A Dream That Came True

I sat in the back of my last class, on a Friday, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the math teacher. I was focused on the love of my life: Andrew Williams. He brushed his golden hair from his hazel eyes that seemed to penetrate your deepest thoughts. His body was tanned and incredibly muscular; he had become the football team’s captain since starting his freshman year. I however was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and tanned, but not in the pure golden-brown color of Andrew. I was also thin; nothing compared to the musculature of this god I was so deeply infatuated with.

I’d loved him since the eighth grade: five years of complete and utter obsession with him. He was such a kind person, surprisingly gentle for a football player. He was friendly and relaxed, yet when the time came, also assertive. He made me laugh and it brightened my day just to see him. He was my world. To kiss him; feel him; smell him; would be to experience pure bliss…

My daydreaming was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the final bell. The teacher yelled out the homework assignment to the rapidly leaving students. Andrew suddenly stopped me on the way out. “I have no clue how to do this crap,” he said. “I was wondering if you could help me. I can’t afford to fail the test next week.” I didn’t have to think twice, but I forced myself to sound laid-back. “Sure. How about tomorrow, around ten? We’ll do an all day study thing or something.” He smiled, showing his sparkling white teeth. “Sounds great.”

We moved with the flow of human traffic to the front of the school. Andrew drove home; I walked. “I still don’t see why you won’t let me drive you home too,” Andrew said with a frown. “Well, I don’t want you to waste gas,” I lied. “I don’t live too far away anyhow, so it’s really okay.” Despite that being true, the real reason was that I didn’t want him to see what my house had become. Andrew remembered it as the quaint little house that he would sometimes visit as a kid, but now it was dirty, overgrown, and falling apart; the result of a drunken and unemployed caretaker. After my mother had died from a car accident when I was in middle school, my father had started to drink. A lot. It cost him his job. Now he was either yelling at me when I came home or passed out in the living room. I didn’t want my beloved to see that. Especially when he was so well-off. His parents had a nice suburban home, two cars, a dog, and satisfying jobs; they lived the American Dream. Lucky them.

Andrew and I parted at the crosswalk, where I began to think about Saturday. It was the first time since summer that I’d be over at his house since he became so busy with soccer (and his new jock friends). I decided to take this time to finally come out with it. It was my last year anyway. I could experiment with finally being open, and if it was terrible, well, then I suppose I’d just wait a bit to start fresh in college. There. It was official. I was going to tell him. Tomorrow.

 

I came home to the strong scent of liquor. My father was awake with an empty bottle of something in his hand. I had to be very careful about what I said and did.
“Boy,” he yelled. “Get your fuckin’ ass down to the corner store and buy me some vodka!” I knew where this conversation would lead. It always had to be right before the welfare check came.

“Dad, I can’t. I’m not old enough, and even so we don’t have any money for a few days.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKIN’ GIVE ME LIP!” And sure enough, here it came. I instinctively tensed up and cringed. My father rushed over in his drunken rage where he punched me hard in the ribs. I slammed into a wall and was silent. It was better to just take the one hit than to piss him off more and try and dodge. He then put on his jacket and stormed out.

I rested on my meager bed. My right side hurt like hell, but I distracted myself by thinking about tomorrow. I was still feeling confident about my decision to come out, when I felt a nagging doubt. This boy had been my friend since elementary school. What if I lost him? I started to wonder if a change of scenery would be enough to deal with that pain; the pain that would be infinitely worse than the hit I’d just received. To seek advice, I logged onto my old and outdated laptop (even this piece of crap took forever to save up for) and immediately went to the chat website I’d found a while ago. I logged in under my screen name “ej08” and scrolled through the number of different subject rooms until I found the gay teen chatroom. I saw my online friend “behind_closed_doors90” in the room. Being in the closet was more emotionally agonizing than anything most people will ever experience, but modern technology helped a lot. I opened a private message window.

“ej08: waz up?”

“behind_closed_doors90: nm”

“ej08: i hav a prob”

“behind_closed_doors90: shoot”

“ej08: ive been in luv w/ this guy for like 5 years and since its our last year i thought id just go ahead and tell him since i could just start over if he take it bad in college”

“behind_closed_doors90: makes sense”

“ej08: but im worried if that will be enuf since hes been my frend forever and it would hurt to lose him”

“behind_closed_doors90: i kno what u mean but all i can say is that u should go ahead and do it

“if he is a true frend than he will accept u no matter what and if not than u shouldnt feel bad for losing him cuz he wasnt a good friend anyway”

“ej08: thanks”

We continued to chat for a while, and then I logged off. It was settled then. He was right: if Andrew was a true friend then he’d accept me no matter what. That made the prospect of losing him a little easier, but the fact that I’d still love him anyway was what would pain me the most. Love is a terrible thing, because it makes you say and do and feel all sorts of things, even if you don’t want to. But I felt that Andrew would accept me, and my controversial nature, because that’s just how he was. That’s why I loved him as much as I did.

 

The following morning came swiftly and suddenly. My alarm clock blared intensely, and I became acutely aware of the bruise on my right side. I got up gingerly and immediately began to drown out the ache like I was so accustomed to doing. Despite it being only ten in the morning, I was tired, mostly because I’d stayed up until one in the morning thinking about how I’d say what I had to say (as well as holding ice to the bruise). Nonetheless I got up quickly and rushed to the shower. The water was soothing. Like most teenage boys do I started fantasizing. In the quiet of my mind I imagined what it would be like to make love to Andrew. All outside sensations were destroyed. His warmth and the scent of the cologne he always wore were delightfully intoxicating. He ran his hands all over my body and kissed my neck. The passion of my fantasy made me hot and tingly all over. I couldn’t help it and began to jerk my seven-inch dick. It was in perfect sync with the rhythm of the hip movement in my daydream. When Andrew’s hand finally grazed my crotch in my steamy reverie, I couldn’t help but achieve an orgasm of grand intensity. Hot semen spurted everywhere, and in spite of myself and the wonderful warm feeling I gained from it, I felt shame for desecrating the image of the one I loved in such a disgraceful way, even if it was probably the closest I would ever come to actually making love to him.

I finished washing myself and got dressed in the best looking yet casual clothes I had: a pair of only slightly faded dark blue jeans and a black, light sweatshirt. I wished I could afford cologne to go the extra mile, but I dismissed the thought, grabbed my notes, and headed out the door. My watch read 10:43. Andrew and I had made arrangements for him to pick me up at the cafe across from school at eleven-thirty. It took me only around twenty-five minutes to get to the coffee shop, but despite my being early, Andrew was already there.

He was absolutely stunning, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a short-sleeved collared shirt, drinking a cappuccino. He grinned when he saw me. “Hey Ethan! Glad I didn’t have to wait much longer.” He gestured for me to sit down. I smiled and began to sit down but in doing so I strained my side, which, though I was used to it by now, served as a reminder for what I would have to return to. “You want anything?” Andrew asked. I was glad to be brought back to the moment. Though I was famished I politely refused. “Oh come on,” he chuckled, giving me a knowing glance. He signaled the waitress and asked for two orders of pancakes and orange juice. I sighed. “You always see right through me.” He shrugged and just said “Consider it the reward for helping me out.” He brushed his hair out of his face and I began to feel warmth running to my cheeks. I was thankful that the hard-on I was beginning to get was hidden by the table.

The waitress appeared with our meal and shot Andrew a wink while she leaned in just a little too close. He gave her the tip early and returned a polite smile. I frowned inwardly, but managed to hide my jealousy. We chatted while I also tried to hide my voracious hunger, but I obviously failed because he stopped with a laugh in mid-sentence and said “I’ll buy you some more if you want.” He was polite enough to leave unmentioned the reason we both knew was why I was so hungry. I turned red in the face. “No, it’s really ok. I’ve bothered you enough,” I said. He looked like he was about to say something, but dismissed it instead.

We finished eating and held our light conversation all the way to his car. The brand new black BMW seemed to enforce ever so much more how perfect he seemed to be compared to me. We chatted more about nonsensical things until his phone rang. He looked at me for approval, which I thought was strange, but gave him the go-ahead anyway. He flipped it open and answered with a “Hello?” I could hear a faint voice on the other line. Andrew got a confused expression. “Rebecca?” I knew who that was. That was Andrew’s ex-girlfriend. She was the most popular little rich girl you ever saw, but she was a really nice person and quite attractive, with long blonde hair and soft features. She was the most serious girlfriend Andrew ever had, yet for some reason they’d broken up over what Andrew told me was a petty argument.
Andrew finished the conversation with an “I’m sorry, but no.” and a quick hang-up. I looked at him curiously. “That was Rebecca,” he started. “She was wondering if we could get back together. I just couldn’t do it.”

“Why? You were so happy with her!”

“I have my reasons,” he responded, and left it at that.

We pulled up to his gorgeous house, a fitting place for a gorgeous person. The garden was trim, and there was a small fountain out front. He drove past the gate and parked in the freshly paved driveway. I longed to have a life like his, but I drowned that out and simply appreciated being in his company. He led me inside. The house was completely empty because his parents were on a business trip. We went up to his bedroom; it was more than twice as big as mine.

“Make yourself at home,” Andrew said. “I’m going to go get us some chips or something.”

I flopped down on his large bed and remembered fondly playing here as a kid. We would spend hours playing the newest video game he had gotten or watching the newest movie he had bought. I wished to go back to that time; before everything had become so fucked up. Andrew entered the room with a bundle of snacks in his hands. He set them down and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I wish we could go back too,” he said. I was startled. How did he always know what I was thinking?

“Well,” he began. “Let’s get started!”

 

The hours passed by as we reviewed the problems and snacked, occasionally joking or chatting about some random subject. Surprisingly we were done reviewing all of the material by around 4:30. It had taken a grand total of around three hours to finish up, with all the talking we did. I decided this was as good a time as any to finally come out and say what I had so desperately wanted to say.

“Andrew? There’s, um, something I’d like to talk to you about.” I thought again about what I had been told in the chatroom. I felt a surge of confidence. Andrew looked at me expectantly. “Yes?”

“Well, um, Andrew, we’ve been close friends for a really long time right?”

“Yeah. We have.”

“Well, I think that over that time, I’ve grown to…to be…” I suddenly couldn’t find the words. Andrew looked at me intensely, and something in his eyes just gave me the spark I needed. “Oh God. Andrew, I’m trying to say that I love you and have for years. Every single day it grows and I just can’t sta—”

It was right then that he kissed me. His soft lips met mine with such energy that my whole body was electrified with it. He didn’t wait long to drive his tongue into my mouth. I welcomed this foreign invader that I had longed for all this time. His tongue eagerly rubbed across my own. It was almost as if all his sexual energy had been released in this kiss and the passionate embrace that held me. I was shocked and happy and confused and exploding with excitement all at the same time. Andrew pulled away from the kiss. I opened my mouth to say something but he put his finger to it, quietly and gracefully, and began to speak instead.