'd torn her T-shirt to pieces screaming in rage, his fist ready to strike, to beat her face into a pulp. Only at the last second did he stop himself by slamming that fist into a wall, leaving a gaping hole in it, and giving himself an aching hand that was swollen and non-responsive. He hadn't seen her at all that day, the day after. He probably never would again. He was surprised her mother hadn't called the police to have him arrested when she saw the hole he'd made in her daughter's bedroom wall, when she saw what he'd done to her hysterically weeping child's clothes, almost done to her body in fact. He was a very strong young man, active with all sorts of activities. Tall too, impressive physically, he could really have caused some serious injuries he realized all of a sudden and shuddered. The thought sent chills all through him. He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to hurt anybody!

Well, she shouldn't have DONE that, he said grumpily to himself under his breath and felt his heart harden again at the memory of her betrayal. She KNEW he'd been under a lot of stress lately, she knew he was sensitive about certain things! Not only was it almost another anniversary of his little brother dying (which had been the start of his family's spiral towards total disintegration), it was extra bad that he was black and she wasn't, and people didn't really like it. Not his family and not hers, and many of their respective friends felt the same way too. She on her hand had always been cool with his ebony-dark skin, ever since they'd first met at the start of junior high. They were both sixteen now, and they were both very much in love and wanting to start to have sex with each other too and everything. ...Or, had been, anyway...

He knew he was big, really, there was no way in hell anybody could possibly miss it if they saw him undressed! He'd always been self-conscious about his size even when he'd just been eleven or twelve years old, shy in locker rooms, showers and all the other places where he needed to be naked near other people. You'd think it would be something to feel good about, but not when you're the ONLY guy in school truly hung like a horse, and part of an ethnic minority too. His girlfriend knew about the things said about him of course (the whole school did), but she had always assumed it was all meant as a mean kind of joke somehow, just teasing like kids do... When he'd finally dared to reveal himself to her last night and seen her reaction to be one of sickened disgust, he'd lost it completely. First a flood of tears came in his eyes and she gave a half-hysterical laugh in response, as if not really knowing what else to do, and then rage had filled him.

Knowing he simply had to get away, Will headed in the opposite direction from everybody else to try and cool off. He started thinking about his brother, how the serial killer had lured him away that rainy day while out playing with the paper boat Will had made for him in the gutter as Will himself had been home in bed, sick. The police had caught the guy of course, but not after he'd cut his brother, left him to die bleeding in an alley, overwashed by more rain.

Will's mother had withdrawn into a shell of mental illness, not speaking a word to anyone, just sitting around the house slowly wasting away. His father had crawled into a bottle and seldom came out except when off at work. When he did emerge, it was mostly to hurl abuse at Will, whom had already struggled with school before this happened. To his father, the continuing loss of grades was only more evidence he'd been right all along. Actually, he had to take at least as much crap when his father was drunk as when he was merely hung-over.

Sitting on the stone wall under the soothing shade of the horse chestnut trees, he started talking to himself without knowing what he was doing. He'd been sitting there most of the day in fact, not able to go to any of his classes. Nobody had seen him, nobody ever went to that corner of the yard. Now it was past the bell ringing for last period, and for some reason he simply needed to talk. So he did.

"I love her, you know?", he said. "But now I hate her, yet I love her!" He had to stop to swallow down a big sob. Not that anybody would hear him if he did cry, if the schoolyard had been full with playing kids, which it wasn't. Nobody would hear where he was, not when so far away from everybody else, behind the ballplanks in that shady corner filled with old brown leaves and quiet stillness. Even though the noise of many many hundreds of yelling, playing, talking students could be heard during the breaks, it was almost as if the only thing that really existed in that hidden corner was the wind's soft murmuring as it passed through the dense treetops.

The quiet boy sitting next to him nodded his head. 'Sometimes people think they're ready when they aren't', his jade eyes spoke. 'She never meant to hurt you, she simply wasn't ready.'

"I know, but it DID HURT, you know? She didn't even say she was sorry. She LAUGHED at me!" He sniffled once. "She laughed..." The youth struggled to keep himself under control. "I didn't mean to hurt her either, I just got so angry... I hope she's okay, I really do. I never wanted to hurt her..."

'You scared her, but you didn't hurt her', the boy's jade eyes spoke back as he put his ivory hand on top of the youth's much larger ebony one. 'Come, you should go home. You're too upset to be in school right now.'

The quiet boy grasped Will's hand firmly and the youth let himself be lead all the way home. The boy must have known the way somehow because he didn't stop to ask directions even once. Then they were merely sitting on Will's bed, shoes unlaced of course, and really close together.

"What should I do?", he asked. "I love her, but how can I love her if she's afraid of me? I know no other girl as well as her, I love no other girl than her! It was as if she thought I'd hold her down and choke her with my monster dick or something!" The quiet boy heard the pain in the youth's voice. "I wish I was normal. I wish I wasn't a freak, I hate this fucking thing!"

'Hush', the quiet boy said with a look. 'It will be all right. Everything will be okay...' His hands were on the youth's waist, and then two strong ebony arms were around the boy, drawing him in close. The sobs Will had kept on the inside up until then all came out in a big rush. The quiet boy wasn't scared by his emotions, and he wasn't put off by them or disgusted or anything like that! He understood. He let Will hold his ivory-white head with its short-cropped shiny, raven-black hair and kiss him in between sniffles and sobs. The quiet boy was so nice to him, Will thought, he simply smiled as he was kissed. The youth felt very thankful, and it was so nice touching him too...

He was very comfortable with his view of himself as a heterosexual, and he wanted to give his love to the young woman he loved, but he couldn't. The quiet boy was there instead and accepted it in her stead, and gave new love in return. Will felt his huge dick stiffen more and more, it was a slow process because the love they shared wasn't a carnal want for the flesh of the other, it was pure and sweet, it was friendship and understanding. Acceptance.

For once, Will did not feel awkward for his large size, nor did he feel ashamed either. His stiffie stuck up above his own navel, all inside his T-shirt and hidden from view, which helped him accept himself a bit more easily. He felt its heat against his stomach, just as he felt the boy's heat against himself. Both of them knew that huge hardness was there in between them as they kissed more, letting their lips caress each other gently, nibbling at one another, sticking a wet, slick tongue into one another every once in a while just for a moment.

The quiet boy smiled and showed it was okay, so Will pushed the other down on his bed and got up on top. They continued to kiss like before, and without really understanding what he was doing, Will ground with his hips, pushing his huge penis into the slight-limbed boy's clothed body, rubbing himself against the other and moaned softly every once in a while.

It brought calmness and relaxation to him, his anger melted away, his bad temper evaporated. The frown he'd worn so often on his forehead vanished and all that remained was a serene calmness as he pushed firmly yet gently, again and again, kissing at every push, breathing in between. Soon, Will fell asleep, and when he woke up at the sound of his father slamming the door shut as he came home from work, the quiet boy was already gone. There was a message on the answering machine from the school saying Will had been absent for most of the day. His father got furious and yelled and screamed, wanting to know if Will wanted to become a dumb fucking idiot and work for minimum wage for the rest of his life at best, or live as a criminal - which seemed more likely in his eyes - and then turned around and noted that his son already was a dumb fucking idiot and it was only to be expected for him to cut class like that.

Will didn't care. He didn't even listen to his father's angry tirade. On the inside he smiled as he remembered the quiet boy's sweet friendly love.

VI:

Some time passed. Stan, Rich, Ben, Eddie and Will had all made the quiet boy a part of their own respective circles of friends in a way, though small as they were, and even though the boy never joined them at school they felt as if there was one more person in the world that cared. The quiet boy was there for them at home when each of them needed him, when they felt upset or distraught, when everything seemed hopeless, when things were teetering on the brink and about to come crashing down in a total mess. He was there, he'd sit with them in their room and let himself be cried upon, hugged and kissed. He would absorb the frustration and negative emotions.

Again, it was not a carnal act, it was something they simply needed to do or else go insane. The quiet boy would come without really being asked, just knowing he was needed.

Ben was big too, he'd always been and especially after starting to get through puberty, though not being in Will's league, and in contrast of the ebony-skinned boy, he actually enjoyed it. It had always been something he could feel pleased about.

The boys would all sigh softly as they rubbed their stiff boner against the quiet boy's soccer-outfitted body and lapped up the relaxation he gave in return. It wasn't a sexual act, it was merely existing together, building confidence, venting steam. The quiet boy was the one person in the world all of them could talk to and say anything they had on their mind without any fear whatsoever, no matter what the topic. In fact, the jade eyes of the ivory-skinned boy urged them to lighten their hearts, he desired to hear everything that weighed them down. He lusted to take their sorrows off their shoulders and replace it with intense feelings of well-being, and even pleasure though none of the lonely boys ever orgasmed during their talk and kiss and rub-sessions. After all... It wasn't a carnal love. It was pure and mostly brotherly, and the quiet boy would absorb their frustration and negative emotions.

The kids never met, never talked, barely looked at each other when they passed in the hallways, since they were all part of different circles in the huge school. All they had in common was the quiet boy.

The kids never met, until one day.

It was graduation day, and they were all seventeen years old. All their classmates were preparing to go out and party their heads off, celebrating school was finally over. It had been a long, grueling twelve years, and now it was all over. Now they intended to get smashed, stoned or smashed and stoned.

Instead of that, Will found himself sitting naked on the floor in a dusty boy's room. He'd never been there before in his life. The sun shone in through the windows of the attic, each of them a pair of right-angled triangles set back-to-back in an alcove in the steeply inclining roof. His body had grown and matured in an impressive manner. He was well-muscled and good-looking, and he was a fairly accomplished basketball player. His black hair he'd bleached and dyed blue. His huge dick rested calmly on the rag-rug he sat on in between his powerful thighs, the heels of his feet touching his firm butt, and he didn't feel scared to show himself either. His father had been sober for eight months now, and his mother had started eating for real again. His grades had somehow managed to remain good enough for him to stay on the basketball team through his last school year, and his father had recently said his son made him proud. It was the first time he'd heard that since before little Georgie had died, and Will had broken down and cried in his father's arms.

Next to him on his right side sat another youth he'd never really met, nor talked to before.

Eddie had grown too. He was still small and spindly for his age, but he had grown, and his confidence along with it. He hadn't let his mother run off to the emergency ward with him ever since he'd turned sixteen. He'd told her he'd stopped taking his medications several weeks previous of that big day, and he felt BETTER. She'd almost had a heart attack from the shock, convinced he'd die, but when he yelled at her to calm down she did. First time he ever raised his voice at her, and she listened! She agreed maybe he'd gotten a bit stronger since he was a kid. Every once in a while she'd have a minor relapse, but that passed relatively quickly, and even those were getting less frequent. Eddie had done away with his glass-bottle-thick glasses and used contacts instead, but he still wore a thick layer of clothing ordinarily in part to comfort his mother whom he still loved a lot, but also because he was so used to it by then it had become sort of natural for him. Now however there wasn't a single thread covering his light cocoa-brown body.

On Eddie's right side sat Ben. The boy had changed into a youth, gaining height while losing girth. He'd started exercising and worked out. As his waistline declined, his shoulders, arms and chest filled out. He was still a bit soft around the midsection, but he wasn't particularly worried about that, really. After all, he could easily see his own impressive dick now when he looked down past his stomach, and his chest was getting pretty hairy too. He had also been pleasantly surprised to find strong, masculine and quite handsome facial features hiding under his previously rather pudgy face, which had made him happier still. Ben was as naked as the others revealing the healthy tan he'd developed, and sat with his impressively thick and muscled legs crossed, legs that had been trained over the years to rock-hardness carrying around his (now almost entirely gone) vast bulk, thereby showing off his large, thick main asset.

Next to Ben was Rich. Having been fairly small as well initially, he too had shot up and was now exactly of average height of his age-group. His body was neither muscled, nor scrawny either, and he'd found himself feeling a lot better lately after that night almost two years ago when he'd arranged it so his mother surprised her husband naked in her son's bed. That man was now in a federal penitentiary for sex offenders, and he couldn't count on getting his first parole hearing anytime in his own lifetime, the sentence had been that long. Rich did stand-up comedy some weekends and often shocked the audience with his sometimes very blunt jokes which not seldom dealt with his own experiences. The audiences weren't outraged, they felt sympathy for the young man even as they laughed their butts off (some even cried a few tears actually), and they also held a lot of respect in their hearts for this courageous youth who shared so openly and bravely of himself. His therapist said if it helped, then Rich should continue with it. Rich agreed, it did help, and he would continue. Rich wasn't shy about sitting naked and having a pretty small dick sticking out from an almost carrot-red bush of hair and being all super-pink in color all over except the freckled parts of him, he was way past the point of getting embarrassed about something as silly as that!

Stan was still just as adorably doll-faced as he'd ever been, his clear complexion and awesome looks having given him a role as a celebrated teen actor in a popular drama show now into its second season. He did in fact play a gay character too, and felt comfortable with that. It was proper revenge against all his previous tormentors, most of whom had either been expelled or been forced to apologize after his sister had come with him one day to his school and heard what he'd been secretly forced to put up with all the time. She'd told their parents, whom had totally surprised Stan by becoming outraged and threatened to sue the school for millions of dollars unless immediate action was taken. Now he was always the one of the cast getting the most fan mail, both girls and quite a few guys wrote telling they loved him and his acting, and it made a large pile every week of snail mail and printed-out emails, which he dutifully replied to personally if there was a return address. The other cast members were actually quite jealous of him, but they were cool about it too of course. Stan wasn't poorly equipped between his legs despite being slightly built though, not that he was excessively large either. His average-sized male member simply looked bigger on him than it would on a bigger guy, and he dutifully kept it clean-shaven too, to make his totally smooth appearance even more complete.

Ending:

They all found themselves drawn to that house, how they came to end up there, none could say. Neither of them had ever set foot in there before in their entire life. Their clothes laid in a pile behind their respective backs as they looked at each other, past each other, through each other. It was as if none of them saw the others at all. All they saw was that room, the outdated things in it. Posters of Depeche Mode and Pet Shop Boys, Modern Talking, A-Ha, Alphaville and others were stuck to the inclining ceiling with push-pins. There was no computer, but at the foot of the bed sat an old TV with dials, and in front of it, an Atari VCS7200 video games console with a Berzerk cartridge stuck in the slot. The bookcase was full of Enid Blyton books, a pair of leather soccer shoes laid on the bottom shelf, and a soccer ball sat on top of it. Other shelves held trophies or photos of soccer kids, photos of A kid in particular. Everything was dusty and seemed frozen in time. As if it hadn't been touched in...forever, almost.

In the middle of the small circle sat a naked boy with ivory-white skin. It wasn't chalk white, there was some color to it, even if pale. The hair was short, and raven black, and the eyes, jade green. He looked at them all in turn and smiled. It seemed to all the kids as if he sat right in front of them, looking straight at them, only at them and nobody else. His face showing a beauty outclassing any and all of the other boys...

He leaned over to Stan, and let the youth take hold of him. The other boys watched as the Jewish boy's penis filled with blood at the first kiss the two boys shared, saw it stiffen when his hands sneaked in around the quiet boy's smooth, muscular buttocks, those that had been sculpted to full, rounded perfection by dashing across the soccer field day after day, shaped by training and matches alike.

"Thank you", Stan whispered, his pretty face relaxed and calm. "You gave me courage."

They kissed more with just their lips, and the soccer kid's hand stroked Stan's boyhood for a few short moments till it twitched of pleasure, till it expelled its seed in a small yet gushing fountain all over the pale boy's lower tummy. Panting, Stan rested his forehead against the quiet boy's, and then accepted the last kiss he'd ever get from the boy on that forehead. He was calm, at peace.

The quiet boy turned to Rich. The formerly constantly joking kid quickly seized the other's small, warm body in his arms, wasting no time. His diminutive member went through an impressive transformation as it expanded to almost double its length and thickness in the matter of just a few moments, though remaining rather small anyway. The average-sized youth with the reddish hair and freckled face and arms held his hands on the small of the quiet boy's back as he attempted to bury his hard-on into that taut, ivory stomach which already displayed a pattern of semen left by Stan.

"Thank you", Rich whispered, feeling as peaceful as Stan. "You gave me freedom."

He was breathing rapidly as their tongues wrestled, and then it happened. He groaned in a strained fashion as he felt his own seed leave his body rapidly as his dick head attempted to penetrate into the soccer-kid through his shallow belly-button, him pushing from behind with his hands. His semen splashed and spread against that flat muscled tummy and Rich felt all strength leave his body. The quiet boy held his head gently as he placed a final soft kiss on Rich's closed right eyelid.

Ben reached for the quiet boy, and they fell around each other's necks, the now rather studly youth hugging the much smaller boy tight. He let his hands roam over that narrow yet finely sculptured and exquisitely muscled back until he hit the smooth twin globes of the boy's satin-skinned butt. His large penis extended slowly but surely, stretching out without hurrying, like some unstoppable force of nature. It was long enough to hit the boy's tummy right in between the base of his sternum and his cute belly-button. Letting Ben hold him, those ivory hands went down and cupped the youth's heavy testicles, holding them gently, feeling their weight.

"Thank you", Ben spoke softly, his handsome, boyishly manly face smiling gently. "You gave me confidence."

Those ivory hands caressed Ben's almost chicken-egg-sized balls as the youth hugged him tight and kissed him, and in no time at all those balls pulled up against his body and several huge streams of teen cum was released, striking the boy in vertical lines as that big dick twitched, and then the youth almost collapsed, panting deeply and receiving his last kiss on the side of his neck.

Eddie smiled at the boy who was not that much smaller than he was. He held that ivory head in his hands and placed several small angel-kisses on those sweet blood-red lips. They both smiled and then giggled boyishly, and then the quiet boy blushed! He cupped Eddie's little willy, feeling it grow against his warm touch, prodding firmly against his fingers, pulsating in time with the youth's heartbeat and trying REALLY hard to break free of its confines!

"Thank you", Eddie's young voice quivered as the quiet boy cupped his privates still. "You gave me strength."

Slowly Eddie moved his hips against the confines of that hand as the two kissed softly. The hand massaged his privates, his stiff shaft grinding against the palm and the underside of the head rubbing itself against the boy's smooth-skinned wrist. Lust built up inside him until he erupted with a short grunt, making him mix his life essence with that of the other youths. He rested his head on the boy's shoulder as he panted for a few moments, accepting his final kiss on his left cheek.

Finally it was Will's turn. The muscular black youth took the comparatively tiny boy in his large hands and lifted him up so the boy straddled his own thick legs. His huge member filled out and emerged like the neck of some sea monster aroused from deep sleep, the head nestling up in between the boy's tight buttocks. The quiet boy clamped together his own legs on that long thick shaft, encasing the ebony in ivory muscle and eagerly leaned forwards to kiss the big youth. Their tongues wrestled stronger and more vigorously than any of the previous youths had done.

"Thank you", Will's surprisingly deep and rich voice said calmly. "You gave me life."

Will thrust with his hips as the quiet boy rubbed his butt against that large dick head, making sure that long organ stayed in contact with his posterior by skillful use of his supremely shapely soccer thighs. The big youth started breathing heavily, and the boy let up the pressure and extended his knees a little and released the penis from its confines. He had but to put his small pale hands on that big rod and give a gentle squeeze and a rub, and that was all that was needed. It swelled up further and released several massive bursts of thick, youthful white cream that dwarfed the others' emissions as Will gave a sigh that seemed to come all the way from his toes. The youth felt severely weakened, but a massive show of strength on his behalf made him able to keep his body and head upright, and then accept that final gift bestowed upon him; a lingering wet kiss on the tip of his nose.

Placing the boy back into the middle of their circle, Will smiled at his friend one last time.

"Thank you", the quiet boy whispered directly to each of them. Personally. "You saw me, and you came to me... Thank you." His voice was young, and smooth, and very soft and gentle. He seemed no older, nor any more matured than when they'd first seen him. His pale, hairless penis was erect now, the wet, crimson tip peeked out from behind a snug-fitting foreskin. The boy wasn't exactly tiny, in fact several of the youths grinned with some envy at the thought of having had such a member when they'd been that age... The quiet boy smiled back in a friendly manner, feeling pleased at their reaction, and his pale skin blushed slightly too which they all thought was really cute. This was the most beautiful boy they'd ever seen, and now it was time to say goodbye. Yes, the smile changed to a slightly sad one for a moment, but also a thankful one. "You saw me, and you set me free", the boy whispered, and then he was no more.

Epilogue:

Five somewhat confused and very quiet boys started to get themselves dressed again. They felt a sadness in their chest, but also a deep calmness, a comforting feeling that made them happy. The spirit of their friend was still with them in a way, now and forever. Neither of them spoke, they just shared a few looks, a few smiles and stopped to briefly touch the soccer outfit arranged on the bed. Jersey, shorts, socks, carefully arranged like they actually sat on a young boy's body still. Their fingers brushed the fabric of the jersey to touch the number eleven shown on the chest, then they walked out of the house as quietly as they'd arrived. They didn't see the white-haired old man and woman sitting in the living-room looking at each other, they didn't know the feeling of intense peace and joy that came over the old couple as the youths left them alone again, didn't see the tears that left the old couple's eyes. The husband and wife could relax, and their son could rest now, finally.

Not wishing to go out and party, the youths returned to their homes and found their girlfriends waiting for them. Ben never did get his secret crush Beverly. She ended up hooking up with Will instead, who had also patched up things with his ex-girlfriend. They never did become lovers, but they remained great friends until the end of their days. Stan was seeing a sweet Hawaiian girl from the cast of his show, Rich dated a woman two years older than himself who enjoyed his quick, biting sense of humor, but also his hidden sensitivity. Eddie had found love via his new love: cross-country running, something he had taken up now that his asthma no longer bothered him. Ben finally, dated a girl who competed in Fitness. She enjoyed his strong, yet soft body, and they both shared a deep love for each other.

The day after they all returned to the school building they were destined to leave forever, drawn there by some mystical, inexplicable force. Inside the main entrance hallway there was a glass cabinet on the right-hand side wall. It had been mounted there eighteen years ago, the year before they'd been born, and just one year after the school building had been finished.

It showed a now rather faded color photograph of a happily smiling boy in a soccer outfit. His complexion was very fair, while his hair was very dark. Beneath the photo sat a small dedication.

"Jonathon Michael Forrester, age 14, we shall never forget you."

The youths remembered... Jonathon had been the kid found beaten and hanged one night in the far corner of the schoolyard, beaten because he'd been gay. Hanged in one of the horse chestnut trees.

After seeing that picture, they walked away, out into their lives never to see each other again. They all remembered though, remembered fondly the quiet boy that had helped them so much in their youth. They raised their kids in the true spirit of that quiet boy, and if one of them turned out to be gay they still loved them just as much and maybe even more, simply because they remembered...

Remembered the quiet boy that they still loved.

Author's Comments: This story I created while I was out walking one day in very early June while listening to Biosphere on my minidisk player. It was a fairly long walk, about three hours in all, and when I got home I started writing.

Usually I go over everything with a fine-toothed comb and fuss over every word and all sorts of stuff before I post anything, but this time I thought would try to just write to speed up the process. It took me about a day or two to finish the story, and of course I went over it once or twice or thrice before it got posted the first time on Comicality's Library. I've done some minor editing to it again, but that's just trivial stuff really; a word here or there. Originally I posted it chapter by chapter over the course of about two weeks or so, but it felt unnecessary to do it that way now, so here it is in the form of a Summer Story instead. Hope you liked it...

Also, those of you with a somewhat keen literary sense may recognize some details I've borrowed from a favorite writer of mine. If you recognize something, I hope you'll agree what I've done is more of an homage I hope, and not a rip-off. :)

*ZUSTARA*
A K A L V

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

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