Tommy placed the last pair of socks in the box with a scowl adorning his features. He hadn't even known he owned so many socks until he had to move them all, which was something he had never planned o­n doing.

    "I do not see why we have to do this," he complained. "I don't want to move to the states. I like it here."

    "I do not want to go through this again," she exclaimed as she folded his massive collection of T-shirts into little triangles.

    "London is home," he muttered and stood up. "You know you're taking me away from my home, and my friends. My entire culture!"

    "You'll find new friends," she said.

    "In America?" He snorted in disbelief. "Friends like Nigel? You know they're going to call me names, you know they're not going accept me!"

    "You don't know that until you try," she said. "And you will try, won't you?"

    "I'll have to." He sighed. "What else can I do?"

    "Not much," she replied.

    "Indeed," Tommy said. He was feeling a bit desolate as the carefully collaged walls of his room became more and more bare. He blamed himself for the situation. He figured if he hadn't coerced Richard into the bedroom that day he would still have his scholarship and Nevada would be just another color o­n the map, but the garden party seemed to be too good of a chance to pass up.  Neither o­ne of them were likely to pass up opportunity when it came knocking. It hadn't come knocking all that often, after all.

    He was stewing over might have beens when the buzzer rang and he dutifully answered it, immediately becoming ebullient at the sound of Richard's voice. He grabbed a box of posters that  he had set aside and raced out of the door. The box was dropped at the foot of the stairs before Richard had a chance to shut the door to the building behind him. Tommy launched himself into his arms and kissed him there in the foyer.  He didn't care if anybody saw them, and neither it seemed, did Richard.  He was met with absolutely no resistance yet there was a sense of resignation in Richard, as if the o­nly reason he was doing so was to make up for something he had done, or had yet to do.

    "I've missed you, Rich." Tommy finally stopped kissing him long enough to speak.

    "You really are moving." Richard gazed out the door towards a shipping van.  "I thought I would come here and you would tell me that she changed her mind. I keep thinking I'm going to see you at school, and you're not there. I'm not feeling well. I can't eat."

    "I'm sorry."

    "I thought I was getting better o­n my own," he sighed. "But it was o­nly you."

    "Look, I got you something," Tommy turned his attention to the box. "You can split them with Nigel and Liam, if you'd like," he said.

    "Your posters." Richard hung his head. "You're making it even more real."

    "It is real," Tommy said. "We fucked up, but I'm glad you're here now. We can say goodbye...face to face. I can't believe she let you come back here."

    "She didn't," he whispered. "I snuck out. I had to tell you in person. She won't let me see you..."

    "I won't be around to see," Tommy pointed out. "I'm moving stateside.  I'm not expecting you to wait around for me when I may never come back."

    "Oh, you'll come back," Richard assured him. "I just wanted to tell you in person that I can't see you anymore. Mum has forbade any association with you, and she wants me to take this girl out...Colleen Baxter. Mum thinks we'd make a fine couple.  Maybe it's for the best."

    "What?" Tommy shrieked at him before falling back o­nto the stairs with a thud. "Bloody Hell, Rich. What are you talking about?"

    "I'm tired of lying," he replied.

    "So this Colleen Baxter is actually a boy then?" Tommy asked bitterly.

    "No." Richard nervously shifted his weight around.

    "Oh, So you're tired of lying, so you're going ignore the truth about us, and create an actual lie?" Tommy said. "You never did make sense, but this is beyond anything you've ever done. You're not honestly going to do this are you?"

    "I have to," Richard moaned. "I have to or she'll send me away, or tell my dad..."

    "Shite!" Tommy buried his head in his hands and was determined not to let his companion see how venerable he was feeling. "You can't do this. It isn't fair, not to you, and not to the girl.  Especially her."

    "You don't understand," Richard groaned. "You aren't part of the world I live in. You'll never understand."

    "The hell I don't," Tommy muttered and fought back tears at his lover's callous backhanded remark about their class difference.  "You're lying to  save yourself again. You won't take risks, and you'll never be happy as long as you do this to yourself! I don't want to see you hurt, because it hurts me to see you that way."

    "Does it?" He sighed impatiently. "Nothing hurts you Tom. Everything bad just bounces right off."

    "Bounces off?" Tommy huffed incredulously. "I'm moving to fucking Nevada, Richard. Yeah, that bounced right the fuck off didn't it?"

    "You still don't know what it's like," Richard spat. "Nobody does, and why should I listen to you? You have room to be altruistic, because you never have to answer for most of the things that come out of your mouth. Your mother has never beat the crap out of you just because, because you were slurping the soup at her dinner party."

    "I know what it's like, because you tell me," Tommy growled. "And you know I get in my fare share of trouble for not keeping my gob shut."

    Richard wrung his hands as the other boy stood from the stairs and approached him.

    "All this can lead to is a lot more trouble," Tommy said. "More than there has to be, so just stop it now before it gets any worse. Tell your mum you'll date who you want to date."

    "Tom," Richard whispered. "Maybe I don't want to be bent anymore. Maybe I just want to try normal."

    "Congratulations, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Tommy dismissed the thought with contempt and grabbed o­nto Richard's hands.  He pulled their bodies together. It was a familiar and tantalizing position. Richard closed his eyes, relishing thier proximity.

    "I can tell you still want me." Tommy leaned up and whispered in his ear. "I'm going to fucking tell you something, and I want you to listen well, Richard Michael. You need to stop listening to what everybody else is telling you and listen to yourself. What's your body telling you, Richey?" Tommy let go of o­ne of his hands and ran his hand up and down Richard's side causing the boy to tremble with anticipatory pleasure.

    "Let me go," Richard finally managed to eke out. "Just go to America Tom. If you and I had stayed friends none of this would have happened."

    "And I would regret that," Tommy replied as he held him tighter, instinctively rubbing against him with his eyelids half closed. It didn't seem to matter to him that they were in a completely public space. "Don't blame yourself."

    "I don't." Richard managed to wrench himself away instead of succumbing to Tommy's advances. "I blame you."

    "Me?" Tommy's eyes snapped open in shock. "I haven't done anything wrong, Richey. What are you trying to do?"

    "Trying to get my life back," Richard gasped. "I took your bait, and I gave in to the pleasure of it..."

    Tommy interrupted with a loud, "Fuck you! Don't even try to tell me this was all about sex."

    "Wasn't it?" Richard asked.

    "You fucking bastard," Tommy declared. "How dare you. It wasn't anything about that and you know it. If that's what I wanted there were so many less complicated places I could have gone looking for it. I wanted it to be with you, because I care about you, and I can see what you are doing."

    "Then tell me," Richard challenged. "What am I doing?"

    "You can't make me hate you no matter how hard you try, so go back to your new girlfriend. Marry her, have million fucking babies, but in the back of your mind I'll be there, ready to love you. You aren't going to stand in my way," Tommy grabbed the back of his head and forcfully pulled Richard to his lips. He met with absolutely no resistance as he slid his tongue into the other boy's mouth and Richard returned the favor. The effect o­n Richard was knee jerking as Tommy abruptly pulled away from the heated embrace leaving him wanting more.

    Tommy took o­ne step up in order to look coldly down at his ex-boyfriend. "You're fucking going to miss that aren't you, Richard Michael?"

    Tommy turned and ran back up the stairs leaving Richard behind with a box of posters and burgeoning hard-on. He sighed and picked the box up. "I'm going to miss you Tommy Sinclair," he whimpered what he had actually wanted to say. "You're the o­nly thing in my life that means anything at all."

--

    "What is wrong?" Madeline ran into the living room upon hearing a crash. She found her only son lying in a wretched heap o­n the floor sobbing uncontrollably.  He was in no state to reply so she dragged him from his spot and sat him o­n the sofa beside her as she rocked him back and forth while rubbing his back in a circular motion until he was finally calm enough to speak.

    "Everything is so wrong, mum," he said. "He's going to hurt himself again. I'm sure of it."

    "You don't know that," she consoled him.

    "I know him," Tommy muttered. "He's sick and he's going to try again.  I could see it in his eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. I'm ready to go to Nevada now, at least I don't have to watch him self destruct there. Are you happy now?"

    "Seeing you this upset does not make me happy, baby," she ran her fingers through his bedraggled hair. "I'm sure he'll be fine, and I know first loves are the hardest to get over."

    "You don't understand." Tommy shook his head. "This goes beyond all that."

    "We all feel that way," she clucked. "It's o­nly mother nature."

    "Richey," he sighed. "He's like a flesh eating disease that crawls under your skin and eats away at you until it eventually kills you, making you ugly and bitter in the process."

    "Well, that's a horrible analogy!" Madeline frowned.

    "I still love him." Tommy began to sob o­nce again. "Why did I have to fall in love with such a dysfunctional little twat? He knows right where to poke me to make all my armor fall apart doesn't he? Look at me! Have you ever seen my cry like such a  baby before?"

    "Not even when you were a baby." She recalled, and teased a smile out of him by saying, "Frankly, it's almost disconcerting. You're usually comforting me over bad break ups."

    "Are you going to be alright?" She asked.

    "No," he replied flat out as he wiped his eyes clear of the remaining drops. "I guess I will live.  Unlike him I don't consider having a choice in that matter."

    "Good," she replied. "Because I can't live with out my baby."

    "I just wish I could help him, you know."  He looked up at his mother. "He shouldn't be made to feel the way he does, mum."

    "Nobody should."  She kissed him o­n top of his head and stood up offering her hands. "Come o­n, let's take a break and go to the park like we used to. We can talk and feed the ducks and relax."

    He took her hands with a small grin, "Just you and me, Mum. We're the o­nly people we can really count o­n."