Hi everyone! Well, as it seems, the site has taken away the NC-17
fictions. I'm not sure as of now what will be the rating of this story
later on. (Or if it will change at all).
Well, onto the chapter! And thanks to everyone who reviewed my previous
installments.
There, on the floor beside the coolness of the wall the two sat. Night had begun to fall; the cold winds blew in through the open window.
Arnold felt a chill come down his spine. He got up from his place by the wall.
Gerald watched him turn the corner; naturally he thought Arnold was heading for the bathroom. Gerald felt drained, at the moment. His feelings were scattered, in the way he had hoped they wouldn't be.
He shifted his position against the wall, realizing a cramp had developed.
What was going to happen now? He questioned himself. There's still two days until my family gets home, and now, everything seems messed up. Why do these things always happen to me? He thought. And now Arnold. He sighed. He probably isn't gay; he probably hates me now. What was I thinking?
"Uh. hey, Gerald," Arnold called from the restroom.
Gerald snapped to attention. "Yeah, what is it?" He didn't feel comfortable with using the term 'bro' after what had happened. He felt ashamed.
"Where do you keep the toothpaste?"
"In the mirror," he replied, breathlessly.
He didn't hear a reply. "It's just fine that way," he muttered himself. "I shouldn't have told him. he'll never want to talk to me again after this. How could I expect him to? He always talked about how he liked girls in our class; he'd never really be gay. He just said it because he didn't want to hurt me," Gerald said, in a whisper.
He got up from his place against the wall and decided to call someone about this.
"Not my brother," he whispered to himself. "He wouldn't understand. Would mom?" he wondered.
He dashed over the phone. But when he got there he felt like he wanted to drop the whole idea.
"Just do it!" he muttered harshly to himself. He picked up the phone and dialed his mother's cell.
One ring, two rings. "What she doin'?" he says impatiently. A third ring, then a forth. "Damnit, she's never there when anyone needs her."
"Hello?"
"Mom! Uh, hi," he says, trying to sound casual.
"What's up, honey? Why're you calling so late?"
A pause.
"Umm. I have something I need help with."
"And what's that?"
"Mom. I have a friend, he has a crush on his friend, and he told his friend how he felt."
"Yeah, so what's wrong?"
"He doesn't know if his friend really feels the same. He wonders if his friend said he does just to be nice."
"Hmmm. who is this friend, Gerald?"
Another pause.
"Is it important?"
"Well, no. But maybe. never mind."
"So what should my friend do about his friend?"
"Well, hmm. he should ask his friend how he feels right now, and whether he really does feel the same."
"You really think that's what he should do? What about if his friend doesn't like him? Then what?"
"Well, I guess if his friend doesn't really like him they'll have to get over it and be friends or just not see each other anymore." She offered.
Gerald took a deep breath. "Ok mom. I'll transfer the info onto him. G'night."
"Love you honey. Go to sleep, you sound beat."
"Aw, ok mom. Bye."
"Bye."
He put the phone away.
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Finding nothing that caught his eye, he left, hearing it close as he walked away.
He walked in front of the couch, letting his body fall onto it. He grabbed a pillow and held onto it tightly.
*****
Arnold stared into the mirror at his teeth. They were a clean, pearly white, which he took much pride in. He remembered Harold. "That guy," he sighed. "He's such a mess."
He put his toothbrush away. He decided that he would go and have a talk with Gerald.
He walked in behind the couch his friend was residing in, breathing quietly, feeling nervous. He moved to take a seat in the lazy boy.
At first, he thought Gerald hadn't noticed him. But when he moved to get up, he heard him say: "Where you going, Arnold?"
"No where, umm. I was just gonna go to the kitchen."
"Oh."
"You want me to get you something?"
"Uh. nah. Maybe a soda," Gerald said.
"Oh, ok. What kind?" Arnold asked.
"How 'bout a grape."
"Ok."
Arnold went to the kitchen. Dang, what am I going to do? He thought. What can I say to him, what could possibly make up for earlier?
He returned to the living room with two sodas. He gave Gerald his and returned to his seat.
Arnold opened his soda, hearing a 'pop' noise. He took a large sip, and set it down on a coaster.
They both sat there for what seemed like hours, not a word passing between the two.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Gerald picked it up hastily, and said hello.
"Gerald," he heard his father's voice, low and vicious.
"Yeah, dad?"
"Your mother said you had a friend, or some crap, over at the house that had a crush on his friend. Honestly, son, how dense do you think I am?"
"Uh-"
"Gerald, I know it's you that has a crush."
"What! No I don't, dad."
"Do you have a girl over there?"
"No, I'm havin' a sleepover with a couple of the guys," he explained.
"Sure," his father laughed. "You're having a party, aren't you?"
"Uh. no."
"Ok. But, who's the friend if it really isn't you?"
"Umm, gee dad. It's just one of my friends."
"Ok, you obviously can't answer my question, Gerald. I know that you're hiding something. You just better make sure that what you're hiding isn't something I'll kill you over."
"Ok, alright dad. See ya around, ok?"
"All right, night son."
"Night dad."
He hung up the phone loudly.
He looked at Arnold. "Hey, what's wrong, Arnold?"
He turned to look at Gerald. "I'm just worried about how grandpa will react to us. That's all."
"Grandpa? He'll be fine Arnold."
"No he won't! He's old Gerald, he could have a damn heart attack if he found out."
"Well, don't tell him then."
"It's not that simple, Gerald. Grandpa picks up on things, he'll know I'm hiding something from him."
Gerald could hardly keep himself from laughing. "You saying grandpa's psychic?"
Arnold glared at him. "No. I'm saying that he'll know, he just will."
"What's it matter? He'd find out anyway, wouldn't he?"
"I don't know.."
"Just chill man, let's watch a movie."
"Ok."
There, on the floor beside the coolness of the wall the two sat. Night had begun to fall; the cold winds blew in through the open window.
Arnold felt a chill come down his spine. He got up from his place by the wall.
Gerald watched him turn the corner; naturally he thought Arnold was heading for the bathroom. Gerald felt drained, at the moment. His feelings were scattered, in the way he had hoped they wouldn't be.
He shifted his position against the wall, realizing a cramp had developed.
What was going to happen now? He questioned himself. There's still two days until my family gets home, and now, everything seems messed up. Why do these things always happen to me? He thought. And now Arnold. He sighed. He probably isn't gay; he probably hates me now. What was I thinking?
"Uh. hey, Gerald," Arnold called from the restroom.
Gerald snapped to attention. "Yeah, what is it?" He didn't feel comfortable with using the term 'bro' after what had happened. He felt ashamed.
"Where do you keep the toothpaste?"
"In the mirror," he replied, breathlessly.
He didn't hear a reply. "It's just fine that way," he muttered himself. "I shouldn't have told him. he'll never want to talk to me again after this. How could I expect him to? He always talked about how he liked girls in our class; he'd never really be gay. He just said it because he didn't want to hurt me," Gerald said, in a whisper.
He got up from his place against the wall and decided to call someone about this.
"Not my brother," he whispered to himself. "He wouldn't understand. Would mom?" he wondered.
He dashed over the phone. But when he got there he felt like he wanted to drop the whole idea.
"Just do it!" he muttered harshly to himself. He picked up the phone and dialed his mother's cell.
One ring, two rings. "What she doin'?" he says impatiently. A third ring, then a forth. "Damnit, she's never there when anyone needs her."
"Hello?"
"Mom! Uh, hi," he says, trying to sound casual.
"What's up, honey? Why're you calling so late?"
A pause.
"Umm. I have something I need help with."
"And what's that?"
"Mom. I have a friend, he has a crush on his friend, and he told his friend how he felt."
"Yeah, so what's wrong?"
"He doesn't know if his friend really feels the same. He wonders if his friend said he does just to be nice."
"Hmmm. who is this friend, Gerald?"
Another pause.
"Is it important?"
"Well, no. But maybe. never mind."
"So what should my friend do about his friend?"
"Well, hmm. he should ask his friend how he feels right now, and whether he really does feel the same."
"You really think that's what he should do? What about if his friend doesn't like him? Then what?"
"Well, I guess if his friend doesn't really like him they'll have to get over it and be friends or just not see each other anymore." She offered.
Gerald took a deep breath. "Ok mom. I'll transfer the info onto him. G'night."
"Love you honey. Go to sleep, you sound beat."
"Aw, ok mom. Bye."
"Bye."
He put the phone away.
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Finding nothing that caught his eye, he left, hearing it close as he walked away.
He walked in front of the couch, letting his body fall onto it. He grabbed a pillow and held onto it tightly.
*****
Arnold stared into the mirror at his teeth. They were a clean, pearly white, which he took much pride in. He remembered Harold. "That guy," he sighed. "He's such a mess."
He put his toothbrush away. He decided that he would go and have a talk with Gerald.
He walked in behind the couch his friend was residing in, breathing quietly, feeling nervous. He moved to take a seat in the lazy boy.
At first, he thought Gerald hadn't noticed him. But when he moved to get up, he heard him say: "Where you going, Arnold?"
"No where, umm. I was just gonna go to the kitchen."
"Oh."
"You want me to get you something?"
"Uh. nah. Maybe a soda," Gerald said.
"Oh, ok. What kind?" Arnold asked.
"How 'bout a grape."
"Ok."
Arnold went to the kitchen. Dang, what am I going to do? He thought. What can I say to him, what could possibly make up for earlier?
He returned to the living room with two sodas. He gave Gerald his and returned to his seat.
Arnold opened his soda, hearing a 'pop' noise. He took a large sip, and set it down on a coaster.
They both sat there for what seemed like hours, not a word passing between the two.
Suddenly, the phone rang. Gerald picked it up hastily, and said hello.
"Gerald," he heard his father's voice, low and vicious.
"Yeah, dad?"
"Your mother said you had a friend, or some crap, over at the house that had a crush on his friend. Honestly, son, how dense do you think I am?"
"Uh-"
"Gerald, I know it's you that has a crush."
"What! No I don't, dad."
"Do you have a girl over there?"
"No, I'm havin' a sleepover with a couple of the guys," he explained.
"Sure," his father laughed. "You're having a party, aren't you?"
"Uh. no."
"Ok. But, who's the friend if it really isn't you?"
"Umm, gee dad. It's just one of my friends."
"Ok, you obviously can't answer my question, Gerald. I know that you're hiding something. You just better make sure that what you're hiding isn't something I'll kill you over."
"Ok, alright dad. See ya around, ok?"
"All right, night son."
"Night dad."
He hung up the phone loudly.
He looked at Arnold. "Hey, what's wrong, Arnold?"
He turned to look at Gerald. "I'm just worried about how grandpa will react to us. That's all."
"Grandpa? He'll be fine Arnold."
"No he won't! He's old Gerald, he could have a damn heart attack if he found out."
"Well, don't tell him then."
"It's not that simple, Gerald. Grandpa picks up on things, he'll know I'm hiding something from him."
Gerald could hardly keep himself from laughing. "You saying grandpa's psychic?"
Arnold glared at him. "No. I'm saying that he'll know, he just will."
"What's it matter? He'd find out anyway, wouldn't he?"
"I don't know.."
"Just chill man, let's watch a movie."
"Ok."