The small crowd had gathered, their umbrellas erect in a futile attempt to shield themselves from the persistent drizzle that rained down upon them. There was a muted aura of depression and anger that surrounded the group as they stood huddled around Paul Sinclare's grave site. His sister, Madeline, stood quietly beside the father of her child. She was completely drained and had no more tears left to cry. There was only one person she loved more than her dear brother and that was her only son, Tommy. Tommy stood away from the others, his heels sinking into the moist ground a few yards away as he coldly eyed the mourners. His best friend, Nigel, looked hopelessly lost and torn between his sense of decorum and the urge to break away join Tommy. Occasionally Nigel would peer up at Tommy from beneath the giant mass of curly blond hair that had fallen into impossibly droopy wet tendrils across his face. Paul's lover, George Acker was there beside Paul's ex-wife, Deborah Sinclare. Gracie Meyer, Deborah's daughter from another marriage stood behind her mother looking bored with the whole procedure and dramatically sighing as she twirled her dark curly locks. There were many other people of Paul's acquaintance that Tommy didn't know. He crossed his arms and scowled at them and wished that he could be anywhere else in the world. Madeline broke away from the group as a minister finished his blessing and they began to mill around sharing their thoughts and memories of the deceased. She approached Tommy, cutting a swath across the damp green grass as she went. Tommy shifted uncomfortably and glared at her, hoping that she would realize he didn't want her around.

    "I wish you would join us, Love." She held her umbrella over the sopping wet figure of her ten year old son.

    "I wish we could go home." He stared, unwilling to let any emotion akin to grief surface in front of her.

    "Soon, enough." She clucked at him and pressed her hand against his back. He resisted her touch as she tried to move him forward.

    "I don't get it," he muttered. "Why do we have to be here? Uncle Paul is dead."

    Madeline stopped in her tracks, turned, and crouched down to his eye level.

    "It's about paying our respects, Thompson," she replied.

    "They could have done that while he was still alive," Tommy pointed out.

    Madeline brushed her hand across his pallid cheek in an effort to comfort him. He didn't shy away from her touch, but he didn't welcome it either. Madeline stood up with a sigh and offered her hand, which Tommy did not accept.

    "Come on, there are people I want you to say hello to."

    "I want to go home," Tommy repeated himself and crossed his arms.

    "At least come out of the rain," she pleaded.

    He shook his head.

    "Look, I know this is difficult for you." She tried once again to connect with him, but he was having none of it.

    "We knew he was going to die," Tommy replied flatly.

    "I don't think you understand..."

    "I know what death is," Tommy said.

    "Okay," Madeline huffed. She walked away with exasperation on her lips and no idea what to do with her son.

    Tommy watched her sidle up to her ex, his father, and begin to argue with him as they gestured in his direction. He stared at them for a moment as his feelings began to overwhelm him. Paul had not only been his uncle, but was also the closest thing to a father figure Tommy had ever had. Steven, his biological father, was an unwelcome presence, and the thought of the man trying to become a part of Tommy's life after all the years he had been gone was just as devastating as the loss of the boys uncle.

    He felt like he was suffocating with the effort of bottling up his emotion, but he felt he couldn't let his mother see how upset he had become. He didn't want to let her down. If she would allow Steven back into her life, then Tommy didn't feel as if he should question it. As silent tears began to streak down Tommy's cheeks, he was thankful for the rain.

--

    Tommy felt feverish that evening from stubbornly refusing to stay dry that morning. His cheeks had taken on a rosy pink hue and despite his best efforts he knew his mother had spotted his red rimmed eyes on their way home. She had stayed silent on the matter, opting instead to give Tommy his space, something that Steven didn't seem to understand he needed. The father had spent the ride home asking Tommy about school and his friends and receiving one word answers or no answers at all.

    "May I be excused," Tommy whispered at his mother as he ran his fork through the burnt puddle of mashed potatoes she had tried cook. "I want to practice my guitar," he explained.

    "Yes of course,." Madeline granted permission. He stood up and cleaned his plate while his parents sat in awkward silence and waited for him to disappear into his room.

    "I think he's taking it well," Steven commented as soon as Tommy was gone.

    "Oh, Please." Madeline laughed sarcastically. "He's horribly depressed, Darling."

    "Horribly depressed?" Steven knit his brows in concern. "Well, he never talks much when we talk on the phone. And I mean, I haven't seen him cry once."

    Madeline clucked at her ex and shook her head before replying.

    "Steven, I told you, Tommy likes to talk. He's not really quiet; he just doesn't trust you. He doesn't know you at all. He's going through some kind of pre-adolescent phase or something. He gets that you not being here is not normal, and we've never really given him a good reason why you aren't around."

    Steven thought about this for a while as he gamely shoveled mouthfuls of the charred meal Madeline had created in to his mouth.

    "Well," he finally said. "I think you should move back to America. Paul is gone, bless his soul, you don't have to take care of him anymore."

    Madeline dropped her fork onto her plate and focused her full attention on Steven.

    "Do you really think that's the only reason I left you?"

    "Isn't it?" Steven frowned sadly.

    "Steven." Madeline sighed. "You were never home. I had no friends in Alabama. I hated it there. I don't think any of that is going to change.  You're still driving trucks across the country all the time, aren't you? Fuck knows what you do on the road. I can't take that uncertainty again. Sitting at home taking care of a baby was hard enough. Now you want me to take that little boy away from all his friends and do it all over? I don't doubt you're well intentioned, but that's just insane. You shouldn't even have come here this week."

    "I didn't think you should be alone," Steven said. "I know how much you love your brother."

    "Yeah, I know." she frowned. "You're always trying to be nice, and I'm such a mess."

    "You're doing alright." Steven observed.

    She smiled ruefully at him as the muted strumming of a guitar wafted towards the kitchen from the bedroom area.

    "He's surprisingly not horrible for a little kid," Steven pointed out as he chewed on a forkful of overcooked green beans.

    "Yeah, he's been practicing practically non-stop since ...well, you know," Madeline said sadly. "Paul taught him how to play."

    "I'm sorry, Mad." Steven reached across the table and took her hand.

    "Don't be, Darling." She smiled up at him. "Hearing Tommy play is just about the only thing that makes me happy these days."

---
One Year Later:

    Brian sat on the rickety old stool in the corner of his room a bit in awe of the fact that Tommy Sinclair, the most popular kid in school, had dropped in for a visit. It was a general consensus around the other children that Brian was "dodgy" and not who they should be seen in company with if they were to keep their reputations intact. Therefor it was quite the surprise when that afternoon had brought Tommy to his doorstep in full Soccer kit, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a sly grin on his face asking if he could come in. Brian wasn't about to say no to that even though he had the vague feeling that it somehow might end in disastrous humiliation.

    And so Tommy Sinclair sat there upon his bed, twirling a soccer ball around in an absent minded way as he looked around the room at everything but Brian. Brian was glad for Tommy's distraction since it left him ample time to stare at his guest, whom he nursed a huge crush on.

    "Why'd you come here?" Brian finally asked as he began to get nervous about where the afternoon was heading. He could only stay perched on his stool basking in Tommy's presence for so long.

    Tommy let the soccer ball drop into his lap and finally looked at intently at Brian.

    "Word is, you like me," he said slowly, and with purpose.  "Is that true?"

    "What?" Brian yelped back at Tommy a bit surprised that the rumors that had been going around school were being flung directly at him and by the object of his alleged affections no less.

    "You heard me," he replied flippantly.

    "Well..." Brian took a gulp before stammering an answer.

    "Well, I, you, I...Of course I do, Everybody does."

    "That's not what I mean." Tommy continued to gaze at his host with no hint of malice.

    "What do you mean?" Brian asked timidly.

    "I mean..." Tommy rolled his eyes. "...If I wanted you to, would you kiss me?"

    "What? You think I like boys?" Brian tried to laugh and muster up some indignation at the notion, but could only manage a strangled sigh. The rumors were true after all.

    "Tell me you don't," Tommy said.

    "Okay, okay, I do, alright?" Brian frowned. "Does everybody know?"

    "Pretty much, yeah. It's kinda obvious." Tommy shrugged. "Look, I don't care, mate. My uncle was gay. I know what it's about."

    "Oh, Brilliant," Brian said. "At least one of us does. I don't know nothing. Nobody ever even looks sideways at me, but to snigger, and now you? What do you really want?"

    "I really want you to kiss me," Tommy replied shortly and stood up placing his soccer ball on his hip. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I'll just go home."

    "No," Brian practically shouted at him and halfway stood up as if to stop Tommy's impending departure.

    "I mean, maybe I want to." Brian looked around nervously. "Maybe I don't. Your mates aren't waiting outside to kill me are they?"

    "I only have one mate, and he wouldn't kill you," Tommy assured him.

    "But what about..." Brian started but was only interrupted.

    "I'm serious." Tommy stepped towards him and placed his hands on Brian's shoulders, letting the ball drop. It bounced on the hardwood floor and rolled into a corner.

    "Why me?" Brian's voice faltered as the realization of their proximity caused his entire body to start tingling.

    "Because, you're the only gay person I know that's not really, really old," Tommy admitted.

    Brian frowned at the knowledge that Tommy's reasoning had nothing to do with actually liking him. It was a blow to be sure, but Brian wasn't about to slam the door in opportunity's face.

    "That's as good a reason as any, I guess," he replied as he placed his hands on Tommy's waist, leaned forward and closed his eyes...


--

    Tommy accosted his mother in the kitchen later that day as she scrubbed furtively at the old stove top.

    "How was football, Love?" She asked as she gratefully took a break from cleaning to pour two fresh glasses of lemonade and sit down with her son at the table.

    "Fine," Tommy mumbled, then sighed, hoping she would ask him further about what was on his mind. He still had no problem sharing his troubles with his mother. She was his confidant and his protector, and she went out of her way to make sure he was comfortable telling her anything. Their bond at this time was undeniable and seemed unbreakable.

    "What's the matter, darling?" She sipped her lemonade and looked knowingly at him from above the rim of the glass.

    "Would you be terribly disappointed with me if I kissed a boy?" he asked.

    She choked a little on her lemonade before setting the glass down.

    "What did you do?" She asked in hopes that she had misheard.

    "Well, I was walking with Kelly Jackson after school the other day, and she wanted me to kiss her, so I did," he replied with the full story streaming out in one uncensored blurb.

    "It was alright, but the more I thought about it the more I wanted to kiss a boy too, just to see what it's like, so I did, but it was Brian Humboldt. I mean, he's not as strange as everybody thinks he is, and he's cute. He's got horrible taste in music though. Anyway, I think I'd rather play football." He shrugged and took a sip of lemonade. "The whole thing is causing me a lot of stress."

    Madeline breathed a sigh of short sigh of relief, but then frowned worriedly.

    "Oh, I didn't want to have this talk now," she fretted. "You're so young."
    
    "What talk?" Tommy eyed her suspiciously.

    "Well, you know..." She fidgeted in her seat searching for the right words to express herself.

    "You mean sex?" He offered.

    "Oh, bloody hell," she murmured as she dramatically placed the back of her wrist against her forehead.

    "Are you angry?" He asked her as he cautiously sipped on his Lemonade.

    "No, Baby, I'm not angry. I just didn't think this would happen so soon."

    "I'm sorry," he apologized. "It was just a kiss."

    "Two kisses," she murmured more to herself than her son.

    "Well, it was more than two if you want to get technical." He laughed.

    "Okay." Madeline's voice took on a deeper shade of worry. "We're going to have to have the talk aren't we, before these little snogging sessions get out of hand?"

    Tommy shrugged non-committaly. Though he didn't especially want to get into an in depth discussion about the birds and the bees, he had a feeling there was no way he was going to get out of it after all the beans he had spilled.

---

One Year Later:

    
    "You are going to come aren't you?" Nigel scowled at Tommy as he handed him an envelope.

    Tommy eyed the envelope but didn't open it.

    "Come where?" He asked instead.

    "To my birthday party," Nigel replied. "I mean, you never want to come over mine anymore."

    "Yeah, I do. I'm here now, ain't I?" Tommy refuted him. "Can I help it, you're always off somewhere...posh?"

    "Am not," Nigel grumbled.

    They were sitting in Nigel's garden idly passing the time away as boys are wont to do. Nigel had been Tommy's best friend from nearly the moment they'd met at the daycare center at the magazine that his mother co-owned. Madeline was the assistant to Nigel's Mother, Bunny. They were both surprised and pleased that their boys had struck up a friendship and in turn had become friends themselves, which was something that Madeline had desperately needed at the time after spending three lonely years in Alabama trying to raise her son more or less alone. Through the years the boys had become inseparable despite the huge class difference between them.

    "I was trying to study for the exams, besides," Tommy said. "I mean, now I got that scholarship to your posh school, I'll see you all the time right?"

    "I suppose," Nigel admitted. "And we can have more time to practice!"

    "yeah!" Tommy smiled at the thought.

    After Paul had passed away, Tommy had convinced Nigel that he wanted to start a band. Nigel went along with Tommy's idea, finding it impossible to say no to his friend. He began to learn the drums and they had everything set up in on of his mother's guest rooms.

    "But you're going to come to my party, right?" Nigel asked again. "I mean, it'll be balls without you."

    "I don't like your friends." Tommy scowled. "They think they're better than me you know."

    "They're wankers," Nigel said.

    "Why do you invite them?" Tommy asked. "I don't invite anybody from my school. I don't like any of them that much."

    Nigel thought about this for a minute before coming up with a suitable answer.

    "Because I get more presents?"

    Tommy laughed at him. "Don't be daft, Nigel. Of course I'll be there."

--

    It had only been a few minutes since Tommy had triumphantly defeated a couple of Nigel's friends at a two on two impromptu soccer match in the yard. Nigel was becoming a hopelessly tall and awkward adolescent and hadn't been of much help in the sporting event as he spent much of the time tripping over his own feet. Tommy was proud of himself being good enough to take on two practically by himself but wasn't afforded much time to revel in his glory as the losers snidely informed him that they were only letting him win because it was Nigel's birthday. Tommy fumed at this revelation, wondering if he should punch one of them in the face or turn around and catch a bus back to his end of town. Nigel stopped him from doing either and pointed him back in the direction of the house.

    "You don't want to miss the cake." Nigel informed him, and Tommy did not want to miss the cake, so he joined the group inside where they sat playing video games and making fun of Tommy for not knowing how. Nigel stood between them, looking a bit exasperated at his school chum's mere presence yet longingly wanting to play his game. Tommy told him to go ahead and play and took a seat where he could watch but didn't have to hear the whispering.

    It wasn't long before he could hear shuffling outside the door. Tommy peered around the tall backed chair he'd settled in to spy Nigel's mother, Bunny, talking to a woman he didn't know. Standing next to the doorway with downcast eyes was a blond boy about Tommy's age. He was dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, unlike the rest of Nigel's party who were all dressed casualy. He watched as the unknown woman practically shoved the boy into the room while Bunny caught her breath and instinctively reached out to stop him from falling over. The other woman was unconcerned and marched away. Bunny looked after her then said something to the boy before scurrying away in the direction the woman had disappeared.

    Tommy watched as he took one glaringly disapproving look at the melee of boys playing video games and turned around to walk into the sitting room across the hall. He stripped his jacket off and threw it onto the floor before slumping into Bunny's antique Baroque sofa where he commenced staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed. Tommy stared at him curiously for a while before turning around. He smiled a bit to himself for no reason he could discern, then turned around again. The boy was staring back at him from where he sat, framed by two doorways. He arched an eyebrow at Tommy and squared his jaw defiantly. Tommy turned around, his smile widened, then he stood up and walked into the other room.

    "Alright." Tommy greeted the boy and sat down next to him. "How's it goin', Mate?"

    "I am not your mate," the boy said coldly as he squirmed as far away from Tommy as he could.

    There was a palpable tension in the air. It was something that Tommy had never felt before. It made him slightly uncomfortable, yet he forged ahead.

    "I'm Tommy Sinclair, Nigel's best mate." He stretched out his hand to the boy but got no response.

    "So, what's your name?" He asked.

    "Richard," he replied as he continued to shrink away from Tommy.

    Tommy, for once, was at a loss for words as he sat there watching Richard try to disappear into the cushions. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he had hoped it would have been something a bit more receptive. He decided the best way to alleviate the pressure would be to retire to one of the accompanying chairs in order to give Richard some space. It seemed to work as the blond haired boy relaxed a bit and resumed his cross armed slump.

    "Why are you staring at me?" Richard finally asked after a long moment of silence.

    "I'm not," Tommy said indignantly even though he knew he had been.

    "Why did you come over here?" Richard asked as he unconsciously pushed the sleeves of his dress shirt up to scratch at the previously hidden bandages that covered his forearms.

    Tommy took one look at them and knew who he was.  

    Nigel had spent no short amount of time explaining in the previous two weeks what had happened to his cousin, and why they hadn't really been in contact before.  Richard's parents had moved closer to Nigel's after Richard had been sent to bording school.  Nigel had remembered meeting him when they were very young children, but beyond that they had no contact.  He had been excited and curious to get to meet his cousin, but he was also nervous.  There was a reason Richard had returned to his mother's houshold, and nobody wanted to talk about it.

    "You're Nigel's cousin. The one who committed suicide."

    Richard's mouth dropped opened at the frankness of Tommy's declaration before the corners turned up into a perverse grin.

    "I am," he admitted. "Is that why you came over here, then? To laugh at me?"

    "No," Tommy replied. "No! It's not very funny is it?"

    "Oh, it's funny," Richard laughed. "Poor sad little rich kid, can't do anything right. Can't even kill myself."

    "Stop laughing," Tommy entreated, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and unsure of what the proper response to someone behaving as inappropriately as Richard was.

    Richard did stop laughing. His scowl returned along with a bucket of tears.

    "I don't know why I do this," he sobbed as he desperately tried to wipe his eyes dry again. "Saul says I scare people with the way I talk, but I can't help it. Nobody understands. I can't stop myself."

    "It's...it's alright," Tommy stammered

    Richard shook his head as he became ever more distressed, pulling at his bandages while he sobbed. Tommy glanced around to make sure nobody was watching before he reclaimed his seat beside the boy.

    "Look, no need to cry," he said as he patted Richard timidly on the back.

    "Yes there is," Richard wailed back. His hands fell to his sides and his head collapsed onto Tommy's shoulder.

    In that moment Tommy froze as he felt his cheeks start to burn and his heart jump up into his throat where it fluttered about uncontrollably, but before he could outwardly react Richard sat straight up and pushed him away.

    "I'm sorry," he muttered, wiping the tears away with loose ends of his bandages.

    "C'mon," Tommy said. "Let's get that fixed up, yeah?"

    "No, no," Richard cradled his arms and shook his head. "I've got...I can do it at home."

    "Don't be silly," Tommy insisted brightly. "You can't leave the party before they serve the cake."

    Richard looked up at him with his piercing stare. He felt a calm feeling wash over him as his eyes met Tommy's.

    "Okay." He shuddered a bit at the thought of another person touching him but found himself agreeing anyway He thought about warning Tommy about what he was about to reveal, the wounds were not a pleasant sight to behold, but he pursed his lips and smiled instead.

--

    Tommy stood staring in the mirror that night conflicted about what he saw there. He had never really been concerned about his appearance before. He'd only noted fleeting glances of dissatisfaction as he went about his daily life. He traced his finger over the three small beauty marks on the left side of his face, one at the corner of his eye and the other two on his cheek. He cursed the pale complexion of his face which had a tendency to flood red with every influx of any emotion. He ran his hands through the wispy dark hair that flipped up in all directions. He sighed in frustration at being so small and soft and he couldn't stop thinking about Richard Blume.

--

    His first day of the Academy had been going as well as could be expected. Everybody knew who he was and everybody was whispering about him. He tried not to let it bother him, and it was a help that Nigel Caughton, one of the wealthiest boys in the place, was his friend. He sat on the brick wall of the yard surveying the sea of perfectly pressed uniforms exiting the building. Unlike them Tommy's shirt was somewhat wrinkled and unbuttoned revealing his undershirt. His ill-fitting jacket was stuffed into his messenger bag and he was wearing a wooly green and brown knit cap that his uncle had given him.

    "What do you say to a little buskin'?" Tommy asked Nigel who stood beside him.

    "I say you're tryin' to stand out." Nigel grumbled.

    "Whatever," Tommy replied with a grin as he fished a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it. "You're a freak anyway. Don't tell me about standing out."

    Nigel laughed a bit as Tommy took his guitar up from it's case and strummed a few chords as he puffed away. As Nigel stood there listening to his friend start to pick out a song, they were approached by one of the other scholarship winners, Liam Fische. Liam Fische was even more unkempt than Tommy, with spiky brown hair and eyebrows that met in the middle of his forehead. He'd spent the entire first day scowling his way around the corridors and making enemies.

    "You ain't half bad," Liam said.

    Tommy glanced up at Liam then at Nigel before doffing his hat.

    "Tuppence for a song?" Tommy asked earnestly.

    "Come off it," Liam grumbled. "Can't you take a complement?"

    "Compliment can't buy me supper," Tommy pointed out with a laugh.

    Liam rolled his eyes, "Neither can 2p, idiot."

    "Alright then." Nigel cut in and placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "We ought to get going. We have to set up for practice."

    "What practice?" Liam asked after them.

    "Band practice," Tommy replied. "We're in a rock band."

    "Really?" Liam brightened considerably at this news. "I play a little y'know."

    "Oh, yeah?" Tommy feigned interest as he stood up to put away his guitar, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall he'd been seated on.

    "Yeah," Liam replied hopefully.

    Tommy glanced up at Nigel who was saying nothing, but was pulling on one of his curls in a distressed fashion. Tommy narrowed his eyes at Nigel who shrugged and grimaced. It was a clear signal that he wanted to cease all communication with the mono-browed intruder, which gave Tommy all the impetus he needed to ask Liam what his instrument was.

    "I play bass," Liam remarked proudly.

    "Wow," Tommy gasped a theatrical response in Liam's direction. "Did you hear that, Nige? We ain't got one of those in our band."

    "Do we need one?" Nigel squinted sharply at his friend.

    "You should come by tonight," Tommy said as he clicked the latches shut on his guitar case. "Give him your address Nige."

    "I couldn't impose," Liam said.

    "But we need you," Tommy insisted as he walked towards the exit gap in the wall without further discussion.

    Nigel sighed after him and resignedly gave Liam his address before running after Tommy.

    "What was that?" Nigel asked. "We don't even know him."

    Tommy shrugged. "What? Is he too poor for you?"

    "Oh, no," Nigel replied as they walked. "You do not get to have that chip on your shoulder."

    "Why not?" Tommy stopped abruptly as they stumbled upon Richard Blume standing alone by the curb.

    Nigel peered over his friend's shoulder and muttered a barely audible "Shit".

    "Be Nice," Tommy said sharply. He felt his cheeks grow hot again and his fingers went numb. He was completely confounded by this reaction but forged bravely ahead.

    "Oi, Richey!" He smiled brightly and waved.

    Richard turned dubiously around and his face fell as soon as he saw Tommy and Nigel approach.

    "Tell, your friend to stop staring at me." Richard looked past Tommy and addressed Nigel.

    "You don't remember my name?" Tommy spoke up intending to sound indignant but sounding disappointed instead.

    Richard regarded him curiously before replying.

    "Tommy Sinclair," he said.

    "You can call me Tom," Tommy replied eagerly. "Nobody actually calls me Tommy. It's kind of a pansy name, don't you think?"

    "Whatever you say," Richard said. "You know, I heard you playing. You say you're in a band?"

    "Yep." Tommy nodded happily. "We're rehearsing tonight over Nigel's if you want to come."

    "You're not very good." Richard crossed his arms and looked down his nose. "You can't have a rock band anyway. You're only twelve."

    "Gotta start somewhere," Tommy said, feeling as if he had been shoved off cloud nine and onto the cold hard pavement.

    "You're just bored," Richard said. "Got nothin' better to do. You'll quit soon enough; go onto somethin' else."

    "Bollocks," Tommy growled at him. "This is a serious band."

    "How can you be serious with that guitar?" Richard gestured towards the beat up guitar case Tommy held in his hand.

    "Don't you talk about my guitar," Tommy pointed an angry finger in Richard's direction as if the boy had just insulted his mother.

    "Real bands need electric guitars." Richard baited him with pompous inflection apparent in his tone.

    "Let's go, Tom." Nigel leaned forward and whispered in Tommy's ear, but Tommy shrugged him off, not content to walk away.

    "What do you know from real bands?" Tommy stepped up to Richard who stood his ground.

    "I know one when I see one," he icily replied. "And you, are not it."

    A limo pulled up beside them before Tommy could return a response. Richard bid them a good evening and disappeared into the vehicle.

    "I fuckin' hate him," Tommy announced angrily.  "Who takes a limo to school?"

    "At least you're not related to him," Nigel commented morosely.

---

    Richard showed up to rehearsal much to Tommy's chagrin that night.

    "What is he doing here?" Tommy hissed at Nigel.

    Nigel sighed resignedly. "My mother invited him. Says he's got no friends."

    "I cannot imagine why not." Tommy rolled his eyes then addressed Richard, who stood unwelcome in the corner of the room with downcast eyes.

    "Look here," Tommy addressed him. "You come to have a laugh at our fake band?"

    "About that..." Richard took a step forward. "I'm sorry?"

    Tommy regarded him for a moment while he contemplated the half-hearted apology. He didn't want to forgive Richard for making fun of something that was so important to him, but he felt unable to remain angry as Richard stared at him with sad eyes.

    "Okay, have a seat." Tommy finally relented. "Introduce yourself to Liam."

    Liam nodded from where he was sitting and Richard gave him a non-committal wave as he sat down at a small table. It wasn't the best practice he could have observed. Tommy spent most of the time familiarizing Liam with the songs they were playing and showing the boy where to put his fingers on the fretboard. Nigel sat behind his drum kit, bored, and pounding out self gratifying solos while his band mates were otherwise occupied. It was late by the time they'd finished. Liam had gone home and Nigel had retired to his room, and that left Tommy and Richard heading home at the same time.

    "You don't live around here," Richard noted as he curiously watched Tommy light a cigarette.

    "No." Tommy took a drag, blew a plume of smoke out into the cold night air and said nothing further.

    "Well..." Richard said. "Where do you live? I can have Saul drive you home."

    "I don't...I can take the bus home," Tommy stammered, suddenly acutely aware of Richard's financial status as compared to his. He had never really felt ashamed of his provenance until that very moment. It was never an issue with Nigel, and until Richard had shown up he'd never wanted to impress anybody.

    "That's silly," Richard insisted. "Just tell me. I already know you're poor."

    "We're not poor!" Tommy scowled. "Just because I don't live in fucking Kensington, doesn't mean I'm poor."

    "Well, you aren't rich," Richard pointed out. His observation, though factual and devoid of any emotion, rubbed Tommy the wrong way.

    "Oh, you...you are beyond..." Tommy sputtered at him unable to formulate an accurate description of Richard. "Yeah, I'm going home now. Back to the East End with me."

    "So it's out with it," Richard noted. "It doesn't really matter, you know. Not to me."

    "Big of you," Tommy huffed. "Now if you don't mind, I've a bus to catch."

    "No you don't," Richard replied. "I'll wake Saul."

    "Don't bother, don't wake anybody." Tommy refused.

    "Or you could stay," Richard offered as he stopped in front of a home two doors away from Nigel's.

    "You live here?" Tommy asked as he eyed the residence.

    "Mmmhmm," Richard mumbled.

    Tommy shrugged. He thought about the offer to stay the night for a moment before quickly accepting. They made their way into the abode through the corridors and up the main staircase to the top floor. Tommy carefully observed it all in silent awe as they traveled.

    "You're impressed," Richard said disappointedly once they reached his room.

    "Am I supposed to not be?" Tommy said. "I mean, your entrance hall is bigger than my whole bloody flat."

    "Yeah, who cares?" Richard shrugged. Tommy followed him past the bed and desk and into yet another room which contained seating and a small television.

    "Well, you don't have to care." Tommy glanced around with his eyes as wide as saucers, wondering how anybody could live in such a place. Yet as his eyes scanned the cavernous bedroom suite, he could tell there was something missing. The walls were white, and the entire room was devoid of any decoration.

    "Can we, like, not talk about money," Richard grumbled and fell onto the sofa. "Is this the extent to which you converse with your very best mate, Nigel, because they've got just as big a house, haven't they?"

    "Yeah, but Nigel's feels like home," Tommy said as he took his own seat in a recliner. "This feels like...a showpiece. Except for in here. Don't you have any stuff?"

    "Not much room for stuff in a dormitory," Richard replied sadly. "Spent most of my life in one. More than half, y'know."

    Tommy pursed his lips then frowned. He couldn't fathom spending that much time away from his mother but was loathe to ask Richard how he felt about it. It was obvious from looking at the bandages that Richard had sought to end his time at boarding school in a decidedly permanent way. That was something Tommy didn't want to contemplate let alone talk about.

    "I've got a few CDs," Richard continued, oblivious to Tommy's silence. "But I spent most of my allowance saving up to buy a guitar just like Johnny Gallow."

    "Johnny Gallow?" Tommy perked up at the mention of his guitar hero's name. "You mean of Eutectic?"

    "Is there another one?" Richard asked as a smile crept over his face.

    "A Blue Telecaster?" Tommy asked ever more excitedly.

    "You want to see?" Richard replied just as enthusiastically.

    Tommy nodded and Richard disappeared only to arrive a few moments later hefting his guitar case. Richard knelt on the floor beside Tommy's recliner as he lifted the instrument from where it was entombed, an uncharacteristic happiness radiating from his face. Tommy had completely forgotten what they were even doing or that there was a guitar involved in that moment as he sat studying Richard's expression of joy.

    "Isn't it nice?" Richard finally spoke proudly after a moment of adoration.

    "Yeah, it's nice," Tommy whispered, focusing on the guitar for a moment before leaning forward with his chin in his hands, his eyes glued to Richard.

    Richard glanced up to gauge Tommy's reaction to his pride and joy only to once again catch the unabashed gaze of the boy he barely knew. It was the third time in a week and it was making beginning to make him uncomfortable.

    "You can borrow it," Richard said as he placed it carefully back in its case, deliberately ignoring the uneasy vibe that had permeated the room. "I won't be able to play for a while yet. I need to do physical therapy." He trailed off as the frown returned to his face and the sad inflection to his voice.

    "I hope you're still not laboring under the notion that real bands need electric guitars," Tommy said. His focus had returned as soon as Richard's dour expression had.

    "No, that was stupid," Richard agreed with a shrug. "Of course I don't think that. I just want the Telecaster to go to good use. I worked so hard to get it. I don't want to see it sit in a closet."

    Richard sat there in the middle of the floor absently stroking the finish of his guitar. "You're really good, Tom," he said. "I can't believe how good you are. How long have you been playing?"

    "Two years," Tommy said. "My uncle taught me."

    "Cool," Richard replied. "You're close to your uncle? I've never even met mine until that birthday party."

    "Well, my uncle's fucking dead now," Tommy said. The residual anger he'd felt for his uncle leaving him bubbled to the surface in a way it never had before. He hadn't even known he felt that way until the bitter words came spitting out of his mouth towards Richard.

    "Oh, I'm sorry?" Richard replied softly, his apology phrased in the form of a question as he was wont to do when he didn't know the proper social reaction required.

    "It's just me and my mum now, and that's the way it should be," Tommy continued.

    "Oh," Richard said. "Is your dad dead too?"

    Tommy snapped out of his angry reverie to glare at Richard. The question was so blunt that he was caught completely off guard.

    "Might as well be," Tommy seethed. "He lives in the United States. I only ever met him once. Talk to the bloke on the telephone all the time, but fuck that. You can't be a dad on the phone."

    "I wish I'd never met my dad." Richard hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head.

    He took one long shuddering sigh as he did this then looked up brightly with a smile painted on his face quite contrary to his despairing body language. He felt compelled for the first time in a long time to make an effort to keep a friend but could feel himself start to slip deeper into the frightening behavior that often scared people away. He couldn't even fathom why, after being so completely insulted that afternoon, Tommy was there with him at that moment.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy said sincerely. "Is he really that bad?"

    "He works a lot," Richard said. "I don't want to talk about it."

    "Can I try?" Tommy held his arms out towards the guitar in it's case desperately trying to veer the conversation back onto a more pleasant course.

    "Yeah, yeah, of course, yeah!" Richard, relieved that Tommy had changed the subject handed over the telecaster he had never let anybody touch before.

--

    They showed up simultaneously at Nigel's house the next morning, laughing and in good spirits despite a lack of sleep. Nigel was sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal when he looked up and spied them with droopy morning eyes.

    "What are you doing?" He asked them suspiciously. "Didn't you go home last night, Tom?"

    "Nah." Tommy swung himself into a chair across from his friend. "I stayed over Richey's."

    "You stayed?" Nigel dropped his spoon into his cereal and focused his attention upon his guests. "Why'd you do that?" He asked. "You coulda' stayed here."

    "It's alright." Tommy pulled a chair out for Richard and gestured for him to sit down. "We had a good time, didn't we?"

    Richard nodded but excused himself to the bathroom leaving the two best friends to hash things out.

    "You had a good time, did you?" Nigel grumbled. "I thought you hated him."

    Tommy shrugged. "Maybe I was wrong. He ain't so bad after all. Get this, he's letting me borrow his Tele."

    "Huh," Nigel frowned. "His what?"

    "Telecaster, Nigel." Tommy grinned. "He's got this blue Telecaster just like the one Johnny Gallow plays."

    "Whatever," Nigel replied, completely uninterested in his friend's adulation of the band Eutectic and it's enigmatic lead singer, Johnny Gallow.

    "Also," Tommy said. "He knows more about music than I do. You've probably got more things in common than you think."

    "Maybe," Nigel replied dubiously.

    "Yesbe," Tommy assured him with a grin

    "This is the bloke that said our band isn't a real band because you're just some bored little twelve year old," Nigel pointed out.

    "I play football because I'm a bored little twelve year old," Tommy pointed out. "He knows that. He apologized. Said I was really good."

    Nigel rolled his eyes and took up his spoon once again.

    "And all is forgiven?" He pondered before shoveling his mouth full of shredded wheat.

    Tommy shrugged at him and tapped the table nervously with his finger. "Yeah," he said. "It's not like I never said anything horrible to you, and you forgive me all the time."

    "That's different."

    "How's it different?" Tommy asked.

    "It's different," Nigel said, "because we're not intentionally cruel."

    Tommy pouted about that for a moment as he contemplated reasons for Nigel's stubborn unwillingness to be friendly towards his own cousin. It wasn't long before the boy in question returned.

    "Your mum is ready," he muttered. "She said we can go with if you'd like, Tom."

    "Great!" Tommy grinned and jumped out of his chair leading the way out of the kitchen. Richard followed behind him.

    Nigel grumbled as he shuffled along after them. He didn't like seeing his best friend getting so chummy with his cousin right away, and he didn't like the jealous feeling overwhelming him. He knew, however, that it was no use trying to change Tommy's mind once he got a notion in his head, and it was apparent that he had a notion to include Richard in their formerly two man circle of friends.

  "It's my birthday tomorrow," Tommy reminded his friends as they sat together during lunch on a cold February day.  He had interrupted Richard Blume who had been lecturing them on the merits of postmodern composition in modern day music.

   "We know," Liam, who had become another permanent installation in their group, spoke up.  "You've been reminding us all month."

  "I was talking," Richard said angrily.  "Do you always interrupt when having a conversation?"

  "Richey," Tommy replied.  "Two people have to be involved for it to be a conversation, and I'm not ashamed to admit I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.  It's way over my head and I'll save it for university.  I suppose they expect you to be a genius in boarding school?"

  Richard stabbed at the steamed vegetables he had purchased with a plastic knife.  He grit his teeth as unchecked ire rose within him.

  "I'd prefer it if you didn't make mention of boarding school," he spat.  "And while we're at it, nobody cares about your bloody birthday, either."

  "I care," Tommy replied as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
 
  "Good for you." Richard glared daggers across the table.

  "Maybe I should uninvite you to my party?" Tommy suggested though he had no intention of doing so.

  "I don't want to go," Richard replied. "Didn't I just say I don't care?"

  Nigel and Liam shared a perplexed glance as they were left out of Tommy and Richard's anger fueled repartee.  They were both staring at one another at that point.  Tommy was biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from showing that his feelings had been hurt, and Richard was stabbing ferociously at his tray; his vegetables having been reduced to mush.  

  "You know what?" Richard finally broke the silence.  "If you don't want to listen me, then I'm just going to eat somewhere else."  He stood up and traveled to an empty table across the room.

   "He is fucked up," Liam announced once Richard was out of earshot.  "Why do you fella's even hang out with him?  I mean, he's  Nigel's cousin, but that  ain't no good reason is it?"

  "I don't know," Nigel admitted then glanced at Tommy who was glowering at them.

  "I can't believe you two," he said as he stood up.  "People need friends."

  "But..." Nigel said.  "You were just arguing with him."

  "And uninviting him to your party!" Liam contributed.

  Tommy dismissed them with a wave of his hand, completely unimpressed with their assessment.

  "At least I'm not talking about him behind his back."

  Tommy walked away from them and joined Richard across from where he sat staring blankly at his meal, poking it with his utensil at regular intervals.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't listening to your little speech," Tommy said.  "And I really, really want you to come to my party, and I'm sorry I said I didn't want you there."

  "Bloody fuck!" Richard dropped his knife to look up at his companion.  "Why are you always there?"

  "Huh?" Tommy frowned at him.

  "You're always, always there," Richard said.  "Every time I turn around you're there.  You're always inviting me to go to this and that.  Why?  I don't want to come see you play football, I don't want to come to band practice every night.  I don't want to go to our classmate's boring little parties.  I don't need, nor do I want to go on every little outing with you and Nigel.  I don't get it.  I'm not fun, I'm certainly not pleasant to be around.  I know it, so what the fuck is your excuse?"

  "Why do you think that?" Tommy said.  "You're perfectly pleasant, and most of the time you're even interesting."

  Richard snorted disbelief before addressing Tommy.  "You know, if I were you, Tom, I would just stop trying to be friends with me.  I've tried, but I'm just unbearable.  Just, stop it and run far, far away while you can.  I'm trouble and I'm not worth it."

  "You're coming to my party," Tommy said. "I won't take no for an answer."

  "And most of all I do not want to attend your fucking birthday party!"  Richard replied.

  "What have you got against birthdays?" Tommy asked meekly.

  "What have I?"  Richard stared at him.  "Do you want to know when my birthday is?"

  "When."

  "Yesterday," came Richard's short, derisive reply.  "And you know what?  When nobody likes you, Not even your parents, you don't get birthday parties. "

  "Oh, please," Tommy scoffed.  "That cannot possibly be true."

  "Think what you want if it makes you feel better." Richard shrugged.

  "Your parents really did forget?"  Tommy frowned.  "That's horrible."

  "They didn't forget," Richard growled.  "This is the first year I've been in London since I was five years old, Tom.  I grew up in a fucking dormitory. I had no friends, and my parents wish I was never born.  If I hadn't cut myself, I'd still be there right now.  They didn't forget.  They just don't care!"

     Richard left then and Tommy watched him depart, feeling a bit sad and stunned.

    "Alright?" Nigel asked as he crossed Tommy's line of vision and sat down.

     Tommy turned his gaze towards his best friend and shrugged, no longer trying to hide his disappointment.

    "Don't let him worry you," Nigel cheerily replied as he patted Tommy's shoulder.

    "He's been in boarding school since he was five?" Tommy asked instead.  "I didn't think they could ship you off that early."

    "My aunt does what she wants," Nigel replied.  "She probably donated a lot of money to the school."

    "Oh, god, really?"  Tommy frowned.  "That's horrible."

    "It is." Nigel nodded his head in agreement.  "My father tries to keep me out of my aunt's 'sphere of influence.'  He doesn't want me to feel entitled or something."

   "That's horrible, Nige," Tommy said.  "I don't understand it.  How could they just ship him away like they don't want him?"

    "What are you on about?" Nigel replied.

    Tommy glanced sharply at him.  "Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on Richey; you and Liam."

    "Yeah." Nigel sighed.  "I know.  You're right.  It's just odd.  It used to be just you and me, now it's you and me and Richey, and sometimes Liam.  I'm not used to it."

    "Me either," Tommy admitted.  "But things aren't going to be the same forever."

     Tommy stared listlessly over Nigel's shoulder in the direction that Richard had disappeared.  Nigel followed his line of vision for a moment, then turned back to face his friend, and he realized that despite not knowing how, or why, things had already changed.

--

     Tommy trotted up to his mother later that day as she stood in her small kitchen holding a piping tube in one hand and looking vexed upon a lopsided cake.  Her auburn hair was tied back in a pony tail and she was covered in flour and icing.

   "You remembered to put sugar in it this time, right, Mum?" He patted her sympathetically on the shoulder.

  "Yes, I did, Darling," she informed him.  "Don't patronize your mother."

  "I'm sorry." He laughed and kissed her on the cheek.  "I always appreciate the trying."

  "Oh, you." She smiled at him.

   "My friend's birthday was yesterday." Tommy prefaced the request he was about to make.

  "Really?  Who is that?" She asked.  "I know it's not Nigel's birthday."

  "Nigel's cousin, Richey."  He dipped a finger into the icing bowl for a taste.

  "Don't believe I know him." She lay her tube down and turned to look at her son.  "Now, how come I've never heard of him before?  You hidin' something?"

  "Hiding what?"  Tommy opened his eyes wide in hopes of seeming innocent.  "He just moved to town.  Two days older than me apparently.  Nothing sinister of note as far as I know."

   "And I've never heard of him, because..."

   He shrugged and took another scoop of icing.  "Well, I dunno, Mum.  He's only been around for a few months."

   "It's just not like you," She said as she brushed back a lock of his hair.
 
   "Maybe I haven't decided if I like him or not," Tommy said.

   "Oh, I see." She stroked his hair and sighed.  Being a single mother she was quick becoming petrified of her boy's ascent into adolescence.  She didn't want him falling into the wrong crowd or making the mistakes that she had.

   "So, nobody knew it was his birthday, and I was wonderin', when you're done with this and you go out to buy me a cake, could you have his name on it?   I don't mind sharin' and I  thought it'd be nice."

    "Are you sure?"  She asked.  "It's your birthday."

   "That's right, it is," he replied with a sparkle in his eye.  "And this is what I want"

  --

    Richard Michael Blume lay curled up amidst the tangle of blankets upon his bed.  He was peering out from beneath them at the door to his bedroom.  The loud rapping emanating from behind the barrier had wakened him from a troubled sleep.  He grumbled at the intruder to enter, for the door was unlocked, and when it swung opened it revealed the Blume family servant, Saul.

  "What do you want?" Richard frowned from where he lay, not bothering to even sit up.

  "You've been asleep all day," Saul said as he entered the room.  "Are you feeling alright?"

  "No,"  Richard admitted, though he hadn't an idea why.  There was nothing that physically ailed him, and yet he found himself unable to wrest himself from the bed.

  "Your friend stopped by."

  "Tommy's birthday," the boy said with the disappointed realization that he'd missed the get together.  He moaned and pulled his comforter over his head.

  "I can't believe how useless I am."  Saul could hear the muffled voice of his employers son from beneath the covers.

  "Come now." Saul sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down.  "We have cake!"

  "What?"  Richard peered at the family's servant through a haze of incomprehension.

  "Tommy, Sir.  He brought you a slice of cake."

  Richard finally noted the cake resting on Saul's lap.  He regarded the baked good dumbly for a moment before sitting up with a stricken look upon his face.

  "Oh, fuck, what is wrong with him?" Richard said despairingly, and not at all mindful of his language in front of the adult.

  "I didn't know it was your birthday." Saul noted the text upon the cake where Richard's name was prominently displayed in icing.

  "Give it to me," Richard gestured towards the plate and Saul handed it over.

  "That will be all." Richard dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he studied the unexpected dessert.

  Saul stood up, pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it over.

  "There's a card." He said shortly before departing.

  Richard waited to be alone before perching the plate on his knee and ripping open the card.

  "Please don't be angry," a Birthday Card addressed to Richard read."But everybody deserves a cake with their name on it once a year.  P.S. Now that We're thirteen, do I get to have a real band?"

  Richard folded the card and placed it gently back in the envelope before he placed it on his nightstand with the plate of cake on top of it.  He frowned slightly.  Unable to process the gesture Tommy had made, he lay back down and pulled the blankets up to his chin and stared blankly at the ceiling.

 --

   Tommy hadn't made any indication of what had transpired a week and a half later when Richard returned to school, and nobody had even ventured to ask him why he had been gone for such a long time.  The longer the day went on with glances of pity from the instructors and classmates, the more irritated he became.  It all came to a head after classes had let out.  They stood in order of height, Nigel, Richard, Liam and Tommy, waiting for Nigel's mother to pick them up.  Nobody was saying a word and whether or not it was on Richard's accord didn't matter.  He felt as if it were, and he'd had enough.

  "Can I talk to you?" Richard said, loudly, pointedly.

  Tommy glanced down the row and pointed at himself.

 "Me?"  He asked, as Nigel and Liam's response was to expectantly turn towards the short end of the line.

 "Yeah, you," Richard confirmed.  He grabbed a befuddled Tommy by the arm and dragged him away, informing the other two that he would have Saul pick them up.

  "I get it," Tommy grumbled as soon as they'd found an isolated area behind the school building.  "You don't want to be around me all the time.  You've made it abundantly clear.  Maybe you just don't like me, and that's alright."

  "I do like you," Richard said exasperatedly.  "I wanted to be there.  I don't want to hurt your feelings when you're so fucking nice to me.  And you see what I do.  I don't come to your party and you still send me my own cake..."

  "Richard,"  Tommy said quietly, barely disguising his disappointment. "I didn't think you were going to come anyway.  You said you wouldn't, didn't you?"

  "Then why..."

  "You said it yourself." Tommy shrugged.  "I'm nice. I'm a Pisces; I can't help it."

  Richard grumbled and crossed his arms.  "You know, I don't even like Chocolate cake," he said.

  Tommy took the comment with a grain of salt and smiled at Richard instead.

  "You're funny," he replied with a laugh and began to walk back towards the street.

  "What are you doing?" Richard trotted to keep up with his companion.  "Why are you walking away from me?"

  "Nobody walks away from a Blume!" Tommy playfully mocked his accent as he backpedaled in order to gauge Richard's reaction.

  "Don't you want to know where I was?"  Richard stopped and scowled.  "Nobody's asked me where I've been."

  Tommy chewed on his bottom lip a bit as he pondered how to respond to Richard's not so veiled attempt at seeking some attention.

  "Okay," Tommy finally said.  "You want to know why nobody's asked you?"

   Richard nodded.

  "They're afraid of what you're going to say.  Everybody knows what you did, Richey, even if they don't say so, and nobody wants to think about it.  It scares people, what you've done to yourself.  Don't you think it's better that they ignore you rather than tormenting you about it?"

  Richard stood there his bottom lip trembling as he tried to stem the tears that welled in his eyes.

  "Oh, No.  Maybe not." Tommy dropped the playful facade, threw an arm around Richard as he started to weep, and led him back to the secluded area from where they'd emerged.

  "Why didn't I just die, Tom?" He sobbed.
 
  Tommy bit back any platitudes that threatened to depart from his lips and pulled Richard into a hug without saying anything. They stood there for a long time before Richard broke the embrace.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" Tommy finally asked.

  Richard knew the question well, as he was asked often, and he had a ready-made response for it.  But as Tommy stood there looking at him with an expression of genuine concern, he couldn't blurt out that he didn't want to talk about it.  Nobody before had ever shown the slightest interest in anything he said or felt.

  "You know they've been making me see a psychiatrist?" Richard finally mumbled through sniffles.

  Tommy just nodded, encouraging his friend to continue.

  "I'm sick, Tom.  Back in boarding school they said I had ADHD, but I don't.  The pills just made it worse.  I told them how bad it was, but they didn't believe me.  This new doctor, he says I'm Bipolar.  Now I have more different pills to take.  Maybe they work.  I don't know.  I still feel fucked up."  Richard crossed his arms and frowned.  "Fucking doctors can't tell their arse from their elbow.  The short of it is I'm basically insane, and I'm never gonna get better, ever."

  "You're not insane," Tommy replied quietly, and Richard just laughed condescendingly at him.

  "Don't tell me what I'm not," he said.  "And don't feel sorry for me either. I didn't tell you to feel sorry for me."

  "Do I look like I feel sorry for you, Blume?" Tommy glanced up at him with a frown.

  "Obviously you do." Richard took a step back so he could regard his companion.  "Or you wouldn't have sent me cake."

  "You're an idiot." Tommy scowled at him.  "I know you've never had a 'birthday', but you must be aware that it is customary for gifts to be involved.  No pity required."

  Richard grumbled after him as Tommy began to walk away again.  He still didn't quite believe that Tommy was without ulterior motives, and Richard was well aware of how much people pitied him.  He could see it when they refused to meet his eyes during conversation.  He could tell by their apologies after jerking away from a handshake once they caught sight of the bright red scars on his wrists.  He could tell by the way everyone acquiesced to his wishes as if the slightest affront would send him into a suicidal depression.

  "Where are you going?" Richard asked after Tommy as the boy exited the courtyard and started walking down the street.

  "Tube Station," Tommy said.

  Richard stopped in his tracks and stared.

  "What now?" Tommy turned around impatiently as soon as he sensed Richard was not following him.  "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  "I'll ring Saul.  He can drive us."

  "You..." Tommy shook his head.  "You are something.  How you gonna get around when there ain't no Saul?"

  Richard refused to respond.

  "You are so posh," Tommy asserted with a wry smile.

  He turned away and kicked at the gravel on the sidewalk as he went.  Richard begrudgingly shuffled after him.

--

  "So what are you doin' when school lets out?"  Liam arrived more bubbly than usual at the table one afternoon at the Academy sometime near the end of the school term.  He pulled opened his sack lunch and exhumed a tuna sandwich.

  "Rehearsing," Tommy said pointedly in Liam's direction.  "We aren't getting a holiday from that if that's what you're wondering."

  Liam frowned, returning to his usual disgruntled self.

  "We do that too much as it is," he whined.

 "Practice makes perfect," Richard spoke up from where he had been sitting silently.  He had fallen into a quiet lull in the months since his birthday.  It was a welcome respite from his usual biting commentary.

  "but in your case, Liam," he continued as a malicious grin crept over his face, "That might not be possible."

  "Wanker," Liam snarled back before Richard even finished the sentence.

  "Well, I would love to spend an entire summer, bored, watching you play 'music'."  Richard addressed the initial question, finger quoting the word Music as he did so.

  "I'd think it's better than whatever the fuck you did before your parents cursed us with your presence," Tommy said.

  "Probably," Richard agreed.  The flicker of a genuine smile crossed his lips as Tommy sparred with him.  "Regardless, I won't be here in July.  We are going to Spain.  Isn't that right, Nigel?"

  "You're what now?" Tommy turned to Nigel.  "You never told me that."

  "Well, it's news to me." Nigel glared at his cousin.

  "If my mother has anything to do with it, she's dragging your family along on her little holiday.  In my experience Mother gets what she wants."

  Nigel turned a lobsterish pink at the news and Tommy could tell he was biting his tongue on the matter.

  "So then Holiday?"  Liam asked hopefully.  "I really don't want to spend my summer with you fellahs."

  Tommy frowned and crossed his arms. "If that's what you want, you bunch of ingrates, then have it your way."


---

   Madeline worriedly kept an eye on her son who was lying on the sofa watching television.  He had decided not to play soccer that year and had become quite moody since his friends had gone to Spain.  She walked over to the sofa, pushed his legs over the edge, and sat down beside him.

  "Why don't you go outside, sweetie?"  She said.

  "I don't want to go outside," he countered petulantly.  "There ain't nothing to do out there."

  "You should call one of your friends?" She offered.

  "They're in Spain," he muttered.

  "The Caughtons?"  She laughed at him.  "You have lots of friends, Tommy.  You used to invite them over all the time."

  "I don't like those people," Tommy said pointedly.

  "Well, I can't have you sitting around all the time like a lump on a log," she said.

  He grumbled at her for a moment, but he knew it was true.

  "Why don't we ever go anywhere?" he finally muttered.

  "You have everything you need right here." She dismissed him with a smile.

  "I ain't ever even been to the country," he replied.  "Never seen a tree that wasn't in a Garden."

  "Oh, Tommy," She clucked at him.  "Yes you have."

  "I just want to go somewhere." He suddenly sat up with his revelation.  "Can't we go to the country?"

  Madeline, taken aback, didn't say anything.

  "I would really like that," Tommy said, his voice full of excitement at the prospect of leaving the city for a while.

  Madeline sighed and ruffled his hair.  "I'll see what I can do."

  Tommy's face lit up and he hugged his mother then stood up.

  "I think I'll go to the park, alright?"

  "Alright," she agreed, glad to have him finally out of the house.

 --

  Tommy didn't go to the park.  Instead he walked for a few blocks until he came to a stop in front of Brian Humboldt's building.  He stood there and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and placed it on his lips.  He had never really been friends with Brian, even when they went to the same school, and he knew the only reason he was there was because they had only one thing in common and Tommy had nothing else to distract him from the pursuit of furthering his sexual experiences.  Liam had already begun bragging about his many conquests.  His stories were grandiose and highly exaggerated if not completely unbelievable.  Tommy found these flights of fancy boring and completely divorced from reality, but was forced to listen as Nigel was curious about such tales, and so was Richard, if only to berate Liam afterward for making it all up.

  "Are you gonna stand there, or you gonna ring me buzzer?" A voice piped up from behind him.  "Because I can tell you there ain't nobody home."

  Tommy turned around, pulled the Cigarette from his lips and smiled.

  "Brian!"

  "Well, I haven't seen you in a good while!" Brian flounced past him.  Tommy hadn't seen him in a year.  His brown hair had grown past his shoulders.  He was taller and thinner and was swaddled in a fur collared knee length suede jacket.

  "I've been busy," Tommy mumbled as he appreciatively looked over his old acquaintance.

  "Yeah, yeah, Love 'em and Leave 'em, ain't that right, Tom Sinclair?" Brian turned to smile mischievously.  "Come on in, I'll make you a cuppa."

  Tommy curiously followed him into the building and into the kitchen where Brian sloughed off his coat and put a kettle on the stove to boil.

  "Look, I'm sorry I never called," Tommy said in as sincere a way as he could muster.

  "I should be upset," Brian admitted.  "I, of all people, get to snog the cutest boy in school, only to have him leave me to play with his posh friends across town.  Why'd you have to come along, Tommy Sinclair?  So fucking cute, so sure of what you want.  Back when you was eleven no less!  I'm still confused, but with you around it's so obvious!  And it's so easy!"

  "I'm sorry, Brian." Tommy frowned sadly.  He mumbled, "It's not easy," under his breath but Brain didn't hear him.

  "You probably shouldn't have come back he said as he set a cup of hot water and a tea bag down on the table in front of Tommy.  "I mean, isn't it enough that I spend every day worryin' about how damn queer I am, and worryin' about how everybody knows and makes my life miserable?  Now you're back here and it kinda makes me want to do every naughty thing I've ever imagined when I'm trying not to think like that."

   The teabag made a loud splash as Tommy distractedly dropped it into the steaming cup of water.  He took a moment to compose himself then and then sat back calmly in his chair.

   "Is your mum at work?" He asked.

  "Oh, no you don't!" Brian smiled at him.  "It's not going to be like that this time, Tommy Sinclair.  We're a little bit older and I'm a little bit smarter in spite of myself."

  Tommy dejectedly frowned.

  "Oh, C'mon!" Brian laughed at Tommy's obvious discomfit.  "It wouldn't work anyway, we're both far too cute.  We'd cancel each other out, right?"

  The corner of Tommy's mouth turned up into a slight smile and Brian happily clapped his shoulder.

  "See, there's that smile!"  He exuberantly chirped.  "Now, the least can do is buy a girl some dinner...maybe a film."

  "What?" Tommy looked up into Brian's blue eyes.  "I thought you said..."

  "I said it wouldn't work out, darling.  I didn't say I wasn't interested." He replied with a wink.  "Like I said, you're far too cute."


---

 
   The summer passed quickly and soon enough the Blumes and the Caughtons returned from Spain.  Nigel welcomed home with opened arms and was ready to get back to his band, but found that Tommy had disappeared to the country with his mother and that left him with his cousin Richard, who stood in his bedroom histrionically shouting at him for an explanation.

  "He's supposed to be here." Richard pounded his fist into his hand.  "Where is he?"

  "Holiday," Nigel grumbled.  "He left a note."

  "Yeah, but we're supposed to be a band," Richard sniffed.  "How can we do that with him off traipsing about in the hills, or the woods, or wherever the fuck he went?"

  Nigel stared at him with an opened mouth for a moment.

  "What?" Richard crossed his arms as he noted Nigel's expression.

  "What are you talking about?  You're the reason he's gone!  We were supposed to be getting good this summer, and your fucking family takes us away to Spain where I did nothing!  What's Tom supposed to do?  Sit around and wait for us to come back?  He's got his own family, and you are not even in the band so what do you care, you mad bastard!"

  "Don't call me that." Richard scowled angrily down at his cousin.  "I'm not mad."

  "Fine you're not mad," Nigel relented, "but you are certainly walking the line."

  Richard harrumphed and threw himself into one of Nigel's lounge chairs.

  "He doesn't even like you," Nigel pointed out.  He had become quite weary and suspicious of his cousin over the many hours they had been forced to spend together.

  "He doesn't?" Richard perked up in surprise.  "Did he say that?"

  "No," Nigel admitted.  He didn't like the time Tommy spent with his cousin, and he didn't like the influence his cousin held over both of them.  He knew he wasn't being truthful and he wasn't being nice, but he still couldn't help himself.

  "But he doesn't." Nigel continued.  "Has he ever even invited you to his flat?  I've been to his flat.  Liam's been to his flat."

  Richard frowned, and a moment of hurt flashed across his eyes before the monster in him reared its ugly head.

  "I don't want to visit his hovel anyway." He tossed his head and assumed a superior expression.  "Maybe I don't like him either.  He's always hoverin' over my shoulder.  I'm glad he's not here."

  "But you were just..." Nigel again regarded Richard with exasperation and then thought better than to get into another circular argument with someone who was incapable of making any sense.

--
 
   An irritated Nigel stalked his way down the corridors of the Academy in search of Tommy Sinclair, and he found him in the courtyard sitting on a bench animatedly chatting with Rita Gully, a quiet, smart girl who nobody usually took notice.

  "Hey, can I talk to you?" Nigel stood over them, interrupting as he cast a long shadow blotting out the sun entirely with his giant curly blond Afro.

  "I haven't seen you in a couple months," Tommy replied, "But you seem to have gotten a lot ruder. Have you been getting tips from Richard?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I have," Nigel countered sharply and added, "No thanks to you!"

  It took a moment for the realization that the usually steadfast and calm Nigel was in fact, irate, and Tommy knew it was directed at him and could easily guess why.  So he sighed and frowned and excused himself from Rita's company.

  "You have been avoiding me," Nigel declared once they were out of earshot.

  "Have I?" Tommy queried though he knew full well that he had been.  "I hadn't noticed, I've been busy."

  "Busy?" Nigel huffed.  He stood shaded by the school building with his arms crossed and a rigid scowl adorning his features.

  Tommy looked up at his neglected friend and felt very small.

  "I've been going through some things," Tommy evasively replied as he shuffled from foot to foot, attempting to avoid Nigel's glare.

  "Things?" Nigel said.  "Things that you have to avoid me for?"

  "Well..." Tommy shrugged.

  "Nice." Nigel frowned.  "Just...NICE.  If you don't want to be my friend you can just tell me."

  "God, you really have been spending too much time with Richard!"  Tommy attempted a lighthearted smile and a friendly pat on Nigel's arm but was swatted away for his effort.

  "Well..." Tommy spoke in a conspiratory whisper.  "I had sex, if you must know."  It was an effective way to quickly change the subject.

  "That's what you've been doing?" Nigel replied dubiously.  "Who with?"

  "Grace." Tommy frowned feeling embarrassed and unsure of Nigel's reaction.

  Nigel stood thoughtfully for a moment as he tried to place the name then asked with a confused look upon his face. "Isn't Grace your cousin?"

  "She's not my cousin!" Tommy hissed.  "My Aunt had her way before she married my Uncle. Grace wasn't a Sinclare then and she's not a Sinclare now!"

  "Defensive," Nigel noted as his anger slowly transformed into a teasing grin.

  "It's not funny," Tommy said indignantly.

  "You're avoiding me because of that?"  Nigel asked.  "When did this even happen?"

  "We went to visit them for a week.  I just don't want to talk about it," he replied, carefully sidestepping the fact that he had also been spending the weeks since his return from the country with his old school friend, Brian.

  "Really?  Because, Liam..." Nigel started and was instantly interrupted.

  "Liam is a liar," Tommy said.  "Shouldn't have done it.  It was embarrassing, and I don't want to talk about it, Okay?"

  "Okay." Nigel relented.

  "And do not tell anybody else, either." Tommy warned.  "I'm only telling you, because you're my best friend, and I don't have to make up some big story about how great it was, because it wasn't.  It was stupid, and kind of awful, and over way too quickly."

  "Okay!" Nigel smiled happy to be back in his friend's confidence, a position he feared he had been losing hold on.

--

  Tommy didn't get any warmer a reception from Nigel's cousin.  Richard sat down at lunch and was icily silent as the other three compatriots caught up on the summer's exploits.  Liam was more than happy to share stories of his drinking and his conquests, made up as they were.  Nigel told tales of sunny beaches and Richard running amok throughout Spain.  Tommy carefully avoided any mention of Grace or Brian and instead related anecdotes of his Aunt's provincial daily life.
 
  He hailed Richard after the days obligations and Richard allowed himself to be waylaid but not without an obvious grimace in Tommy's direction.  Tommy ignored the facial expression and they stood side by side on the pavement outside the school staring at the traffic that passed by.

  "You didn't say much today." Tommy noted.  Without looking at Richard, he pulled cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it.

  "Don't have much to say," Richard muttered.  He afforded himself a glance over at his friend but turned away quickly when Tommy caught him staring.

  "So the way Nigel tells it you've had fun on holiday, yeah?"  Tommy said and turned to face his companion.  Richard continued to stare at the traffic and refused to meet his gaze.

  "It's not fun," Richard said.  "It's never fun."

  "Right." Tommy turned away and looked down at his feet.
 
  As the weeks flew by their relationship continued to devolve into a series of awkward silences and furtive glances.  Richard withdrew and refused to be involved in any activity to which Tommy invited him, yet Tommy was persistent.  He felt as if Richard was hiding something and thought it was his job to cajole it out of him.  Things eventually came out, and not in the way Tommy had hoped.  It was Liam's incessant poking and prodding that finally popped the bubble of tension that surrounded the group of friends.  He had smuggled a dirty magazine that he had stolen from a bookstore into school and was proudly showing off his ill gotten gains.

  "Why don't you put that away?" Richard spoke up for the first time in weeks.

  "Why?  You gay or somethin'?" Liam barely looked up from the centerfold as he replied.

  "No," Richard replied.

  "You're gay." Liam decided as he finally looked up.  "You're really, really gay."

  Richard blanched at this assertion and snapped his mouth shut.

  "I'm not stupid." Liam continued.  "You never talk to the girls.  You don't even glance at them, and yet you're all about glances in the changin' room aren't you?"

  "Please," Richard huffed.  He was, however, unable to meet Liam's defiant gaze.

  "Leave him alone." Tommy stood up from his place on the sidelines.  "You know he's on medication."

  "Wot?" Liam openly laughed.  "Medication to make him a poof?"

  "I don't need your help," Richard said sharply and tried to tug Tommy back into a seated position, but he yanked his arm away from Richard's grasp and held it out towards Liam.

  "Give me that." He gestured towards the magazine which lay folded, neatly hidden underneath Liam's lunch tray.

  Liam was all for creating a scene at the expense of his companions, though,  and he handed over the publication, relishing the thought of the possibly ensuing theatrics.

  "This is not the time or the place," Tommy growled as he rolled up the paper and thrust it pointedly at his bass player.  "This is going in the bin where it belongs, and as for you Liam, how dare you sit here and throw stones at people."

  "I was just makin' a joke." Liam shrugged at Tommy.  "Why? Are you queer too?"

  Tommy stared at him for a moment.  His mind went completely blank, his mouth opened and out spilled the words:

  "Maybe I am."

  Liam laughed it off, Richard bit his lip and stared at place beyond Nigel's shoulder as the colour drained completely from his face, and Nigel just looked up at his friend in a distressed manner and asked if he were joking.

   "Why would I joke about that?" Tommy asked, crossing his arms as he looked pointedly at Nigel, who knew very well it was not something that Tommy would ever make jokes about.

  "But you said you did it with Grace Meyer," Nigel whispered.

   Tommy glowered at Nigel who had unintentionally spilled a secret that Tommy had never meant anyone to hear.

  "I'm sorry," Nigel squeaked under the pressure of the glare.  "I just don't understand what you're telling us."

  "Yea!" Liam piped in happily.  "What are you telling us?"

  "I don't know," Tommy replied.  "Maybe I like both.  I don't fucking know, Nigel, okay?  I don't have to know, but he," Tommy poked the magazine at Liam again as his voice began to rise.  "He shouldn't be makin' fun of anybody, let alone Richard, who hasn't done a damn thing to deserve it.  If you have to be a wanker you can tease me."

   Liam squirmed as Tommy's glare turned towards him.

  "Sorry, I didn't know," he muttered.  "I'm not going to tease you if you're going to be such a blouse about it."

  "Oh, just fuck you, Liam," Tommy practically shouted back at him.

  Liam opened his mouth as if to mount another comeback, but just as quickly snapped it shut and shrugged innocently up at the administrator who had appeared as quickly as he could at the sound of the commotion.  He put one hand on Tommy's shoulder and held the other out.

  "Magazine, Sinclair," he said sharply.

  Tommy sheepishly handed it over.

  "Care to explain what this is about?"

  Tommy sighed.  He was unwilling to implicate any of his friends despite the fact that Liam was the reason for the incident.

  "No, sir," he replied with another defeated sigh, and was promptly marched away to the headmistress' office.

---

   He was in the midst of being further punished by his mother that evening when the buzzer to the flat rang.  Madeline allowed the caller into the building and silently evaluated him as he walked in the door.  Tommy had never introduced them, and she was curious as to why.  Nothing about Richard was particularly worrying however.  He was soft spoken, respectful and polite.  She allowed Tommy to speak with him.

   "Only a few minutes, Thompson." Madeline warned.  "I'm not finished with you yet."

  "Yes, Mum," Tommy replied glumly from the sofa.  He didn't allow himself to show how surprised and excited he was that Richard had stopped by.

  "Thompson?" Richard asked as he sat down on the accompanying love seat.

  "Now you know my horrible secret." Tommy smiled a little.  "I'm not a Thomas.  You should hear my middle name."

  "What's your middle name?" Richard asked eagerly.

  Tommy thought about it for a moment before speaking. "It's Rutherford."

  Richard clapped his hands over his mouth to muffle the delighted peel of laughter that burst forth from his lips.

  "Laugh it up, Richey." Tommy grinned.   "At least I'm not a Blume."

  Richard's laughter trailed off and he smiled ruefully.  "If only that were true for the both of us," he said wistfully.

  They locked eyes for a lingering moment before the  conversation stumbled forward.

  "I've got to say, I'm surprised you didn't burst in here in a rage, screaming for my head," Tommy admitted.  "I'm surprised you're here at all actually."

  "I'm not angry." Richard shrugged.  "Nigel, told me your addy.  I asked him."

  "Where is he?" Tommy frowned with disappointment.

  "Oh, he and Liam..." Richard nervously rubbed the back of his head.  "They're just in a bit of a shock, yeah?"

  "And here you are." Tommy gestured towards his visitor.  "Who would have thought you were the only one on my side?  Maybe Liam was onto something?"

  "That's not fair!" Richard glared at his friend.  "Why are you surprised?  That...that, I don't care?  I'm not full of hate or, or, fear, or whatever?  That I actually want to thank you for sticking up for me? For bein' nice? For bein' the only person who is ever nice to me?  If it's true, what you said, how does that change us?"

  Tommy didn't say anything.  He just returned Richard's glare at a loss for words.

  "Unless it changes us." Richard thought out loud.  "This doesn't change us does it?"

  "No of course not," Tommy scoffed at the thought.  "I shouldn't have said that."

  "You're as bad as Liam." Richard pointed out smugly.
 
  "No!" Tommy shook his head unwilling to be compared to Liam.

  "Look, I didn't come here to be accused again!" Richard stood up angrily.  "Just because you want somebody to commiserate with...  Go find a bloody support group.  I just want to say thank you."

  "Okay, I'm sorry!" Tommy stood up in an effort to thwart Richard's impending departure.  "You're right. I do want somebody to commiserate with right now, but..."

  "It's not going to be me," Richard interrupted.  "I just...well...you'd do well to just leave me alone."

  "But, I need someone to talk to..."

  Richard held up a hand to Tommy's face as if to block any more words.

  "I told you before to stop.  Just leave me alone, okay?"

  Tommy sagged with the weight of the perpetual frustration Richard heaped upon him.  He shook his head as if the clear it then sighed and verbally acquiesced to his friends wishes, though he had no intention of leaving Richard alone.

--


  His mother had banished him to his room for the entire week long period and took his guitar away.  He was relegated to scribbling lyrics on paper and lying on his bed with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.  It was a worse fate than anything he could possibly think of.  Madeline was aware of how miserable her son was without his primary source of entertainment and his friends to keep him company.  It was even worse for her as the week wore on and she realized that he was no longer speaking to her.  She tried to prod conversation out of him once the weekend rolled around.

   "So this Richard, he seems nice," she spoke up at dinner on a Saturday night.

   "Things are not always as they seem," Tommy grumped as he pawed listlessly at the vegetables on his plate with his fork.

  "Anything you want to talk about?" She asked curiously.  "Still haven't 'decided' if you like him?"

  "No, I like him.  I wouldn't be friends with him if I didn't like him," Tommy admitted.  "That doesn't mean he's nice, Mum.  He's not nice; he's Richey."

  "Oh, right." She feigned understanding.  "Why don't you ever invite him over?  You know your friends can come over whenever you want."

  "I was embarrassed," Tommy blurted without thought.

  "Embarrassed?" His mother's voice involuntarily took on a dismayed pitch.  "What for?"

  Tommy shrugged and took a tentative bite of his food.

  "You know you can't let those people get you down," Madeline announced.  "You're getting a good education, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.  Winnin' a scholarship!  You're a smart boy, and I'm proud of you, and your father's proud of you..."

  "Mum, stop!" Tommy shook his head and smiled slightly at her. "It's not 'those people'.  I get reminded every day at school that I'm not as good as they are.  I don't care about impressing them.  I care about impressing Richard, and to be fair to him, he hasn't really let on that my not having gobs of money bothers him at all.  This is my doing, my embarrassment, and I ain't ever gonna have enough to please him.  It's not his fault."

  "Why do you want to please him?"  Madeline asked suspiciously.

  "Because he's sad," Tommy  replied without thinking as he focused his attention away from the conversation and back onto his meal.

Tommy was a bit afraid of his reintroduction into school after his week-long suspension, and as he feared, he was greeted by sideways glances and whispering.  His friends were nowhere to be seen and a creeping sense of loneliness overwhelmed him.  Lunchtime came and the loneliness gave way to dread, for he knew that his friends would be there and if they shunned him he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew it wouldn't end well.  As it were, Nigel joined him at their usual table and greeted him as if nothing had transpired.

  "You're not going to say anything?" Tommy asked after a moment.

  "About what?"  Nigel looked up from his meal.  "You getting suspended for bringing porn to school?"

  "No," he replied, annoyed at Nigel for steering the conversation away from his intended destination.  "You know what I mean.  You didn't call."

  "I thought you were in trouble," Nigel replied with a flippant shrug.

  "Richard called, didn't he?" Tommy shot back.

  "You think it bothers me that you think you're gay?"  Nigel said calmly.

  "I don't think it," Tommy said.  "I know it."

  "Don't be stupid."  Nigel dismissed him with a frown.  "It doesn't bother me.  It's just sudden, is all.  Have you even thought this through?"

  "Thought it through?" Tommy muttered in the form of a question.  "I am thinking it through.  I'm thinking it through right now.  It's not some notion I've got in my head because...I think I should or something.  I've done things."

  "Things?" Nigel arched an eyebrow.  "First Gracie and now things?  Who around here have you done things with?"

  "You don't know him," Tommy grumbled.

  "Now you have friends that I don't know about?"  Nigel's frown deepened.  "It's not some old geezer is it?  That's just wrong."

  "What? No!"  Tommy scowled.

  "So why don't you tell me?  Is this what it's going to be like now?  My best friend hides all these bloody secrets from me as if I'm going to suddenly not like him anymore after ten years."  Nigel turned his attention away from his meal and crossed his arms to stare directly at Tommy.

  "Brian's not my friend." Tommy struggled for an explanation but could come up with nothing except a crushing feeling of guilt for hiding from Nigel and for using Brian.

  "And you do things with him?"  Nigel scowled disapprovingly.  "I didn't think you were like that.  How can you have sex with people you don't even like?  I didn't know you thought it such a trivial thing.  It's a bit of a shock, that, Tommy.  I wish you wouldn't keep throwing yourself into fires like it's no big thing.   Like the smoking.  You shouldn't have started doing that either."

  "What? Are you my mummy?" Tommy huffed.  "I know what I'm doing, and it makes me feel good.  Do I really need to discuss it with everybody?  It's actually none of your business."

  "You brought it up," Nigel replied with a hint of exasperation before pursing his lips as he noted the approach of the other half of their circle.  Richard sat beside Tommy and smiled widely at him as he immediately and unconsciously began tapping his fork on the table.

  "Welcome back, Tommy," he said.

  "What are you in such a good mood about?" Tommy continued to scowl as he carefully avoided Richard's gaze which was fixated directly upon him.

  "The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, " Richard spoke cheerily.  "It's a beautiful day in London-town."

  "No, seriously," Liam piped in.  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing," Richard replied.  "Can I not be in a good mood?"

  "Not you." Liam shook his head.  "I don't suppose it has anything to do with your boyfriend comin' back from suspension?"

  Tommy's head snapped to attention, but before he could make a scene Richard spoke on his own behalf.

  "Shove it up your arse, Fische," he said calmly, the cheery pitch never leaving his voice.

  Liam snickered before glancing at Tommy with a grin on his face.  "You'd like that wouldn't you?"  He said.

  Tommy pursed his lips and focused on his plate.

  "Oh, C'mon!" Liam needled him.  "You said if I had to take the piss, I could do it to you, didn't you?  What, you ain't man enough to take it?"

  Tommy continued to ignore him.

 "Fine."  Liam shrugged and settled in to his meal.  "You're no fun."

--

  "He bothers you," Richard said to Tommy as they stood waiting for Saul to pick them up.

  Tommy glanced sideways at him and shrugged.

  "Liam doesn't bother me."

   Richard sighed heavily, his earlier bright mood had turned grey and sullen over the course of a few hours.

  "Mmmhmmm," he murmured nearly inaudibly as he was sure that he didn't believe it.  Out loud he asked Tommy if he had a fag.

  Tommy glanced at him again, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket, offered one up, and lit it for his companion.

  "I didn't know you were a smoker," Tommy said.

  "I went to boarding school, Thompson."  Richard took a drag on the cigarette as he spoke to Tommy slowly and deliberately.  "I've done a lot of things that might surprise you."

   "Oh, yeah?" Tommy perked up a bit and couldn't keep an edge of curious interest from creeping into his voice.

  Richard kept his gaze straight ahead.  "It's been a hard day for me."  He noted.  "I don't want to get into it."

 Tommy cast his eyes downward and deftly changed the subject.  "You called me Thompson."

 "Sorry," Richard said.  "I remember things."

 "It's alright." Tommy shrugged as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  "I don't mind."

--

    "Who are you foolin'?"  Liam spoke to Tommy after band rehearsal one day.

    "What are you talking about?" Tommy replied as packed his equipment away.

    "With all this." Liam gestured at him.  "Who you trying to impress?"

    "I'm exploring my self identity, alright?" He said.

    Liam regarded him dubiously.  "And your self identity now includes eyeliner, eh?"

    "Oh, C'mon." Richard had stood up from the corner of the room where he'd been hiding and joined them.  "He's in a 'rock band."  He spit out the word with forceful contempt.  "People in rock bands do that kind of thing all the time.  It's all part of your persona, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, yeah, fuck you," Tommy growled back at him.

  Liam glanced between them as they glared at one another.

  "Please leave," Liam addressed Richard with an accompanying shove.  "You're interrupting our banter."

  "Yeah," Tommy acrimoniously concurred.
 
  Richard stared Tommy down from head to toe then turned and stalked out of the room.

  "You should just fuck," Liam muttered.

  This prompted Tommy to let out a high pitched "What!" in his direction.

  "Oh, you heard me." Liam chuckled.

  "I hate Richey Blume," Tommy declared.  "He's a prat."

  "Which is why you spend so much time staring at his arse," Liam replied.

  Tommy rolled his eyes and hefted his guitar case.  "Look, Liam. Please give it a rest, alright?  I don't like you that way, I don't like him that way, I don't like Nigel that way, and I'm already seeing someone.  Your whole interest in the matter is actually pretty disturbing."
 
  "You're not seeing anybody.  If you were seeing somebody, then we'd have met him by now," Liam pointed out with a grin.  He was good at pushing buttons, and was pleased at the way Tommy was rising to the bait.

  "No, you're right."  Tommy took a long steadying breath before addressing his friend with a smirk.  "We're only shagging.  More than I can say for all the lies you go around telling."

  Liam grumbled for a moment and eventually stumbled away in a huff leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts.

  He only wished that he were interested in Brian.  Their time together seemed to Tommy as only a clinical investigation of body parts.  While pleasurable, it left him feeling emotional unsatisfied and wracked with guilt.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he hadn't wanted his first time to be an awkward fumble in the dark, over in an instant, like it had been with Grace, nor a detached exploration devoid of any connection like it was with Brian.  He knew there was more to it than that, but he didn't know what.  On top of his dissatisfaction, Tommy was as afraid as he was sure that Brian was in love with him, yet he didn't know how to stop.  He was in over his head and he knew it full well.

 Tommy sighed to himself and didn't notice Richard reenter the room until he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder.

  "Oh, what do you want?" Tommy spun around on Richard and snapped at him.  "Did you come to make fun of the way I look again?  Did you come back to make fun of our music?  Why do you do that?  Why do you make it so damn hard to like you?"

  Richard settled back on his heels, seemingly unsurprised at Tommy's outburst.  He contemplated an answer for a moment before replying.

  "I can't help it," he whispered.  "It's what I do.  It's how this works."

  "How what works?"  Tommy cried at him.

  "How my brain works," he replied quietly and composed.  "I hurt people, Tom.  I see my chance and I just step on 'em without a thought.  Nobody deserves it.  It's just how it works."

  "That's..."  Tommy eyed him suspiciously.  "That's stupid," he finally said.  "Why?"

  Richard smiled at him then, a wild and uncontained smile.  With a pat on the back, he invited Tommy out for dinner with Nigel as if no words had been spoken between them.

  "It'll be a bit of fun!" Richard giggled.  "C'mon."

  "Why?" Tommy repeated more urgently.  He didn't understand.

  Richard continued to laugh at him then pulled him into a sideways hug.  Tommy could only stand there with the other boy's arm clenched around his shoulder.  He could hear Richard talking, but he knew it was only another one of his rants.  It was the kind that didn't make any sense and jumped incoherently from topic to topic, sentence to sentence, and it was useless to try and dampen Richard's enthusiasm.  It would exponentially get worse until he collapsed into sullen silence just as easily as he had started.

  Tommy wrestled  himself from the grasp then and he spun around to face him.

  Richard's eyes glossed over as he noted Tommy's disapproving scowl.  It took every bit of self restraint he had to keep himself from saying another word.  The effort pushed him to an emotional breaking point and tears welled in his eyes.

  "You're alright." Tommy sighed at him.  He dropped his childish anger and shoved his inability to understand Richard's constant mood swings aside.

  Richard only shook his head as he bit into his lower lip.

  Tommy reached out and took his hand.

  "You're alright, Richey," Tommy repeated as he did his best to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through him as he squeezed.  "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

  "You called me a prat.  I heard you say it.  I was stood in the doorway," Richard squeaked out then.  He squeezed back, holding on for dear life.

  "I didn't mean it," Tommy insisted.

  "It's not untrue."  Richard took a  shuddering breath and snatched his hand back.  "Are you coming or not?" He petulantly asked as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

  "Yeah, sure," Tommy said.  The conversation was over.  "Let me get my coat."

--

  Richard withdrew himself after that.  He could see that Tommy was starting to care about him.  It was evident in the way the boy fought his friends to include Richard in everything they did.  He often felt the outsider and didn't appreciate the extra attention Tommy gave to him whenever the others turned a cold shoulder.  It frightened him.  In his entire life he had never known anybody to care as much as Tommy did, even when he was calling Richard a prat.

  And he knew.

  He knew that Tommy liked him.  Richard could see it in his eyes, and his eyes were always there, watching like a hawk.  Tommy may never have said it, or he may not even have known it himself, but Richard did.  Richard knew every glance, he knew every smile, and it warmed him when he allowed himself to think of it.  The cold, dark corners of his mind wouldn't allow him to want it though.  He wouldn't allow himself the attention that Tommy showered on him.  He wouldn't allow himself to let the attraction blossom, because he knew he would end up hurting him and that was the last thing in the world that Richard wanted.  So he withdrew.  He withdrew from group and he withdrew from Tommy, who continued to watch, weary and worried.

 --

  His birthday was sad and uneventful as far as he was concerned.  Not even a shiny new Les Paul could cheer him up.  He sat on a chair at the kitchen table staring across the room at where he had propped up the carefully maintained case of the blue Telecaster that he had called his for two years.

  His mother joined him at the table, followed his eyes and sighed internally.

  "I'm sorry your friend couldn't make it," she said as sympathetically as she could muster.

  "It's alright," Tommy lied.  "He's got this thing...about birthday parties."

  "Oh."  Madeline frowned.  She worried about Tommy and all the time he spent worrying about Richard Blume, a boy she had only met once in passing.

  "It's nothing." Tommy turned to look at her as he sensed her unease.  "It's just, I think I'm going to miss the Telecaster."

  She frowned.  "Did you want a...Telecaster?"

  He smiled and stood up and gave her a hug.  "No, I love my present," he told her as they embraced.  "Thank you."

--
 
  "You didn't have to bring it back." Richard hefted his guitar case onto his bed and flicked the clasps open in order to inspect the instrument.

  "You were only letting me borrow it." Tommy peered over his friend's shoulder.  "Mum got me a guitar for my birthday.  Did your mu..."

  Richard held a hand up to his face in order to provoke silence.  It had the desired effect as Tommy snapped his mouth shut and scowled.

  "Why do you insist on talking about it?" Richard muttered under his breath.  It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Tommy showing concern, it was only that he never knew how to react to it as it was a strange and unfamiliar interaction.

  "Did I pass?" Tommy asked.  He had shoved his thoughts on Richard's abysmal home life aside and opted instead for a bright and cheery tone of voice.

  "Yeah," Richard said almost too softly to hear above the sound of the case being shut and snapped back into place.

  "You know what I think?" Tommy said, and without waiting for an answer continued.  "I think you should join the band now."

  Richard glanced sharply at him then laughed.

  "It's not funny.  You would be good, you understand music."

  "Just about the only thing," Richard muttered.  "Doesn't matter.  I can't play guitar right now...I still have physical therapy."

  "It's been two years."

  Richard glared at him.  "Yeah, it's been two years and I have problems.  I've had surgery, I've had therapy, and I still have problems.  I hurt myself real bad, Tommy.  Don't you get it?"

  "We can write together then." Tommy reached out a hand and placed it on Richard's shoulder.

  Richard stood with an angry glare frozen on his face.

  Tommy glared back.  Instead of removing his hand he slid it towards Richard's neck where it rested for one heated moment.  Richard resisted the urge to lean into the touch and instead smacked Tommy's hand away.
 
  "Please, don't ever do that again," Richard said brusquely and turned away.

  "I'm sorry!"  Tommy stared wide eyed at Richard's back, ashamed at his own audacity.

  "I think you should go home now," Richard commented.

  Tommy wanted to go to him and beg forgiveness, but he could no longer even bring himself to look upon Richard's shoulders, back lit by the sun streaming through his bedroom window.  Instead he cast his gaze towards his own feet with a sigh and wondered how Richard could always make him feel so bad about himself without even trying.

  "I think you're right," he finally said .  He shuffled from foot to foot for a moment, expecting hopefully for Richard to ask him to stay.  Richard didn't utter a word, and Tommy eventually shuffled away feeling utterly rejected.

   Richard watched him from the window as he exited the house.  Tommy didn't turn towards the bus stop, but instead headed towards Nigel's house, no doubt for band practice.  Richard covered his face in his hands trying to right himself, but he couldn't corral the flood of emotions bouncing around inside his head, and he felt them all so keenly like sharp stabbing knives in his gut.  It was constant and unbearable and yet he could do nothing but go on and deceive the people around him for no reason.  He told people he was alright, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.  In all of his life, Richard had never been alright.

  He yanked the curtains together in order to cross out the offending light then stalked to the bed where he lay down and stared at the ceiling with tears steaming silently down his face.

--

  Tommy returned to Nigel's house after having been gone less than fifteen minutes.  Nigel looked up from his drum-kit.  It was surprising to see Tommy back so soon.  Richard usually kept him occupied for far longer than that, whether they were getting along or arguing.

  "What did he do?" Nigel sighed.  He knew he was going to have to hear about it sooner or later, or Tommy would never be able to concentrate on what he was doing.

  "It's not what he did; it's what I did." Tommy fell melodramatically back on Nigel's bed.

  "What did you do?" Nigel turned his attention back to his drums.

  "I asked him to join the band."

  "Yeah?"  Nigel shook his head to himself.  "Don't you think you should've run that by me and Liam first?"

  Tommy replied in the negative.   "He didn't say yes anyway.  Says he got physical therapy..."

  "He does.  Every Saturday morning at nine," Nigel replied.

  "How do you know that?"  Tommy wondered.

  "Well, my aunt doesn't want to take time out of her busy schedule to take him, and Mum doesn't want him to go alone, so she takes him."  Nigel shrugged.  "He's my cousin, Tommy."

  "Right." Tommy sighed.  "I only asked because I thought It'd be fun for him.  We could use another guitar player anyway."

  "I think Liam knows a guy," Nigel said.

  "That's not the point." Tommy turned onto his side so he could face his friend.

  Nigel rolled his eyes at him.  "Right, the point is you want it to be Richard.  Good luck convincing him to do anything.  I can barely get him to speak two words to me after all this time."

  Tommy laced his fingers behind his head and sighed helplessly as he stared at the ceiling.

--

  Two weeks later Richard picked up his guitar for the first time since he'd slashed his wrists.  He sat alone in his room with the curtains drawn.  He could play the guitar if he tried, though he had never been particularly skilled at the instrument. He did still get cramps in his hands, and sometimes his fingers went numb, but he could manage without anybody noticing, particularly Tommy.  The boy was a bright and cheerful presence in Richard's life that he was slowly growing to accept and anticipate.  He had been trying to keep his distance, but the way Tommy continually bounced back from Richard's belittlement, taciturn attitude, and frequent mood swings was starting to wear down his resistance.  He knew he would hurt Tommy.  It was an eventuality as far as Richard was concerned and it frightened him, but he wondered if it wasn't worth the little happiness Tommy managed to bring into his life.

  Richard cornered him later that week in an isolated hallway between classes.  Tommy had been doing an admirable job of avoiding him ever since he'd turned down the invitation to join the band.  Richard had an inkling somewhere in the back of his mind that he had hurt Tommy's feelings, but he only sought to rectify the situation after he realized that he'd been getting the cold shoulder, and it took all of that week for it to take hold of his conscious mind that he was being ignored.  Once he did, it caused his stomach to burn with regret every time Tommy glanced at him.

 Richard stood there in front of Tommy that day expecting him to ask what was wrong.  He didn't.  Instead he crossed his arms and glowered.  An apology fluttered towards Richard's lips but he choked it back and frowned instead.

  "Do you still want me to be in your band?" He asked after a stalemate that lasted well past the ringing of the bell.

  Tommy's face filled with disappointment and he sighed.  In the end it was he who apologized.

 "I'm sorry," Tommy said.  "I told them I wanted you to play guitar for us and that you said no.  They wanted to look for someone else.  I'm afraid Liam missed the point."

  "The point?"   Richard closed his eyes and exhaled in an effort to stem the tears that sprung instantaneously to his eyes.  It was not an unexpected reaction to an answer that deviated from his expectations.

  "The point being, you're our friend.  I wanted it to be you, and now here you are."  Tommy's eyes were directed at the floor and he was frowning, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent frustration.  "Too late."

  "Too late?" Richard practically whimpered in reply.  His gut clenched in a knot and hot flush rose to his cheeks.

 "Yeah," Tommy said and looked up to meet Richard's gaze.   "Liam knows a bloke...Petere.  Three 'e's.  Stupid chav.  I wanted it to be you, Richey.  You're goo....actually, you're incredible.  I don't know how you learned so much about music.  Half of what you say I don't even understand."

  "You could have tried to convince me."  Richard crossed his arms.  The hot feeling of disappointment drained out of him and was replaced by steely cold indifference.

   Tommy threw his hands up in surrender.

  "I can't win with you, Richey, can I?  Just...I'm sorry.  What else do you want me to say?  Tell me and I'll say it"

   "There ain't nothing you can say," Richard stubbornly replied.

  "Alright, then," Tommy said quietly.  He looked up at Richard and reached out to pat him shortly on the arm.  "I understand that you're disappointed.  I am too.  Go ahead and be angry with me.  I never should have brought it up in the first place.  I'm going to go to class now."

  Richard, suddenly desperate to be within Tommy's orbit for the rest of the day, grabbed his friend's shoulder as he turned around.

  "We can sneak out...to smoke," he suggested.

  "You? sneak out of school?"  Tommy pretended to be affronted.

  "It's funny that you think I would care."  Richard parried the remark with a smirk.

  Tommy smiled at him then.  "So we're okay?"

  "For now," Richard admitted.  The apology returned to his lips and caught there.  He bit his bottom lip as he fought it back, then smiled at Tommy in kind.

  "Let's go then," Richard said as he bobbed his head in the direction of the exit.

--

 Their impasse only lasted a few weeks.  Richard occasionally attended band practice in the capacity of spectator, even though Tommy tried valiantly to include him.  He kept his mouth shut about what a bad fit he thought Petere was.  Petere's attitude and work ethic was below even Liam's and on top of that, Richard didn't think he was any good.  Then the band got a gig.  Tommy couldn't have been more ecstatic, even though it was only a party in a school mate's basement.  From that point on Tommy was busy with people fawning over him, and Richard did nothing to try and keep himself in Tommy's life.  He stopped going to rehearsals and gigs and nearly withdrew completely.

  Another unfortunate side effect of tackling a couple of successful shows among their peers was the fact that Liam and Petere began to think they were too good to require practice.  More often than not they would skip it completely in favor of standing on some corner or another with the other school friends Liam had left behind when he'd taken the scholarship.  This left only Nigel and Tommy once again, but Tommy wasn't as content with the situation as he had once been.  He wanted his band to improve and the two most essential parts in need of improvement didn't seem to care.

  "Maybe you should just find Richey?" Nigel said one day as Tommy polished his guitar.

  "Find Richey, and what?"  Tommy asked.  "He's not been here in weeks.  He barely even speaks to us anymore."

  "What?  He speaks to you!"

  "I don't even like him," Tommy grumbled.

  "Why do you keep saying that?"  Nigel rolled his eyes.  "Please go talk to him.  I'm tired of Liam's shit."

  "I don't like him," Tommy half-heartedly protested as he stood from where he was seated on Nigel's bed.  He set his instrument aside and shuffled apprehensively towards the door.

    He approached the Blume residence and spied their servant, Saul, attending the task of sweeping snow from the steps
to the door.

"Good evening, Tom." Saul looked up from his duties. "I believe he is in his room studying," he said without waiting for Tommy to speak.

"Do you think I could go o­n up?" Tommy pondered aloud.

    Saul nodded Tommy into the house. He tread the path to his friend's  room and found himself in the midst of a disaster area. There were piles of clothes and stacks of paper everywhere. The bed was unmade and everything was in disarray. This might have been normal for the average teenage boy, but not Richard. He was the tidiest person Tommy knew. He hadn't even been aware that Richard owned as much stuff as was heaped upon the floor. Tommy maneuvered his way to the desk in the corner and sat, determined to wait. His interest as piqued by an  opened journal almost instantly, and just as quickly guilt overwhelmed him for even contemplating having a quick peek. His decision not to look was vindicated when he heard the crisp well bred accent that belonged to Richard demanding to know what he, Tommy Sinclair, thought he was doing.

    Tommy turned from the desktop. Richard stood in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist, still dripping wet from being in the shower.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy apologized. "The butler said I could..."

    "Invade my privacy?" Richard arched an eyebrow at him. "Remind me to have mum fire him."

    "It's my fault," Tommy said.

    "Then you're fired," Richard flatly replied. "Can you leave so I can get dressed?"

    "That's okay, I don't mind," Tommy looked him up and down and grinned. Richard was fit. It had been crossing his mind at an ever increasing frequency, and seeing him only in a towel was causing naughty ideas to invade his mind. He thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to leave before he did something he might regret.

    They did need Richard at band rehearsal, though. Tommy had come to convince him to attend, and he was going to do just that even if it took every ounce of willpower in his body.

    "I'm sure you don't," Richard growled. "But I certainly do!"

    "We miss you at practice." Tommy ignored him. "Can you come over Nigel's? Pete and Liam didn't show up again."

    "I've got things to do," Richard mumbled.

    "Yeah," Tommy agreed. "Like cleaning your room maybe?"

    "Go away," Richard grumbled. "This is none of your business."

    "We worry about you."

    "There's nothing to worry about," Richard assured him.

    "But you don't come around anymore.  You just sit up here in your room."  Tommy absently began fiddling with the journal on the desk. "I mean, what happened?"

    "What are you doing?" Richard ignored his query. "Don't fucking touch that!"

    Tommy released his nervous grasp on the book as if it had morphed into a red hot iron.

    "How much did you read?" Richard implored desperately.

    "None of it!" Tommy defended himself from the accusatory glare he was receiving.

    "Right." Richard glowered. "I don't believe you."

    "I wouldn't do that."

    "Get out of my room.  Get out my house," Richard bellowed, suddenly beyond irate. "And get out of my life! I don't need you, okay? You're a fucking selfish bastard who doesn't think of anybody except for yourself, so just leave me  alone. You aren't my friend. Just leave me alone!"

    Tommy stood up and regarded Richard with an indignant expression. "I am not selfish."

    Richard wasn't listening. He just pointed the way out. His defenses had been raised and there wasn't any talking to him. That would have been the end of it had the only person capable of disarming him not been standing in the middle of his room.

    "I'm not selfish," Tommy repeated himself as he stalked up to Richard o­n his way out and poked him straight in the center of his chest being mindful to keep his gaze locked onto Richard's eyes.

    "You are. Locking yourself in here, thinking that nobody cares about you. Well, you're wrong. You hurt more people than you will ever know by closing yourself off like this. You refuse the help that you need even though you know you need it, and you ignore the people who want to help.  If that isn't selfish then I don't know what is. So, go ahead and waste away in your pile of filth here while your friends spend more than their fair share of time worrying about you.  You can rest assured that I won't. I'm through.  I'm cutting my losses right now and moving on, because all you are, all you will ever be, Richard Michael Blume, is heartbreak."

    "Fuck you!" Richard stood there shaking with anger and hurt.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy replied. "But I'm not going to play your mind games anymore. You can fool yourself, but you can't fool me, okay?"

    With that he stalked away from the premises and returned to his band. At least he knew he could always count on Nigel to be there.

    Richard arrived at rehearsal a half hour later, toting his guitar and appearing more upset than anybody had ever seen him.

    "What did you do?" Nigel whispered at Tommy who just shrugged and informed him that it didn't really matter since he'd gotten Richard out of his room, and that was the entire objective of his ill fated trip anyway.

Richard's anger and suspicion had wide arching consequences in the week that followed.  Tommy had become cold and pretended to be indifferent towards Richard's mere presence.  Richard took the hint and withdrew into his own world.  Not one friendly word was spoken between them.  They communicated in grunts and mumbles and anything more than that inevitably turned into a massive argument.  Tommy did not want to deal with Richard or his illness, and Richard did not want to admit that Tommy had been right about him.  They treated each other badly instead of talking about it.  It was uncomfortable for Nigel and Liam, who didn't want to exclude either of them from their lunch circle.  The tension was palpable, and it eventually came to head that Friday during an after school excursion to McDonalds.

      Richard was sitting in front of his meal with an obviously pained expression on his face as he wearily dug into his extra large order of fries.  Tommy glared at him for a moment before turning to his own food.  There was no way he was going to ask what the problem was that time, and just seeing Richard go from reasonably pleasant straight into weeping mode put Tommy in his own foul mood.  Nigel, however, had no hesitation in asking and it was revealed soon enough that Richard's fries had too much salt on them.  There was sympathy and concurrence all around the table except from Tommy, who informed the group that they shouldn't really care and the fries weren't that salty and Richard was completely full of shit.

     "You're fucking ridiculous, you know that?" Tommy spat once he had finished declaring his disgust at Richard's state.  "You want to sit there and cry over your fries? Go ahead, but you should know that nobody really cares about that.  We're all immune to your little fits of despair by now.  How can we not be when you cry over nearly everything lately?  Oh, Richey, Richey, Richey, always so depressed when he's got naught to be depressed about.  Sounds like some other guitar player I know...we can all see where this is going.  What are you going to do; jump off a bridge never to be heard from again?  I mean, you should try to be a little less predictable.  I've got a rope at home.  Maybe you could hang yourself from the golden arches.  That would be dramatic!  I'll even write your note for you.  'Goodbye, cruel world, my fries will never be too salty again!'  You'll show 'em, Richey."

      The table's occupants gaped at him, and Richard did indeed look as if he were going to burst into tears.  Instead he hastily stood from his spot, knocking his chair over as he did so.

        "Fuck You!"  Richard bellowed in Tommy's direction, not seeming to care about the legion of children milling about waiting for their after school happy meals.  He then took a deep breath and stormed away towards the bathrooms.

    "Yeah, well fuck him," Tommy mumbled before standing and moving to the exterior of the building.

    Nigel turned to Liam with a bemused expression on his face. "What was that about?"

    "I don't know." Liam shrugged and reached over the table, taking Richard's uneaten fries.

    "Put those back," Nigel reprimanded.

    "They're too salty anyway," Liam replied with another shrug.

    Nigel frowned at his companion.  Fries forgotten, he continued voicing his thoughts on his friend's little outburst. "That was the most uncalled for thing I've ever witnessed. I never knew Tom could be such a knob."

    "I did," Liam said.  "They've been ready to kill all week.  It was only a matter of time, and you know what he said was harsh, but maybe.."

    "Do not turn this around on Richey!" Nigel responded.  Having come to know his cousin, he felt as overprotect about him as he did towards Tommy.  "I know you don't like him, but..."

    "I was going to say maybe he needed to hear it." Liam scowled. "He is awfully whiny."

    Nigel sighed. "You don't understand. He's not just whiny.  He can't help it."

    "Sure he can," Liam replied. "You can find ways to help it if you want to, I'm sure."

    "Liam." Nigel said his name disapprovingly.

    "You know what? I want to see the two of them having it out. I mean a real fight with fists and everything. Who'd you bet on?"

    "Don't be an arse," Nigel chastised.

    "I aint." Liam snickered. "I just think it'll happen sooner or later the way they're going. My money's on that Tom, he may be little and he may be girly, but I'd wager his bite is even worse than his bark."

    "Don't be ridiculous," Nigel scoffed. "Richey  ain't as feeble as he acts sometimes. He'd beat Tom! No doubt."

    Richard returned and didn't bemoan the loss of his side dish to Liam. He ate Tommy's instead. once they had finished their meal, they were fully prepared to walk right past Tommy, who was sitting at an outdoor table near the exit, had he not grabbed hold of Richards sleeve as they passed by.

    "What?" Richard glared down at Tommy. Nigel and Liam stopped and looked back.

    "Go on with you," Tommy growled at them, but they stood their ground until Richard told them he would catch up with them later.

    "Sit down," Tommy commanded his friend.

    "Why would I do that?" Richard asked. "I've got to go plan new and exciting ways to kill myself."

    "Sit the fuck down," Tommy grumbled.  "And stop being such a drama queen."

    Richard took a sharp breath and informed him that he was no queen and that he wasn't going to sit.

    "Fine," Tommy replied. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, and don't say you don't accept, because I mean it this time."

    "You know what..." Richard squared off, dwarfing the smaller boy as he stood above him. "How dare you even entertain the idea that I'm some sort of disciple of some bloke that was in a band that I don't even like just because I have the same name. You know, I'm sorry, but I've got problems too, and they're as real as anything. It's not about the fucking McDonald's, okay? It's not even about you, though, trust me, you certainly haven't helped  much. This month has been horrifying. You don't know everything going on in my life."

    He sat down next to Tommy with a final huff and shoved a take away bag at him.

    "What's this?" Tommy stared down at it.

    "It's your cheeseburger," Richard grumbled.

    "I'm sorry again." Tommy set the bag aside. "I just...I don't know what to say to get through to you. I think if you would just talk to somebody...It doesn't have to be me, but don't keep it to yourself!  I just want the old you back. The one that came to rehearsal and liked me and trusted me. You used to smile.  You don't smile anymore, ever.  It's only been a couple of months, but you've changed...and I miss you."

    "You haven't done much to deserve any trust." Richard pointed out. "But if you must know what's been bothering me, I'm to have a tumor removed from my chest this weekend, okay? It wasn't malignant or anything, but for a while we didn't know. Maybe you'll think it's funny, but I'm not keen on getting sliced open either."

    "Shit!" Tommy frowned. "I'm sorry!"

    "I'll be okay. I'll be fine," Richard mumbled and buried his head in his hands.  He didn't want to be upset in front of Tommy, but it was inevitable.  He hadn't told any of his friends what had been going on at home.

    Tommy peered around the area, and failing to spot any curious onlookers,  wrapped his arms around Richard who didn't protest.

    "I'm scared, Tom," he sobbed and rested his head on his friend's shoulder without thought.  He didn't remember the last time he had been held by anybody, and he took comfort in the embrace.

    "C'mon you'll be fine," Tommy consoled him as he rubbed circles on his back and rested his chin lightly on top of Richard's head. "It's got to be a routine procedure, right?"

    "I know." Richard pulled away to look at Tommy, his brown eyes were full of tears and an incomprehensible sadness. "Just don't tell them...I don't want anybody to think I'm making a big do out of nothing just for attention. Though I've probably already failed that already after I cried over those stupid fucking fries."

    "I won't tell," Tommy whispered, "And I'm really, really sorry."

    "I know." Richard abruptly broke from the embrace and stood up.

    "So you don't hate me then?" Tommy joined him, feeling a big put out that Richard hadn't stayed curled up in his arms for a longer period of time.

    "No." Richard shrugged. "But I'm still angry with you," he warned. "And insulted...  I'm nothing like Richey Manic. I can play my fucking guitar after all."

    Tommy laughed and they walked together to meet up with Liam and Nigel.

--

    "What are you doing here?" Richard groaned.

    "I've come to wish you good health and that's the bloody thanks I get?" Tommy said from the doorway of the hospital room.

    "Sod it," Richard grumbled. "How did you know where I was?"

    "Called your mum," Tommy said as he pulled a chair up to the bed where his friend lay.

    "Nice room you've got here; must fee like home," he noted. "I mean it's big. Remember when I sprained my wrist playing football last year? I had to share with four other people. It was bloody miserable. I thought this was outpatient surgery?"

    "You're babbling," Richard pointed out. "What are you nervous about? You always babble when you're nervous."

    "And you're hedging," Tommy replied. "You always change the subject when I want to talk about something important."

    "I'll be fine." Richard said as he sat up and rearranged his pillows. "I had a reaction to some drug they gave me, so they're running tests and observing to make sure I don't explode or something."

    "Nice." Tommy laughed. "So is your mum going to sue the hospital? She's one scary bitch you know."

    "I know." He rolled his eyes. "She's not going to sue, she doesn't care nearly that much about me. She acts like this is all an inconvenience to her. Like she would leave me broken if were up to her.  As long as I haven't broken myself then it's okay for me to just die."

    "Shut-up," Tommy ordered. He never really had witnessed Richard at an extreme low and he was obviously getting close. "I'm sure she loves you."

    "Maybe, in a send him off to boarding school so I don't have to deal with him sort of way," Richard sighed. "Not every mum is as understanding as yours."

    "Yea, I know," Tommy agreed.

    "You're lucky to have her." He gazed at Tommy. "You can be who you are."

    "It doesn't mean that she understands all the time.  As if I do!  But...yea. She's perfect, and I know she'll be there no matter what stupid things I do."

    "I wish I had someone there for me," Richard mumbled.

    "Well, I'm here," Tommy said quietly.

    Richard smiled at him then, and suddenly Tommy felt his cheeks begin to  redden. He wasn't embarrassed.  It hit him like a ton of bricks as Richard finally accepted the sincerity of his words. Tommy Sinclair was completely and utterly infatuated with the boy laying there in front of him. He reached into his messenger bag and drew out a package.

    "What is that?" Richard's smile turned into a scowl.

    "Just something you can enjoy when you aren't worrying about exploding," Tommy said. "Mum wrapped it. She said I shouldn't give gifts without wrapping them, y'know. She says it isn't proper."

    "Babbling," Richard said, eyed him suspiciously, then tore opened the paper, gasping at what was left in his hands.

    "I can't take this. This is yours."

    "I'm giving it to you," Tommy replied. "I want you to have it."

    Richard sighed, "I know how much this means to you."

    "It's just a record." Tommy shrugged.

    "Just the rarest Eutectic record out there," Richard replied. "I'm not taking it. Your uncle gave it to you!"

    "And I'm giving it to you, so stop being such a tosser." Tommy rolled his eyes. "If I didn't want you to have it, I wouldn't have given it to you, yeah? So shut-up already."

    Richard obediently shut his mouth and held the collector's item in front of him. Eutectic was he and Tommy's  favorite band. They had been Tommy's ever since he'd inherited their entire catalog on vinyl from his dearly departed uncle. They were a small band who had gained popularity in recent years yet managed to maintain their credibility for the most part. They were the band that had inspired Tommy to start his own little rock band project three years before.

    "Thank you," Richard finally said. "But I don't own a turntable."

    "I guess you'll have to come over mine if you actually want to listen to it then," Tommy replied.

    They stared wordlessly at each other for a long and awkward moment. This time Tommy was embarrassed as the blush crept back into his face, and he knew how obvious it was against his pallid complexion. He was glad that was the only change that Richard was bound to notice from his reclined position.

    "I...uh...I ought to go," Tommy stammered as he stood from his seat. "I just wanted to give that to you and say get well and all."

    "You can't stay?" Richard suddenly appeared to be disappointed. "I'm so bored."

    "I'm expected home," Tommy lied. "But I'll ring you tomorrow if you want."

    "I should be there," Richard said, the disappointment in his voice had become apparent.

    They said a hasty goodbye and Tommy stumbled from the room as fast as he could, strategically placing his bag in front of him.  He placed his hands on his cheeks and they felt as hot as he knew they looked.

    "Why do you do this to yourself, Tom?" He muttered to himself upon hitting the cold air of the outdoors. "You're fucking hopeless, you are."

---

    "How's your friend?" His mother asked as soon as he returned to their flat.  It was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but there she was, always asking.  He looked at her open and honest expression and knew that he was going to tell her.  She was his mother, and as much his best friend as anybody else.  He always told her everything...eventually.

    "He's fine," Tommy said. Thankful to have finally calmed down, he threw his bag onto the living area floor as he flopped down in a recliner opening a can of cola he'd pulled from the fridge on his way in.

    "His room in the hospital is bigger than mine here," Tommy declared in an effort to keep himself on a topic that would not lead to him confessing things he didn't really want his mother to know.

    "You know this is all I can afford, Love." She was curled up on the sofa. "I wish I could give you more, I really do..."

    "Mum, all the space in the world won't do any good if there's nobody there to fill it," Tommy pointed out. "He was scared to death and nobody was there to hold his hand. He said his mum didn't care if he died.  Who says that?"

    "Tom," Madeline said. "You don't know the circumstances do you? Not every teenager gets on with their parents."

    "I've seen them interact, and I believe him. He doesn't deserve that. He should have someone that loves him. He's an amazing person; he really is. He's smart and funny when he wants to be. I hate to see him so fucking sad all the time. I want to make him happy. I wish that he'd let me, you know?"

    "Tom?" She eyed him curiously and he felt the flush return to his face.

    "I don't know what to do," he finally admitted with a grimace at having given in to his mother's gentle prodding.  "I've got a mad crush on him. I've never felt this way about any of my other friends. They don't...It's not like this. It's like, I live to make him smile."

    "So does he know how you feel?" She asked.

    "Oh no. God, no!" Tommy shook his head. "That is the worst part. He says he's straight. I can't tell him. The last time I even said anything close to the subject we had a major falling out."

    "You're going to have to decide what you need to do," she offered. "I'm afraid I can't help you with this one."

    "What do you think I ought to do?" He asked.

    "Tell him," she said. "But it isn't my choice."

    "Why do you always force me to be responsible for my own decisions?" He muttered and set his drink aside. "It would be easier if you just told me I'm too young to be interested in sex at all, and dating anybody was off limits."

    "Tommy, do you think I'm daft?" She replied. "I couldn't control you on that matter if I tried. Well, I could but I don't think that would be healthy. I want to keep the lines of communication open, and I want to encourage you to make the right decisions, and whatever you decide I want you to be safe.  That is why I talk to you about these things.  I want you to be informed..."

    "Sometimes I wish you would just lock me in my room instead of giving me a box of condoms and sending me on my merry way," he said. "I'd be angry, but at least I wouldn't have to be so utterly confused. I hate being confused. Frankly, I'd rather be angsty."

    "Everybody gets confused, Thompson. I know you'll make the right choices dear," she said firmly.

    Tommy grinned at her. "If it makes you feel better they're still unopened in my nightstand."

    "Good boy." She smiled back. "Now, let's have some ice cream."

    "I'll get it!" he jumped up and scampered away to the kitchen.

--

    Richard stood next to his cousin Nigel watching Tommy kick a football past Liam for the tenth time. It was beginning to get warm again, and they were spending some quality time in the private garden behind Nigel's house.

    "Have you had enough yet?" Tommy asked with a triumphant grin.

    "I hate you," Liam sputtered and stalked over towards the cousins.

    "Anybody else want to challenge me," Tommy offered. "Nigel?"

    "I hate footie," Nigel grumbled. He didn't really hate it, but he really didn't feel like being made a fool. Anybody who went up against Tommy usually ended up that way.

    "Richey?" Tommy glanced at him.

    "I'm still sore from surgery," Richard replied.

    Tommy sighed and kicked the ball away. "What do we want to do then?"

    "You're far too energetic today," Richard said eying the boy dressed in jeans and a tight red T-shirt that sported the word 'hottie' across the chest.

    "Yea, so?" Tommy continued to grin. He had been feeling marvelously campy that morning and had attired himself appropriately. He was feeling a bit regretful about his wardrobe choices having become hot and sweaty from physically outmatching Liam. The cotton was clinging to him in unnatural places, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it at that point.

    "I can't believe I got beat by someone wearing that," Liam gestured at Tommy. "You're so queer, mate."

    "Am not!" Tommy winked in his direction. "I'm appreciative of all things beautiful, which does not include you, I'm afraid."

    "Good," Liam grumbled.

    "See, I could get a football past you even if I had one leg and was blind and was wearing a skirt and a fishnet stocking," Tommy taunted.

    "Do you hear something?" Liam looked up at Nigel. "'Cos I don't hear nothing."

    "I'm going to the record store," Tommy announced. "Who's up fer it?"

    Nobody seemed enthusiastic about walking to the nearest musical outlet, and Tommy was vexed at his friend's lethargy. It was a Saturday after all, and he was ready to splurge on some albums he had his eyes on.

    "Come on, Richey."  He nodded towards the street.

    "Oh, I don't know," Richard replied.

    Tommy wouldn't hear of a no answer. He just grabbed a hold of the boy's arm and dragged him away.

---

    "How's your chest?" Tommy asked as they walked.

    Richard was half a step behind, wringing his hands and wondering how Tommy could get away with wearing such a small T-shirt, not that he minded in the least bit.

    "I'm going to have a scar," Richard replied. "But what do I care about that?"

    "If you didn't care then you wouldn't cover up the ones on your wrists," Tommy pointed out.

    "That's different." Richard took a long stride and became level with his companion.
    
    "You really showed Liam," he said, changing the subject automatically. There were only two things that he refused to talk about at length and one of them was his attempt at suicide.

    "That's why I'm on the team and he's not," Tommy stated.

    "Some people think you shouldn't be on the team," Richard said.

    "Who says that?" Tommy glanced sharply over at him. "Why?"

    "Not me, I don't," Richard said nervously. "Some of the chaps at school have...you know, because everybody knows now.  You know?"

    "I don't fucking understand." Tommy shook his head. "Tell me again why I do this to myself, Richey? I couldn't have possibly just kept it at our table? I had to shout it across the entire fucking cafeteria!"

    "Because..." Richard pondered the question for a moment. "It's hard to be who you are when who you are isn't what other people want you to be, y'know? And besides, people...well, they suspected."

    "So I'm just an outright flamer then?" Tommy glanced over at him with a grin and Richard was looking back in his direction walking shoulder to shoulder through the Saturday shopping crowd.

    "Nah." Richard shook his head. "You're just comfortable in your own skin. Already. It's great. I wish I could know who I was, just like that, and not have any questions."

    "I've got to talk to you," Tommy said suddenly and urgently. He realized it wouldn't be fair to either of them if he kept hiding his feelings, and if it ruined everything then so be it. He couldn't let Richard go on thinking that he was infallible. If he did they would never be on level ground. He had questions. He had many questions, and the biggest one was walking right next to him, seemingly oblivious.

    "You're talking to me now." Richard became suspicious as he instantly picked up on Tommy's sudden nervous energy.

    "Inside," Tommy said and pushed him into the nearest shop, which sold antiques and was quite empty. Tommy busied himself looking at an old tea set as if he were actually interested in it while leaving Richard utterly perplexed as he stood beside a chest of drawers.

    "You think Mum would like this?" Tommy asked.

    "It's probably, like, £1,000," Richard muttered. "And I know you didn't drag me in here to ask me about tea kettles."

    "Okay." Tommy abandoned the service set and looked directly at his companion. His palms were sweaty and the blush was back, and he couldn't seem to find the words to say what he needed to say.

    "I mean, I'm glad you're not sick. When you told me you had a tumor, I don't know, I just felt horrible, because I think we've become close these past three years, y'know, and then...and then I said all that stuff about the Manics and McDonalds and the chips it wasn't... I didn't mean it. I was just feeling so frustrated, because I just kept seeing you so down all the time, and I couldn't help you." He looked up at Richard who was gazing expectantly in his direction waiting for him to continue.

    "What I'm trying to say is. I want to help you, because I love you, and I wish you would let me."

    "You what?" Richard gasped. It wasn't a surprised gasp, but an alarmed one.  Alarm bells had started ringing in both of their heads. Tommy instantly tried to play off his declaration, which had come off in an embarrassed rush and not at all like he had planned it. Everything seemed to be spinning out of control.

    "I mean, I love you as a friend," Tommy gruffly replied and punched Richard on the arm as if to prove the completely platonic nature of his pronouncement. Richard gave him an indignant look of disbelief.

    "That is not what you meant."

    Tommy squirmed in his spot as Richard stared him down.

    "Is it hot in here?" Tommy tugged at the collar of his shirt. At that point he decided that nothing short of a fire engine would be able to put out the flame that had risen to his face.

    "I've never felt this way about anybody. I...Look at me, I'm a bloody basket case. Richey, say something!  I don't care what."

    "I can't believe this." Richard looked pained. "Have you gone off your nut, Tom?"

    "No." Tommy took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "I'm not going to lie to you, Richey. I'm in love with you, Okay?  I want to be more than friends...and sometimes I get the distinct feeling that you feel the same way. If I didn't I wouldn't have even brought it up. You can't deny that there's an attraction between us, can you? I don't see why I would feel this way if there wasn't..."

    "Because you're fucking mad," Richard spat. "You piss me off more than anybody I've ever met, and there is nothing between us. There I denied it. I can deny it, because you're imagining things!"

    "You're lying," Tommy said timidly.

    "You're mad," Richard repeated and took a step back nearly tumbling over an ottoman. He righted himself and shook his hands nervously.

    "I've got to go," he announced. "I can't be here with you right now. I've got to go home."

    "Shit!  Richey, I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything. I'm way out of line."

    "Yeah," Richard replied. "How can I forget that? That you don't even believe me when I've already told you that I don't...I've got to go."

    He turned and abruptly departed from the store, not bothering to mention that Tommy had been in his dreams since the moment they had made eye contact across the room at Nigel's birthday party. As he walked quickly down the street back towards his residence, he didn't really know how to feel about the confessional. Denying any attraction seemed like the only course of action at the time, but he only emerged more confounded then ever.

--

    Madeline Sinclair arrived home from work the next day to the strumming of an acoustic guitar. She smiled and puttered around the kitchen feeling proud that her son was so talented until she remembered that he wasn't supposed to be at home that Sunday at all. He'd been jabbering about how he and his friends were going to stand in the queue to get a good spot at the Radiohead concert. She padded up the short flight of stairs to their second level in the small flat and knocked on his door.

    "What?" he snapped from inside and she entered.

    He was seated on his bed, his guitar in his lap, and a cigarette perched between his lips. She stalked up to him and removed the fag from his mouth, depositing it in a nearby glass of water.

    "Not in the flat!"  She scowled angrily at him. "Do you want your clothes to smell like smoke?"

    "I don't care," he replied.

    "Well I do," she said. "and I won't have it."

    "Fine," he muttered and turned away from her.

    "What happened to your concert?" she asked.

    "I'm not going," he announced.

    "You've been looking forward to this for months, dear," she replied. "I mean it's Radiohead. I thought you were going to queue?"

    He set his guitar aside, took up his ticket from the nightstand, and unceremoniously tore it in half.

    "Fuck Radiohead," he said. "And fuck you."

    For this display he received a completely warranted slap on the cheek.

    "I'm your mother," she said angrily. "Don't you ever, ever speak to me in that way again."

    "I'm sorry, Mum," he apologized dutifully as tears sprang into his eyes. "I'm sorry.  It's all I ever am these days. I've got a bloody big mouth, I do."

    "What is this about?"  She accepted his apology and sat down next to him on his bed. "Did you have it out with one of your friends?"

    "Richey, the boy I have a crush on," he sighed. "You haven't met him really.  I love him, and I told him. I just blurted it right out...'I love you,' I said, and he told me I piss him off and that I was mad. He called me mad. I usually can tell when somebody's attracted to me, but I guess I was blinkered when it comes to Richey, because I wanted him to like me more than anything.  I wanted him to love me the way I love him. He obviously doesn't, and now we don't have anything. I can't get it back. He will never ever trust me again. I mean, I'd screwed it all up after that time in McDonalds. I didn't think we could possibly get any worse. So he was going to the concert. I bought him the bloody ticket for his birthday. I just didn't want to see him...spend the day with Him. Y'know. They're better off without a poof around anyway."

    She wrapped her arms around him without a word and he lay his head on her shoulder.

    "It's good to know though," he mumbled. "I mean now I won't be hung up on him, right? Maybe I can find a nice girl who will have me...I don't know. That would make things a lot easier."

    "You're young yet," Madeline whispered. "You always want to grow up so fast. For what it's worth, I think you should slow down."

--

    "You, my friend, have missed the concert of a lifetime," Liam announced as he punched Tommy on the arm nearly sending him off in the opposite
direction.

    "I was busy," Tommy mumbled, not really wanting to hear about it.

    "Busy doing what?" Nigel snorted. "You've had your calendar cleared for months."

    "I was lamenting," Tommy replied, eying Richard, who was walking as far away from him as possible without being conspicuous.

    "Lamenting?" Liam asked. "What were you lamenting? Surely you could have done that Saturday or even Sunday..I mean how long does it take to run a bit of paper through a machine?"

    "Liam?" Tommy glared at him. "You got a scholarship? I said lamenting, not laminating."

    Nigel chuckled, "Well, you could have 'laminated' with Richey. He didn't go either."

    "What?" Tommy stopped in his tracks, forcing the rest of the group to a halt.

    "You didn't go?" He addressed Richard directly. "You bastard, why didn't you go? I bought you that ticket.  It was a gift."

    Nigel and Liam exchanged glances and a roll of the eyes There hadn't been a day gone by without a Tommy and Richard episode of some sort for nearly half a year.

    "I didn't feel well," Richard replied indignantly. "My chest hurt, and I had a lot on my mind. At least that's a better reason than 'lamenting'. I don't really care about your regrets, Tom.   It's not going to change anything, so fuck off."

    "Hey I have an idea," Liam piped up. "Why don't the two of you stop fucking speaking to each other, or at least get into a bloody fistfight. All this chatter is getting really boring"

    Tommy gave one last angry look at Richard and stalked forward leaving the rest of the group flat footed.

    "You know what?" Richard declared loudly as he watched Tommy depart. "I have no problem never speaking to him again!"

    Tommy turned around as he walked and hoisted an obscene gesture in Richard's direction and Richard dutifully returned the favor.

     "I can't do this anymore," Tommy said from his vantage point near a window.  He was in Brian's room.  He'd been spending a lot of time there after his falling out with Richard.  It had only been a week, but it felt like forever.  Brian was, as usual, happy to have him.

    "Do what?" Brian asked from where he lay upon his bed staring ponderously at his algebra textbook.

    "This thing that we've been doing," Tommy replied, his gaze affixed firmly on a spot of empty pavement across the street.  The thing they never should have started.

    "The messin' about, y'know?" He said.  Guilt hung like a shadow over his shoulder as he stood there with Brian's suede, fur-collared jacket draped over his bare shoulders and not much else. He was dreading the words he knew he had to say to Brian so much so that he couldn't even be amused at the boy's choice of reading materials.  The "messin' about" that he'd traveled to Brian's flat to put an end to hadn't exactly gone the way he planned.  He knew that Brian was merely a substitute for the person he actually longed for, but since Richard had put a distinct and final end to the notion it would ever happen, or that they would ever be friends again, Tommy was finding it difficult to resist temptation.  He thought it might make him feel better.  He thought it would help him get over the object of his affection.  It hadn't.  He glanced back at Brian and his gut clenched into knots.  It wasn't fair.  He knew very well that Brian had attached some kind of meaning to the things they had done.  To Tommy it had only be a way to temporarily satiate his curiosity.

    "What?"  Brian looked up from his book with an alarmed expression.

    "I can't do it," Tommy muttered glumly as he turned his gaze to the floor and wrapped Brian's coat tighter around him to avoid the chill from the drafty window.  "I don't love you."

    "I know that."  Brian sat up and frowned.  "That hasn't stopped us..."

    "I'm in love with someone else," Tommy interrupted him.

    "Oh, please," Brian scoffed.  "How do you know that?"

    "Because." Tommy leveled his gaze and glared at him.  "Because I'm miserable.  That's how I know."

    "I make you miserable?"  Brian asked.

    "That's not what I said," Tommy replied.  "I just...it's not fair to you.  We've got to stop."

    "Do I look like I care about what's fair, Tom?"  Brian said.  "Seriously, you're the only person..."

    "I'm the only nothing!"  Tommy stood up angrily.  "Don't say that.  Don't make this hard."

    "Fine." Brian jumped up from the bed, found his trousers and yanked them back on.  He made towards the door.

    "Wait, where are you going?"  Tommy called after him.

    "I'll let you get dressed," Brian snapped at him and stomped from the room.

--

    Tommy found Brian in his kitchen staring mindlessly into a tepid cup of tea.

    "Uhm..."  Tommy shuffled back and forth, unsure of what he should say, if anything.  "Here's your coat?"  He held it out to Brian who stared at it for a moment before finally looking up at Tommy.

    "Keep it, Sinclair," he said.  "I know you like it."

    "But I..."

    Brian glowered at him.  "It'll only remind me of you anyway."

    "I'm sorry," Tommy continued to speak causing Brian to cut him off yet again.

    "It's fine.  I told you.  We don't have to talk about it anymore."

    "But I just..."

    "Go away," Brian finally snapped.  "Please.  Do you really want to see me cry?"

    Tommy contemplated another apology, but bit it back and walked away instead.  He held the coat in his arms as he departed Brian's building, as if putting it on would amount to some kind of further betrayal.  He turned around momentarily as he reached the other side of the street and looked up at the windows of Brian's flat.  They were empty.  Tommy sighed.  It was done.

--

    "This has been going on for a week," Nigel said as he and Tommy sat on the sofa in his parlor. "It's worse than you've ever been."

    "We aren't on speaking terms," Tommy said. "Can we please go do something? It's silly just sitting here."

    "We aren't just sitting here. I'm trying to talk to you," Nigel pointed out.

    "I'm tired of talking." Tommy scowled. "Talk, talk, talk, that's all we ever do.  All it does is cock things up."

    "Well, you're the only one he talks to, really," Nigel said.

    Tommy scrunched his tiny frame into the back of the couch as if he hoped that by doing so he would disappear between the cushions. He couldn't for the life of him even figure out why Nigel was bothered by he and Richard's falling out. It always seemed to Tommy that his best friend had been a bit jealous.

    "Bollocks," Tommy spat. "He'll talk to you if you listen to what he says. That's all he wants is someone to treat him like he's normal.  Like he isn't fragile. That's all."

    "No." Nigel shook his head. "I've tried. He just walks around in a stupor, or keeps himself locked up in his room..."

    "I don't care," Tommy replied bitterly. "Are we done here?  Because I'm going to the cinema  Are you coming?"

    "Okay, fine." Nigel gave up. "Should I ring Liam?"

    "Nah." Tommy shook his head. "It'll be just you and me. Like old times, Mate. When things were easy."

---

    Richard was lonely. His anti-Tommy non-verbal assault wasn't going as planned. Instead of forgetting about him and what he had said, Richard found a gaping hole in his life where his friend used to be. He had nobody to argue with. Nobody dared. They all still seemed to be afraid that if they even disagreed it would send him off the deep end. He certainly thought he had gained quite a bit of stability since moving back to London, and Tommy was a big part of that. The more the week wore down and the more he longed for Tommy's companionship, the more he realized just how close they had become and that Tommy had been so very right in the antique shop. There was something between them, and he, Richard Michael Blume, had thrown it away because he was scared of what might happen.  He wasn't the type of person who could just go up to Tommy and apologize and say that he was wrong. It wasn't because he didn't do apologies, but because he didn't have the courage. Richard knew he had rejected Tommy in a most hurtful way. He was selfish. If he admitted how he felt it gave Tommy the opportunity to hurt him back. So Richard, not willing to take any chances, sat in his room turning an old Eutectic Single over in his hands and lamenting every decision he had ever made in his short and undistinguished life.

--

    "What is he doing here?" Tommy looked up from where he was eying his shot at the Billiards table and stared at Richard. Liam made a clucking noise of amusement from his vantage point. He was ready to see a fight.  Richard turned tail and ran smack into Nigel who was blocking the entire doorway.

    "Move," Richard demanded after he practically bounced off Nigel's chest aggravating his mostly healed surgical wounds.

    "Are you okay?" Nigel asked and Richard nodded.

    "Fine then." Nigel grabbed his cousin's shoulders and forcibly marched him over to Tommy who stood his full height with his shoulders back and his wide brown eyes leveled at Richard. Tommy always had a tendency to look like the biggest person in the room even though he was usually the smallest.

    "What's going on?"  He addressed Nigel.

    "Okay." Nigel held onto Richard as the boy was trying to squirm his way loose.

    "This is how it is," Nigel said. "Liam and I are going to the store, and we will be back in a half hour. You can either go..." He released Richard. "Or you can stay, but I hope you decide to stay and suss things out, because you make better friends than enemies, and you write better songs together. C'mon." He motioned to Liam, who abandoned his cue and obediently followed along.

    "I'm leaving," Richard announced not a moment later. "Mum wanted me to help her with her dinner party. She wants to show me off..."

    "I'm sorry," Tommy interrupted him. "This is really daft. Nigel's right. It's my fault. I should not have said what I said, and for that I apologize. I should have known better."

    "But you meant it," Richard sighed and flopped into a nearby armchair. "You always mean it."

    Tommy looked down at his hands as he abandoned his cue. He wasn't going to deny it.

    "Look, I think we should try and get past it," Tommy offered. "It was just a thought; a very stupid and apparently incorrect judgment on my part, so let's just forget about it."

    "I can't," Richard said. "Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before..."

    "I know..." Tommy Interrupted, "I know that things can't be the same, but you know I care about you."

    "Obviously," Richard cut in.

    "And," Tommy continued, "If you don't trust me to remain friends, then can we at least be civil?"

    "If you want," Richard conceded his voice dropping a notch in volume.

    "I'm so sorry." Tommy hung his head. "This isn't what either of us wanted I don't think, but...I'm just sorry, and I'm going to miss you."

    His last words seemed to go straight into Richard like an arrow to the heart. He didn't want Tommy to miss him. He wanted Tommy to be with him, and the only thing stopping that from happening was Richard's reluctance to take a chance. He stood up and nervously crossed the floor to where the smaller boy stood.

    "I hope you don't have your heart set on being repentant," Richard said.

    "What do you mean?" Tommy glanced up at him while keeping his head down.

    "Nobody's ever told me that they loved me before," Richard said. "Not even my parents.  I'm sorry, I just don't know what to say to something like that.  It's really hard for me.  It's like I'm not a normal person.  When you care so much...I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to act.  I just keep telling myself if I can just pretend be normal then everything will be fine and nobody can hurt me or the people I love again.

     I'm not particularly ashamed of being gay, Tom. That's not what I'm afraid of really. Let me tell you why I did what I did..." He paused for a very long time before continuing, and Tommy said nothing by way of encouragement. "There was the group of older kids at school. Not that much older, mind, but they were awful. They were bigger than us, and stronger than us, and this chap there...he was a lot like you. He and I, we were together more or less. It was stupid, but we had visions of white picket fences. Silly, I know, but we were only children."

    Richard stopped for a moment as he was suddenly on the verge of a breakdown. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but he took a deep breath and continued.

    "He taught me how to kiss.  That was all really.  It was pretty innocent as far as it goes, but then one of those older kids...they found out and they thought they'd teach him a lesson. One of them raped him, Tom.  Some logic, that.  And they knew...about me and I was next on their list. I couldn't tell anybody, they'd already gotten off scott free once and nobody seemed to care. Sam left school a bit after it happened. He wasn't the same, wouldn't even let me go near him. Then, after he'd gone, every day they taunted me, and they tortured me. Every single fucking day.  It was easy for them. I was being medicated for something I didn't have and those drugs were making me insane.  I could barely function, y'know?  And my only friend...  I was so angry and miserable. I was an easy target.  I couldn't see any other way out. Was I going to tell my parents? I doubt it. I blamed myself for what happened, and I didn't want it to happen to me. I would have rather died, so that's what I tried to do.  I fucked it all up and made a mess of it.  The scars look worse than the damage I managed to do, and now I'm here. And you say that you love me, and I want to say that I love you too, but I don't know if I can.  I don't know how."

    "You don't have to say anything," Tommy stood from his leaning position against the billiards table, stepped towards Richard, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

    Richard wiped his own tears away and smiled slightly at Tommy before leaning in and kissing him.

--

    Nigel and Liam returned promptly a half hour later as promised. Tommy was grinning from ear to ear as he breezed by them proclaiming his need to find the toilet. Richard sat guiltily in his armchair. He was somewhere between complete and utter ecstasy and horror at what had transpired since Nigel had left. All he knew was that Tommy understood. He stood up and adjusted his tie and shirt, which had come untucked, and grabbed his school jacket.

    "I should get home," Richard said. "Mum's expecting me."

    "You're looking a bit frazzled, Richey," Liam said. "What did he do to you?"

    "Threw me down on the Billiards table and had his way with me." Richard rolled his eyes even though it wasn't all that far from the truth.

    "Yea, right," Liam snorted and grabbed his cue from its spot on the rack.
    
    "So did you suss everything out?" Nigel asked. "Is everything back to normal?"

    "Back to something, I'll see you tomorrow," Richard mumbled and hastily retreated.

    He met Tommy on the stairwell. They paused and gave each other the once over.

    "What now?" Richard asked. "What do we do now?"

    "I don't know," Tommy replied.

    "Well, I want to do that again," Richard said with a smirk and a nod in the direction of the billiards room. "Preferably without such constricting time restraints."

    "I'd wager.  Nigel is always annoyingly punctual isn't he?" Tommy grinned widely at him. "Don't worry," he continued as he noted an apprehensive expression take over Richard's face. "I think now we probably go out on a date...or just stay home or something.  Whatever you want."

    "Yeah, is that how it works? Somehow I don't think it's as easy as that." Richard rolled his eyes and sat upon the steps. "So what? Are you my boyfriend now?"

    "I think I might like a boyfriend," Tommy sat down next to him. "All the wanton sex I've been having can get tiresome."

    "Shut up," Richard laughed. "You're as much a virgin as any of us!"

    "Am not," Tommy replied.  "You know that.  Nigel let it slip, remember?"

    "Yeah.  I didn't believe him.  That was true?" Richard shook his head. "Who then?"

    "Grace Meyer." Tommy leaned back, satisfied with his conquest. "Remember that summer I spent in the country?"

    "That was years ago," Richard gasped.

    "Yes," Tommy agreed. "I'm a naughty, naughty boy, aren't you lucky? Now I'm going to deflower you."

    "Right here on the stairwell?" Richard gave him an arched expression.

    "If you want to, baby," Tommy replied.

    "Oh, please do." He grinned. "I'm sure my aunt would love to come home and catch us doing that."

    "Tom?" Richard sighed, suddenly becoming serious. "You aren't going to tell anybody are you?"

    "No," Tommy assured him. "If you don't want me to I won't."

    "It doesn't bother you?" Richard frowned. "I'm just not ready to...you know?  Not...not because of school.  Not because of them."  He glanced in the direction of the billiards room where Nigel and Liam were.  "It's my parents..."

    "I know.  It's alright. I wasn't exactly in a thinking state when I blurted it out myself.  Now I'm kinda stuck." Tommy sat up and wrapped his arms around Richard. They sat with their heads together for a moment.

    "I can't believe you had sex with a girl." Richard wrinkled his nose in displeasure.

    "Believe it," Tommy replied.  "I like girls."

    "Weird," Richard declared, and Tommy laughed at him.  He held Richard close and kissed him playfully on the cheek.

    Richard turned his head, their lips found one another, and the playfulness instantly turned urgent and intense. Richard pulled away first and held Tommy at bay. They were gazing at each other with utter adoration radiating from their features when Nigel slammed the billiard room door and interrupted them.  Richard jumped immediately to his feet nearly tumbling down the stairwell.

    "That was your mum on the telly," Nigel addressed Richard rather coldly. "She wants you home."

    Richard nodded and turned his gaze towards his feet.

    "Can we have a tic?" Tommy glared impatiently up at Nigel.

    Nigel shrugged and reluctantly returned to the game room.

    "I ought to go," Richard said. "Do you think he saw us?"

    "No," Tommy asserted as he stood up, moved to where Richard stood, and embraced him.

    "You ring me tonight, alright?" He whispered in Richard's ear before straightening up and giving his boyfriend a departing slap on the rear.

--

    "So you and Tom have patched things up right proper?" Nigel asked on the way to school the next day.

    "Yeah," Richard replied. "You could say that."
    
    "I saw you, you know," Nigel replied, instantaneously shattering his cousin's brilliantly happy mood.

    "So did you do it on the Billiards table like you said?"

    "We didn't do too much of anything actually," Richard mumbled. "You couldn't have spent a whole hour at the shop, could you?"

    "I think you're making a mistake, Richey," Nigel said. "This is Tom we're talking about...he can be persuasive, are you absolutely sure?"

    Richard continued to walk towards Tommy's flat, hoping beyond all reasonable hope that he would be able to out-walk Nigel and his nearly six foot tall frame and not have to answer, but Nigel stood beside him and Richard knew it was time for a declaration of sorts.

    "Am I sure of what?" He muttered. "I'm gay, and I'm in love with Tom, if that's what you want to know."

    "Since when?" Nigel replied, unwilling to believe it.

    "Since I realized my dick was good for other things besides taking a piss," Richard hissed back. "Which isn't a recent development either."

    "Please, just think about this," Nigel pleaded.

    "It's not a decision," Richard said. "I've known this before I even came back to London.  It's nothing to do with Tommy.  I'm sorry if yo don't believe me."

    He turned into a walkway and marched up to the buzzer. Tommy appeared shortly and informed Nigel that he and Richard would be foregoing morning classes in order to study for a Latin exam.

    "Richey doesn't take Latin," Nigel informed him.

    "He knows," Richard pointed out glumly.

    "Oh, good,"Tommy grinned. "Then we're going to skimp class to have hot rampaging..."

    "No you're not," Nigel gasped his interruption. He'd heard Tommy talk before since his proclamation in the cafeteria. Any shame he'd harbored before that had completely evaporated. Usually the talk didn't bother Nigel. He didn't really care, but when it was said in regards to Richard, suddenly he felt like he was being cheated on in the best friends department.

    "Richey, you're coming with me!"

    "No, I'm not. Given the options, I'm sure you wouldn't choose maths." Richard glared at his cousin and took a step towards Tommy. "Why don't you pick up Liam and shove out of our lives?"

--

    "You came back," Nigel muttered as Richard sidled up to him in order to open his locker later on that day.

    "His mum called," Richard mumbled. "He does actually have a Latin exam today."

    "How are you going to explain this tardy to your parents?" Nigel asked.

    "I don't know." Richard slammed his locker shut and leaned against it facing down the hall with his back to his cousin.

    "You didn't do anything did you?" Nigel asked. "Did you?"

    "What we did is not your concern," Richard informed him.

    Nigel gave his cousin a long evaluating look before discerning that something had been done. What it was he was sure he didn't really want to know about anyway.

    "This is so wrong," he decided to say out loud. "I can't fucking believe that it's gone here."

    "What is your problem?" Richard snarled at him.

    "You know, I'm sorry, but this is Tom we're talking about," he replied. "I don't care if you're gay, but Tom? He's just trying to get in your pants."

    Richard didn't believe that was true. They'd known each other for three years, and they'd been walking the line nearly the entire time. If Tom had only wanted to get in his pants things would have gone down quite differently, Richard was sure.

    "He loves me, Nigel."

    "He doesn't love you," Nigel chided. "I don't know...he's kind of a...slapper!"

    "I thought you were his friend?" Richard gasped.

    "I am," Nigel said. "I'm just trying to warn you. I've known him longer."

    "Look, you may have known him the longest and you may think you know him the best, but you don't. You certainly don't know me," Richard said. "But I'll tell you one thing, Nigel Caughton, that was a right bastard thing to say about your best friend."

    Tommy approached the two from around the corner and stomped into their midst.  He'd heard every word that Nigel had to say about him. Not only was he angry, but he felt beyond betrayed, and that hurt, especially when he saw the look on his best friends face. Nigel was staring at him like he was the spawn of Satan.

    "Richard here was just telling me about his morning." Nigel eyed Tommy.

    "How Kinky," Tommy offered, trying to control his anger. He didn't know exactly what Nigel had hoped to gain by even asking Richard about what had happened, and Tommy felt rather proud of his boyfriend for handling it the way he had.

    "I have class," Richard broke in. "I'll see you tonight, Thompson."

    He gave Tommy a slight wave before departing, knowing he was being watched as he sauntered away in the opposite direction. Tommy let forth a wistful sigh while Nigel cleared his throat.

    "Thompson?" He asked. "What is that about?"

    "It's my name isn't it?" Tommy replied.

    "How can you do this to him?"

    "What?" Tommy spun around and glared at him. He couldn't really fathom what he was hearing. "What the fuck do you mean?"

    "He's already confused," Nigel said.

    "Oh, no he's not," Tommy replied.  "He's the least confused person I've ever met. Why do you assume that I'm some sort of sex fiend pervert here to corrupt your poor innocent cousin?"

    "Because you are," Nigel spat unthinkingly.  "Richey doesn't know about this kind of thing..."

    Nigel had worked himself up into an agitated state and honestly didn't mean the things that were spilling uncontrollably out of his lips. He only wanted things to return to the way they had been. Tommy, however, was completely bowled over by his friend's seemingly Jekyll and Hyde transformation. He wasn't going to stand there and be insulted.

    "I am so not," he replied.

    "Tom, you fucker," Nigel growled. "You bang on like you're some bloody choir boy, but you aren't. You've been messin' about with people since you were what...ten? Nine?"

    "That's a bit of an exageration, but so what?" Tommy replied loudly. "Not everybody is sexually frustrated like you are.  Least of all Richey."

    "Yeah, at least I don't have sex with my cousins," Nigel replied.

    "Grace is not my cousin," Tommy growled. "That was low, Nige. I'm not related to her in any way."

    "So," Nigel challenged, "You just shagged her and came back here and didn't say a damn thing to me for weeks. Who's to say you aren't going to do that with Richard?"

    "Gracie is a tart," Tommy informed him. "She had her nips pierced! I couldn't have had a relationship with her even if that's what I wanted. She told me she doesn't do boyfriends..."

    "only her cousins"

    "She's not my cousin for the last time!" Tommy nearly shrieked.

    "Keep your voice down," Nigel snapped.

    "No," Tommy shouted. "You're standing here calling me a fucker and claiming I'm nothing short of an incestuous slapper, and I'm not supposed to be upset? I'm just supposed to stand here and take it? Well, screw you!"

    "No screw you," he returned.

    "Screw you!" Tommy shouted again. They continued back and forth until the nearest teacher, Mr. Tidall, grabbed them by their uniform jackets and dragged them off to the headmistress' office.

--

    "You look like someone just killed your dog," Liam glanced at Nigel. "Where's Tom anyway?"

    "He and Richey have other plans for lunch," Nigel grumbled and poked at his lunch food listlessly. "They're probably doing it in the loo."

    "Right." Liam looked down at his own food. "So I missed something didn't I?"

    "Yea," Nigel replied.

    "I knew it!" Liam sat back in satisfaction. "I knew that Richey kid was a bit off."

    "Congratulations," Nigel snickered. "You have excellent gaydar, your mum will be proud."

    "Shut-up," Liam replied then pointed out, "This was your idea you know. You could have let them stay in non-speaking mode."

    "I should have," Nigel muttered. "Then we might have gone back to normal."

    Liam eyed him for a moment. Nigel was hearkening back to a time when it had only been Tommy and he taking on the world. It was obviously never going to return to that state again, especially after the things Nigel had said only an hour earlier.

"You know," Liam said. "You certainly have a knack for healing friendships. Remind me never to have you help me out with any of mine."

     Tommy stood in front of his mother's vanity and deftly slid the black pencil across his eyelid applying it in a thin line above his lashes. It was the final touch as he stood back and surveyed his work, rather dissatisfied. He thought his eyes were too wide, and there was nothing he could do with his dark mop of hair. It sprung out in all directions and he had wispy sideburns that drove him insane. He knew people thought he was cute, but he definitely saw room for improvement.

    He frowned slightly and pinched at his stomach.

    His mother entered then, saw him preening in front of her mirror, and immediately wanted to know what he was up to. Normally he would have told her, but he felt like she would suddenly disapprove of him.

    "Thompson." She warned as he didn't instantly reply to her entreaty.

    He held up his two nicest shirts instead.

    "Blue or red?" He asked.

    "Red." She decided. "It brings out the color in your cheeks. What's going on? Do you have a date?" She couldn't hide the excitement in her voice. If only she knew, he thought.

    "No," Tommy said aloud. "I'm just going out. To the cinema, with a friend, you know?"

    "Oh!" She winked. "A girl friend?"

    "Don't say that." He faced her. "I'm going with Richey Blume."

    "The boy you have a crush on?" She observed.

    "Do you remember every bloody word that comes out of my mouth?" He felt himself snap back at her, instantly on the defensive. He didn't know why he was so annoyed. He loved his mother, and he hated keeping things from her, especially things that were as huge as a fledgling  relationship. There were circumstances beyond his control though. Richard had asked him not to tell, and he wasn't going to. If it ever got back to the Blumes there would certainly be hell to pay, and Tommy was not willing to be the cause of that.

    "It's my job to remember. I'm your mother." She informed him.

    "It's not a date," he muttered. "I told you he wasn't interested."

    "That's why you're making yourself pretty and wearing your favorite shirts?"

    "Just drop it, Mum!" He nearly shouted at her.

    She looked a bit hurt at his outburst, but he didn't really care at that point.

    "I'm already late," Tommy announced as he stomped from the room and left her alone.

    So, Madeline thought to herself, the teenage rebellion has started. It was much more complicated though. only that morning her employer Mrs. Elizabeth Caughton-Blume made her presence known at her sister in-law's office where Madeline was the secretary. There had been no hiding from the woman's rage as she loudly unloaded her anger upon a dismayed Bunny Caughton. It seemed as though she'd received her own phone call from the Academy in regards to a truant son. Madeline sighed nervously and padded up the stairs to Tommy's room.

--

    They had been standing at the entrance to the cinema arguing with each other for nearly twenty minutes. Tommy was insistent on paying, but Richard was having none of it. Films were expensive in the city and he knew very well that Tommy couldn't afford it. The business of being in a relationship was already exhausting, and he finally relented long enough to agree to split the cost. Before he knew it, Tommy had shelled out the £22 for both tickets. Richard was angry, but there wasn't really anything he could do. It only went downhill from there.

    Richard had decided on harvesting lollipops and various sweets from the snack stand as Tommy glanced over his shoulder.

    "Those are all purple," he noted.

    "I like purple," was Richard's short reply.

    "I don't." Tommy petulantly crossed his arms. Richard had just about enough and spun around to face him.
    
    "Look if you don't like purple then buy your own, Daddy Warbucks."

    "Daddy Warbucks?" Tommy snorted.

    Richard ignored Tommy and returned his attention to the stand where he began harvesting grape flavored candies of all types at a faster rate that was only serving to greater incense the boyfriend. Richard didn't care, and inexplicably Tommy became further enraged.

    "You'd better not eat those," he warned.

    "I'll eat them all," Richard declared and removed a sweet from the bag, unwrapped it, and tossed it into his mouth with a crunch. "Yum, yum!" he said as he patted his stomach.

    They watched the film and didn't say a word to each other. The only sound between them was Richard slurping determinedly on the candy. Tommy even went so far as to leave a seat between them and they didn't speak again until they were standing in the foyer of Tommy's building. At that point Richard had apparently given up on agitating him and apologized profusely.

    "Fine," Tommy muttered. Richard stood in front of him, unsure if he should attempt a goodnight kiss or not, but Tommy saved him the trouble
of a decision.

    "Don't. You even smell like a grape," he grumbled.

    "I'm sorry. I just..." Richard trailed off. "You should have let me pay.  You can't afford it, Tom."

    "Well you can pay for our next date," he replied. "And all the ones after that because I'm skint now."

    "You want to go through that again?" Richard was incredulous. "That was the worst experience I've ever had with you."

    "Even worse than McDonalds?" Tommy wondered with a glint in his eye. He was joking. They were back to normal.

    "Okay." Richard conceded. "The second worst!"

    Tommy laughed and took hold of Richard's hands. "I should have explained."

    "Yeah." Richard pulled him closer. "What is so horrible about grape?"

    Tommy grimaced.  He felt embarrassed and silly but was beginning to trust that he could tell Richard anything and not be completely ridiculed.

    "Grape flavoring, sweets and such...It makes me violently ill," he admitted. "I hate it. My doctor says it's all in my head, but it makes me sick and everything."

    "Why didn't you tell me?" Richard wailed. "That's why you wouldn't sit near me? Now I won't even get to say goodnight proper!"

    "Yeah," he muttered sheepishly. "I thought you would think I was stupid."

    "I would never think that." Richard sighed. "You should have just told me you have fake-grape-a-phobia! I wouldn't think any less of you."

    "I am stupid," Tommy growled. "Kiss me anyway. I'll try not to pass out, and I don't think I can go all night without it!"

    "Tom," he warned. "I ate the whole fucking bag. I think I might be sick myself."

    "Wait until you get home."

    Tommy let Richard kiss him and it was awful. His breath was hot and sticky from the sugary sweets and Tommy began to swoon as soon as their lips connected. Richard sensed this and pulled away.

    "I'm sorry." He apologized. "It will be better next time." He took Tommy's head in his hands and stared into his eyes while stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. Tommy instantly relaxed and closed his eyes. Richard's touch was soft and felt so good against his hot flesh.

    "I love you." Tommy found himself murmuring. He couldn't say it enough, and he hoped it wouldn't freak Richard out.

    "I love you too, Thompson," he reciprocated before kissing him on the forehead then wiping it away with the sleeve of his jacket. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

    Tommy just nodded with what he was sure must have been the goofiest smile he'd ever sported upon his face. Richard grinned back and blew him another kiss before departing. Tommy nearly skipped back to his flat.

    "How was your date?" His mother asked when he popped into the kitchen with the beatific expression still on his face.
    
    "It was great, mum," He chattered. The date, though horrifying most of the way through, had ended on such a high note that he was practically glowing and had completely forgotten that he'd told his mother it wasn't a date. "Besides the grape lollipops, but he said it. He said he loves me back!"

    "Hmmm," she pondered. "From a non-date to declarations of love?"

    "Oh, shit." Tommy snapped out of his love induced haze to stare at her. She sat at the kitchen table tapping an opened box of condoms upon it and gazing expectantly at him. Of all the things he had remembered to straighten out in his room he couldn't believe he'd forgotten to put them back in the drawer.

    "I did laundry.  Since when do you own a pair of red boxer-briefs?" She arched her eyebrows.

    He began to blush from embarrassment. If melting away into a puddle on the floor was a viable option he would have done just that.  They hadn't actually gone that far, but they certainly had thought about it for a long enough period of time to open the box before deciding to wait. He didn't want to talk about it with his mother though.  He didn't even want to think about it with her in the same room.

    "We didn't do anything."  He shifted nervously. "You can count them if you like."

    She glared at him and he was beginning to feel a bit demoralized as a number of scenarios floated through his mind. She wouldn't let them continue to see each other. She would call Richard's mother. She already had called his mother and Elizabeth wouldn't let them continue, or maybe she would even send Richard back to boarding school. Anything was possible. Madeline wasn't responding though.  She was staring straight through him, seemingly in shock.

    "Mum?" He asked with trepidation. "Say something, please?"

    "How long has this been going on?" She asked, finally snapping out of her daze.

    "Since yesterday," he muttered. "I mean we haven't shagged or anything, only a bit of a wank..." Tommy winced as he realized that was entirely too much information to be sharing and would probably only serve to make the situation that much worse. He could tell because his mother had turned a ghostly white color.

    "You know this boy comes from wealth," she pointed out. "This is the highest upper crust of society, Thompson."

    "And we're mad for each other. It doesn't matter," Tommy declared, wondering if that was the only thing she was worried about.

    "She's a very powerful woman," Madeline said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

    "You're not going to tell?" He gasped in disbelief.

    "Elizabeth Blume is not a very nice woman," Madeline said.  "I'm not going to step in on her behalf certainly. I just want to ask you one thing...Is there anything I can do to stop you from," she made a slight noise of displeasure before continuing and holding the box up. "Actually using one of these?  I know we've had the talk, but I think you're too young for this."

    "Probably not," Tommy replied truthfully and frowned, feeling very unsure of where the conversation was heading. "We really want to."

    "Then I want to meet him," She said.

    "You have met him," Tommy replied.  "That one time."

    "For five seconds!  If you're going to have a serious boyfriend?" She said it as if it were a question.

    Tommy nodded positively. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I swear."

    Madeline sighed at Tommy's emphatic declaration. "Then I definitely want to meet the person who's stolen my son's heart away."

--

    "Hi, lover," Tommy greeted him with a quick smooch and a glance over his shoulder. "Where's Nige?" He wasn't actually surprised that Nigel wasn't there, but he was extremely disappointed.

    "He doesn't want to hang out with you right now," Richard admitted nervously. "You got him in massive trouble yesterday."

    "He started it!" Tommy grumbled.

    "I'm afraid this is my fault," Richard admitted. "I came between you both. I'm really sorry."

    "Nigel thinks I'm some kind of perv," Tommy said. "So fuck him, okay? It's not your fault."

    "You've been friends since you moved to London." Richard sensed Tommy's disappointment. "You're really upset about this."

    "Yeah." Tommy frowned. "Yeah. He really doesn't believe that I love you, and he called me the most despicable things, Rich. I heard him call me a slapper and a bastard. I don't know what his problem is, but I think it will get better if I just don't talk to him for a while."

    "Okay," Richard worriedly replied. "Maybe you're right, but I just can't help but feel like bloody Yoko ono."

    Tommy giggled slightly. "Look, it's not your fault he's gone insane. Let's go."

    Richard followed him down the street, watching him move with every step, admiring him. He probably could have stayed a step behind checking him out for the entire rest of the walk had Tommy not turned around and given him the hugest grin he could muster.

    "Did you forget something yesterday?" Tommy's dark brown hair had become disheveled and was fluttering in the early morning breeze.

    "Like what?"

    "Oh, I don't know..." Tommy rolled his eyes. "Let's see, they're red, and I really can't believe you don't remember."

    "My pants!" Richard gasped.

    "Yes!  I have a lot of pink undergarments to answer for!" Tommy giggled as he pulled them out of his jacket pocket and tossed them over.

    "My mum found them in the washing," he laughed an explanation upon seeing the look of mortification up Richard's face.

    "People are watching us," he hissed and glanced around at the early morning work crowd.

    "Nobody's watching us." Tommy rolled his eyes.

    "Didn't she know they weren't yours?"

    "Yeah, she knows," he sighed.

    "And she doesn't care?"

    "We have her blessing," Tommy informed him. "She wants to meet you proper though. She says if I'm going to have a serious boyfriend then she wants to get to know him. She doesn't want us to have sex anymore than we already have, but she says that she'd rather us be safe and at home then off somewhere else.  I had to sit there and talk about this with her for, like, hours. You think tossing your underpants about in public is embarrassing just try talking about sex...gay sex with your mother."

    "I can't even imagine," Richard replied rather numbly. He really had no comprehension that an adult could ever be so tolerant and understanding. His mother would have rather locked him up and thrown away the key, he was sure.

    "If you aren't busy would tonight be good?"

    "I don't know," Richard stammered. "I'm not sure...I don't know..."

    "You don't feel comfortable," Tommy grabbed hold of his hand and began swinging their arms back and forth. "You don't feel comfortable being openly affectionate with another boy. I understand, though you're going to have to face her. She wants to make sure you're as wonderful as I say you are and that you're not corrupting me."

    Richard couldn't help but smile as he reclaimed his hand and said.  "Me?  Corrupt you?"

    Tommy's playful mood suddenly evaporated and he grumbled a bit before facing the ground. Richard could sense that he'd said something wrong.

    "What?"

    Tommy reached up and covered his eyes with his hands. Richard couldn't believe it. The Tommy Sinclair who was strong enough to stand up to bullies and confidently wear eyeliner in spite of the incessant whisperings, was standing beside him sobbing. Richard looked around, thinking that it was utter disaster. Tommy was quickly losing his composure and all Richard wanted to do was hold him, but they couldn't very well do that on a crowded street.  So Richard pulled him into the nearest office building and found the lobby toilet. Tommy didn't even know why he was crying, he just couldn't stop and the worse he felt about it the harder the tears fell.  He was glad Richard had pulled him off the street as he lost it. He fell against the wall, sank to the ground, and was completely wailing at that point. Richard sat down beside him and held him until he was finally able to speak.

    "Everybody thinks I'm awful," Tommy sobbed. "I'm not a bad person am I?"

    "No you're not," Richard said. "You're so confident and beautiful.  Everybody looks up to you. Everybody loves you, and the ones that say they don't are just jealous."

    Tommy pulled away from him and wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his jacket. He looked up Richard, who's face was filled with pain. He wondered if he ever looked that way when Richard was hurting.

    "Rich, you're the only one who 'loves' me.  I know what they call me," he said. "I won't repeat it as I'm sure you can imagine. They point and laugh at me and what am I supposed to do? Let on that it bothers me? Well, I can't because that means they win and I won't let them win, but it doesn't mean that I'm strong. It doesn't mean that I'm confident, does it? When I go home and cry myself to sleep nearly every night. Not even my mother knows that. Nobody does. I'm just this weird freakish little fairy boy, and you know maybe I'm starting to believe some of the things that I hear because when my own best friend believes all that shit over my own word..."

    "Shut up," Richard cried. "You aren't any of those things. You're my hero. I'll never be able to do what you do every day. You aren't a bad person, Thompson."

    "I'm glad somebody thinks so," Tommy muttered.  He sighed again and nestled snugly against Richard, who was holding him close and didn't seem to be willing to let go.

  After a moment Tommy wrenched himself away from the grasp and stood up.  He took one shuddering breath and turned towards the large mirror above the bank of sinks.

  "Look at me." He inspected the reflection before him.  The eyeliner that he had so carefully applied was streaked across his face from where he had rubbed the tears away from his eyes, his cheeks were splotchy and red, a perfect match for his eyes, his nose was running, and he could feel the inevitable pounding headache creeping up on him.  He sniffed and frowned then pulled at his wind blown hair.

  "I look a mess," he murmured.  "I can't possibly go to school looking like this."
 
   Richard stood up from his spot on the floor and stood behind Tommy.  He placed his hands on Tommy's shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed him softly on the cheek.

  "You look fine," Richard said.

  Tommy half giggled, half sobbed at him, and they smiled at each other through the reflection.

    "Here," Richard held up a handkerchief which he had pulled from his back pocket.  "You'll be fine."

  Tommy accepted the cloth over his shoulder.  He inspected it momentarily then stifled another giggle.

  "I'm happy to provide you amusement, Tom, but What's so funny?"

  "Nothing," Tommy replied.  "It's just...  only you would carry around a handkerchief."

Tommy was unusually sunny the next day.  Having told his mother everything had lifted a great weight from his shoulders.  Then there was Richard.  They were together, it was official, and it was all too good to be true, but he wasn't going to let anything dampen his spirits.  He sat at the kitchen table with a  bowl of cereal and a stupid grin on his face as he professed his never-ending love for Richard Blume to his mother as she watched over him with worried amusement.
 
     She had been through her own hell with her brother when he had come out to her parents.  She had sided with him, which had won her no favors with them, and when her brother had stood up she had run away.  She had told Paul it was going to be a great experience for her but she really only wanted to escape the ever increasing tension at home.  She had escaped to Alabama and returned with a little boy and no husband.  Her mother had gotten her an interview at Caughton/Blume industries and it was the last time they had spoken.  Tommy had never even met his grandparents.  Madeline knew about rejection and disapproval and that things never turned out as rosy as Tommy was making them out to be.
 
    In working for Bunny Caughton, Madeline had many an occasion to deal with Elizabeth Caughton-Blume.  The woman had her set ideas about what was proper, and Madeline knew Tommy wouldn't fit into that mold.  Elizabeth had said as much to her face.  She made snide, backhanded comments about Madeline's parenting skills whenever she dropped in to her sister in-law's office.  She had blamed the entire truancy situation from earlier on in that week entirely on Tommy and did not have any qualms about sharing her thoughts with anybody who would listen.  Tommy Sinclair, she had decided, was a bad influence.  She had made it clear to Madeline that she did not even approve of her son's friendship with Tommy, though she would never say so to the boys.  Tommy had said that Elizabeth mostly ignored them, and Madeline had no doubt it was true.  Disapprove as she might of Madeline's parenting, she felt no reason to be a parent herself at all.  It took up too much of her valuable time.
 
    Madeline found it difficult to rain on Tommy's parade that morning.  It pleased her to see her son happy and smiling.  She was lost in thought, holding a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter while Tommy jabbered on about how much she was going to love the mysterious Richard Blume, who she barely knew anything about despite he being one of Tommy's friends and her employer's son.  The thought flickered across her mind that maybe she was a bad parent for not keeping closer tabs on Tommy.
 
    She almost dropped her mug when Tommy broke into her concerned thoughts by announcing that he was going to marry Richard and "pick out China patterns and everything."
 
    "Are you serious?"  She clucked at him and frowned.  "You know talk of marriage usually sends blokes runnin' for the hills!"
 
    "Nah," Tommy said with a shrug and a playful grin.  "You'll see!"
 
--
 
    "You're wearing a suit," Tommy said as soon as he opened the door and saw Richard standing there.
 
    "I'm sorry," Richard replied.  "I can go home and change."  He nervously peered around Tommy's shoulder, and it looked as if he was going to turn around and run right back out of the building.
 
    "Come in." Tommy tugged him into the flat and shut the door before he had a chance to bolt.  "You don't have to change; you're just making me feel under-dressed."
 
     He was smiling and joking, but Richard was too nervous to care.  Tommy sat down on the sofa in his small living room and Richard sat next to him.  They were completely silent.  The only sound was the rustling of Richard's sleeves as he continually tugged at them.
 
    "Stop it!"  Tommy finally grabbed him by the wrists and held his hands still.  "Mum will be out in a minute, can you please calm down?  You're not going to be like this all night are you?"
 
    Richard shrugged.
 
    "I'm new at this,"  he said.  "I'm afraid it's never occurred to me that...your mother might actually be okay with this."
 
    "Well, she is," Tommy replied.
 
    "Really?"  Richard frowned at him, but Tommy didn't answer.  His mother did as she stepped out from the hallway into the room.
 
    "Yes, she is," she said with a smile and an outstretched hand.
 
    "I'm Madeline, Tommy's mother.  It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Richard."
 
    Richard stood.  He reached for her hand, but jerked back as his sleeves rode up slightly on his arm.  He had no idea if she knew or not, but he didn't want her to see the scars.  He managed to nod acknowledgement at her once he realized how ridiculous his behavior must have seemed.
 
    Tommy noted the discomfort from where he was still seated.  His mother stood there with her hand hanging in mid-air and a perplexed expression her face while Richard stood in front of her with his left hand wringing his right wrist.  He was glaring at the floor.
 
      Tommy jumped up, placed an arm around Richard and whispered in his ear.  "It's okay," he said.
 
    Richard nodded but continued to stare at the floor.  Tommy shook his head at his mother and gave her a warning glare to keep her from saying something.  The last thing he needed was for Richard to snap at his mother.
 
    "Okay," he said out loud with a grin.  "Time to go!"
 
--
     Madeline didn't know.  She didn't know anything about Richard, because Elizabeth Caughton Blume had kept things well hidden.  She always did when things cast her in a negative light.  Most things having to do with her son she felt were in that light.  She barely spoke of him at work, and she never spoke directly to Madeline if she could at all help it.
 
    Bunny was evasive as well.  The  most she would say was that Richard was a sweet boy and that Madeline had nothing to worry about.  Despite the rocky start to the evening, Richard had done nothing to dispel that notion.  He was on his best behavior and was as mum about certain things as his mother and aunt were.  He wanted to do his best for Tommy, and once the initial nervous energy had worn away he was rather subdued.  Though he did spend most of the evening pulling at his sleeves. He wasn't quite convinced that they were doing a satisfactory job covering up the hesitation marks on the heels of his hands
      
--

  "She's amazing," Richard told him when Madeline left them at the dinner table to pay the bill.  He was still having a difficult time believing that anybody could be as understanding as she.
 
    "I wish she was my mum," he admitted.  He would have traded his two cold and unfeeling parents for just one who loved him unconditionally in an instant.

 
    "Nah."  Tommy laughed and shook his head.  "Then you'd be my brother, and contrary to popular belief, incest isn't really my thing."

--

    Bunny Caughton stared at her secretary as the woman fidgeted at her desk. Poor Madeline. Bunny knew she had her hands full with that child of hers. Though Tommy was a polite and considerate boy and very sweet, he could be a bit of a handful at times, she knew.

    "Mad, come in here please," Bunny said and asked what was the matter as soon as the glass door shut.

    "Oh, Bunny. I'm so confused," she wailed. "This parenting business has just been so frustrating lately."

    "I know dear," Bunny replied, thinking of her own son who spent more time with his headphones on than he did engaged in actual conversation with anybody in the house. It was odd, though.  She hadn't seen Tommy for a couple of days, when they were usually attached at the hip at all times.  She wondered if it had something to do with why Madeline was so upset.

    "Is it about his truancy?"

    "Not really." Madeline was turning very red, an attribute her son had certainly inherited from her side of the family.

    "You can tell me," Bunny insisted. "Nothing leaves this room."

    "Not even your sister-in-law?" She asked.

    Bunny wondered why Elizabeth was involved but vowed secrecy, and she was a woman of her word. Besides that, she disliked her husband's sister intensely. Her marriage to Dustin Blume had been more of a merger than a marriage. Bunny thought the way the couple dealt with their child was appalling.

    "Tommy had a date the night before last," she began.

    "Oh that's nice!" Bunny clapped happily. "How did it go? You know, I wish Nigel would get out there sometimes. He's always got his nose buried on that computer, and those headphones on his ears!"

    Madeline grimaced at her enthusiasm. "Look, Tom told me he was interested in boys as well as girls when he was eleven. I thought nothing of it, because I thought he was just wanting to be like his uncle because he looked up to him so much.  You remember Paul?"
 
    "Of course," Bunny replied solemnly.
 
    "I thought Tom would grow out of it, but he hasn't. It's obviously part of who he is and I'm not going to deny him that, but that isn't what worries me. What worries me is this new boyfriend. I think you know him.  His name is Richard Blume."

    Bunny gaped at her. "Richey's not gay!" were the first words out of her mouth.

    "Trust me on this," Madeline muttered. "I took them to dinner last night, because I wanted to meet him properly. They are very much a couple. It's just...they're so young, and they want to sleep with each other. What am I supposed to do? What did I do? I said sure, go ahead shag yourselves silly as long as I'm not around." She let out a frustrated groan. "Was that the wrong thing to say? I don't know. I don't feel right about it, but I don't want them to go out there in the city to god knows where to do god knows what, you know? It can be so dangerous anymore."

    "Oh, Mad," Bunny consoled her, all the while forming questions to ask her own son. "How do they even know? They're only fifteen."

    "Tommy knows," She mumbled. "We had a long chat the other night. He's not even a virgin. He's been active since he was thirteen, Bunny. Thirteen years old! What is the world coming to when it happens this young? I don't even know what to do with him. I don't want him to grow up this soon. I want my little boy back!"

    "Tell him no," Bunny offered the suggestion she thought Madeline wanted to hear.

    "That's just it," Madeline said. "I really think they might love each other, and if I was that age and I had some adult looking down on me telling me I couldn't love someone and that I didn't know what I was feeling, I know that I would be resentful. I don't want him to resent me. This isn't like setting a curfew. I mean I have never seen Tommy so happy in my life, and he can get pretty happy, but right now he's over the bloody moon! He's talking about marriage for god's sake!

    "I don't think there's any clear cut answer to this situation," Bunny said. "I guess you're just going to have to see how it goes."

    "Tell me about this Richard," Madeline said. "I met him last night he seems like a good lad.   He was really nervous at first, not that I blame him, but once he calmed down...  He seems like a nice down to earth boy, very polite and well behaved and such."

    "You don't know do you?" Bunny shook her head sadly. "I should have told you, Mad.  I knew they were all friends.  I should have told you!"
 
    "Told me what?"
 
    "Down to earth isn't the phrase I'd use to describe Richey."

    "What do you mean?" Madeline frowned. "Is he a bad kid?"

    "Oh no," Bunny corrected her. "He's very nice and usually polite, but emotionally he can be very extreme. He was diagnosed as manic depressive after he tried to commit suicide... My oh my, I can see why now. If that Elizabeth were to find out he prefers the company of men. Dear, dear, that poor poor boy. "

    "He tried to do what?"

    Bunny shook her head, sighed and explained the situation that had brought Richard to London in the first place, and when she was done Madeline looked even more despondent than she had before.

    "How could I not even know this?"  She frowned.  "Please don't tell her.  That Elizabeth is a vindictive woman, Bunny."

    "I know," Bunny replied. "I won't tell."

    Madeline gave up a despairing sigh. "My son is going to be hurt by this in the end, isn't he?"
 
    Bunny sighed along with her.  "I hope not, Mad.  Those two boys deserve to be happy."


--

    Bunny entered her son's lair that doubled as a rehearsal space/recording studio. Nigel was suspicious since she never ventured down the stairs. He was busy and wondered why she was even bothering.

    "Nigel, take the headphones off, I need to talk to you," she said.

    They sat down upon a sofa and were silent for a long while before she spoke.

    "You haven't had any rehearsals lately," she said. "You're usually making an awful racket in the guest room every afternoon!"

    "Well, I don't know if there's a band anymore." He shrugged.

    "Why not?"    

    "I can't tell you, mum," he said. "I don't really want to talk about it."

    "You're a good friend, Nigel," she said. "But Tommy's mother told me, and I promise I won't share with anybody. I think it's great that you would be so understanding..."

    "I haven't been understanding," Nigel snapped. "I've been a horrific friend. Friend isn't even the word I would use to describe myself. I mean, I can't help it. Tom is supposed to be my best friend, and ever since that kid came it's been Richey this and Richey that. Ever since he came, and now that they're together like that, I just snapped off at him. I was a bastard full stop and I destroyed our friendship with a lot of poorly chosen words and untrue accusations. So that's the story of my life, Mum. I had a friend, we had a band, we had a purpose, then he got a boyfriend, and I went psycho on them both.  It's over; I've lost him. I don't want to talk about it. I can't face him after what I said."

    "You should talk to him dear," she offered.

    "I'm sorry I told you."  He stood and marched back to his keyboard. He was done talking. He felt like his mother would never understand where he was coming from, but he felt her approach from behind and squeeze his arm.

    "Are you going to let his romance ruin thirteen years of friendship, Nigel? You may have said some things you regret, we all do, but if you tell him the truth, he might understand."  She sighed. "You two were always so close; it would be such a shame if you never spoke again. I would feel like I was losing a son. If you don't do it for him, do it for me. I like baking cookies for you boys, it makes me feel like a proper house mum!"

    Then she departed. Nigel really hated it when his mother was right almost as much as he hated the guilt trips she always seemed to toss in front of him.

--

    "Alright." Nigel approached him. Tommy still didn't feel like talking to him. Nigel had been the reason for his unsolicited nervous break down the morning before, and though it had brought he and Richard so much closer together, he still wished it had never happened. Crying in front of people was just not comfortable for him.

    "Yea, whatever," he muttered and slammed his locker shut. "Excuse me, I have to go fuck somebody, because I'm a fuck machine, remember?"

    Tommy hated it though. He had never in his life gotten in a fight with Nigel. Being out of the closet was wreaking havoc on all of his relationships. Only Liam seemed to not care. It was nearly unbelievable that the former Mancunian almost seemed to be amused by the entire situation more than anything else. He was even oddly proud and informed Tommy just that morning that he had taken out a pack of hooligans single-handedly, Ninja style, in defense of his favorite poof. Of course Tommy was aware that it was a gigantic exaggeration as per usual, but he was dutifully appreciative anyway.

    "Tom we need to talk," Nigel said. "I want to apologize for what I said."

    "No," he replied. "You basically called me a slut right to my face, and that is even worse than all the people that hate me behind my back, because you were supposed to be my friend. No, my very best friend.  Do you even know how much that hurt? Do you even care?"

    "Of course I care," Nigel stuttered and fought the urge to burst into tears. "I didn't mean it. I just, Richey and you. I don't know I just felt like I would lose you totally if you went out with him. I was being selfish. I know that and I was just saying those things so things could go back to the way they were."

    "Bollocks," Tommy announced. "You and me were going to take on the world in our rock 'n' roll band, remember? I never thought that changed. You're the one who brought this all on yourself. The thinly veiled concern for Richard's well being can't hide the fact that you were jealous where you had absolutely no reason to be."

    "Jealous," Nigel gasped. "But I'm not queer!"

    "I know that," Tommy replied. "Of course I know that all too well, and that is why I can tell him things that I can't tell you, Okay? You and I will never have what he and I have and vice versa. You've got you're own little world Nigel, and I love that about you, but you don't deal well in real life do you? You don't want to talk about serious things.  You'd much rather bang on your drums or just change the subject, and that's okay. I still love you. Richey will never, ever push you out of my life. Understand?  only you can do that, and you damn well are doing a very good job of it so far."

    "I don't want to," Nigel said timidly. "I didn't mean any of it, and I know you're not related to Gracie. You're not a bastard or any of those things. You're actually the nicest bloke I know.  It would have taken me so long to be friends with Richey if you hadn't stepped up to him, and he really is a good songwriter. I still want to be friends if that's okay."

    "Technically," Tommy replied. "I am a bastard."

    "Right." Nigel shifted nervously not sure if he was kidding or not.
 
    "Look," Tommy said not bothering to explain that it was a meant as a tension reliever. "I never stopped thinking you were my friend. I hoped you didn't mean it. I just wanted to hear it from you first. I mean, we're practically married, right? We have a band together after all!"

    Nigel grinned and was very relieved. "The Funky Mustard is back!"

    "Two days isn't much of a break," Tommy pointed out. "I wonder if our fans missed us?"

    "Fans?" Nigel arched an eyebrow.

    "Yea, well there's Richey..." Tommy counted off on his fingers. "And that bird in my Latin class, and Rita Gully, and speaking of slappers there's Cherrie, she'll go down on any bloke with a guitar."

    "Perv!" Nigel laughed.

    "Freak!" Tommy grinned back, and they walked to the lunch hall together.

--

    Petere walked out on them that night as soon as he discerned that Richard and Tommy were acting far too cuddly for being just friends. He said he didn't want to be in a band with a queer. Tommy didn't seem to be hurt by the accusation and was perfectly happy to let the kid go, but Liam chased him down and dragged him back. Richard thought Liam odd. Half the time it seemed like he wanted to be part of their group and the other half of the time he acted like he had just been stuck with them.  Tommy had threatened to sack him if he outed Richard at school, but Liam assured him that he had no intentions of being a gossip. Leave that to the birds, he said. Tommy brought a bag of gummy bears for Richard. They were all purple. He had bought a two pound bag and sat at his kitchen table that afternoon picking them all out of the mix. Richard was chuffed, but found that there wasn't time at rehearsal to properly thank Tommy.  The band practiced while Richard fiddled around with Nigel's recording equipment.  He kept one eye on Tommy as he usually did, but didn't feel the need to be discreet about it. Tommy was good. If he kept at it Richard was sure that he would have his wish of becoming a rock star one day. He was a serviceable guitar player and an even better front man. If they ever got rid of Petere and Liam and thought of a better name then they would make a great band one day.

--

    Waking up next to Tommy was a good way to wake up, Richard thought.  It was the morning after the Funky Mustard's triumphant return to the "studio". Except for Petere walking out on them for a moment, it was quite a productive session. Richard had assured them that they would have demo tapes within' the week if they kept at it. Instead of riding home with Nigel's chauffeur, Tommy had opted instead to spend the night at Richard's house.  He had been so exhausted from rehearsing for the first time in days and from talking with Nigel earlier, that he'd fallen onto the huge bed and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. That morning he was lying curled up in a ball breathing softly, and Richard could have watched him sleeping forever, but he couldn't help himself. He reached over and brushed Tommy's hair from his face.

    "Good Morning." Richard grinned at him as his eyelids fluttered opened.

    He just groaned and rolled away taking most of the blankets with him.

    "What's wrong?" Richard rolled up against him.

    "I'm tired. Leave me alone," He mumbled. "What is today?"

    "It's Tuesday," Richard replied. "We've got to be up for school in a few minutes."

    "I can't believe it's only been five days," he murmured. "So much has happened. It's exhausting."

    "Yeah," Richard agreed. "I'm glad it's happened though. I've never felt so good about myself in my whole life, Tom. Really, I think about you every waking moment. Not that I didn't before, but now I feel like I'm allowed to."

    "You thought of me?" Tommy shifted around to face Richard.

    "All the time," he whispered. "Why wouldn't I? You're adorable, and so fucking nice to me all the time.  It was only inevitable."

    "You remember the time I came over here and you were just out of the shower?" Tommy giggled. "You want to know what I wanted to do?"

    "I can imagine." Richard smirked. "You certainly held yourself together well."

    "That, my dear, took willpower I didn't even know I possessed," Tommy assured him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

    They glanced at each other and suddenly found the memory the most hilarious thing they had ever heard. Tommy began first, silently shaking trying to hold back the laughter, but it came anyway which caused Richard to burst out as well. The more either one laughed the more funny it became until they were hanging on to each other with tears streaming down their cheeks. It was then that the alarm clock interrupted them and cold reality took over their lives once again.

--

    Tommy sat quietly at the large table in Richard's cavernous dining hall.  His mother had requested his presence in the study, and he'd just returned with a huge red mark on his cheek, and he was trying very hard not to cry.  Tommy discerned that his mother must have hit him, and from the look of it she had hit him hard. They sat in silence and finished their food before heading off to the carport. Richard informed the chauffeur that they would be taking the limo that morning. Nigel joined them shortly, and they embarked towards school.

    Tommy wondered just how he'd gotten to that point in his life. He was in the arms of the boy he had spent three years falling in love with, in his limo, and his mother had just slapped him. It was starting to bruise, and Tommy had no idea what he was supposed to do.

    "Do you really have to cuddle like that?" Nigel asked.

    Richard gave his cousin a dirty look before tilting his boyfriend's head up to face him and planting a long kiss right on his lips.

    "Does that answer your question?" He asked.

    "Arsebiscuits," Nigel barked. "This is so wierd."

    "Hush up, Nige," Tommy said, and Nigel was compliant.

    The rest of the ride was silent. Richard was clinging to Tommy like he would never let go.

    "I don't want to go," Richard said as they pulled up to the school.

    "Library, study period," Tommy commanded and fleetingly kissed him before they exited on opposite sides of the vehicle. Nigel followed Tommy and whispered in his ear.

    "What happened to Richey's face?"

    "His mum slapped him," Tommy muttered sadly and Nigel looked flabbergasted enough that Richard noticed as he hopped around the vehicle.

    "You told him," he snapped and marched angrily away without another word.

--

    Tommy knew that Richard wasn't going to meet him as he sat in the library staring at the clock on the wall, waiting and wondering. He was getting fidgety as he tapped a pencil on his geometry book at an exponentially faster rate. He couldn't decide if he was upset, or angry, or sympathetic, but he was disappointed for sure.

    He asked the librarian if he could use the toilet and she was happy to oblige him with a hall pass.  Somehow he had managed to get on her good side, though she was constantly reminding him to keep working at his studies and not to let any distractions to get in the way of his education. He never bothered to mention that he had never had any intention of attending any universities.  The only reason he worked hard enough to keep his scholarship was so that he could be near his friends.

    He ambled down the hall and passed up the closest toilet. He walked to the one on the other side of the building; the one closer to Richard's class, and found him standing there in front of the mirror inspecting the bruise on his cheek. Tommy didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around him and lay his head on his shoulder.

    "I'm sorry I told Nigel," he murmured.

    "It's Okay," Richard replied and pushed him away so he could look him in the eye. "You can't tell, Tom. You can't tell anybody. Not the police, not your mum. My parents have a lot of money and they've paid people off before.  They'd do anything to keep the Blume name clean. You wouldn't believe how dirty is actually is. If you tell it will only make it worse for me. This was just my mum. I don't want to try it out with my dad."

    "There's got to be something," Tommy said. "It's...it's wrong. There's got to be a way to..."

    "You see in such black and white, Tom," he replied sadly. He felt like he was suddenly a burden and that wasn't something he wanted. "There is no wrong when it comes to the Blumes. I'll be alright. You've got to promise not to tell. It really isn't that bad. Promise!"

    "Okay," Tommy relented against his better judgement.

    Richard hadn't wanted to dump his problems onto him. Tommy and his mother had the most incredible relationship that he'd ever seen between a parent and a child. He didn't know what it was like to fear one parent and be ignored by the other. Tommy saw things as they should be and not how they actually were.

    "You should put ice on that." Tommy reached up and gently touched the dark mark on his boyfriend's cheek. Richard couldn't help wincing at the touch and he instantly pulled away.

    "You know," Richard felt himself saying. "You could kiss it and make it better."

    Tommy grinned and complied as he leaned in and brushed his lips gently across the spot.

    "Much better," Richard said.

    "Glad to be of service." Tommy took a slight bow. "Is there anything else I can do for you, your majesty?"

    "I don't know." Richard managed a slightly maniacal grin. "I guess that depends on how much time we have until our next class."

    It was approaching an six months. For the band, that meant demo's and gigs.  For Richard and Tommy, that meant anniversary. Things had been going well.

    "We're far too young for this," Tommy announced as he stared down a poster that he'd torn from a school bulletin board. "This is a private school; we shouldn't even be having dances. What we should be doing is concentrating on our studies."

    Liam burst out laughing, "Yeah, you concentrate on studies? You're too feckin' busy screwing Richey's brains out for that. You're just arsed because the girls have to ask the blokes, and you can't decide which one of you is the bigger girl."

    "No, I'm arsed, because what if somebody asks me," Tommy fretted. He was seated next to Liam, waiting for Nigel to join them for lunch.

    "Do you want to go?" Liam asked.

    "It might be fun." Tommy shrugged. "I'd rather be with Richey, but you know him. He never wants to do anything. I'm, I'm..."

    "An attention seeker?" Liam supplied. "An arrogant little attention seeker, who needs to have showers of gratuitous praise heaped upon him in order to function properly?"

    "Yeah." Tommy scowled at him. "That's just it, or maybe I like to have fun and I don't like being locked away in a room, because he..."

    "Doesn't want his head bashed in on his way to the bus depot?" Liam offered. "Or lose his inheritance? Face it Tom; that kid is money. That's the only thing anybody sees in him, and don't bang on about love. I'm sure he doesn't want to throw that away for you. You're the pity prize winner, remember? You shouldn't even be here. What do you possibly have to offer? A cock and a lifetime of queer jokes? 'Backs to the wall!  Here comes that Richard Blume.' He don't want that."

    Tommy grumbled and twirled his fork around in his mashed potatoes. He knew on some level that maybe Liam was right, and maybe he wasn't worth more than the billion pound business his parents might leave in Richard's hands.

    He was asked the next day, and it wasn't as easy as he thought it would be to say no.  He'd just finished taking a volley of abuse from a group of older kids, including a short lived barrage of slushy grey snowballs. Tommy handled it with aplomb and was dutifully brushing heaps of snow from where it was lodged between his jacket and his neck.

    "Can I help you with that?" Richard approached with a slightly angered scowl.

    "No thank you," Tommy replied as he shook the remaining snow loose. "You can warm me up later on tonight."

    "If you say so," Richard replied. "I saw what they did to you."

    "It's just a bit of snow." Tommy shrugged. "No harm, no foul."

    "No dignity?" Richard brushed some snow from Tommy's shoulders. Despite his help not being needed, it made them both feel better.

    "I've got plenty of dignity." Tommy turned around and faced him. "But what about you?"

    "Don't even start," Richard pushed him away.

    Rita Gully interrupted them then. She was a tiny girl and not very popular around the campus. She was nice though. She always went to all of their gigs, and Tommy went out of his way to converse with her on numerous occasions. Even though most people said they liked him, he knew what it was like to get picked on, and he knew what it was like to be talked about behind his back.

    "Hello, lovely Rita." Tommy greeted her in his usual fashion and she smiled nervously back at him, saying hello to Richard as well.

    "So..." Tommy ventured after a long silence. "Can I help you with something, Rita?"

    "Did you want to go to that dance with me?" She blurted out, and then noting the shocked expression on his face, immediately backtracked.

    "Oh, you've probably already been asked. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even bothered."

    Tommy was genuinely stunned. Out of all the people he imagined would ask, Rita was the hardest to deny, even though his boyfriend was standing next to him radiating opposition.

    "I think you're busy, aren't you, Tom?" Richard spoke. "Aren't you?"

    "Back off, Richey," Tommy snapped in return.  Then he confronted the poor girl.

    "I'll have to think about it, Rita," he said. "I wasn't planning on going."

    "You're holding out for someone," she muttered unhappily. "Way to go, Rita, at least he tried to let you down easy."

    "Hey, I don't think that person is going to ask me anyway."  He eyed Richard. "So I'll think about it."

    Richard glared at Tommy and made a snorting noise of disbelief and displeasure before stalking away nearly pushing Tommy into a small pile of dirty snow as he went.

    "I've got to go." Tommy sighed once he regained his balance.

    "Richey seems a bit upset."  She looked after him. "Was it something I said?"

    "No, no," Tommy said. "Don't worry about him."

    "He's really cute," she noted. "I might've asked him, but he's sort of...scary and inaccessible."

    "Sort of?"  Tommy said.  "They've got his picture underneath those terms in the dictionary."

--

    "You're not listening to me!" Richard slammed his pen down on the desk.

    "Who cares about maths?" Tommy nuzzled his boyfriend's neck and ran his hand up and down his leg. "Your parents aren't here. You're butler is not here. I don't know why you want to study anyway. This is our night.  You're usually are begging me to tie you up to the bedposts by now."

    "I care about maths." Richard pushed Tommy away. "Do you want to lose your scholarship?"

    "I'm not going to lose my scholarship." Tommy giggled. "I never study."
    
    He kissed Richard, but the boyfriend didn't seem to be interested. He couldn't concentrate on maths, and he couldn't concentrate on sex. All he could think about was Tommy's noncommittal response to Rita Gully's request. He stood up from the desk and marched over to his couch.

    "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Tommy scowled after him.

    "Nothing," Richard grumbled.

    "Yes there is," Tommy said. "You're mighty cold tonight; any colder and you could freeze water."

    "I'll have you know that Cherrie Miller asked me to that stupid dance, and I told her no."

    "Cherrie the Slapper?" Tommy nodded. "She's fit, and Rita thinks you're cute too."

    "Not the point." Richard shook his head. "The point is you didn't say no."

    "I didn't say yes," Tommy countered.

    "I didn't think you want to see other people," Richard muttered.

    "I wouldn't be seeing her." Tommy rolled his eyes. "I can attend a dance with a friend and not want to sleep with them. If you want me to, I'll ring her right now and say no."

    "I don't want you to say no because I want you to. I want you to say no because you want to."

    "Richey, you're such a fucking woman. You make my head spin." Tommy stood up from his spot at the desk and aproached Richard.

    "You'd better not even think about touching me," Richard warned. "I'm too angry."

    "Rita's a nice girl." Tommy sighed and sat down. "We'd only be going as friends. I told you. We'd even dance a ruler's length apart; a meter stick apart! I'd just feel horrible saying no. That poor girl has no self-esteem. She's lonely and sweet."

    "Fine." Richard turned away. "Why don't you just leave if you don't want to be with me?"

    "Excuse me?" Tommy slapped his shoulder, causing him to wince involuntarily and spin around.

    "Richey, I love you. Fuck the dance. I don't want to go if you're not there."

    "No you're right." Richard changed his mind. "You should go. I mean, I couldn't ask you. You haven't gone to any of these stupid things all year because of me, and it isn't really fair. I know you enjoy it.  Besides, maybe it'll do us some good to be seen around school with a girl..."

    Tommy let his hand drop, and he stared at Richard completely and utterly perplexed.

    "Richey..."  He sighed and leaned onto him. "Richey, Richey, Richey."

    "I'm sick, I know." Richard pulled him closer and kissed him playfully on tip of his nose. "But how can I stay angry at someone as adorable as you?"

    "You can't." Tommy grinned. "I can melt icebergs."

--

    "Wow, you look knackered," Liam noted as he handed Tommy his cup of coffee.

    "I am." Tommy yawned. "Do you think this will stunt my growth?" He trudged over to a table in the small trendy coffee shop.

    "I don't know."  Liam followed him.

    "Because I am short enough as it is." Tommy sipped his drink and looked out the window at the busy Saturday shopping crowd.

    "I hate the way I look." Tommy admitted. "I'm so runty, and girly."

    "You're not either," Liam stated. "The only thing girly about you is the way you dress sometimes, and I thought you liked causing a stir?"

    "I know," Tommy said. "It's just...it just..It gets difficult sometimes. I don't know."

    He didn't know how to put what he was feeling into words, and even if he did, he wasn't sure that Liam would ever understand the issues he was grappling with.

    "So where is the old ball and chain?" Liam asked. "He's usually right next to you every moment of the day...bein' an arsehole."

    "I don't know." Tommy shrugged. "I'm his boyfriend, not his fucking keeper. He was fine last night, but this morning he was angry again. He has more ups and downs than my mother when she's on the rag."

    "He's on medication isn't he?  That's gotta mean somethin'," Liam said.

    "Yeah," Tommy replied. "He's insane. We've established that already. It's part of his appeal, isn't it?"

    "Don't ask me," Liam said. "I'm just here for a cuppa and moral support. I know nothing about being in a relationship let alone a...uh...gay one."

    "I shouldn't expect you to," Tommy noted.

    "Though I did get a blow job from Cherrie Miller once." He noted the amused expresion on Tommy's face and elaborated. "That's actually true, but I don't think that counts as a relationship, because I mean who hasn't? Probably you and Richey..."

    "You know, we shouldn't talk about her like that," Tommy said.  "People say the same things about me, and it's not true..."

    "But it is true," Liam replied.  

    "She's going with Richey to the dance," Tommy muttered.

    "Seriously?  When did you become a comedian? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard, and you wouldn't mind if he got it on with someone else? Man, I need to find myself a girl like you..."

    "Don't get your hopes up," Tommy said. "She can try and try with all her might, but she's in for a cold, cold night."

    "I thought he'd turned her down anyway," Liam chuckled. "She was banging on about it all yesterday afternoon. It was rather annoying. I really wanted to spill it, Tom, but I know you bite."

    "only if you ask nice."  He stuck his tongue out at Liam. "I'm glad you didn't. I'm glad I can trust you.  Besides, it's not me you'd have to worry about if you told.  Richey would kill you dead right where you stood."

    "Well, you're welcome," Liam said. "I hate having to keep confirmation of such juicy gossip to myself, and since you know how trustworthy I really am now, why don't you tell me how the fuck Richey got a date...with a girl."

    "I sort of made him ring her last night." Tommy grimmaced.

    "Oh." Liam frowned. "I don't get it."

    "Well, he was being a whiney prat," Tommy defended himself. "This whole dance thing has thrown our happily closeted relationship into turmoil."

    "Now," Liam said. "I'm no expert on bein' a poof, but it seems to me that happily closeted is an oxymoron."

    "And how many times do I have to ask you not to call me that," Tommy replied crossly. "Who's idea was this anyway?"

    "What? You and Richey? or school dances?" Liam asked. "one is the brainchild of student government, and the other is probably your fault."

    "Probably my fault?" Tommy snorted indignantly. "How so?"

    "When you want something or someone there really is no stopping you is there?"

    "Hah!" Tommy said.  "So you're saying if I had wanted you, then I would've gotten you?"

    Liam scowled at him, "No fucking way. I'm not gay."

    "Well then, there you go." Tommy crossed his arms. "You know he turned me down. The day before that Radiohead concert. That's why we didn't go, Liam, and it was really his idea to get together. I was ready to throw in the towel after I thought I'd embarrassed him beyond all reparation of our relationship. I get far too much credit."

    "He turned you down?" Liam asked.

    "It happens," Tommy assured him. "He had me convinced he was straight for a minute."

    Liam laughed, "That must have been a blow...to your ego that is."

    Tommy sighed out of frustration and wondered how he had garnered such a reputation before he was even sweet sixteen. He knew he acted far older than he appeared, and he had done a lot of things he probably shouldn't have, but the way his peers treated him as if he were already a veritable god of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll was starting to wear on his nerves. His vices weren't things he was proud of. He was proud of his marks, he was proud of his band, and his relationship with his mother, and most of all he was proud of his friends, who stood by him despite being called more then their fair share of derogatory names simply because Tommy was admittedly bisexual. They were the best friends anybody really could have hoped for, yet even they sometimes treated him like he was some kind of overly promiscuous spoiled brat who always got what he wanted and got away with everything. He worked hard to get what he wanted, and he spent many a good daylight hour suffering punishments handed down by either administrators or his mother. He didn't think he had a big ego at all.

    "You know, Liam, I was more worried about fucking up our friendship than I was about not getting a fuck, but I don't suppose you give a shit about that?"

    "Calm down, mate," Liam said.

"I'm sorry," Tommy apologized. "Coffee puts me a bit on edge, you know, but I guess that's how it has to go." He winked and held his mug up high. "Cheers?"

    "Cheers." Liam agreed.

--

    "You look like you're having fun," Richard noted the evening of the dance as he stood on the sidelines. "Nobody's threatened to beat you up yet?"

    "Cos Liam and Nigel are around," Tommy pointed out. "My body guards. You ought to dance.  Where's Cherrie?"

    "Nobody wants to dance with me," he remarked. "Not even my date. She dumped me."

    "Already?  That must be some kind of record," Tommy replied.  He tried his very best not to smirk at the situation, because he knew it was almost entirely his fault in the first place.

    "She must have gotten bored, because I don't put out on the first date," Richard returned.

    "Well, that's not entirely true!" Tommy laughed. "You ought to ask someone to dance.  There's a bunch of wallflowers over there." He pointed to a group of girls. "They all think you're fit, but how did Rita put it...You're scary."

    "I'm not scary," he pouted. "And what about you? Don't you think I'm fit?"

    "Oh, Richey, of course I do." He sighed. "Are you in a bad mood again?"

    "You made me come to this bloody dance and now I'm bloody fucking miserable," Richard grumbled.

    "So dance," Tommy commanded.

    "I told you already," Richard said.

    "Somebody does want to dance with you."

    "Yea, those girls, you told me," he muttered.

    "No." Tommy snapped his fingers in front of his boyfriend's eyes, commanding his attention. "I do, you arsehole!"

    "Bugger off." Richard scowled.

    "Make me," Tommy replied. "Come on. I'm going to walk Rita home and then we can go to my flat."

    "Assuming I want to go with you," Richard grumbled.

    "Fine." Tommy shrugged. "If you want to go home alone and sleep in that big bed of yours alone then be my guest. I ain't going to stop you."

    "No, I can't." Richard sighed. "Mum told me not to. She knows I'm sleeping over at your place, and she would be angry if I came home now."

    "God, yer mum is a cunt," Tommy announced.

    "She's my mum, Tom," Richard replied. "Would you say that to your mum?"

    "My mum doesn't treat me like I'm...nothing!" Tommy pointed out. "My mum loves me for who I am, and she doesn't make me feel like I don't belong in her life. We'll talk about this later, young man."

    "Don't treat me like a child," Richard warned.

    Tommy headed towards the dancefloor tossing his last comment out behind his back, "Then stop acting like one."

    "May I cut in," Tommy tapped Nigel on the shoulder and the taller lad stepped out of the way.

    "I hate to do this to you, Rita. I know you're having a good time," Tommy began as soon as the slow dance started.

    "But you found some other girl." She sighed. "I understand."

    "No, you don't," Tommy replied. "Actually I really have to get home."

    "We've only been here for an hour," she cried.

    "I know," he replied.

    "Why don't you go on and I'll take her home?" Nigel stepped in from where he was still standing nearby. He grinned at the girl and she grinned back.

    Rita turned back to Tom.  "If you don't mind?" She said.  "I mean, this isn't a 'real' date, right?"

    "Right," Tommy agreed.  He looked curiously between his best friend and his not-date.

    "I'll see you both later then, have her home by eleven!" Tommy grinned and was glad that she could stay and have a good time with the most trustworthy person he knew.  He hadn't thought any good would have come out of that dance.

--

  To people who didn't know Tommy and Richard, on the surface they didn't seem to get along very well. They were constantly bickering in public after all. They came from different backgrounds, and the only reason most people figured they spent any time together was because Richard and Nigel were related and Nigel was the best friend.  Despite all appearances, they were as close as two people could possibly be. Richard was in a bad place, and Tommy wanted to help because he was in love and it hurt him to see Richard struggle. The boy was scared, and Tommy was glad they had each other because sometimes he got scared too and nobody but Richard seemed to understand that.

    Tommy tossed his keys on the hall table and hung his coat on the rack.

    "Yer mum's home," he said.  He shuffled nervously beside Tommy as he often did.  He didn't think he would ever get used to Tom's mother.  The sheer amount of information that the mother and son shared made him nervous.  Then there was also the case of the familial attentions she showered upon him.  He didn't quite know how to react to it.

    "Yes, and if we're lucky she will take us for ice cream." Tommy grabbed his boyfriend by his suit jacket and dragged him into the flat.

    Madeline rose to greet them.

    "Don't my sons both look so handsome." She grinned at them and gave them a hug and a peck on the check respectivly.

    "Please, mum!" Tommy rolled his eyes. He knew Richard was uncomfortable with such familial intimacy. He certainly didn't get that sort of thing in his own home where his mother's friends and even the woman herself regarded him with suspicion and contempt since Elizabeth hadn't been able to keep the secret from them.  Richard had a habit of wearing T-shirts around the house, and, it seemed to Elizabeth, that the child seemed to delight in making the women who attended her garden parties uncomfortable.

    "It's Okay." Richard smiled at Madeline. "You're looking beautiful as well...Mum."

    She blushed just like her son often did. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.

    "You're too kind, Richey."

    "Okay, we're going up to my room now," Tommy announced.

    "And what are you going to be doing?"  She eyed him.

    "Probably looking at records and talking for a bit," Tommy supplied.  "Then we'll probably make out for a while, and then I will trudge unhappily downstairs and sleep on the sofa, because I know you don't want to be in the house when we're doing it, because if you're not here it makes you feel better about condoning it, and bla, bla, bla...and there will probably be a wank in there somewhere, but I figure you most likely don't want to hear about that."

    "And you'd most likely be right about that." Madeline furrowed her brow. "Have fun, leave the door opened."

    "Thank you."  He kissed her on the cheek and tugged on Richard's shirt. "C'mon, I've got to show you what I got yesterday."

--

    "This is brilliant," Tommy held up an album.

    "Where'd you get this?" Richard snatched it.

    "White album on vinyl original pressing." He grinned. "Found it on the internet, some tosser was selling his collection on E-bay."

    "Some people lose interest," Richard replied. "You shouldn't fault them for that."

    "I don't fault them." Tommy flopped down on his bed. "I feel sorry for them. I can assure you I will never ever lose interest."

    "Oh, yea?" Richard sat down next to him.

    "How about you?" Tommy asked.

    Richard looked back at him. "No way," he said with conviction. "I'll never lose interest in this."

    "Come here." Tommy pulled at Richard's shirt from his reclining position and the boy flopped down next to him.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy said. "About tonight. The whole thing was such a fuckwit idea."

    "And I should have told you to go screw yourself," Richard replied, but admitted, "You were trying to be nice. Rita is a nice girl."

    "And in the proccess I hurt you, so it wasn't worth it," Tommy announced.

    "No you didn't," Richard replied. "I just, you know. I don't mean to. I wish I could behave like a normal person, maybe we could avoid the miscommunication."

    "I think miscommunication comes with the territory." Tommy laughed and grabbed hold of Richard's hand. "And you behaved as any normal right minded person would. I don't blame you if you never forgive me."

    "It's my fault, and to be honest, you've done far worse things to me." Richard shook his head. "I could have had fun. I mean, I know how to dance."

    "No possible way," Tommy declared. "I sent you out with the Cherrie!"

    "Were you worried?" He said.

    "Not at all," Tommy replied. "Because you love me. You're hopelessly infatuated with me."

    "Oh yea," Richard said. "Well, you can't live without me."

    "I can't," Tommy agreed. "So you aren't angry with me?"

    "No, not especially."

    "or are you secretly miffed and just saying you're not because you don't want to go home?"

    "A Bit of both," Richard admitted. "But what am I supposed to do? You don't know how those women look at me. I'm the poor depressed boy. I'm a blight on the Blume family name, aren't I?"

    "Fuck the family name!" Tommy sat up. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, Rich. You made a mistake.  You're getting help."

    "I don't know," Richard replied. "The only time I ever feel good about myself is when I'm with you."

    "That can't possibly be true," Tommy said.  "You are an amazing and talented person."

    "I'm not talented." Richard shook his head. "No way."

    "You are." Tommy patted his knee. "You should have been in the band, love. You're a better guitar player, and you're a better songwriter than Petere...and you're better in bed, I'm sure."

    "You can have my spot," Tommy said. "Play my guitar, and I'll just sing, and be beautiful."

    "I am not going to be in a band," Richard announced. "In front of all those people? I don't know how you do it."

    "I was born to it," Tommy declared. "It isn't difficult, besides I like being the center of attention."

Richard nodded, "I know it!"

--

    Tommy thought he could handle things. His mother gave him freedoms that most wouldn't.  His band was going well, and his relationship was going even better. Things had a tendency to unravel, however, and when they unraveled for Tommy, he realized just how much out of control his life could get.  For the first time he felt helpless. Of course, one couldn't feel much more than that when Elizabeth Caughton Blume decided to take a break from her garden party and walk in on her son and his boyfriend.

--

    "Do not freak out, please," Tommy announced as soon as he found his mother in thier small kitchen. It appeared as if he had just run a mile and was struggling to catch his breath.

    "What have you done now then?" She asked. "Is this about Mr. McGruder's tomatoes again, because I told you..."

    "No it's not about the tomatoes." He took a shaky breath. "You know Mrs. Blume, right?"

    "She's one of my bosses," Madeline replied. "Of course I do."

    "Well, you might be recieving a call from her in a near moment. Something about coercing her son into deviant sexual acts..."

    "Oh, dear lord." She held her hand to her mouth. "What did you do?"

    "Nothing," he replied despairingly. "We were just fooling around. The thing is, she just caught us at it and...well, he hadn't told her. She is psycho. I can see why he didn't tell her. It was the most horrible thing I've ever experienced."

    "Oh, Tom!" She walked over to him. "Are you okay?"

    "No, I don't think so." He reached out and leaned his head on her shoulder.

    "Okay." She held onto him tightly. "I told you to slow down, Tom."

    Tommy broke from the embrace and stumbled to the chair at the kitchen table.  He tumbled into it and buried his head in his hands.

    "I know, we should have waited for our commitment ceremony," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

    "Now is not the time for jokes," Madeline replied.  "Why would you even...with that woman in the house!"

    "I just have a hard time sayin' no to him," Tommy muttered.

    "Jokes, Thompson," She said.  "Not the time.  Maybe we can just talk to her.  She seems like a reasonable woman when it comes to business, maybe..."

    "She isn't!" Tommy looked up at her. "She isn't, Mum. Not where Richey is concerned. He's not real to her, all she cares about is...is...her social class and being proper and acceptable to her society friends. Having a queer son isn't part of that! He isn't a part of that! She already gives him so much shit for what he tried to do in boarding school, and you know why he did it? You know why, Mum. You're smart, you can figure it out. He was tourtured there, and just the way she treats him is tourture here too."

    "Calm down." She brushed his hair away from his eyes.

    "I can't," he said.  "It was awful, Mum. I don't even know how long she was standing there just watching. It's creeping me out, frankly."

    "What exactly were you doing?" she asked.

    "Mum!" He frowned. It was shaping up to be an even worse day then he had previously imagined. He sat down at the small kitchen table.

    "I know you think we're too young to know anything. Too young to know what we want, or what love is. But I know, and I'm not confused about it at all. I want him. I love him, and I swear to god if I could I would do anything just to take him away from there. They don't love him at all, not like I do. It isn't fair."

    "You have to realize, Love." She sat down next to him. "You are very young. It is hard for a parent to accept the fact that thier child..."

    "Is a valid human being?  Is a real person?  You don't understand how badly they treat him!" He interrupted. "They don't even celebrate his birthday, Mum.  Did you know that?"

    Madeline blanched at this revelation.

    "That's why he never comes to my birthday party.  It makes him sad, because he wants them to love him and it reminds him that they don't.  They just don't.  But I do. I know we're boys, but be honest with yourself. The sex is there, it's real, it's going to happen and you aren't going to discourage it in any way. I'm sick to death of people shouting at me about what I should and shouldn't be doing. It isn't good for me? I might catch some horrible disease? I don't fucking care, bring it on, I say. I'm going to die one day anyway."

    "Thompson," she murmured.  "I'm your mother, I'm supposed to worry about this kind of thing.  I don't want to see you get hurt!  It's hard finding out this sort of thing.  It's an adjustment..."

    "I know," he muttered. "But I can tell what dame Blume is going to say. She's going to tell you what a deviant I am, and accuse me of seducing Richey, because that's what she was screaming at me, and I was speechless, really. I wanted to tell her Richey was gay long before I ever entered the picture. I don't know what I'm going to do."

    "You're going upstairs, and you're taking a shower, and you're going to calm down," Madeline commanded. "And I'm going to cook dinner, and..."

    The telephone interrupted her. Tommy let out a long sigh and they both stared at the reciever.

    "Answer it," he said.

    "Maybe we can ignore it?" she offered.

    "Ta, but...unless you want her to come here and tell you all those things in person..." He stood up. "Don't run from her, and I won't either. Okay?"

    Madeline nodded.  She watched her sun trudge dejectedly from the room, took a deep breath, and answered the phone.

    "She doesn't want me to see Rich anymore!" Tommy slammed his locker shut.

    "Really," Nigel said. "Well, I guess that's understandable.  I mean if I were to find out my son was takin' it up the arse..."

    "Oh, shut up," Tommy spat. "We all know how you feel about it, Nigel, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't approve, but fuck her. What is she going to do? Lock him up? Send him away again? It won't change him. He'll only fucking fall off the edge again. He isn't that strong."

    "I know," Nigel fretted. "I'm worried. I haven't seen him in days."

    "And look at this." Tommy held up a pink slip. "I haven't done anything worth one of these in a while."

    "Smoking in the toilet, playing truant?" Nigel offered.

    "No, No," Tommy replied. "I haven't done any of that in...a while anyway.  I guess I'll go find out what I've done this time." He waved the paper in the air.

"It's probably nothing to fret over," Nigel consoled him.

"You're probably right," Tommy agreed. "It usually isn't."

--

    Nothing to fret over turned out to be a full-fledged meeting with the headmistress and his mother.  What it came down to was Tommy Sinclair had, unbeknown to himself, had accumulated so many demerits that he sat slack jawed in front of the two women as his scholarship was unceremoniously yanked out from underneath him. Tommy knew he was as good as expelled. He knew his mother would never be able to make up the tuition on her own, and he also knew that he hadn't gotten nearly as many marks against him as the headmistress made out. He had to say something.  He didn't think he'd deserved to be punished so harshly, and the look his mother was giving him was torture.  It was a mixture of fury and disappointment that caused a lump of distress to form in his throat.

    "You're a liar," he finally said as he leveled his gaze at the administrator. "Smoking fags does not deserve this sort of punishment."

    "It is that attitude, Mr. Sinclair, that has gotten you here!" She glared back. "It has been brought to our attention by members of the community that you do not exhibit the proper behavior of a representitive of this establishment. Your constant disregard and disrespect for your educators can no longer be tolerated."

    "Oh, pants," he grumbled, as his mother shushed him and began to plead with the other woman. He listened to them bicker. The headmistress made him sound like the most horrible child on the face of the planet when the thing he'd gotten the most marks for was leaving the bottom four  buttons of his shirt unfastened. As he sat there replaying what was being said, something about her comment concerning members of the community clicked in his head and he jumped out of his seat and exited the room as quickly as he could.

--

    Nigel was almost halfway down the street with Liam in tow when he felt a hand on his arm.  He was spun around and came face to face with Tommy.

    "What's going on?" He asked. "Finished getting in trouble already?"

    "Shut-up," he snapped. "Do Richey's parents donate money to the school?"

    "Yeah...they contribute quite a bit, why?" Nigel asked.

    "Oh, blood fucking hell," Tommy yelled. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuuuuck."

    Both his compatriots were staring at him as well as numerous passers by.

    "What in gods name is your problem?" Liam asked.

    "I'm afraid you'll have to get a new scholarship winner to commiserate with," Tommy wailed. "Because Richey's mum just paid to have mine taken away."

    "Have you been smoking pot again, or are yo always this paranoid?" Liam muttered.

    "Wait," Nigel said. "They took your scholarship?"

    "Yes." He sighed as the reality of what he'd gotten mixed up in hit home. The Blumes were very powerful people, and at least one of them was out to get him. He began to feel faint and collapsed into Nigel's arms. His friend held him upright as he regained his balance.

    "She's your aunt, Nige," he said. "Would she do something like this? I don't see any other reason for them to suddenly consider me an entity of scholarly ineptitude who's behavior showers shame upon the prestige of our resplendent institution."

    Nigel sighed. "She might, Tom. She's vindictive, and she'd do anything to keep her name from being sullied. I'm sorry."

    "It's not fair," Tommy replied. "I'm a good student. Who I fuck doesn't have anything to do with it."

    "I guess it does," Liam said. "When you're fucking the son of one of the most powerful families in London."

--

    Things weren't getting any better later on that day when his mother returned home and found her son lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling in complete and utter silence.

    "Thompson, come out into the other room please," she said.

    He stood without any protestations and followed her.

    "I have a headache," he said as he sat on their sofa.

    "Good." She replied. "Listen to me, Thompson. I'm going to give you a chance to explain yourself before I start screaming. That is how angry I am with you right now."

    "I know," he whispered. "I deserve everything I get. You gave me every freedom I could have asked for. More, even, and I've ruined everything. You shouldn't have let me sleep with him."

    "Let, you?" She gasped. "How the hell was I going to stop you? This isn't even about that; it isn't even related. You have not only had your scholarship revoked, but you can't go back this year even if I could afford it. You've been kicked out completely because of your outburst today."

    "That wasn't an outburst," he muttered. "You've seen my outbursts."

    "You called the headmistress a liar to her face, Thompson," she growled. "You don't do that! I don't know what has gotten into you. I have never seen you behave in front of your superiors in such a disrespectful way."

    "You don't understand," he said. "Mrs. Blume paid them off, I'm telling you!"

    Madeline didn't doubt that he might be correct, but what it came time to excercise her parental muscles she was no weakling.

    "That's shit, Thompson, and you know it!" she said. "You have done something wrong, and you have to take responsibility and accept the consequences of those actions."

    "But I haven't," he cried. "I've done nothing wrong. I haven't had a mark against me since last year. It doesn't make any sense."

    "Be that as it may," Madeline said. "You have no proof and you don't go around making accusations without proof! Under any circumstances."

    "My life is over," he wailed dramatically and flopped down on his side as his mother paced around the room.

    "Richey won't talk to me, I've got an overprotective mother after my head, who thinks he's going through a phase and that I'm the reason he's going through it...I've been chucked from school. I hate myself."

    "We're moving," she suddenly announced as if she had just made the decision.

    "Why?" He sat bolt upright and glared accusingly at her. "I can go back to my old school."

    "You're not going back to your old school," she said. "We are not staying in this city. I don't want you in this environment any longer."

    "What environment? What's wrong with London?" He strained to keep himself from crying. "I love it here."

    "I know you do sweetie." She sighed and sat down next to him. "But I've been talking to your father."

    "Oh, No," he muttered. "No, No, no." He could see right where the conversation was heading. It was heading straight for Mesquite, Nevada, USA.

    "It will be good for you. You can meet new people...and your father will be in your life. I think that's important."

    "My father is nothing but a voice on a long distance telephone line," Tommy spat. "I do not want the man in my life."

    "Thompson, do not say that," she chided. "He loves you, and he wants to get to know you better. I want you to give him a chance. I think we owe him that at least."

    "We owe him shit!" Tommy shook his head. "I don't need a father, and I don't need to be banished to America. I don't believe you. I thought you understood. I thought that you cared!"

    "I do," she replied. "But I think having a man around...will do you some good. You need a father figure in your life. God only knows who you've been looking up to in that respect."

    "What are you saying?" He scowled. "Do me some good? What are you trying to do? What do you think I am?"

    "Maybe you're just confused..."

    "No!"  He shouted.  "I'm not.  Having my dad around is not going to make a difference.  I thought you knew that?  I told you; I'm bisexual.  I've always been, and I'm never going to be anything else. And I'm still going to love Richey no matter how far away you drag me! I am what I  am, and I want what I want, and all I want is to wake up and for someone to tell me that this is all the most horrifying nightmare I've ever had. But that's not going to happen is it?"

    "No it isn't, love." She shook her head sadly.  "It's a fine mess we're in, but your father offered to help..."

    "Forget him, I'll stay here!"  Tommy said.  "I'll get my own place, so I can stay with Richey!"

    "You cannot, and you will not," she said. "That is absolutely ridiculous. You aren't even sixteen, Tom! And it seems to me that all this boy has given you is trouble!"

    "I don't care!" Tommy yelled in frustration. "I don't fucking care. I love him, and you are not going to drag me half way across the world. I'm not going to American."

    "You're going," she said. "The decision has been made."

    "You didn't even ask me," he cried. "Fuck you." He stood from the couch, "I fucking hate you!"

    She watched helplessly from her vantage point as he fled the room and she began to cry.

--

    "You've got to get him to come over here." Tommy stood on Nigel's doorstep soaking wet from rain and hopping nervously from foot to foot.

    "I don't know," Nigel murmured. "I don't know if I want to get in the middle of this."

    "Please, Nige," he begged. "I need to see him. I need to know that he's okay."

    "Come on inside." Nigel wrapped an arm around his friend and led him to a seat in the parlor.

    There was no wasting words when Richard arrived after nearly an hour of Tommy waiting not saying a word to Nigel. He just sat on a chair with a look of abject misery adorning his features and slowly air drying while Nigel supplied him with hot cocoa and sat beside him. They didn't really need to talk. Nigel, in fact, was feeling rather uncomfortable around Tommy in the state of despair that seemed to have overtaken him. He was his friend, though, and he would stay by his side until Richard arrived.

    Nigel excused himself then, and the two young lovers collapsed into each other's arms and stood cheek to cheek in that parlor for nearly ten minutes before breaking the embrace.

    "I love you," Tommy whispered, staring up at Richard with his big brown eyes brimming with tears. "Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you ring?"

    "She wouldn't let me...she wouldn't let me go back to school, until...until she knew you didn't go there anymore. I'm so sorry, Toms," he sobbed. "She didn't even want me to come over here, because she knows you're friends with Nigel."

    "Don't be sorry," Tommy said. "Look on the bright side, love."

    "What's that?" He replied. "Me mum hates me even more now, and it's my fault. I left the door opened, I left the radio off. We should have gone to your flat like you wanted to. None of this would be happening if I wasn't so reckless."

    "Do not blame yourself." Tommy ran his fingers through Richard's impeccable hair, ruffling it out of place. "This is not our fault."

    "I want to kill myself," Richard sighed miserably. "I've ruined your life, and...I'm useless. There is no point to my existance."

    "I am the point to your existence," Tommy said quietly. "And the only way you'll ever ruin my life is if you go and do a selfish thing like that.  What's done is done, and we must accept it, I guess.  Just don't you do it, Richey.  Don't even say it to me.  Don't you fucking dare."

    "You're better off without me. My parents...they didn't even want me. What does anybody really care?"

    "I care," Tommy wailed. "You don't even seem to care that I care! You never seem to give a shit what I think. Do you even know how that makes me feel, Richard?"

    "I'm sorry," Richard grimaced. "I do care what you think. I do...but everybody else, people who control my life. It's like it's me against the world and maybe I feel like I'm wrong, and one person in my corner doesn't seem like it matters in the grand scheme of things."

    "So I don't even matter?"

    "That's not what I meant." Richard squirmed. "You know what I meant, but you will never know what it feels like."

    "I know what you've told me," Tommy replied.

    "We shouldn't have done the things we've done," Richard whispered. "I should have said no..."

    "No?" Tommy laughed. "You came on to me. You initiated nearly everything, Rich. You were so gaggin' for it, mate, and you can't deny it. Do not blame yourself.  It's only natural and you can't ingore it any more than you can ignore the weather that's pissin' down out there. And do you think that if I were a girl this would have happened? Yer dad would be giving you a hearty slap on the back and congratulations would be in order, right? So they're the ones who are wrong.  They're the ones with the problem and they are the ones to blame. They don't know right from wrong anymore than we do, Rich. We're kids though, so what can we do? They can keep us out of school, cut us off from the rest of society, send us away, or drag us off to America...but it will never be our fault. Never."

    "America?" Richard timidly replied. "What do you mean?"

    "My mum wants us to move in with my dad," he sighed. "She thinks I need a masculine role model in my life. I think she think's it's her fault. The way she raised me. I don't know."

    "Your dad lives in Nevada," Richard stated. He was shocked to say the least.  The thought of having Tommy so far away was unnerving. He wouldn't have anybody around to set him right when he went off the deep end. There would be nobody to love him. Nobody had ever been as there for him as Tommy was. Nobody had ever cared before.

    "That's, like halfway around the fucking world, Toms."

    "I know," he sighed with resignation. "What am I going to do in the middle of a fucking desert?"

    "You're really leaving?" Richard whispered.

    There wasn't a reply needed because the look on his face said it all. Richard hugged him again and Tommy lay his head on the taller boys shoulder.

    "I told mum I hated her, Rich," he said.

    "Oh, Toms," Richard lamented knowing full well the force of those words on a person. "She knows you didn't mean it."

    "But maybe I did mean it." Tommy looked up at him and held his gaze before kissing him. "Nobody's going to change the way I feel about you," he whispered intensely. "I've never felt love. Before you came along it was only a word and it didn't mean anything, but now I know. I know what it is now, Richard Michael."

    Nigel's reappearance startled them as he came barreling into the room.

    "You've got to get the fuck out of here now," he pointed at Tommy.

    "Why?" he asked.

    "Because Aunt Elizabeth just showed up," Nigel scowled. "That's why."

    "Richard blanched and Tommy sighed again. There was only time for a fleeting good bye kiss before Tommy was whisked away to the garden and sent scurrying home under the cover of the rainfall.

    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."

    Madeline watched with worry as father and son sized each other up for the first time since Paul's death.  Tommy had been preoccupied with grief at the time and they hadn't spoken much for that entire week.  The subsequent weekly phone calls that Tommy felt he had been forced to endure had never been more than pleasantries.  She was worried because of the circumstances that had brought them back to the United States though.  She was running again and she knew it.  All the excuses she had made up in her mind were not enough to change that, but she wanted to protect her son, and Steven had given them the chance at a new start.  So she ran, but she couldn't run away from Tommy, who sat beside her for that entire plane trip with his headphones blaring and his resentful glare tearing through her heart every time she tried to speak with him.  She knew, despite his seeming to come to terms with the move, that it was going to take a long time for him to forgive her, and she was willing, for the time being, to give him his space.

    Tommy had tried to ignore his father upon disembarking, but Steven was happy to see his son for only the second time since Madeline had moved him to England.  He gathered Tommy's slight frame up in his arms and hugged him, almost lifting him from the floor.

    "It's so good to see you, Tommy," he declared.  "It's been too long.  You've grown so much!"

    "Well, Steven," Tommy said carefully and deliberately, secretly pleased when he noticed that Steven had winced at his proper name being used instead of 'Dad'.  "You couldn't have expected me to stay ten years old forever, could you?"

    Madeline pulled Tommy away from his father and smiled nervously up at her ex.

    "Pardon him, Ste," she said.  "It's been a long trip.  He misses his friends."

    "It's okay, Mad."  He leaned in and gave her a short kiss on the cheek.  "I understand.  It's going to take some time to adjust."

    Tommy rolled his eyes from where he stood behind his mother.  He wished they wouldn't talk about him as if he weren't there. He pulled out his mobile as a distraction and thumbed it on.  He had messages from Nigel and Liam, but nothing from Richard.  He knew he shouldn't have been disappointed.  He had tried not to expect anything else, but he couldn't help it.

    "Ready to go, kiddo?"  Steven broke into Tommy's dismal thoughts about the possible states of depression Richard might have gotten himself into that might cause him not to ring.

    "Yeah." Tommy snapped his phone shut with a scowl.

    His mood did not improve as the newly reunited family made their way outside.  It was unfathomably bright.  The sky was clear and blue, and the landscape, to Tommy, seemed barren.  It was the type of thing he'd only seen in films and was in stark contrast to the city he'd left behind.  He sighed to himself as a gust of hot wind hit him.  This was not how his world was supposed to look.

    He checked his phone for messages again as his father drove around town giving his mother the grand tour.  Tommy only pretended to pay attention as Steven pointed out the high school, the casino resorts, and the golf courses.  He tried to make the dusty town seem exciting and interesting, but Tommy didn't see it.

    "And we're only an hour away from Vegas!"  He finally said and turned slightly in Tommy's direction as they waited at a red light.  "Maybe when you're old enough..."

    "Whatever."  Tommy grumbled.  He pulled the headphones that had been hanging around his neck over his ears and turned his music up as loudly as it would go.  He was in no mood to make small talk with his father, especially about any impending coming of age bonding trips to Las Vegas.  He shuddered to think of what such an exercise would involve as he was sure that he and his father's tastes were far divergent when it came to the entertainment possibilities of that city.  Had it been another time with any other person it might have been an interesting prospect.

    He sighed as he watched his mother lay a hand on his father's shoulder and whispered in his ear.  He knew she was advising him not to engage in conversation.  Tommy crossed his arms and another scowl formed.  He didn't want her to mediate.  He wanted his father to be uncomfortable.  He wanted them both to feel every inch of his resentment, because he didn't feel like forgiving either of them.

    There was a cactus in the front yard of the modest house that was to become Tommy's new home.  He regarded the spiny plant curiously and kicked at the pebbles that covered the yard.  There was nothing there that could conventionally be called grass.  As soon as he was shown his room, he slammed the door in his parent's faces and made a home amid the boxes of his belongings that had been shipped prior to their arrival.  He frowned at the amount of unpacking he was going to have to do.  It could wait though.  He called Nigel, who answered on the first ring, instead.

    "You made it!"  Nigel said excitedly.  "How's America?"

    "Uhh?"  Tommy laughed at his friend's exuberance.  "Well there's a cactus..."

    "Cool!"

    "Not cool, Nigel," Tommy grumbled.  "Cactus and dirt...so not cool."

    He could just about see Nigel's pensive face as he thought about how to answer.

    "Hey," he said softly.  "It's not Alabama."    
    
    "Yeah," Tommy huffed.  "It's not anything!  It's the fucking Mojave Desert.  You can not even fucking imagine it, Nigel.  I want to come home."

    "We want you back.  The band...Liam..."  his words faltered.

    Tommy frowned.  He poked at a box with his finger.  He didn't want to think about the band or what Liam had to do with anything.  Liam, despite acting like he always had better things to do than hanging out with his band mates, had called.  It was more than he could say for some people.

    "How's Richey?"

    "He hasn't called you?"

    "Don't sound so surprised," Tommy replied.  "He's never going to, is he?"

    "Tom..."

    "We both know he won't, so don't try to comfort me.  Just tell me how he is."

    "I don't know.  Haven't seen him."

    "He needs a friend," Tommy murmured.  "Just...take care of him for me, okay, and let me know what's going on."

    "Yeah," Nigel said.  "You're right.  I will."

    "Okay,"  Tommy replied softly, seemingly satisfied with the answer.  "Look, I'm going to sleep now, okay?  It was a really long flight.  Talk to you later?"

    "Yep," Nigel confirmed.  "Bye, Tom."

    "Bye."

    Tommy stared at his mobile once they had bid their goodbyes.  He scowled again and tossed the device on his bed then followed it with a sigh.

    ***

    His school days were lonely and desolate once they started.  He had always had friends at school, even when he had attended public school.  To be in a strange town in a foreign country was at once terrifying and exciting.  He was made to stand up in front of his classes and introduce himself, and he was painfully aware of how different he was in comparison to the peers that stared back at him, from the cut of his hair, to the clothes he was wearing to the most obvious point of all...his accent.  He hid his fright at the situation behind a cocky swagger that won him a few curious admirers and just as many enemies.  Friends seemed to be out of the question.  Those that did like him only seemed to be intrigued by his nationality.  Those that didn't, objected to his carefully crafted attitude of nonchalance or his habit of wearing occasional eyeliner, plucking his eyebrows into a perfectly manicured arch, and wearing tight T-shirts.  The gay rumors started almost as soon as he hit the door on his first day.  The weeks seemed to tick by ever more slowly as he entertained the small group that had attached themselves to him with grand stories of how awesome England was.  His detractors he only regarded with smirking superiority as he passed them in the corridors.  He tried not to provoke them too much and did his best to ignore them, but ignoring them never had been a strong point with him.  What was worse was having to go home and pretend everything was alright to his parents and then retire to his room where he could cry away the day's insults as he listened to his favorite Eutectic album in solitude.

  Richard wasn't there, and he wouldn't even call.  Tommy didn't know how he was going to make it through his American experience.  He didn't think he could do it alone; he didn't think he was that strong.

  Those first few weeks were a miserable pattern of going to school, pretending to be confident, then coming home and falling apart behind closed doors.  It made him tired and irritable, and it made his parents worried.  He would barely speak to them.  He would barely eat.  Steven suggested therapy.  Madeline suggested time and space.  Then they would argue about what trouble time and space had caused in the first place.

  Tommy realized he had to do something to break the horrible monotony of his new life.  He skipped study period one day and went to lunch early instead.  That was where he met Graeme Alexander.

***

   He was reading a book alone outside underneath a palm tree, and he was wearing a Eutectic shirt.  Tommy was immediately drawn to him and could only hope that the shirt wasn't just some kind of random fashion statement, but maybe it meant he might be on the verge of meeting somebody that he actually had something in common with.

    "Is anybody sitting here?"  He gestured towards a spot on the ground next to Graeme.

    Graeme looked up from his reading material curiously as he swept the long fringe of hair that covered his eyes back behind his ear.  He glance towards the spot then towards Tommy again with a slight grin.  It was a enough to reveal the dimples in his cheeks and Tommy fought hard to keep the blush from rising to his face.

    "Unless the invisible man recently enrolled, I'm pretty sure there isn't," he said.

     Tommy smirked back at him, well aware that it was a joke as there was no malice behind the sarcasm.  He chuckled and sat down.

    "What are you reading?"  he asked.

    "A Lost Lady, by Willa Cather," Graeme declared.  "I don't get it.  Honors English isn't what it's cracked up to be."

    "Nah," Tommy replied.  "Nothing ever is."

    "So, what's your name?"  Graeme asked.

     "I'm Tom Sinclair." Tommy offered his hand with a smile. His arms had a couple bands of gaffer tape around them.  It had no particular reason for being there at that moment other than it tended to drive adults crazy for some reason.

    "Graeme Alexander."  The other boy shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes before shaking Tommy's hand firmly. "You're not from around here." He brushed his hair back once again and apologized for it's unruliness.  "It has a mind of it's own," he said.

    "It's so mod," Tommy noted with a sly grin.

    "Really?" Graeme grinned back. It was the widest smile Tommy had ever witnessed.

    "Because that's what I was going for," Graeme continued then confessed, "Actually, I like to call it the 'exasperate your parents and chase away all the girls' haircut, but I like it. So fuck 'em."

    "Good idea," Tommy said. "I might try it, except I've exasperated my parents enough. Look at my punishment." He made a sweeping gesture towards his surroundings and sighed.  He didn't think he was ever going to get used to the wide opened spaces, the dust and the dirt, or the strange angular flora.

    "You're from the UK?" Graeme questioned.

    "England, London, yeah," Tommy supplied.

    "Sounds like a blast!" Graeme looked wistfully out on the Nevadan landscape. "Why in the good Lord Almighty's name are you in Mesquite, Nevada then?"

    Tommy grimaced.  "Unmittigating circumstances."

     He didn't want to get into it with Graeme, and Graeme, to his credit, didn't press the issue.

    "Well, welcome to suckville," Graeme announced. "It doesn't get any better than this...unfortunately.

    Tommy giggled slightly.  "So you're not impressed by the Resorts?  The Golf Courses?"

    "It's not Vegas," Graeme replied.  "Hell, it's not even Laughlin!"

    Tommy chuckled, but said nothing, leaving the conversation to Graeme.

    "I haven't seen you around," Graeme said. "Is this your first day in the Enchanted land of Oz?"

    "Nah, I usually don't eat this period," Tommy shrugged. "I decided to eat a bit early today."

    "Oh, you just decided that, did you?"

    "Yea. It's a study period anyway." Tommy grinned. "What? Does that violate your moral standards, because if your standards are that high...I might as well be leaving now, because I'll never be able to live up to them!"

    Graeme laughed, "No. I don't care. Aren't you worried about being caught?"

    Tommy shrugged, "No, I just needed some time away from all these brain dead fucking arseholes that follow me around all day."

    "Yea, I have that problem too." Graeme rolled his eyes.

    "So, you like Eutectic?" Tommy nodded towards Graeme's shirt.

    "Oh, yea!" Graeme replied enthusiastically. "They're one of my favorite bands."

    "Me too," Tommy said.

    They continued their lunch and conversation until the bell rang.  As it turned out they at least had similar musical tastes, which Tommy was grateful for.  Besides that, Graeme seemed like he might actually be fun.  They parted with plans to meet the next morning and ride to school together.  Graeme had just gotten his license and a new used car from the lot that his father owned.

***

  Dinner that night was a quiet affair, as were most dinners in the Sinclair household.  They were seated around the dining room table despite the casual affair: a weeknight meal of pizza.  Madeline insisted on having "Family Time."  One hour per day she sat them down at the table over take out or her attempts at cooking and she asked them about their days.  Steven tried his best to get Tommy interested in the garage where he worked, but his father's enthusiasm about engines only made Tommy roll his eyes, despite his best efforts not to.  Then Madeline would ask Tommy what he did in school and he would reply that he did nothing.

    He wouldn't tell her that he got called names.  He wouldn't tell her that he skipped study period, and he wouldn't tell her how he felt.  He didn't think he would ever again.

    He did have something to say when Madeline asked how school was that night though.  He couldn't avoid it.

    "Yeah," he said in reply to her query.  "I'm not going to need a ride to school tomorrow, Steve."  He looked wickedly up at his father, who's mouth was drawn in a thin, hard line.  He didn't find Tommy's insistence on using his first name amusing at all.  He hadn't said anything about it though.

    "Why not?" he said through clenched teeth.  Madeline only sat by and fidgeted nervously as her gaze flicked between the two men in her life.

    "My friend's going to pick me up," he said with a shrug. He returned to concentrating on his pizza as he let his announcement sink in.

    "Who is this friend?" Madeline finally replied.  The worry was apparent in her voice.

    "His name's Graeme," Tommy said.

    "And he has a driver's license?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied pointedly.  "He got it as soon as he turned sixteen.  His dad owns that one used car dealership."

    "Maybe I don't want you riding around with someone who just got their license," she said.

    "Why not?  What the hell is he going to run into?  There's nothing here!"

    "Watch your language, son," Steven spoke up, effectively silencing any reply Madeline had.

    Tommy briefly thought about letting fly another sarcastic reply.  It wouldn't do any good though.  He'd eavesdropped on their conversations about him before.  He didn't want to go into therapy.

    "Sorry..." He replied instead, and turned his defiant gaze towards his half eaten slice of pizza.  "I thought you guys wanted me to make friends?"

    "We do, but..."  Madeline started to speak, but suddenly stopped and looked at Steven.  She struggled for a moment with how to put her worry into words without alerting him to their son's sexuality.  She had promised she wouldn't tell until Tommy was ready.

    "I'm going to meet him before things get out of hand, alright?" she said pointedly.

    Tommy only glared at her.  He got her meaning well enough and didn't think it was even worth a reply.

    "May I be excused?" He replied instead

    "You've barely eaten," Steven said.

    Madeline lay an arm on his hand and shushed him.  Then she nodded permission towards Tommy.  He stood up, thanked his father for the pizza and trudged upstairs.  He suddenly wasn't feeling well.  That was what he told himself as he diverted his path from his room towards the bathroom.

    The next day dawned hot and bright. Tommy yawned as the light from the sun streamed in through his blinds waking him from a peaceful slumber before his alarm even went off. He didn't want to get out of bed. He never did.  As far as he was concerned he had absolutely no reason.  There was nothing to look forward to. He was in a desert. It was hot, he was without Richard, and he was in the closet. The closet.  It wasn't a place he liked being, and he'd never bothered with it before Richard, but there was no way he was ever going to tell his father. The man was such a...man, and school wasn't exactly a friendly environment.  That day held a bit of promise however, Graeme was picking him up. He took care of his morning business and sauntered down the stairs for breakfast.

    He couldn't help but notice that his father was staring at him.  He'd stared at him every morning for weeks as if he had something he wanted to say but he didn't dare say it.
    
    "What?" Tommy snapped.

    "Nothing," Steven replied. "Are you wearing make up?"

     And it was out.

    "I am," Tommy said as he slurped down his cereal. He didn't want to discuss anything with his father let alone the way he was dressed or anything that might indirectly lead to his sexual orientation. He wasn't ready to share that with the father, and he wasn't quite sure he would be able to keep his mouth shut about it if directly asked.  He never had been good at it before.

    "Look, it's almost 1996, Steve-O," Tommy informed him.  He concentrated on being sarcastic in hopes that it would mask any honesty that might happen to fumble out of his lips.  "Get over it." He turned his nose up at Steven, jumped from the table, and dumped his plate in the sink.

    "Come on, son. You don't want anyone think you're..."

    "A big homo?" Tommy offered what he knew his father was thinking then shrugged. "So what if they do? They are not my problem, and they certainly aren't yours."

    "Okay." Steven relented. "I just wish you would talk to me."

    "You want to talk? You can call somebody who cares." Tommy brushed past the man and out the front door to wait for his new friend.  He was angry, because he couldn't flat out deny it.  He didn't want to, but it would have made things easier.  He'd wanted to at least steer the conversation away from it, but he'd jumped right in it instead.  He tugged at his hair in frustration.  His life was becoming so much more complicated than he had ever anticipated.  He wished he could talk to his father.  Anything he had to say couldn't possibly have throw his life into further ruin.  It was already crumbling down everywhere around him.  one more bulldozer couldn't have done much more damage.

    Graeme pulled into the driveway then, interrupting Tommy's thoughts.  Graeme had purchased his car from his father's used car lot. Apparently he'd received the worst car available. Graeme scrambled out of his station wagon to unlock the passenger side for Tommy.

    "Doesn't work from the inside," he explained as Tommy climbed in. Graeme cursed as the driver side door that he'd left opened slammed shut due to a gust of wind.  Tommy had been surprised when he'd first arrived at just how windy it was in the desert.  Graeme only stood there holding the passenger door open and looking contemplatively towards the driver side then down at Tommy.  He sighed with weary resignation finally and ducked into the passenger opening where he proceeded to climb over Tommy's lap and into the driver's seat from there.

    "This one doesn't unlock from the outside," he apologized. "I know it's a piece, sorry about the lap dance. I should have warned you."

    "Is that a CD player?" Tommy changed the subject as he spied the gigantic piece of electronics protruding from the dashboard. The truth was, he was feeling a bit flustered after being crawled over. Graeme wasn't a bad looking guy, not really Tommy's type, but that really didn't matter when you were a horny sixteen year old. He knew he was going to have to tell if they were going to remain any sort of friends.  He wouldn't be able to continue if he kept blushing to the roots of his hair every time Graeme laid a friendly hand on him.

    "Yea, it's probably ten years old!" Graeme nodded enthusiastically, thankfully unaware of Tommy's discomfort. "My brother's car has an 8-track in it. It's totally sweet, dude." He pushed a few buttons on the console and the strains of Eutectic filled the wagon.

    "I hope this musical choice isn't for my benefit." Tommy smiled.  He never thought he'd find another person within a hundred miles of Mesquite, Nevada who liked Eutectic.

    "Of course it is," Graeme scoffed a reply and tossed his hair from his face. "I'm trying to impress you. Is it working?"

    "Yeah!" Tommy's grin was undeniable then, as was the blush.  He wasn't so sure Graeme would be trying to impress him if he knew he was queer.  He hated the uncertainty of not knowing how people were going to react.  His friends had been the best back home, but he'd only just met Graeme the day before.  He didn't really know him at all.  It could all go wrong the instant he found out.

    They pulled into the school parking lot singing along and grinning like idiots at the people who stopped and stared at them. It had been a nice and carefree moment and for once Tommy's  mind was taken away from Richard, and London, and worrying about what the Nevadans were going to think of him.

    "Graeme," Tommy said, causing his companion to pause.  He wanted to tell him.  He wanted to spill everything right there in the parking lot before things got out of hand and before he got too attached to his new friend.  It was potential social suicide there at school, he knew.  Graeme could tell everybody that the rumors were true.

    "What's up, Sport?" He asked when there was no immediate response.

    "First off, don't you ever call me that again." Tommy eyed him. "That is the last nick I need to have attached to me. I'm not anybody's sport."

    "You're right," Graeme admitted solemnly. "Kiddo."

    "I'm serious!" Tommy replied.

    "Did you want to tell me something?" Graeme asked as the car lapsed into silence  once again.

    "Nah." Tommy shrugged.  The words he had wanted to say stayed jumbled up in his brain, and short of blurting it out like a People magazine headline, those words were not arranging themselves in any reasonable order.  He settled for telling Graeme that he would see him at lunch time.  He figured that would give him enough time to work up his nerve and prepare a few coherent sentences to explain himself.

    He got out of the car then and stood there looking up at the big sky.  He wasn't ready to lose his friend.  He heaved a heavy sigh and painted on a smile as Graeme joined him and they walked together towards the school entrance.

--

    The words had not arrived that day, nor did they bother to show up in the subsequent weeks.  When he did say them, Graeme wasn't the first person to hear them.  They had only come to him after a discussion in health class had turned ugly and unruly.  He'd mounted a rather vehement defense against the homophobic and misinformed opinions of the masses which left him open to attack himself.  He didn't bother to deny the accusations, he only confirmed to an entire classroom that no, he was not straight, only to be assailed by further verbal abuse.   Even thought the teacher had subsequently sent half the class off to the principal's office, Tommy stayed standing as the remainder of his peers stared curiously at him like some kind of freakish curiosity.  It hit him hard, as he was vulnerable, and he didn't want to cry in front of them.  The teacher noted his desperate look of distress and sent him to sort it out  in the nurse's office.

      Tommy, however, didn't bother with the nurse's office.  There was only one person he wanted to see, because he had to talk to him before the students started talking.

     Tommy arrived at Graeme's English class that afternoon.  He walked stiffly towards the teacher, flashed the hall pass that his health teacher had given him and lied that it was a summons to the office for Graeme Alexander.  The teacher, it seemed, had no problems believing his ruse.  She was busy grading papers while the class quietly sat at their desks and read from their F. Scott Fitzgerald novels.

        "Graeme Alexander!" The dowdy teacher announced. "You're needed in the office."

    Graeme looked up from his novel in a flustered manner before scrambling from his seat and joining Tommy as he shuffled from classroom.

    "What's going on?" Graeme asked as he stared down at the note. It was on official paper, but Tommy's name was written across it.

    "Nothing." Tommy shrugged. "My day has just turned shit, however."

    "Oh, nice," Graeme replied distastefully. "But what's with the note? What's it for?"

    "It's for you to get out of class so you can make me feel better about all the closed minded bigots that pass for students in this school," Tommy informed him.

    "This note is for you to go to the nurses office," Graeme replied.  "You just...got me out of class with it.  Damn.  I didn't know it was that easy.  You're good at this sort of thing, aren't you?"

    Tommy looked back at his friend impatiently. "Have I violated your moral code yet again?"

    "No, it's just..." Graeme smiled. "Jesus, Tom, you just don't look like the type of person who skips classes and cons teachers.  I dunno."

    "Well, that's not the least of it. I'm afraid there's a whole lot about me that would surprise a lot of people," Tommy admitted. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, and seemed unsure of how to best to approach what he was going to say next.

    "God, I could use a fag," he finally announced.

    Graeme's eyes popped opened. "A what?"

    "A fag?"  Tommy sighed again.  "A cigarette," he explained. He motioned Graeme to follow him into the nearest restroom as a secretary turned down the hallway.

    "Do you want one?" Tommy exhumed a pack of Marlboros from inside his shirt where he'd hidden them.

    "Oh, No, I don't smoke," Graeme declined.

    "You don't do much. Do you?" Tommy expertly lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

    "Oh, please!" Graeme snorted disbelief, even though he knew that he was generally pretty square. He never went anywhere and he never did anything, and he led a boring and predictable life. That was the way he liked it he kept telling himself.

    "Do you drink?" Tommy asked, and Graeme shook his head in a negative fashion.

    "You're probably still a virgin," Tommy continued to egg his companion on. He knew he was trying to chase Graeme away.  It would have been a better option than watching  him walk away on his own.

    Graeme shook his head. "I'm not!"

        "Ah, well, there you have it." Tommy nodded in satisfaction. "There had to be something to keep you from teetering over the edge straight into loserdom."

        "I'm not a fucking loser," Graeme grumbled. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

        Tommy apologized, "I didn't mean it."

        "Should I be grateful then?" Graeme rolled his eyes. "I don't get it. You've could have tons of friends if you wanted.  Everybody likes you. What?  Do you think you're doing me a favor, making me cool by association? Well, I don't need to play these stupid high school games."

    "Some people aren't going to like me too much after today." Tommy leaned against the wall and tapped his cigarette, leaving a small pile of ash on the floor.

        "Well, if you've been as insulting as you're being right now, it's no wonder," Graeme muttered.

        "Stop it. I said I was sorry." Tommy glared at him. "Look, I've just...I've got something important to tell you."

        "Fine." Graeme crossed his arms and waited.

       "You know what they say about me?"

        "No," Graeme replied.

        "I know you do.  You have ears," Tommy replied.  "You don't have to spare my feelings.  People call me names.  They think I'm gay because of the way I look."

        "So what?"  Graeme said.  "You look fine.  Who cares what they think anyway?  They're douchebags.  Just because you wear eye..."

        "Shut-up!"  Tommy snapped.  "I'm not gay, but I am bisexual."

        "Oh," Graeme said.

        "I mean, shit. I didn't want to just dump this right on you. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but I thought you should know before you find out from someone else." Tommy turned to stare at the floor.  He wondered why he couldn't just go on and live his life instead of being forced into situations where he had no choice to tell people in some sort of strident declaration.  He was feeling uncomfortable about it for the first time in a long time.

        "Ok, then." Graeme shrugged.  It wasn't a particularly shocking thing that he had never considered.  Like Tommy had said, there had been talk almost as soon as he set foot on Virgin Valley High School soil.  The only thing that Graeme really knew was that he'd been having a good time since Tommy had walked into his life.  He was a friend worth having, and Graeme wasn't about to lose that for any reason.

        "You don't care?" Tommy asked.

        "Not unless you're planning on seducing me!" Graeme looked around the bathroom. "Because that's not happening, I'll tell you right now."

        Tommy laughed. "You give yourself too much credit."

        "So, what happened?" Graeme asked, curious as to what driven Tommy out of the closet.
 
        "Health class," Tommy muttered. "I just can't keep my gob shut in the face of misinformation. People are fucking ignorant, and I don't care who knows about it. They just, really. They were being pretty awful.  We were just talking about stuff, and one thing led to another.  Are you really going to make me talk about it?"

        "Nah.  I'm sorry," Graeme replied.

        "Don't have to apologize to me," Tommy said.

        He cocked his head to one side before stepping into a stall and tossing the cigarette into the toilet. He flushed it away, and a few moments later one of the school administrators entered the room.

        "What's going on in here? Have you been smoking?" He accused, staring directly at Tommy.

        "Smoking?" Tommy batted his eyelashes innocently.

        "I'm just in here because I had to pee," Graeme said.

        Mr. Fitz ignored Graeme and stalked towards Tommy.

        "Listen here, young man." He shook his finger in Tommy's general direction. "I know you do things different over there in Europe, but this is America and when you're in Virgin Valley High School you are to follow the rules."

        "Yes, sir." Tommy pointed his gaze respectfully at the ground. It was a pose he was all too familiar with when dealing with administrators.

        "And you!"  He spun towards Graeme. "Watch yourself. You're one of the good kids."

        "Yes, Mr. Fitz," Graeme replied politely even though he was perplexed by his superior's comment.  He hadn't considered himself one of the good kids at all, and if he was, he wasn't sure he wanted to be one.

--

        "You should come over for dinner," Graeme said as he drove back towards the suburbs after a long diversion to the salon. Tommy had insisted on redoing his hair, and was peering into the visor mirror, shaking his head and running his fingers through his new do. It had gone from long and dark to shorter and blonde.

        "What you having?" Tommy asked.

        Graeme glanced over at his passenger. "Tacos."

        "Tacos?" Tommy looked over from the mirror. "You know I don't think I've ever had a taco."

        "Are you shitting me?" Graeme exclaimed. "Well, that clinches it, you're coming over. My mom makes the best fucking tacos in Nevada."

        Tommy smiled. "I guess that's an offer I can't refuse then, eh?"

        "Nope." Graeme nodded.

        "You like this?" Tommy turned his attention back to his hair. "I mean, it's not too blonde is it?"

        Graeme glanced over. "Dude, I don't give a shit about your hair."

        "You don't?"  Tommy grinned slyly at him.  "You aren't trying to overcompensate by feigning disinterest in my fashion sense are you?"

        Graeme laughed.  "No, you're right.  Honestly?"

        "I'm not going to think you're hitting on me if you say you like it, Graeme.  It doesn't work that way."

        "Okay."  Graeme's ever present grin widened.  "Well, I was skeptical at first, but you were right.  You look good as a blonde."

        "Thank you for the compliment," Tommy replied.

        "Now, it's my turn to ask a question," Graeme said.

        Tommy sighed heavily.  He knew there were questions coming.  There usually were.

        "Go ahead, ask.  I'm an open book.  I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

        "Okay," Graeme replied.  "How the hell have you never eaten a taco before now?"

        Tommy laughed out loud in shock.  It was the last thing he was expecting Graeme to ask.

        "You don't want to know about..."

        "The whole bisexual thing?"  Graeme arched an eyebrow at him.  "Well, I think I'm smart enough to figure out how guy on guy action would work pretty much, and I know how it works with a girl.  You've already cleared up the fact that you won't be hitting on me, so what's there to ask?  Seriously, the other thing is way more perplexing."

        Tommy laughed again then answered.

        "It's not really my mother's ethnic food of choice.  There just never was the occasion."

        "Okay," Graeme said resolutely.  "You can consider this your first Fiesta then!"

    Tommy sat at the table staring quizzically at the taco. He poked it with his index finger and it left a slick greasy residue behind. He'd never seen a taco looking quite so unhealthy for him. He picked it up and took an intrepid bite, and then took another.

    "Good, huh?" Graeme asked.

    Tommy nodded emphatically and continued eating. It felt good not being at home for a night. There were no odd  silences to fill and no instant dinners.  His mother hadn't cooked a decent homemade meal as far back as Tommy could remember.

    Guy blustered in late, as usual. He was wearing torn jeans and a motley-crue t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His light brown hair had been carefully arranged in a spiked pattern around his head. He had two piercings in his right eyebrow and numerous visible tattoos. He leaned over and brushed his lips against his mother's cheek as a greeting  accompanied with a, "Hi Mom," before sitting down.

    "Don't tell me you two adopted another kid while I was gone."  Guy noted Tommy and addressed his parents.

    "This is your brother's friend from school," his father replied brusquely.

    "Graeme has friends?"  Guy arched an eyebrow at his brother who rolled his own eyes dramatically then grinned at him and shook his head.

    "This is Tommy," Graeme said.

    Tommy nodded between polite forkfuls of refried beans. He found them utterly nauseating, but had set himself to finish them anyway. It was the nice thing to do.

    "Tommy is from London.  The one in England," Romey Alexander said brightly. "Isn't that fascinating?"

    "A lot of people come from London; it's a big city," Guy pointed out, which prompted Tommy to stifle an upwelling chortle.

    "But none of them live in Mesquite, Nevada," Romey replied pleasantly.

    "Actually, I find myself fascinating quite often," Tommy contributed.

    Guy's eyes popped open at Tommy's particular wording, then he grinned as wide as Graeme and chuckled in return.

    "Yeah," Graeme vouched for his friend. "Just the other day I was asking him, 'Tom, why do you find yourself so fascinating?' And can you guess what he said?"

    "Because I'm from London?" Guy ventured a guess while looking sideways at his mother.  Any other inappropriate answers would have to be squashed while she was sitting there.

    "Ex-actly," Tommy confirmed with a wide grin.

    Romey dissolved into giggles, her face forming into fine wrinkles. She must have been very pretty once, but many years and six boys later she was starting to show a little wear and tear. She wouldn't have done a thing differently, however. She loved all her boys, and she was proud of every single one of them.

    "You don't have to make fun of your poor old mother, now," she said good-naturedly.

    The boys started to giggle along with her and they all found themselves silly with laughter. The father read the newspaper and ignored them.

****

    "Your mum is sweet," Tommy declared as he sat on Graeme's bedroom floor exploring the many mismatched CD towers that inhabited the space. His exploration was occasionally punctuated with Oohs and Aahs, and intermittent grunts of displeasure.

    "I know," Graeme admitted. "I wouldn't want any other one. I'm a self proclaimed mamma's boy, and I don't care who knows it." He lay on his back on his bed reading an issue of The Big Take Over.

    "We should introduce her to my mum.  They'd get along well I'd think."  His mother could use some friends, he reasoned in his mind.  If she had friends to occupy her time, perhaps she wouldn't spend as much of it trying to force he and his father together.  Tommy decided on the Charlatans and slapped an album into the tray of Graeme's CD player.

    "Well, she's having a Tupperware party next Thursday. Tell your mom to come over. She could make some friends and buy microwave safe plastic dishes at the same time," Graeme offered.

    "She wouldn't mind?" Tommy asked.

    "Shit, no," was the emphatic answer. "She gets credit for every sale that's made anyway. The more the merrier, I'd say. We could get those free Jell-O molds if she sells enough, and you know how I love Jell-O"

    Tommy chuckled.  He really had no idea about Graeme's Jell-O preferences, but he did appreciate the offer.

    "I'll tell her then. I think she's lonely for a bit more womanly company." Tommy decided to crank up the stereo as he clicked to the track he wanted to hear. Graeme started to sing along, he knew the words. Tommy didn't remember most of them and ended up replacing them with a bunch of "Las". The harmonic result was surprising.

    Guy poked his head up through the attic entrance in the floor. He shouted at Graeme, and Tommy turned down the music.

    "Were you going to help me lay down that track tonight?" Guy asked his brother who shrugged and looked towards Tommy.

    "You've got a studio?" Tommy's round eyes opened wide in excitement.

    "Well, it's sort of makeshift," Guy said trying to keep from sounding too proud. "It's in the former garage. Built it myself. I don't have the most top of the line equipment, but it works and it's fun."

    "Don't let him fool you." Graeme sat up. "It's nice. He soundproofed it and everything.  You've had some good quality recordings from that room. Too bad your band is shitty."

    "Ha, Ha," Guy rolled his eyes. "Really, it's just for my own personal amusement. I have no designs of being a rock star."

    Tommy eyed Graeme's brother and thought that contrary was true, and it was just severe lack of opportunity that led to Guy's lack of rock stardom. That and an apparently shitty band.

    "Well, C'mon then." Tommy stood up. "You can't possibly sit on your arse and read a magazine when there's music to be made."

    "Oh, you obviously you haven't met Graeme," Guy said with a laugh. "He could sit on his arse and read a magazine in a  hurricane."

***
    
    "Fascinating," Tommy declared when they'd finished what he was told would be an instrumental. Graeme had been playing a violin serviceably, though it was obviously not his instrument of choice.

    "Where did you learn to play?" Tommy asked. He was seated upon an old couch.

    Graeme shrugged. "Orchestra class.

    "Now, he's Mr. Modesty." Guy rolled his eyes. "They boy is a musical genius. He can play damn near anything that you can throw at him."

    "Anybody can 'play' anything," Graeme said, finger quotes around the word play. "It doesn't mean that it sounds good. I play a lot of things badly. I'm not a genius."

    "Yeah, but you can fucking play the guitar," Guy pointed out. "You can sit there and tell me you're bad at that."

    Graeme blushed. He didn't like when people threw down compliments in his direction. He didn't think he was at all worthy of it, and he didn't know how to react to it beyond a polite "thank you".  He wasn't sure of how he was expected to respond, and he would have rather wallowed in the anonymity of mediocrity if that meant he could avoid the embarrassment of gratuitous praise.

    "Why didn't you tell me you played?" Tommy asked.

    "You didn't ask." Graeme frowned. "It never came up."

    "Eh, I was telling you about my band?" Tommy noted the unwarranted look of mortification that settled on Graeme's face and decided to let it go.

    "You were in a band?" Guy made himself comfortable in an old folding chair. He was obviously interested in what Tommy had to  say.

    "Oh, yeah," Tommy replied. "We're pretty good."

    "What'd you play?" Guy asked.

    "Rhythm guitar, lead vocals," Tommy supplied.

    "You can sing?" Guy grinned mischievously.

    "If he offers you a spot in his band," Graeme warned, thankful that the spotlight had shifted away from him. "Don't take it."

******

    "I've invited someone to sit with us at lunch," Tommy informed Graeme later that week. It was the second quarter and Tommy had a habit of taking his lunch during his study period, and then taking it again the next period. Nobody in authority ever  seemed to notice that he'd go missing after roll call.

    "Who?" Graeme asked suspiciously. He'd gotten used to the fact that whatever Tommy got whatever he wanted usually, and didn't bother to even protest.  He usually had no problem going along with Tommy anyway.

    "Hope Candella," was the proud reply. "I really like her.  She eats lunch this period."

    "Hope?" Graeme stopped in his tracks as they walked down the hall. It was obvious that he'd suddenly become rather distressed. "Why would you invite Hope? How do you even know that girl?"

    Tommy regarded his companion curiously. "What do you mean? She's in my health class. What is your problem? I like her, she's nice."

    "If I didn't know better I'd think you like her like her," Graeme snorted.

    "I do like her," Tommy said rather taken aback by his friend's adverse reaction. "I just said I did, like, four times, didn't I?"

    "Well..." Graeme shifted uncomfortably. "Isn't there some hot guy you'd rather be getting it on with? Or something?"

    "Graeme, I have not found a man in this god forsaken place that I would ever be attracted to in a million years, if that's what you mean." Tommy frowned. "What did she ever do to you? She's not your ex-girlfriend is she?"

    "No," Graeme scoffed at the idea. "She's an Army brat, you know. She'll probably be moving away in a couple months, it's probably best not to get involved."

    "All relationships don't involve getting involved," Tommy said.

    "Yeah, that's a beautiful sentiment, Tom." Graeme rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Hope feels the same way about that?  Her father is a Chaplain!"

    "You never know until you try," Tommy stated. "Her father being a Chaplain?  All the more reason for her to go out with a guy like me."

    "Well, I don't think she'll go out with you," Graeme replied.

    "Why not?" Tommy asked, genuinely curious to hear the reasoning behind that statement.

    "Because of me," Graeme muttered.

    Tommy chucked. "You think she fancies you, do you?"

    "No," Graeme spat. "Look, I don't even want to talk about this, can we just go find a spot?"

****

    Tommy agreed that it was a wise idea to discontinue the conversation since it appeared that it was going to start going around in a big circle. So they found a spot under the tree in the courtyard and were shortly joined my military brat, Hope Candella.

    Hope was quite surprised and nervous to find Graeme was to be eating lunch with them.

    "Eutectic is releasing a live album," Graeme said as he ignored Hope's attempts to speak to him, not even acknowledging her presence long enough to say hello. "Also, Lunar Transmission is coming to Vegas, man."

    "I told you, I'm not really that keen on Lunar Transmission." Tommy grinned at him.

    "C'mon, they're good," Graeme admonished.

    "Flash in the pan," Tommy asserted. "I mean, they're all over Britain, Mate. I'd have to say I'm well sick of the press  wanking over them."

    "Oh, please." Graeme rolled his eyes. "It's just another case of the overwhelming hype monster bestowing unlivable expectations upon new bands. I think they're great."

"Granted." Tommy nodded. "It doesn't make me think they're great. I think their album was overproduced, and you're right; I expect more from a band that is on the cover of the NME every other day. I expect something a bit special."

    "Fine." Graeme shrugged.  "Have it your way, but I'm still dragging you to Vegas with me."

    Tommy sighed.  "You are going to make me spend an entire evening in Vegas with you watching a band I don't even like?  Who are they playing with?"

    "Step Tomas," Graeme supplied. "I haven't heard of them."

    "Me either." Tommy shrugged. "I guess I'll go."

    "I don't see why you should go," Hope spoke up from her spot even though she'd never heard of either band and couldn't pass judgment on their musical merits.

    "I mean," she continued, "If you don't like the band, why spend your money and waste your time?"
    
    They both stared at her as if she were speaking another language.  She glanced nervously at her hands and shrugged.

    "Sometimes, the music isn't what it's about." Tommy took pity on her confusion and answered her question.  "They could put on a stellar live show, I don't know, I've never seen them, and sometimes that's all I might need to change my opinion.  Besides, If Graeme wants some company, then it'll probably be fun, cos he's my best mate around here, and he's always good fun."

    "Still seems like a waste of money," she persisted.

    "You can't put a price on good times with your friends." Tommy said.

    "I didn't know you two were friends." She looked from Graeme to Tommy and back again. "I haven't spoken to you since last year." She addressed Graeme. "How have you been?"

    "Fine," Graeme spoke.  By the cautious tone of  voice and the look in his eye, Tommy could tell that Graeme was leery of the girl.

    "I've been trying to convince Tom here to come to a meeting," she said. "You think it's a good idea, right, G?"

    "A Meeting?" Graeme eyed her. "What like AA? He could use that. Have you ever seen him toss 'em back? He fuckin' drinks Guy under the table and that takes some doin'"

    "No, dumbass!" She rolled her eyes. "GSA, Gay Straight Student Alliance."

    "Oh," Graeme said. "Well, I don't know."

    "I'm not doing it, Hope, I told you," Tommy said. "I'm perfectly happy with myself. I don't need to be in a club."

    "Well, maybe you could help someone who's not," she snipped at him.

    "Yeah, and maybe I'll sprout wings and fly too," he replied and handed her half of his sandwich.  "And as far as I know, there are no actual gay people in your little alliance."

    "Yuh-huh," Hope replied as her head bobbed up and down.  "There's Andrea, and Jennifer, and Tawney..."

    "Tawney?"  Tommy interrupted her.  "Who names their kid Tawney?"

    "A stripper," Graeme replied.  They both laughed.

    "Stop it, guys," Hope chastised them.  "She doesn't like it when people make fun her name, and you're one to talk."  She pointed at Tommy

    He frowned and stuck his tongue out at her, then held up a hand without looking towards Graeme in order to fend off the impending query.  He lowered his hand  just as quickly and looked into Graeme's questioning eyes.  There was no use trying to hide it, Graeme would pry it out of him sooner, rather than later.

    "Thompson Rutherford," he said.  "My first name is a last name, and my middle name is just terrible.  Laugh now, or forever hold your peace."

    Graeme didn't laugh.  Instead he clapped Tommy on the back and smiled and declared that it was a pretty cool name.

    "Thompson, much better than 'sport'," he said.

     Hearing his full name uttered from Graeme's mouth, innocent as it had been, brought back a rush of memories.  There was only one other boy who had ever called him that and the thought of him made Tommy feel like he had a vise clamp slowly crushing his heart.  He felt light-headed; suddenly short of breath, and he knew why.  If he didn't do something, he knew he was going to cry.

     "You're not allowed to call me that.  Ever," Tommy snapped much more harshly than he had intended.

      Graeme, struck by the sudden ferocity of Tommy's dissent, nodded understanding and whispered, "Okay," at him.

     "So obviously you know each other," Tommy changed the subject, willing his pulse to slow down before he suffered a nervous breakdown in the middle of the Quad.

     "We used to be friends," Graeme glowered.  He was glad to have the subject changed even if it was to something more unpleasant for him.  He hadn't ever seen Tommy in such an obvious state of discomfort over something so innocuous, and he wasn't sure how to handle it, especially with Hope sitting there taking it all in.

     "What happened?" Tommy shifted his gaze back and forth between the two of them.

    Graeme pointed towards another girl who was approaching them with her eyes narrowed and a scowl adorning her adolescent features, "That happened."  He sighed.  He knew it had only been a matter of time before Kathy showed up.  She had marked her territory a long time ago, and as far as she was concerned Hope was her friend and therefor Hope was her property.

    "What are you doing here?" Kathy stared at Hope. "I thought you were my friend."

    "It's Ok, Kath," Hope replied, hoping for a diplomatic end to the situation. "Tom invited me to lunch, and he's letting me eat his sandwich.  Forgot my lunch money again, stupid me!"

    Kathy rolled her eyes and flipped her hair. "Look, I don't care if you want to hang out with some..." She waved her hand in Tommy's direction searching for the words to describe him. "...Fairy boy. But when you start associating with Graeme Alexander after what he did to me, well, that is just unforgivable."

    Tommy grunted angrily at her, but resisted the urge to stand up and give her a piece of her mind. It wasn't his fight, and he didn't feel like getting into one.

    "Ok," Graeme finally spoke. "It isn't Hope's fault, she didn't know I'm friends with Tommy.  Why don't you just chill out?" He  frowned. "Would it make you feel better if I just crawled into a dark hole somewhere and didn't speak to anybody you know?  'Cos if that's what it takes to stop you from hassling me, then I'll just go and do that."

    "Yeah, you do that," came her bitter reply.

    "Oh, this is all bollocks," Tommy spat. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but I'm sure there's some way you can work this  out."

    Kathy glared at the Englishman.  "This is none of your business, faggot."

    "Fucking hell!" Tommy squealed. All of a sudden it had become his fight. He scrambled from his spot on the lawn and stood toe to toe with her. They were the same height. "You don't even know me, fuck you!"

    Kathy wasn't interested in getting into a fight with him after all; she was only interested in getting one of her minions to do her bidding. She didn't seem to even remember that she had spouted the epithet in Tommy's direction and subsequently ignored  him as if nothing had just happened.

    "Look." she sighed impatiently. "I do not need this drama in my life right now. I've got cheer leading and newspaper club and  yearbook, and Jose and everything else. I do not need my very best friend hanging out with that lying manipulative bastard." She punctuated her short speech by pointing a finger at Graeme

    "Kathy, shut-up," Hope replied, her voice tinged with disgust. "I don't care about your drama. You should just go and think about how ridiculous you're being. We can talk about it later."

    "Him or Me?" Kathy demanded.

    Hope looked at Tommy who was standing with his fists balled up as he was grinding his teeth, trying to keep from saying anything that he might regret. His blond hair was fluttering lightly in the wind, and his brown eyes were gleaming. Even though she barely knew him, she knew enough to know that she'd like to get to know him better. And Graeme, well, Graeme always had been more fun to be around than Kathy ever was, as well as far less demanding.

    "Well, I'm staying here." Hope finally made her decision.

    "Suit your self," Kathy huffed. "Just see how many pictures you get in the yearbook, or how many features you get to write in the paper."

    "Whatever," Hope replied flippantly.

    Kathy growled before turning and stalking away, disappearing into a crowd of people.

    "Did you hear what she called me?" Tommy grumbled. "I've never even met that girl. What right does she have?"

    "She doesn't," Graeme admitted.

    Tommy sat there and poked at the half of his sandwich that he'd saved for himself. His appetite was completely gone.

*****

    "Ok, it was a fucked up situation," Graeme told Tommy on the walk towards where his car was parked after school. "Kathy and I were best friends from kindergarten on up, blabitty blab la bla. She went to a Catholic school for a bit in middle school, and we didn't really see much of each other till last year. So we went out for a while. To make a long story short we both changed and were a disaster from the start. I mean, you saw her she's pretty hot, but she's just mean.  Mean and really, really stupid.  And do you want to talk about self absorbed? She wouldn't let me drive with my windows opened because it would mess up her  hair. I wasn't allowed to kiss her on the lips because it would smear her cheap ass lipstick." Graeme seemed to be getting angry just thinking about it. "And you know my air conditioning doesn't work.  You think she'd let me open the god-damned windows instead of melting but no.  She'd just complain about that too, and she'd bitch, bitch, bitch at me all the time, because I don't wear trendy clothes, or have the latest gadgets or whatever.  I just wasn't cool enough.  Anyway, she hates me now."

    "What you do?" Tommy asked.

    "What did I do?" Graeme snorted. "I didn't do anything."

    "C'mon," Tommy said. "She can't hate you for nothing."

    "Well, Christ, She hates me because I'm a guy, and guys are scum? Right?" He grumbled. "I broke up with her and she didn't have me to boss around anymore."

    "That hardly seems like something to get so bitter about," Tommy replied.

    "You heard her call you a...that.  What makes you think she's not just a giant bitch with a side of evil?"
    
    "You dated her, she must have had some redeemable quality at some point in time," Tommy replied.  "Either that or you have horrible taste and are really, really superficial."

    "Well, it was probably that we had sex," Graeme admitted. "We so shouldn't have done it, dude.  I wasn't ready, and she wasn't ready, and it was lame, but she thought she owned me after that.  I think she thought that just because of that I was  supposed to be her slave forever. Well, fuck that; it wasn't that great anyway."

    Tommy chuckled, "So that's it, touchy subject, eh?"

    Graeme stuck his tongue out with a distasteful expression, and that was all the answer that was required.

    "She tried to outcast me," Graeme said, his voice softer and lacking in the angry tint that had colored it only moments before. "Not that I was mister popular man before, but she doesn't have that much pull around here. She just think she does.  All she is, is a little fish in a big pond, and she won't ever amount to much."

    Tommy nodded comprehension. "School politics are a yawn. I've had enough of it at home."

    "What happened there?" Graeme replied.

    Tommy eyed him, trying to decide whether or not he wanted to share the entire incident with the American. He decided it couldn't hurt anybody since the chances of Graeme ever meeting the parties involved was less than zero.

    "There was this woman who was rather hostile towards a relationship I was in at the time. Basically, she found out, and I was expelled. Good bye posh education, hello United States of America." Tommy sighed. He wanted to get the entire story out, but he didn't know how to confess it all to Greame without the possibility of him freaking out.  Despite Graeme's assertions that he didn't care about Tommy's sexuality, it still made Tommy uneasy to talk about it with him.

    "I'm sorry," Graeme replied. "That sounds horrible."

    "It was," Tommy agreed. "The woman has a vendetta against me. And you know, I didn't need that. I was just trying to suss things out myself. It doesn't matter in the long run anyway. He chucked me, for some bird."

    Graeme made a sympathetic groaning noise, and Tommy despite his earlier misgivings was spurred on by his friend's interest. Or rather, the fact that  Graeme wasn't shying away from the subject in any way.

    "Basically she thought I was the sole reason that he's gay," Tommy snorted. Even after time had passed, the whole situation was nearly unbelievable to him. "I mean, I may be blindingly gorgeous and irresistible, but I'm not that good for Christ's sake."

    "Yeah." Graeme nodded. "I'll have to agree with you on that count."

    "And I know he just started seeing that girl, because dear old mum wanted him to." Tommy crossed his arms. They had reached the vehicle and Graeme climbed into the passenger's seat to the driver's side.  Since the doors were broken, it had become a ritual.  Both of them wanted to avoid awkwardly crawling over each other.  Tommy climbed in after him and immediately lit a cigarette. They sat in silence for a while as Graeme drove. Tommy was thinking about his ex boyfriend. Graeme was thinking about his ex girlfriend. Eventually conversation came back around.

    "Did you love Kathy?" Tommy asked. "I mean, ever?"

    "No," Graeme replied. "I doubt it."

    "Well, don't do it. Don't ever fall in love." Tommy sighed and tossed the remains of his cigarette onto the side of the road as they traveled.

    "Why not?" Graeme asked. As a hopeless romantic he thought the prospect of being in love was an exhilarating idea.

    "Because, nobody will ever hurt you as much as the ones you love," he replied. "And on that remarkably depressive note, I was wondering if I could ask you just one question."

    "Go for it, Scout," Graeme replied with an impish grin.

    Tommy growled at him before continuing.

    "Is Hope seeing anybody?" He asked with glint in his eye. "Cos I think she's brilliant."

***

     So Tommy asked Hope out, and she said yes.

      Dating was strange to Tommy at first.  With Richard it hadn't been.  Aside from their disastrous foray to the cinema, dating Richard wasn't all that much different than being his friend.  They had skipped the awkward "getting to know each other" phase since they had spend the three years prior doing just that.  Hope, on the other hand, was someone Tommy knew nothing about.  Luckily she wasn't hard to talk to and had the ability to fill any awkward pauses with cheerful, easy banter.  It was a relief that things were going well.

    Hope was a lovely girl, and he genuinely enjoyed her company.  His mother seemed to be overjoyed that he was dating a girl.  Perhaps she was a little too excited about it, but Tommy was determined not to dwell on the possible idea that his Mother might think he was better off, or that he had gone through a phase with Richard.  Neither one of them was a phase as far as Tommy was concerned.  That assessment wouldn't have been fair to either of them, or to Tommy.  He liked them both in different ways.  There was something missing with Hope, though, and it had everything to do with him.  He tried his best to hide it, and there was no shortage of chemistry with her, but the fact remained that he was still in love with Richard Blume.  It might have been easier if they had at least spoken, yet every call to Nigel led to small talk about the band and nervous declarations that Richard was "fine".  It wasn't enough, and Tommy didn't believe it anyway.

    "Hope wants to have sex with me," Tommy announced to Graeme on their early morning ride one day.

    "That was quick."  Graeme looked at him sideways and grinned.

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  "I don't know how I feel about this.  I really like her, but she...I don't know.  She thinks I'm better equipped to handler her...uh, feelings about losing her virginity because I...uh...you know.  Have done with a guy before."

    "Whoah," Graeme replied, his tone serious.  "Really?"

    "Yeah,"  Tommy said quietly.  He crossed his arms and sunk back into the passenger seat of the car, staring at the road straight ahead.  He knew he was blushing, so he changed the subject before Graeme could notice.  "Which is totally stupid, but she's all about going to the next level all of a sudden.  I don't know what's gotten into her."

    "She really likes you," Graeme murmured.  "And it's been a few years."

    Tommy frowned.  "What the hell?  Did I miss something somewhere?  I'm pretty sure it's only been a couple months."

    "And you're always with her.  You like her too.  What's the problem?"

    "I just...are you going to explain the whole years thing to me, or what?  I know it's got to be some kind of weird American thing isn't it?"

    Graeme sighed.  "I don't really want to get into the middle of this Tom, but I guess you deserve to have all the information, if she's not going to tell you."

    "I do." 

    "Her dad is in the military full-time, I told you," Graeme said.  "He might be reassigned...or something.  It's a tenuous situation anyway, he already works like, four hours away.  He's gonna want to take his family with him if he goes somewhere even further away.  I don't know why the hell they live off base anyway."

    "Shit," Tommy muttered.  "So she wants to do this because she might have to move?"

    Graeme nodded solemnly.  "And she likes you.  A lot."

    "Why the fuck didn't she tell me this?  I have to find out from you of all people!"  Tommy let his head fall against the window.   He liked Hope too, but was afraid to take that step only to have her leave.  On the other hand...

    "I'm going to do it," he said.  "I want to.  She wants to.  The end."

    "It's up to you." Graeme shrugged.

    "Yep." Tommy replied.

    The car lapsed into silence, until Graeme eventually spoke.

    "So, you've actually done it with a guy? On the receiving end, like?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  As he had predicted, there were questions.  It just took a lot longer for Graeme to broach the subject than he had anticipated.  "I've done both.  It's not a big deal."

    "Wow," Graeme said.  "What's that like?"

    "Why are you asking me that?"  Tommy turned to him and tried to get a read on his expression, but Graeme was lost in though and remained impassive.

    "I guess I'm just curious," he finally said.  His grin was wide then, and he laughed.  Tommy joined him, albeit a bit nervously.

    "So you really loved that guy, didn't you?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied, his voice soft.  "But we're not going to talk about him.  Got it?"

    "Okay,"  Graeme said agreeably as they pulled up to the school.  "But just so you know.  In case you ever want to..."

    "I know," he said.  "I know, Graeme.  Thank you." 

***

    Things progressed to the next level with Hope, and Tommy couldn't have been happier.  The gossip at school leveled out once word got around that he was dating her, even though Kathy did her very best to smear their names through the mud.  Graeme was a little annoyed that Hope was with Tommy at all times, but he eventually got over it.  He always had liked her company, and finding himself with more than one actual friend was a new and welcome novelty in his life.  His mother couldn't have been more pleased to see him bringing people to the house.

   Life would have remained blissfully uncomplicated for Tommy had Spring not eventually rolled around, and with Spring came sports try-outs.  Without any prompting from his parents, Tommy took it upon himself to take up his favorite non-music related hobby once again.  He hadn't played since he was thirteen, but there wasn't much to do in Mesquite, Nevada, and he found that he missed it.  He missed football.

   Football.  Soccer.  Soccer. Football.

  Tommy had torn out of his final class on the first day of try-outs in order to make it to the changing room before anybody else had a chance.  He was in his gym clothes in a flash and had been waiting out in the gym for spring soccer try-outs to start.  He was going to have to get used the "soccer" thing.  It sounded strange on his tongue and in his mind, but when he'd told his friends he was going to try for the football team they only greeted him with wide open stares of incredulity.  Graeme had laughed at him and clapped him on the back and wished him good luck obviously not believing that he had a chance, even once the cultural communication mishap had been cleared up and Tommy explained that he had meant soccer.

   Tommy hoped beyond hope that he did have a chance.  He knew he was good enough.  He only hoped that talent was the only thing that they'd be considering.

   After about a half hour, Tommy was greeted by a pack of students headed by Mark Briar.  They stopped in front of where Tommy was waiting on the bleachers and stared at him.  After a minute one of them stepped out from Mark's shadow.

  "Theater try-outs are in the Auditorium," he said in a mock-helpful tone of voice.  The others behind him snickered at the joke, except for Mark.  He stood with his arms crossed, glowering silently at the back of his teammate's head.

  "Amusing," Tommy replied. 

    "What?"  The boy said.  "I thought that's what you queers do?"

   "Again, very funny."  Tommy stood up with a scowl.

   Mark Briar stepped up then and held out an arm in front of his companion in order to keep him from lunging forward to further confront Tommy.

    "What?"  he said again.  "I'm just..."

    "Can it, Alan!"  Mark snapped.  "He deserves as much a chance to try out as anybody.  Leave him alone."

    Tommy opened his mouth to say thanks, but Mark almost imperceptibly shook his head negatively. 

    "C'mon guys," Mark commanded them.  None of his minions said anything to contradict him, though they all wore identical expressions of curious surprise as their captain led them to the other side of the room where he directed them in a drill as they waited for the coaches to arrive.

   ***

  Tommy had chosen a locker as far away from them as he could, and he waited until they had all trickled out of the room to take a shower.  He was pleased with how things had turned out despite the start.  They were too busy with drills, and Tommy was too good at them for anybody to bother with making fun of him.  It was hard to gauge, but the coach seemed pleased.  His chances for making the team were looking bright. 

    It was well after the day had ended that Tommy found himself marching out of the school building to wait for his father to pick him up.  He still had a good twenty minute wait in front of him, as his mother couldn't drive and his father was still at work.  Graeme had long since vacated the premises and wasn't answering his phone.  Tommy was surprised to find someone standing there as he emerged into the bright sunlight.

    It was Mark Briar, Captain of the Junior Varsity team, Tommy had come to find out.  Tommy grimaced and cast his eyes around for a place to stand at a far enough distance that they didn't have to converse, but there wasn't really; not without alerting Mark to the fact that he was being blatantly avoided.  He sighed and walked up to Mark, throwing his book bag on the concrete between them.  Mark glanced sideways at him, shuffled nervously in place and then coughed into his hand.

    "Uh..." he said after a moment.  "You did good today.  Is that like...a thing?"

    "A thing?"  Tommy glared at him.

    "You know, a...uh...an English thing?"

    "Yes, yes."  Tommy nodded, and his voice took on a mocking tone.  "Yes, all English people are good at football and when we're done with that we go home and have tea-parties and eat scones all day while watchin' the Beeb on the telly."

    "I was just asking, geez," Mark grumbled.

    Tommy stared curiously at him, and silently cursed himself and what seemed to be his perpetual state of apologies. 

    "I'm sorry," he finally said.  "I'm not used to people being nice to me.  The sarcasm is a defense mechanism."

    "Yeah," Mark replied.  His tone felt glum and he was staring at his feet as he continued the conversation.  "I know what you mean.  Sorry about bein' all...uh...stereotypin' and shit."

    "It's alright," Tommy said.  His curiosity was further piqued and he tried to catch Mark's eye despite the downward turn of his face, but still Mark did not look at him.

    "How long have you been playin'?" Mark asked the ground.

    Tommy smiled and found it amusing, but he answered the question.

    "Since I was eight or nine.  Mum got me signed up.  I think she wanted me to do something more...manly I suppose.  See how that turned out?"  Tommy laughed at his own joke, and Mark obliged him with his own nervous chuckle.

    "But it's fun," Tommy continued.  "I like it.  I'm good at it.  I thought I'd try-out, that's all."

    "You're going to make the team."  Mark finally turned to look at him.  "Coach likes you.  I can tell."

    "Coach likes me?"  Tommy eyed him and Mark's gaze quickly reverted to his feet and he tensed up.

    "I mean...like, you know...the way you play...and stuff.  Not...uh...."

    "Stop it," Tommy interrupted him.  "That's not what I meant.  I didn't think he wanted me or anything.  I'm just surprised he thinks I'm that good.  I haven't played in a long time.  It was only a hobby."

    Mark relaxed and let out his breath.  They stood in uneasy silence.  It was destined to be the longest twenty minutes of Tommy's life.  He peered out over the horizon as if doing so would somehow bring his father faster, but it was not to be.  He cast his gaze around the parking lot spread out in front of them and it dawned on him.

    "What are you doing?"  He turned towards Mark once again.  Mark had taken the time Tommy had been spending staring off into space to look at him without being seen and Mark thought he had been caught even though he hadn't really been noticed.  Tommy's accusatory tone did nothing to ease the situation.

    "I...uh...I..."  Mark stammered at him and eventually just snapped his mouth shut and frowned.  Tommy noticed that his eyes were blue as he tried to look everywhere but at Tommy.

     Tommy didn't know Mark well enough to know if his nervous behavior was normal, but he had seen him on the field that day and he was the team captain.  His suspicions had definitely been raised, and he didn't like where they were leading him.

    "What are you doing here?"  Tommy asked carefully.

    Mark frowned.  He cradled his arms, stared down at the ground and shrugged.

    "What are you doing here?"  He repeated the question back at Tommy.

    "I'm waiting for my dad," Tommy said.  "Don't have a license, but you have a car."

    Mark's mouth popped open in surprise at the rather obvious revelation, but he quickly snapped it shut and looked guiltily down at the parking lot where his truck was parked and waiting for him.  He laughed nervously and glanced back at Tommy with an embarrassed shrug.

    "Were you..."  Tommy paused and frowned.  He pulled nervously at his hair and then pushed the sentence out of his mouth completely.

    "Were you waiting for me?"

    "No, I just...I..."  Mark sighed heavily and turned his face towards the sky, murmuring inaudibly to himself.  He then shook his head as if to clear it, faced Tommy and blurted out, "Do you need a ride?"

    "What?"

  The surprised and dismayed inflection in Tommy's voice was not lost on Mark. He smiled sheepishly and turned to point towards the football field.  "My girlfriend has flag-corp practice.  I'm just waiting for her, but if you need a ride..." 

    Tommy had briefly considered taking the offer once he'd gotten over the shock of it.  Mark had been nice to him, and it would have been nice to have an ally on the soccer team, especially if they were the team captain.  His suspicions, however, were not completely erased once Mark had revealed his girlfriend status.  It didn't explain him standing by the curb outside of the main entrance instead of waiting for her by the football field. 

    "My dad will be here soon."  Tommy replied.

    They resumed the awkward silence, and Mark made no move to abandon his post.  His father arrived at the allotted time and for that Tommy was grateful.  He did indeed feel like it had been the longest twenty minutes of his life.
   
****

    "The weirdest thing happened today,"  Tommy said to Hope as they sat in the food court at the mall later that evening.  He had spent time debating about whether or not he was going to tell her about it, and eventually decided that he might as well. 

    "What?  Was it soccer?  Did they...say things about you?"

    Tommy nodded slightly.  "Of course they did.  Always do.  Pointed me to the auditorium, called me 'queer', that sort of thing.  Don't care.  The weird thing is...you know Mark Briar?"

    "Yeah," she said, and, intent on coming to Tommy's defense, tacked on "Stupid Jock" as an afterthought.

    "Funny you should say that, because he's not," Tommy replied, and Hope blushed then stared down at her french fries.

    "What do you mean?"  She mumbled.  "I thought..."

    "Well, he may be stupid for all I know.  I haven't really met him before today, but he did defend me in front of them.  He was nice to me.  Practice was good after that; he even said I'm probably going to make the team, which is cool.  I just wasn't expecting it, and that's why it was weird."

    "Cool!"  She moved her gaze to look at him and smiled.  "I'm glad it worked out.  I have to admit, I was afraid they were going to be total jerks to you."

    "I can handle myself," he said.  "And they weren't...totally.  People can surprise you sometimes, Hope.  Besides, it was fun.  I've missed the game."

    "Good, I'm glad it worked out," she replied and reached across the table to hold his hand.

    He smiled ruefully at her and gave her hand a squeeze.  She seemed to take that as the reassurance he was hoping she would.  She thought he was okay.  He only wished he was.

****

    As the weeks wore on, Tommy begrudgingly earned the respect of his new teammates.  They still didn't like him though, and a few were outright hostile.  He was glad to have chosen his locker away from them, because he didn't feel like he really belonged, nor was he accepted.  Despite being good, he was still an outsider, and there wasn't really anything he could do to change that.  He didn't pause to consider that his outsider status might have had something to do with keeping everybody at an arms-length.  There was only one person he was close to, despite his best efforts, and it wasn't even Hope Candella.  Graeme Alexander was his biggest cheerleader, and his seemingly instant best friend.  Even being mopey and depressing on occasion did nothing to deter Graeme from him.  The Nevadan was always there with a megawatt smile and a big hug.  It was unnerving.  At first Tommy had thought nothing of that first drive to school and Graeme crawling on top of him instead of just asking him to unlock the other door, but it was becoming apparent that Graeme was just a touchy person.  Graeme always greeted him with a hug and when they walked he left no space between them if he didn't insist on throwing his arm around Tommy's shoulder.  The only time he didn't was when Hope was there.  It was perplexing to him, but he grew comfortable with it soon enough.  It was just Graeme, and there weren't any sexual undertones behind the affectionate gestures.  Tommy wondered how Kathy could have sown so many seeds of dissent throughout the student body that it left a wonderfully open person like Graeme sitting alone at lunch without any friends.  So, after an initial period of unease, whenever Graeme threw his arms open, Tommy fell into them, and Hope would laugh and complain that Graeme was stealing her boyfreind.  They hadn't progressed to the point where Tommy was willing to spill his guts about what had happened with Richard, or his feelings about his parents, but it just felt right knowing that he could and no matter what he said, Graeme would be there for him with a smile and a hug.

    Despite cutting himself off from the team, soccer was going well.  Being new, he mostly sat on the bench during games to make way for the players with more experience, but it was becoming less and less the case as it was apparent that Tommy was actually very good at the game.  Besides that, his father had started coming to games.  It was a new thing for Tommy, and to see him in the stands cheering made him almost forget that he was supposed to hate the man.  There was no doubt about it, Steven was trying.  Tommy hadn't been, but somehow found that he had made Steven proud anyway.  It was a new feeling, and he liked it.  It made him that much more reluctant to come out to his father.

    And there was Hope.  Steven Sinclair had no reason to suspect, and Tommy wasn't about to give him one. 

    If it wasn't for Richard refusing to speak to him on a weekly basis, according to Nigel,  things would have been perfect for Tommy.  He, Graeme, and Hope got along like the Three Musketeers and there wasn't a day that  when by when they didn't see each other.  Of course, there was a day that came along that blew that contented routine away, and it started with a request for a study partner.

    Tommy would have been lying if he said that he didn't have his suspicions about the captain of the junior varsity soccer team.  Mark always seemed to have his eyes glued to him, and it made Tommy uneasy.  He didn't mention it to anybody though, not even Graeme or Hope.  If there was a secret to be had, Tommy was happy to leave Mark to it.  The last thing he wanted was to be party to anybody else's secrets.  He had enough of them with his father, and he didn't need any more.  He was happy with the smile and nod Mark gave him whenever they passed in the hallways between classes.  He was happy to let Mark keep the more vocal of the bigots on the team off his back, and most of all he was happy on his side of the locker room where he didn't have to deal with any of them.  They existed as his teammates on the field and nothing more.

    It was a Thursday like any other, and the game had gone well. It was another Virgin Valley High School win, and though Tommy had only played for a short time, he was pleased.  He was beginning to think that the soccer team was one of his more brilliant ideas.

    He stopped by his own cheering section on the way to the locker room.  His father clapped him on the back and told him what a good job he'd done.  His mother smiled sweetly and kissed him on the cheek and told him she was proud of him.  Hope and Graeme then commandeered his attentions.  They stood arm in arm, their usual stance when they attended the games.

    "I still can't believe you're so good at this," Hope said.  "You don't strike me as a jock."

    "What does that even mean?" Tommy laughed and hugged her and kissed her. 

    "Stop it!"  She squealed and laughed and tried to push him away.

    "What, Baby?"  Tommy lunged at her again.

    She laughed and made a token effort to fend off his advances.

    "You're all sweaty and gross!"  She giggled as he showered her with kisses.

    "You're both gross," Graeme declared with a roll of his eyes.  "Go on, Sinclair."  He nodded towards the school building .  "Go shower with the boys."

    "Oh, shut-up," Tommy laughed at him.  "I'll just...yeah.  A shower is needed.  I barely have done anything today, and I'm soaked with sweat.  Fucking scorching in this bloody place."

    "Stop complaining."  Graeme laughed and clapped him on the back. 

    Tommy thanked him for the support and retired to the locker room.  He was only there long enough to unlock his locker and throw a towel over the door before Mark Briar appeared, shuffling behind him in the perpetual state of agitation that only seemed to inhabit him when he was around Tommy.  On the field he was cool and in control, and that was how he had earned the respect of his team and the title as their captain.  Mark worked harder than anybody to be good at the game.  Tommy was there every day, he had seen it, and it was that nervousness that made Tommy the most suspicious.

    Tommy hadn't yet begun to undresses.  He tended to hide until the rest of the team had finished and left the room for the day.  It was beginning to wear on his nerves, always being the last one out, and he knew there was no reason for his own reluctance aside from a baseless fear of  his teammates suddenly turning on him just for being there.  Having Mark show up, just staring at him, waiting, and fidgeting nervously was enough to break his resolve not to make anybody else uncomfortable in his presence.  He was tired of it anyway.

   He stood from the bench, smirked at Mark, and peeled his jersey off as slowly as possible.  Mark watched him with a concentrating scowl on his face.  Tommy shrugged, pulled off the rest of his clothes in a much quicker manner, then wrapped the towel around his waist.  Mark had stopped fidgeting at that point and instead was just staring at him.

    "Mark?" Tommy said.

    Mark shook his head, and snapped himself out of his daze. 

    "Yeah, uh...good game," he said, and resumed fidgeting.

    Tommy wracked his brain trying to think of anything he'd done that day on the field that was worthy of any praise but was unable to think of anything.   They said nothing and stood there in awkward silence until Tommy finally spoke again.

    "Can I help you?"

    "You know, I was wondering.  You're good at English, right?"  His words came out in a mad rush as they often did when he was alone with Tommy.

    "Seeing as I'm English and I've been taught the proper way, yeah," Tommy replied.  He hoped to put Mark more at ease by joking with him.  They both had remembered what Mark had said about Tommy's nationality the first day after try-outs, and it seemed to work.  Mark laughed, and smiled, and finally managed to sheepishly look directly into Tommy's eyes.

    "I've been having a shitty time," he admitted.    "I think I'm retarded."

    "You aren't," Tommy assured him.

    Mark gave him a disbelieving look and lapsed into silence again.  He was thinking, and Tommy knew he was in for another quickly blurted request.  He waited patiently for it to come, and it eventually did.

    "Well, what I was wondering was...could you.  You know, if you're not too busy...  Help me out, maybe?  We've been reading this Shakespeare crap, and I don't fuckin' get it.  I have to pass or I'll get kicked off the team.  I'm failing, Tom."

    Tommy pondered that for only a moment before deciding that if that was all Mark wanted help with, then he was glad to provide it.  The Captain had been nice to him from the start and kept the peace within the team at all times.  Tommy took a moment to chastise him for calling Shakespeare crap and agreed to help.

    "When and where?"  Tommy asked.  "Library..."

    "Nah."  Mark should his head.  "I was wondering maybe...if you don't mind...your house?  You don't want to come to my...no. Uh..."

    "Right."  Tommy said carefully, trying not to wonder what on Earth was going on at Mark's house that he couldn't go there, and also wondering why Mark wouldn't want to be seen at school studying with him. 
    
    "Well, you can ride with me and Graeme Tomorrow after," Tommy said.

    "I don't know why you hang out with that dweeb," he said.

    "Whatever."  Tommy rolled his eyes at Mark and turned to walk away.  "I have to take a shower.  I'll talk to you tomorrow."

        ***

  Tommy was stupid, and he knew it.  He could have diffused the situation by setting up shop in the middle of his kitchen, but he hadn't.  He had invited Mark up to his room, where they sat huddled over his desk.  Tommy was reading and explaining the prose from the book Mark had provided, and he knew that Mark wasn't paying any attention to the words coming out of his mouth.  His notepad remained blank, and though Tommy's eyes remained glued to the pages before him, he could see in his peripheral vision that Mark was only shuffling around his papers and peering all around the room.

   It was frustrating that he had offered help and Mark wasn't taking it, and Tommy was at least going to try to get the afternoon back on track despite the tenuous situation that he had placed himself in.

    "Alright, Mark?"  He glanced sharply up at his study buddy.  Mark dropped his pencil and a look of obvious guilt colored his face.

    "Yeah, I uh...can't concentrate," he said.

    "I know!"  Tommy slammed his hand on the desk.  He turned to face a startled Mark.  "Want to tell me why?"

    "You're mad."  He stared at Tommy, finally realizing.  He frowned, furrowing his brow.  "I'm sorry, I just...  It's you.  You're not so bad, you know.  I mean, you're okay..."

    "For a woofter is what you mean?"  Tommy replied.

    "Yeah," he replied.  "It's like you're normal."

    "I am normal."  Tommy rolled his eyes.  He stood up and glared down at Mark.  It was time for confessions.

    "You don't really need a tutor do you?"

    "Oh, I do!"  He nodded vigorously.

    Mark stood up to then, and was giving Tommy a familiar look.  It was the same way Brian Humboldt had looked at him before they had kissed for the first time.  Tommy didn't like it one bit.  He did have a girlfriend, and he wasn't going to give in to whatever Mark was going to serve up to him.  He was determined not to let the day unfold like some badly scripted fantasy.  In an effort to thwart any advances on Mark's part, Tommy retreated to the opposite end of the room.

    "Why are you really here?"  He asked, with his arms crossed and a glare on his face.  Despite his resolve, staring at Mark who looked confused and sad yet determined was making Tommy regret his decision to stand up.  Mark was an attractive boy, and he was standing there with his confession inches from his lips; a confession meant for Tommy.  It was flattering and terrifying at the same time.  Tommy decided it would be in his best interest to sit down and and wait out Mark's next verbal onslaught.  He tossed his gaze around, and the only place available was on his bed.  He sat and folded his arms across his lap and waited.

    "I don't want to be like this," Mark finally said.

    Tommy groaned inwardly.  He realized that Mark had orchestrated the entire afternoon to get Tommy alone in his room.  It had all been planned out, and he had fallen for it, yet Mark couldn't even say the word.

    "Be like what?"  Tommy asked after a moment.  Despite wanting to, he was unable to tear his eyes away from Mark's intent gaze.

    "Be like you."

    Tommy closed his eyes and sighed.  He didn't even want to be him in that moment.

    "There's nothing wrong with being gay."  Tommy said.

    "Yes, there fucking is," Mark's gaze turned into a glare then.  "There is.  It's not right.  It's against everything.  The bible..."

    "Is a storybook," Tommy replied. 

    "Don't say that," Mark said.

    "I can say what I like."

    And it was done.  Now that it was out of his mouth, Mark seemed to have no trouble communicating.  The nervousness was gone.

    "Look, I don't even know why I fuckin' came here today," he growled.

    "You came because you don't understand Shakespeare, and I can help you with that.  What I can't help you with is a self-identity crisis."

    "I needed to tell somebody!" He wailed, an outburst that surprised Tommy.  "Obviously I chose the wrong person!"

    "You can't even say it," Tommy interrupted him.  "If you're disgusted with yourself that much, what do you expect me to do about it?"

    Tommy immediately wanted to apologize for lashing out.  He had been with someone before who was afraid, and that person had betrayed him by denying himself.  That had hurt, and Tommy was lashing out because of it.  He didn't want to care, because caring would only lead to more hurt.  He didn't though.  He only bit his bottom lip and frowned.

    Mark was just confused and upset that the person he trusted had rejected him.  He stumbled awkwardly from his chair and shoved his books haphazardly into his back pack.  He didn't bother to zip it all the way and when he tried to make his grand exit the whole thing fell apart.  The weight of the books caused his bag to unzip and his papers fell into a gigantic heap in the middle of Tommy's room.

    Tommy jumped up from the bed to help as Mark knelt down to pick up his things.  They reached for the same book and their hands touched.  Their eyes met.  The next thing Tommy knew, they were both standing, Mark's hands gripping his midsection and their lips tentatively pressed together.  It had been a long time.  Tommy hadn't kissed a boy since Richard, and he liked it, so he reached up and wrapped his arms around Mark's shoulders, deepening the kiss and pulling their bodies together.  Mark wasn't prepared for it.  He lost his balance and they tumbled backwards onto the bed.  Mark was heavy against him, not mindful of his weight, Tommy groaned a little and arched against him anyway as Mark kissed him.  

    It only took a few moments for the guilt in the back of his mind to come slamming into the forefront however, and it started with one little word.  Hope.

    Tommy managed to wrangle his hormones and push Mark away as far as he could extend his arms.  Mark's eyes were wide as if he couldn't believe his own actions, but he made no effort to move away.

    "I can't do this, Mark."  Tommy said.

    "Why?"  he asked.  "You want to."

    Mark punctuated his statement by grabbing at Tommy's cock through his jeans, and it was with that action that Tommy could no longer hold mark away from him.  His arms folded and he grasped at Mark's hair as the kissing began all over again.  Tommy pushed Mark away again.  The last thing he wanted to do was cheat on his girlfriend: the one he had shared that bed with on more than one occasion.  That effort had finally managed to do the trick and Mark was flung to the side and off the bed entirely.  He landed with a thud and a howl of dismay.

    "Get the fuck out!"  Tommy sat up and scowled over the side of the bed at Mark who was looking surprised and annoyed.  "I have a fucking girlfriend!"

    "So do I!"  Mark stood up and shouted back.  "So what?  We're both...you know...so why can't you do me a favor?"

    It would have be one thing had Mark actually cared, and Tommy thought he might have, it was another thing to hear straight from Mark's lips that all he wanted from him was some sort of sexual favor.  Tommy would have been lying if he said that admission didn't hurt.  It made him angry and made him feel even more guilty, for he knew he had been doing the same thing with Brian Humboldt.  There was no good to come out of it.

    "Sorry,"  Tommy snarled.  "I don't work that way.  I'm not, 'well, you know...', I have a girlfriend, who I happen to care about very much, and I'm not going to do any favors for you."

    "Nobody will know," he pleaded.

    "I will,"  Tommy said, and pointed towards the doorway.  "Get the fuck out."

    Mark looked angry, but he didn't say anything.  He didn't threaten, and he didn't make any accusations.  He just left, and his things remained strewn about Tommy's room.  Tommy sat there staring at the mess, his mind reeling from what had just happened.  It hadn't been entirely unexpected but still had been shocking.  Tommy sighed, lay back on his bed, and stared at the ceiling.  He was still flushed, hot from his short encounter with Mark, so he picked up the telephone and dialed Hope's number.

   It had to have been the single most confusing weekend in his entire existence.  Tommy came to that conclusion as he lay on the parched ground beneath him.  His mother, having lived in small flats and college dorms her entire life, was having a difficult time adjusting to yard work.  The lone patch of grass that Tommy lay upon was uncomfortably crunchy.  He would have rather concentrated on that than what had happened only moments earlier.  The whole bizarre weekend had led up to that Monday afternoon.

    First it had been Mark Briar, and Tommy hated that it was still on his mind.  He couldn't forget how it felt to have Mark's hands on him, and when he had invited Hope over to take out his sexual frustration, she had her own surprise for him.  As Graeme had predicted, she was moving, and she had waited for the very last minute to tell him.  She was obviously heartbroken about having to go, but she was breaking up with him nonetheless.  She even laughed as his suggestion that they try things long distance.  She had told him that she knew he had someone else on his mind the entire time they had been dating.

    Tommy had been shocked and for a brief moment was convinced that she had somehow found out what Mark had done that afternoon.  He realized that wasn't the case as she continued to talk.  Tom cursed himself because he knew she was right.  Though she didn't even know he existed, she was talking about Richard Blume.  Tommy wondered how he could possibly be so transparent as to remain so obviously distracted by someone thousands of miles away who wouldn't even speak to him. 

    Hope said she didn't blame him and that she had known his mind was elsewhere the entire time, a confession which did nothing to ease Tommy's mind.  Then she proceeded to tell him how much she loved him and how he was the best boyfriend ever.  It was distressing to hear that Hope held him in such high esteem when Tommy had only invited her over for sex.

    He wanted to throw his arm around her and comfort her for her obvious upset at having to leave and leave him behind.  He wanted to tell her that it was okay that she had waited so long to tell him and that he wasn't angry about it.  He wanted to be the sainted boyfriend that she thought he was. 

    He didn't do any of that though.  He invited her upstairs one last time, and she smiled at him and accepted the offer.

***

    Tommy was obviously depressed that evening at Madeline's family dinner.  He poked listlessly at his food and sighed until his mother asked him what was wrong.

    "Hope is leaving," he said, and dropped his fork into his plate.  "May I be excused.  Graeme invited me over and...I'm going to spend the night, okay?"
    
    "Are you sure you want to do that?"  She asked.  "You seem really upset."

    "What should I do?"  Tommy growled.  "Go weep in my room?  She was my friend...my girlfriend, and she's leaving.  Maybe we'll keep in touch.  Maybe not though.  I don't have a great track record with my exes actually speaking to me once one of us moves far, far away.  Right, Mum?"

    "Okay," she relented quickly.  She didn't want to hear the bitter resentment in her son's voice.  It was so much easier to pretend.  "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  He scowled at her and stood.  He'd had a bad day and didn't feel like letting her off the hook.  "Good things never last for me, do they, Mum?  I kind of expect it these days."

    He walked from the table and went outside to wait for Graeme.

 ***

     Tommy wasn't very talkative that night, even once Graeme had whisked him away to house-sit for his brother, Gordon.  He'd told Graeme what Hope and said, and the best friend was dutifully indignant on his behalf despite the fact that Tommy said he held nothing against her.  He was appreciative that Graeme was there to support him, and it seemed like he was the only one who really cared.

    They were on opposite ends of the sofa as they sat watching a movie on Gordon's large and expensive television.  Graeme was reclining, sprawled out across the furniture, and he wasn't paying any attention to the screen.  Tommy was seated upright, slumped back in his seat with a troubled frown on his face.  His eyes were glued to the screen, but he seemed to be looking through it.  Graeme nudged him with his foot.

    "What's up?"

    "What do you think is up?"  Tommy mumbled.  "My life fucking sucks."

    "Come here."  Graeme looked seriously up at him and patted his own chest, a gesture meant to encourage Tommy to find a place there.

    Tommy's breath caught in his throat.  He didn't know what Graeme was after, and he was sure he didn't want to cross any lines with him.  He was Tommy's best friend in Nevada and that wasn't something he wanted to put in jeopardy. 

    "Come on, dude," Graeme urged further when Tommy made no move.

    Tommy finally turned towards him, he had no smile despite Graeme's grinning at him.  He sighed heavily and crawled over to Graeme's side of the couch where he soon found himself nestled snugly in Graeme's arms.  They stayed that way for the rest of the night, making fun of the movie and talking and laughing.  It was comfortable to be there and a relief that nobody was around to stare at them and to tell them that they were wrong. 

    That Saturday they were out at Gordon's pool, enjoying the perks of house-sitting.  Graeme dutifully made fun of the box-cut swim trunks that Richard had once upon a time picked out for Tommy on a shopping trip before he had moved away.  It was the nearest thing to a speedo that Richard could convince him to wear.  It looked like it was shaping up to be a fun day.  Goofing off at the pool with Graeme was the best thing he could think of to take his mind off the events of the previous days.  There was only one problem with goofing off that Graeme pointed out with concern before they even started the day.

    Tommy had no sunscreen.  Graeme had reluctantly let him borrow his, even though he had offered to drive to the store to get a more appropriate SPF for Tommy's porcelain colored flesh, and in the course of having fun in the water, Tommy had forgotten to reapply what little protection Graeme's had offered.  The effects of his carelessness with the Nevadan sun were quite apparent when he finally made it home that night and stepped into the shower.  The dull ache he had felt creeping up on him that day; an ache which he had attributed to exhaustion at the time, blossomed under the hot water into the unmistakable pain of the sunburn that covered his entire body.

    He was cold that Sunday despite the pink hue of his skin, and it was all he could do to keep his mother from driving him to the hospital.  He managed to convince her that a day off from school was all he needed to get back on his feet.  He spent most of that Monday in bed, feeling miserable and ill. 

  Graeme found him that afternoon, reading from his biology textbook in an effort to stay up-to-date on his classes.  He hadn't bothered putting any clothes on once the chills had gone, and been replaced by an uncomfortable heat and the feeling that his skin didn't quite fit anymore.  He looked up at Graeme, nonplussed by the appearance of his best friend in the doorway.

    "Can't you knock?"  Tommy asked. He threw the book at Graeme's head, but Graeme ducked and laughed at him. They stared at each other silently for a moment, Tommy sat cross legged upon his bed, with his arms carefully folded across his lap.  Then Graeme shrugged and burst into his wide grin.

    "I got you a present," he said, and exhumed a box from his messenger back.  He dropped the bag near the door and held out the package.

    It was sunscreen and lotion. 

    Tommy regarded the gifts, fake laughed at the situation, then thanked his friend.  They paused then, Graeme staring him in the eyes, and Tommy feeling unsure of what was going to happen.

    "Turn over," Graeme finally said.

    He retreated back to the door, took a deep breath, and locked it.

***

    And that had taken Tommy to the very moment at which he sat upon his mother's unwatered lawn, with Graeme seated next to him, not saying a word.  Graeme, who always had a hug, and always had something to say, was sitting there at a complete loss.

    "Why'd you do it?" Tommy asked. 

    "Don't know," Graeme mumbled.  "I guess because you looked tired and who else was going to do your back?  Besides, something's been bothering you.  I thought you could use a break."

    "Yeah," Tommy agreed.  "A break would be nice.  An orgasm on the other hand is another story, mate."

    "You have something against orgasms now?"  Graeme asked with a sly chuckle.

    "Nah."  Tommy laughed in return.  "It just gets a little confusing when your best friend is the one giving them to you."

    Tommy certainly felt bad about what had happened.  He knew he'd let himself get too worked up once Graeme had given him what amounted to permission to get off on the back massage that he seemed determined to dole out.  Tommy had even gone so far as to turn around once his back was finished and ask if Graeme would like to slather lotion on his chest as well.  Graeme paused only a moment before taking him up on the perceived challenge. 

    Once it was done, Tommy had to explain through a hail of giggles that his nipples were extremely sensitive.  If he had not found the look of surprised terror on Graeme's face when he had come so amusing, he might have been embarrassed at the fact that he had let himself get so aroused that only that slight touch had been enough to send him over the edge.

    They had been sitting outside in a contemplative silence for a long time before Tommy had asked for an explanation.  Graeme had not freaked out.  He hadn't run away, and it wasn't awkward, which Tommy thought was strange.

   "Maybe I'm curious," Graeme admitted.

    "That much is only obvious, Graeme," Tommy said.  "The question is: how curious can you be?  I don't know what you're thinking, but I really don't think you have it in you."

    "Maybe I want it in me," Graeme replied, and immediately realized the unintentional innuendo behind the words.  He grimaced at that and watched as Tommy laughed. 

    "You know, Graeme," he said.  "It's flattering that you would come to me, and if all you want is a bit of relief I'd be more than happy to give you that, or if you want to give me another massage I don't think I'll say no.  I can't make you gay though.  That's something you have to decide for yourself, and I think you already know the answer."

    "Who taught you how to be right all the time?"  Graeme asked.  He was well aware that he preferred girls, but there was something about Tommy that he was drawn to.  He couldn't put a finger on it.  He had never been as close to anybody as he was to Tommy, not even his family members.  He knew that there were lines that shouldn't be crossed, but he didn't know where they were.  Maybe he was a little bit in love with his best friend, and he didn't particularly think there was anything wrong with that. 

    "My mum," Tommy said.  He stubbed out his cigarette then and decided that a change of subject was needed.

    "You'll never in a million years guess who came on to me the other day," he said.

    "Are you going to make me guess?"  Graeme replied.  "Because I don't think I have a million years."

    "Fuck off!"  Tommy laughed and shoved him before providing an answer.  "The captain of the bloody football team!"  He said.

    "Jon Ancher?" 

    "Don't be daft.  He's racist, not to mention homophobic," Tommy replied with disgust.  "You know I mean soccer."

    "Mark -Fucking- Briar?"  Graeme gasped.

    "Don't look so surprised,"  Tommy said.  "He practically assaulted me after classes on Friday."

    "Did you do it?"

    "Graeme," he clucked disapprovingly.  "Of course we didn't, man.  I have a girl...had a girlfriend.  I don't cheat.  I never, ever cheat."

    "She's leaving today,"  Graeme pointed out.

    "I didn't know that then," he replied.  "I was supposed to meet her for lunch...  I was feeling too sorry for myself though.  If Mum wasn't home I might've invited her over for a little rubdown, if I'd have known that was in the cards for the day."

    "I guess you'll just have to settle for me then,"  Graeme replied.  He felt rather smug about it even though he knew it was awful and selfish, but he didn't want to share Tommy with anybody, even though Hope had been his friend too.

    "You aren't bad," Tommy admitted.  He picked up Graeme's hand and idly inspected it.  "You've got nice fingers.  Wager you'd give a hell of a hand job."

    Graeme snatched his hand back and punched Tommy lightly in the chest, causing a howl of pain.  The burn had settled into a dull throb over his entire body, yet the contact was still almost excruciating.

    "Bastard," Tommy muttered under his breath.

    "You're never going to find out," Graeme informed him.

    "Oh, I think I will."  Tommy grinned widely at him.

    Graeme eyed him suspiciously, then tacked him without regard to his sunburn.  They wrestled on the dry grass for a moment before Graeme jumped up and breathlessly retreated to the house.  Tommy scrambled after him.

***

    On the ride to school the next day, they were both silent.  Tommy decided that it would be best not to push Graeme into speaking.  He would give him time and space to think about what he had done the day before.  He could only hope that Graeme would come to the same conclusion that he had.  He wasn't going to cross the line with Graeme.  He knew he could.  He was fairly convinced that it would have been an easy job to seduce his best friend, who was apparently and admittedly curious.  As far as Tommy was concerned though, that was not an option. 

    "What's wrong?"  He asked.

    "Nothing," Graeme readily replied.  "Just thinking."

    Tommy decided to leave it at that.  If Graeme didn't want to talk about it then he wasn't going to force the issue.  He figured it would be better if they both let the entire weekend blow over than to dwell on it.  Besides, Tommy had bigger fish to fry on that Tuesday.  He stared down at the books that lay near his feet on the floor.  They weren't his.  Mark had never returned to retrieve his schoolwork after he had stormed out of Tommy's house, and Tommy had been too afraid to call him. 

    "I'm going to apologize to Mark today," Tommy said.  "I have to give him his things back anyway, so don't wait for me after school, alright?"

    "Okay,"  Graeme said, and it was apparent that there wasn't going to be any further conversation on that ride, so Tommy sat back in his seat at watched the desert landscape pass by outside his window.

    ***

    Tommy thought it would have been easy.  He could give Mark his books during the phys-ed class they shared early in the morning, and then he would be done with it.  He would see Graeme at lunch, ask for a ride home, and Graeme would grin at him and ruffle his hair.  Things would be normal again.  It should have been easy, but as he stood at the end of a row of lockers with Mark's books grasped in his arms and held to his chest, he could hear that they were making fun of him.

    Mark was sitting there, surrounded by his soccer buddies, and telling them all about how Tommy Sinclair had tried to get in his pants.  Maybe it was too much to ask to remain on friendly terms with Mark after what had happened, but Tommy had hoped they could have at least remained civil.  He hadn't expected friendship.  He had expected only disappointment, but standing in the shadows, listening to Mark laugh at him and spread rumors about something he hadn't even done was devastating. 

    There it was in front of him, everything he had sought to avoid by cutting himself off from the rest of the team.  He had been careful not to bring attention to himself, yet he found himself mired in it once again.  He was finished hiding.  He was going to be himself on that team once and for all, and if it meant going toe-to-toe with Mark Briar and calling him out, he was going to do it.

    Tommy stalked around the row of lockers, the group of boys stared at him, and all the defiance was zapped straight out of him.  He pointed his eyes towards the concrete floor and shuffled towards them.  He instantly gave up on a confrontation then and just wanted to give Mark his books and get away.

    "Well, if it isn't the little faggot," Mark said as he caught sight of Tommy approaching.  The others laughed with him.

    "Look, Mark...about the other day," Tommy said, but he was cut off.

    "Fuck off, Sinclair."

    "I thought you might need your books," Tommy handed his papers over to him, neatly organized and in order.  He just threw them down on the ground and pointed a finger. 

 "Look, homo," he leered.  "I told the guys what you were after and I don't think we appreciate you being around here, so I why don't' you fuck off with your fudge packing friends you sick pervert."

    With that, Tommy's anger returned.  He was determined not to be the weak person that everybody was going to pick on, and he wasn't going to play their game or be toyed with by some closeted jock.

    "You didn't seem to think I was so horrifyingly disgusting on Saturday when you had your tongue down my throat did you?  I wasn't so bad when your fucking friends weren't around, was I?  You kissed me, Mark.  You kissed me, or did you forget about that?  So fuck you, okay?  I don't have to deal with this. Bollocks!  You can be a wanker, and you can pretend all you want to, but I will never be as gay as you are."

    Mark glared back at him.  He seemed to be at a loss at first, but as the standoff continued, Tommy could see the rage rise in his eyes.  Tommy had done one thing that he had never thought he'd do.  He had outed Mark in front of a locker room full of peers.  He wasn't surprise that Mark's eventual response was to hit him, but Tommy had been so set in his resolve to stare the captain down that he didn't have time to dodge.  The last thing he remembered was hitting  his head on a bench.

  We he regained full use of his faculties, Tommy realized that he was lying in the nurse's office with an ice pack on the back of his head, and Graeme was there.  He vaguely remembered a flurry of activity when he had bumped his head, and a stumble through the hallways, propped up by someone...he forgot who, in order to get to his current location.  Beyond that, everything was a blur.

    "I hurt all over," Tommy moaned at Graeme.

    "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"  Graeme asked, a facetious grin adorning his features.  Tommy smiled in spite of the throbbing of his head. 

    "You would like that wouldn't you?"  he said.  He smiled faintly, but then shuddered.  He didn't want anybody within a hundred yards of him at that moment; not even Graeme.  He was extremely tired of people touching him without permission.

    "Why are you even here?"  Tommy asked.

    "Billy stopped by my class and told me," Graeme divulged. 

    "Why did he do that?"  Tommy said curiously.  Billy was in his gym class.

    "I don't know," Graeme replied.  "It was weird.  Considerate but weird."

    "He thinks we have a thing going on," Tommy said. 

    "Really?"  Graeme seemed genuinely surprised, but not at all dismayed. 

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  His smile returned.  "It might have something to do with you walking around all over the place with your arm around me, yeah?"

    "That?"  Graeme scoffed.  "Why not?  You're huggable."

    "You're ridiculous!" 

    They paused to consider each other for a moment before Graeme leaned over and ruffled his hair.  Tommy swatted his hands away and they both had a laugh.  Things were back to normal with Graeme again, and for that Tommy was grateful.  He didn't think he could handle the silent treatment any longer.

    Tommy's mother arrived shortly and dutifully cooed over his injuries.  Despite his insistence that the was fine, she was there to take him to the hospital.  He had passed out and bumped his head, and she wanted to be sure he was okay.  He wasn't okay though.  As he sat there, she hugged him, and he felt nothing but resentment towards her trying to pretend that everything was the same.  He had no problem laying the blame for all his troubles on her, whether it was reasonable or not.

    He had spent a lot of time over that weekend thinking about Richard, even though he hadn't particularly wanted to.  It was what Hope had said on Friday that had affected him so much.  Tommy missed him, and he worried about him every single day.  It didn't help that Nigel wouldn't tell him anything he didn't already know.  He would only tell Tommy that Richard was fine then urge him to let it be.  Tommy knew Richard wasn't fine, and there was nothing he could do about it.

    The next day Tommy joined Graeme for their usual ride to school, and once again silence reigned.  Tommy's face was bruised underneath his eye and there was a large welt on the back of his head.  It had continued to ache through the night even though the doctors had told him that he was fine.  Tommy knew Mark didn't know what he was doing, and that he wasn't at all receptive to the feelings he was having.  He had outed Mark and he felt increasingly guilty the more he thought about it.  Maybe, if he was lucky, Mark could deny it and nobody would be any wiser.  Maybe he couldn't though, and Tommy was scared that he might have ruined his life.

    They were sitting at a red light.  Graeme had noticed the silence.  The previous day's ride had been uneasy for him as he thought about that weekend, but he had shrugged it off as the day commenced and had gladly run to Tommy when he found out what Mark had done.  If there was one thing he was absolutely sure about, it was that he was going to back up his friend under any circumstances, and he knew that Tommy would do the same for him.  So as they waited there for the light to change, Graeme threw his arm around Tommy's shoulder, and when Tommy turned to glare at him, he was met with Graeme's lips on his.  It was a quick kiss, and then it was over.  Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded.

    "What'd you do that for?"  He asked.  "Anybody could have seen us!"

    "Well."  Graeme shrugged as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world to have done.  "If everybody already thinks we're an item, who the fuck cares?"

    Tommy smiled wanly at him and nodded.  He certainly didn't.

****

    Tommy knew there were going to be repercussions about what had transpired at school the previous day.  Before he had a chance to even reach his locker, the coach had ushered him off to his office where Mark Briar was already seated.  He looked scared, as Tommy knew he should have been.  He was already on the verge of getting kicked off the team for grades.  Fighting with a teammate would almost certainly get him benched.  Tommy took a seat next to him and they shared a frightened glance.  They were both in the same boat and they knew it.  One of them was going to be sitting out.

    "Would either of you care to tell me what happened yesterday?" Coach asked.

    "I took the first swing," Tommy lied instantly before Mark could gather his whits.  If there was one thing Tommy knew about Mark, it was that he had to think things over before speaking.  "Mark was only defending himself."

    "Is that true, Mark?"  He turned to the captain and regarded him skeptically.  Mark wasn't paying any attention to his coach though.  He was staring at Tommy Sinclair with his mouth unhinged in shock.  The coach repeated his name to get his attention.

    "No, Sir," he said briskly.  "I spoke first.  I took the first punch.  I showed blatant disrespect for a teammate and the rules of this school, not to mention the team.  It's my fault."

    "I started it," Tommy insisted.  "Really."

    Mark spoke out Tommy's name in a short burst of exasperation.   The coach was completely forgotten.  "I don't need you to take the blame for me, dammit!"  He said.  "I'm the one who was wrong!"

    Tommy ignored him.  "Really," he said to the coach.  "It's okay.  I did it."

    The Coach had enough of both of them at that point.  He brought about their silence by handing out dual punishments: a week long suspension from the team for each of them.

****

    Mark caught up with Tommy at lunch later that day.  Graeme had returned to class, which left Tommy alone at the spot they shared underneath the palm tree.  He was holding his English reading limply in his hand, thinking idly about Richard Blume and feeling all the more pathetic for it.  Mark didn't shuffle or act nervous.  He stood there for a moment contemplating his next move then sat down.  Tommy decided that he would wait and see what he had to say before storming off, which was his gut reaction to his uninvited guest.

    "You shouldn't have done that," he said harshly, which wasn't the apology Tommy had been hoping for.

    "A team needs its captain," he muttered.  "Not some homo, right?"

    He grimaced then.  "You know I didn't mean what I said."

    "I know.  You were just putting on a show for your admires."  Tommy scowled.

    "The fact is," he continued.  "You're a better player than I am, okay?  We needed you on the field."

    "What's done is done, Mark," Tommy replied. 

    "Yes," he agreed.  "What's done is done."

    "I'm sorry."  Tommy found himself apologizing.  "I shouldn't have told anybody what you did.  That was private, and I shouldn't have used it against you."

    "I shouldn't have been calling you names," he said. 

    "You're right," Tommy agreed.  He waited for the apology, but still the words did not come out his mouth.  Tommy was a forgiving person, and he understood that Mark had been scared, all he needed to forgive him were two small words.

    "I didn't mean it," he repeated himself.  "I couldn't even believe I said it.  It was just the guys...they were saying stuff.  Then you came around the corner..."

    "An easy target?"  Tommy asked.  Mark shifted his gaze towards the ground and didn't answer.

    "Look," Tommy said and cut to the chase, "I don't even know what you're doing here if you're not going to apologize to me."

    "I'm sorry!"  He said instantly and his head snapped up to stare at Tommy with tears brimming in his eyes.  "I'm so sorry, Tom.  I just don't know what the fuck to do with all this."  He gestured wildly between them and sighed despairingly.

    "The first step is to stop crying," Tommy said.  "We are not pussies.  We are men, and when we cry we don't do it in front of them."

    "Them?"  He sniffed and looked around the quad.

    "You know.  The breeders."  Tommy whispered in his ear.

    Mark choked on the laugh that sputtered forth from his lips.   "Shut-up!" he said.  "You're not even...you're not all the way gay."

    "Nah," Tommy replied.  He sat back against the palm tree and smiled at Mark.  "I'm gay enough though, right?  I don't think most people care to know the difference.  What about you?"

    "Totally gay," Mark said solemnly, then he started laughing again.  "I can say it now.  Thanks."

    Tommy bowed his head.  He didn't feel as if he deserved any sort of thanks for what had happened.  He hadn't been the kind of supportive friend that Mark had hoped for.

    "There's something else I can say now too."

    "What's that?"  Tommy asked. 

    "I've never met anyone like you before, and I...I like you," Mark divulged.  "I've been wanting to say that since the first day I met you."

    "You did a good job of it on Saturday," Tommy pointed out.

    "Yeah."  Mark frowned.  "I know, I just...that was stupid of me to try and do what I did.  I just don't know how it works.  I mean, do I ask you out?"  He gave Tommy a worried expression.  "Because I really like you, and I'm really fucking sorry about yesterday."  He continued to mistake Tommy's silent contemplation as another rejection.  "I mean, now that I'm out here at school, it'll be alright, won't it?"

    "Mark, it won't be easy," Tommy finally said.  "I like you enough to give you a chance if that's what you're asking, but I shouldn't be your first date, or kiss, or fuck or anything.  I'm damaged goods."

    "I don't care," Mark said.  "You're the first guy I've known that I've wanted to...that I've wanted to get to know better.  I mean, when you blurted all that shit out to the guys I was pissed, but they freaked out when I punched you.  They can act like assholes.  Guys say stupid shit all the time without thinking, like me, right?  But...you're still a teammate, Tommy.  I don't even know if they're more pissed off at me for what I did to you or if they're pissed off because I'm...you know.  I guess we'll find out."

    "Maybe," Tommy replied, "but if I had to wager a guess, I'd say they're going to mostly be angry that the best two players on the team have gotten themselves suspended for the week!"

****

    Madeline didn't respond at first when Tommy told her he had a date, and when she did it was only ask him how he could possibly move on so quickly from Hope.

    "We weren't in love.  It's just a date."  They were standing in the kitchen.  Tommy was drinking a glass of milk and his mother was eating a grilled cheese sandwich with her tea on the burner.

    "Do I know her?"

    Tommy was well aware of the fact that his mother wouldn't like the idea of him going out with a boy again.  With Richard out of the picture it was all too easy for her to believe it had all been a phase, and Tommy having met and dated Hope did nothing to quell that idea.  Tommy didn't really care about her feelings at that point though, nor did he care to explain that he usually found boys more attractive.

    "Mark Briar," Tommy said.  "He's captain of my football team.  You've met him...he's tall...kind of ginger?  Anyway, he asked me out.  I said okay."

    "Oh."  She paused.  "Are you going to tell your father?"

    Tommy shook his head.  He enjoyed having a father who was proud of him.  It was quite an unexpected feeling for him, and even though he knew his mother found it difficult to keep his secret he didn't care.  If she hadn't told him all those times she had spoken to him long-distance in England, he saw no reason why she should suddenly be so forthcoming with the man.  If Steven was going to find out, Tommy wanted it to be on his own terms.

    "You'd better not tell him either," Tommy warned her.

    "Okay, Thompson."

    Tommy left her then and took his glass of milk upstairs for his weekly call to Nigel.  He had a lot of things to tell his friend, and he hoped, even though he knew it was useless, that Nigel would tell him something about Richard besides the fact that he was still breathing.

    *****

    Graeme was not so forgiving when it came to Mark Briar.  He didn't understand how Tommy could even associate with the asshole who had punched him in the face let alone go on a date with the man.  That night he was lying on Tommy's bed watching him stand in front of the mirror inspecting his face and fluffing his newly touched-up dyed blond hair.  He was wearing the tightest shirt that Graeme had ever seen and he had the gall to pull it off.  Tommy could wear anything he wanted.  He finally put on his watch and applied his usually eyeliner and a dash of cologne.  He then turned to Graeme, but he didn't ask for an opinion.

    "I'm hot, aren't I?"  He said with a smug expression.

    Even though Graeme knew he was being facetious, he couldn't help but feel there was something else; that maybe Tommy was actually looking for reassurance that he did look good.  So Graeme stood up, crossed the room and gathered Tommy up in his arms.

    "You look great," he said.

    "I know."  Tommy arched an eyebrow at him as they parted and wondered how he could fool everybody but Graeme into thinking he had it all figured out.

    "Tonight.  Depeche Mode," Tommy announced as he clicked on his stereo.  It had been Depeche Mode for a week, and the week before that it had been some obscure London band that Graeme had never heard of.  He was glad Tommy was there to introduce him to new things; he was fervent about music, that was for sure and openly mocked Graeme for his more dubious choices in pop music guilty pleasures.  Graeme handled the teasing with aplomb and easily returned the favor by calling Tommy elitist.  He wondered how Tommy was going to handle it when Mark Briar flipped on his favorite mainstream hip-hop album en-route to dinner.  He didn't really trust Mark, and a tiny bit of him would have been happy if the date turned out to be a total failure, but for Tommy's sake he wasn't going to voice his thoughts.

    Tommy was doing his Dave Gahan impression in front of the mirror as he puttered around his dresser in search of accessories.  He'd once told Graeme not to fall in love, because nobody would ever hurt you as much as the ones you love.  Tommy had been hurt, but he would never utter a word against that Richard person.  He would barely even speak of him at all, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was in love still, and even the mere mention of the guy's name was enough to make Tommy turn silent and introspective.  Graeme wished he had the capacity to love the way Tommy did so effortlessly.  Graeme didn't think he loved much of anything, nor did he care.  He had a staggering lack of ambition and was more than happy to just follow along with what people wanted him to do...his brothers, and his parents.  He had no idea what he was going to do with his life, and he thought it was pathetic.

    ***

    Graeme left about five minutes before Mark arrived, and Tommy was there to meet him at the door.  He didn't want his father to become suspicious.  Tommy was slightly surprised at the way Mark looked.  He was date-dressed for sure, and he had that smell of cologne and masculinity that was so very intoxicating.  Mark led him to the truck and opened the passenger side door, which immediately set Tommy off.

    "What are you doing?"  He snapped.

    "My mama always told me it's polite to open the door for your date," he said honestly and not sure what he had done wrong.

    Tommy told him to "never mind" and climbed into the cab.  Mark shut the door behind him and Tommy cringed.  He hated feeling like the 'girl', but he would indulge Mark for the time being.  He knew Mark wanted to get it right and Tommy didn't want to confuse him any further by complaining.

****

  Tommy vaguely wondered if Mark was always nervous on first dates.  The boy sat there next to him with a barrel of popcorn in his lap, hands shaking as he pulled the kernels from the bucket to his lips, cursing softly each and every time he dropped one on his shirt.  Tommy sat, intent on the movie, and quietly amused at his date's loss of fine motor skills. 

    "You're going to have to relax," Tommy whispered at him, and leaned slightly towards Mark, inviting any sort of contact. 

    Mark took a deep breath and sunk back into his chair.  He smiled sideways at Tommy.

    "I'm sorry.  This is kinda...weird..."

    "Yeah, it's a shit movie," Tommy agreed.  He smiled and glanced at the screen.  They had chosen the worst looking movie that they could find in hopes that the theater would be mostly empty.  They were right.  There were only three other people there. 

    "That's not what I meant...I just...I don't...I don't know what to do."

    "What do you want to do?"  Tommy glanced up at him.

    "I want to put my arm around you," Mark readily admitted.  "But I'm kind of afraid you're going to get mad at me again."

    "It's okay," Tommy reassured him.  "I'm really sorry about that thing with the door."  He tentatively reached over and patted Mark's knee, then rested his hand there.  "It's okay."  He repeated, and when Mark began tapping his foot nervously, Tommy rubbed his hand over his thigh. 

   Mark jumped in his seat, surprised at the contact, and the popcorn was jolted from his lap.  The bucket landed upside down between seats and popcorn scattered over their feet and the floor.  Tommy couldn't contain his laugh, and they incurred an angry "Shhh" from one of the few people in the theater.

    Mark glanced at Tommy, laughter now on apparent on his face.  They grinned, and bent their heads together in hushed giggles. 

    "Let's get out of here," Tommy announced moments later.

    Mark looked curiously at him.  "But the Movie..."

    "That we're not watching anyway?" Tommy pointed out.

    "You're right," Mark admitted.  "It was kind of a lame idea, but what else are we going to do?"

    "Let's go for a walk," Tommy offered.  "It's a nice night.  Maybe if we actually talk to each other, you won't be so damn awkward around me!"

    Even in the darkened room, Tommy could tell that Mark was blushing.  He glanced towards the screen one time, then back at Tommy, resolve set in his face.

    "Let's do it," he said.  Then he stood up and offered his hand. 

    Tommy grinned back and took it.

***

    The night was quiet and warm.  The wind had died down and there was nothing but the moonlight and stars and the sounds of night to keep them company.  They shuffled along quietly for a while, before either one was comfortable enough to break the silence.  In the end it was Mark.

    "So," he said.  "I've been meaning to ask...why are you here?  I mean, why Mesquite?  Seems like a strange place to want to move."

    "Oh," Tommy perked up in surprise at the question.  He supposed that he knew it was coming though. "I got expelled from school for marks on my disciplinary record."

    "What'd you do?"  Mark frowned. 

    "Nothing," Tommy replied honestly.  "Actually, first they just took away my scholarship...then I got expelled because I called the headmistress a liar.  I could have stayed if my dad didn't offer us shelter here.  My dad's American.  He's from Alabama.  Come down to it, so am I.  I was born in Alabama."

    "Never would have guessed that! You sound so... I like your accent."  Mark replied.  "Why'd you even go to England in the first place?"

    "My mum is English," Tommy explained.  "My uncle..."  he fell silent then and stopped walking so he could look up at the stars.

    "Hey?"  Mark said softly.  He veered close enough to bump shoulders with Tommy and get his attention.

    "Yeah," Tommy said.  He looked down at his feet and sighed.  "You don't look at the stars in the city, Mark.  There's too many distractions if you can see them at all.  I really want to hate it here...but you can see the stars."

    Mark nodded.  "It's not all bad.  Biggest city I've ever been to..."

    "Vegas?"  Tommy cut him off with a grin.

    "Yep," Mark said.  "You got me.  Talk about your distractions."

    "You'll have to take me there sometime," Tommy replied.  He glanced over at Mark, who was wearing a look of mild shock.  It was enough to spur Tommy on.  "We can make it a weekend."

    And just as easily as Mark's comfort had come, it left.  He was back to a nervous jittery mess.
    
    "You mean...like...together?  A..a..alone?"  He stammered.

    "Yes!"  Tommy agreed.  "Together alone.  There's a lot of things you can do together...alone."

    "Geez, Tom, I...don't know.  You said..."

    "Not, right now, this instant," Tommy clarified.  "Maybe someday.  When you aren't frightened of me anymore."

    "I'm not frightened of you!"  Mark refuted.  "I just like you, and you're fucking intimidating.  Walkin' around the school like you own the damn place no matter what anybody says about you."

    "I don't know how intimidating that is," Tommy scoffed at Mark's assertion.  "More like stupid, yeah?  I managed to get punched in the face by someone who likes me.  I'd hate to think what would happen if I crossed someone who didn't like me!"

    "Are you going to forgive me for that?"  Mark asked a bit sadly.

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  "Of course.  Would we be here now if I hadn't?"

    "Guess you're right," he said.

    They paused there and both looked up at the sky.  After a few minutes passed, Tommy reached down and grasped Mark's hand in his own.

    "We should be getting back.  You made dinner reservations, right?" he said, and glanced sideways at Mark to gage his reaction.

    Mark looked down at their entwined hands.  He wore a smile and when he looked up at Tommy he burst into a wide grin.

    "I didn't freak out this time," he declared proudly.

    Tommy grinned back at him.  "You'll learn yet!"  Tommy said, and together they walked hand-in-hand back towards the movie theater parking lot.

***

    
   When they returned to Tommy's house Mark was wavering on how to bid his date goodnight, whether it be a kiss, or a hug, or a gruff handshake and a pat on the back.  Tommy saved him the trouble of a decision and stepped up to embrace him.

    "I had a good time, alright?"

    "Me too."  He grinned as they broke apart.

    They stood there inches apart, Mark was radiating happiness and Tommy wanted to kiss him, but he dare not do it in front of his house where his father could happen upon them.  Instead of giving in to temptation he asked Mark if he minded that he smoke.  If anything would deter Mark from engaging in another lip-lock it would be a cigarette.

    Mark said he didn't mind, and that he would see Tommy at school the next day.  He turned to leave, and suddenly Tommy didn't want him to go.  He threw the barely used cigarette on the stoop and stubbed it out with his toe.

    "Mark?"  He said.  "Would you like to come in?"

    "Oh, I don't know," he groaned.  Tommy was positive that he wanted to though and that his hesitation was stemming from what had happened the previous Friday.  Tommy stepped to him again and wrapped an arm around his waist.  He leaned up to whisper in his ear...

    "I promise I won't shove you off the bed this time," he said.

    Mark tried valiantly to hide his surprise at the offer, and nodded silent consent, so Tommy led him to his room for the second time.  He lay down on the bed, and Mark followed his example, but  once they had settled themselves they seemed to be paralyzed to go any further.  It took a good ten minutes for Tommy to finally move.  He sat up, and leaned down to kiss Mark.

    "I've never done this before," Mark admitted as soon as Tommy's lips left his.  He was nervous again, and Tommy hoped he wasn't expecting anything more than maybe a little make-out.

    "Don't be silly."  Tommy grinned down at him.  "You did this last Friday, and there was more tongue."

    "You know what I mean!"  Mark pushed Tommy back onto his side of the bed in a playful manner.

    "I hope you're not telling me you're a virgin," Tommy replied.

    "No, I'm not, but...I am.  You know?"  Mark stared up at the ceiling, suddenly embarrassed.  "What about you?"

    Tommy was surprised, and the innocence of that comment almost caused him to start laughing again.  Mark thinking that he might not have ever been with a boy before either was refreshing and relieving. 

    "I'm not."  Tommy shifted closer to him and leaned his head against his shoulder, grabbing his hand as he did, so they could both share the view.

    "Anybody I know?"  Mark asked.

    "If it were, I wouldn't tell you," Tommy informed him.  "He's in England."

    "Is he hot?"

    "Are you jealous?"

    "Maybe."  Mark shifted then, and Tommy could tell he was being looked at.  He kept his eyes pointed upwards though  and let his date take him in.

    "Don't worry about him," Tommy said.

    "He's why you're 'damaged goods', eh?"  Mark said.

    Tommy cursed silently then.  He knew in that instant that nothing else was going to happen with Mark that night, and all because he suddenly seemed to care about Tommy's life before America.  He wasn't going to let himself do anything, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, since the subject had been brought up, he would only be able to think of Richard, and that wasn't fair to Mark.

    He was thinking of how best to address the delicate situation in a way that would extricate Mark from his bed without somehow stomping on his feelings when his mother burst in saving him the trouble.

    "I think you lads need to finish up in here."  She scowled down at them holding hands.

    "But we haven't even shagged yet!"  Tommy sat up and pouted at her.

    Mark was flabbergasted at Tommy's response and had jumped to his feet, but he had nowhere to run.  Madeline was standing between him and the door with her arms crossed.  Tommy stalked his way around the bed and patted Mark lightly on the arm.

    "It's okay, don't worry," he said.

    Mark looked anything but unworried.

    "You are not to entertain dates in your room, Thompson," she said.

    "Is this a new rule?"  Tommy asked.  "Because you know Hope and I were..."

    She cut him short by grunting and pointing the way out the door.  Tommy reluctantly grabbed Mark's arm and dragged him along back out to the stoop.  Even though Mark was nervous, Tommy gave him the kiss goodnight that he had been trying to avoid earlier.  Mark was compliant though his mind was elsewhere.

    "I had a good time," he said a moment after parting.

    "Me too," Tommy replied.  "We're doing this again, right?"

    "Definitely," Mark agreed.  "But...without the part with your mom, okay?  She's not going to be mad at you is she?  I mean, does she know?"

    "Yeah," he said.  "She's known since I was eleven.  I'm not very good at being 'In'...though my dad..."

    "Dads are tough," Mark said. 

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  "He's willfully ignorant, and he can stay that way, so let's be discrete."
    
    "Good idea," Mark said.  "So..."

    "So, I'll see you tomorrow at school,"  Tommy said.  "We'll do something later this week, maybe after the game..."

    "The one that we're not playing in?" Mark laughed.

    "Yeah!  That one."

    They hugged once last time.

    "You're a great guy," Mark said in his ear.

    Tommy could think of nothing more articulate to say to that declaration than a thank you accompanied by his inevitable blush.  As soon as Mark had left Tommy was in the house brushing off his mother and her angry glances to get on the phone to Graeme so he could tell him all about how it had been the best date ever.

    Graeme felt himself veering into overprotective territory with regard to Tommy.  He barely knew Mark, but he knew he didn't trust him at all.  When he met Tommy the day after the infamous date, he managed to feel a little bit guilty for it when it was explained to him that Mark had been the vision of repentant politeness.  Tommy told him what Mark had said when they'd parted the night before, and Graeme could understand why Tommy had dreamily declared it the "best date ever" when he'd called the previous night. 

    It was always nice when someone you liked called you "great," and Graeme was beginning to get the idea that was something that Tommy needed to hear despite all his posturing.

    Though, the last thing Graeme wanted to see was Tommy hurt any further.   They spent enough time together for Graeme to know that he was still crippled by whatever had happened in England that he refused to talk about in any great detail.  Graeme didn't think things with Mark Briar were going to last anyway, despite Tommy seeming happy.  Graeme had convinced himself that it was nothing more than a momentary high.

    He and Hope had even discussed it.  It was frightfully clear that Tommy's heart was elsewhere.  Every time any variation of the name "Richard" was uttered that look would settle into Tommy's eyes.  All the longing and hurt and disappointment he felt was shown clear as day on his face.  It wasn't only the name that set him off, but the strangest things as well; little things like wand