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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Confounded: Part II - 2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 --==Taylan’s POV==--

He threw a handful of chewing gum in my lap as he got in, and fastened his seatbelt. I sighed.

“I said one.”

“That’s one. One handful,” he grinned, “there. Done. Can we go now?”

I pulled away from the parking spot and spared him a glance.

“So? Oh, no, wait, let me guess; you’ve got a load of cavities and now they’ll pull all of em, right? They look good but underneath it’s all rotting? Awww, poor kid.”

I bounced up and down in my seat, sending him my most hopeful expression.

“I knew it! I wanna tell your dad! Please?”

He laughed softly, sending me a toothy killer smile.

“Funny. Nope! Nothing. No cavities, gums in pristine condition; he said I’m a very good flosser.”
He frowned. “Where are we going? We live thattaway?”

He jerked his thumb backwards over his shoulder.

“And the grocery store is thattaway,” I replied, pointing ahead. “What do you want to eat?”

Let me guess.

“Cauliflower,” I said, at the same time he did. “What a surprise.”

It was his favorite.

“If you already know what I’ll pick, why’d you ask?”

“Because I hope that one day, you’ll be less predictable. Live a little. Eat fat, lots of carbs, be an American.”

He shuddered visibly.

“No, thanks. And there’s nothing wrong with being predictable.”

It was like hearing his dad speak. I sighed and looked around.

“Is your dad in here? I swear I just heard an echo.”

Then I suddenly braked because some idiot swerved right into my lane.

“Hey! Bozo! Who gave you a driver’s license, fuckhead!”

Slap. Lightning quick, Kit’s arm shot out and his hand connected with the back of my head, none too softly.

“Hey! Knock it off; driver here!”

“Curse means slap,” he replied, dryly.

“That only applies to you. No slapping a parental unit. That’s illegal.”

He laughed loudly, mocking me with a glance.

“Well, it should be.”

“Hey, it’s Dad’s rule, not mine. I curse, I get a slap. You curse, you get a slap. Dad curses, he gets a slap. We’re one slappy family.”

I snickered as we pulled into the parking lot of the store.

Once inside he went straight for the carts, and came back with one.

“Hop in,” he said, pushing out the kiddy seat. “This is a dwarf-free zone.”

He groaned when I actually did do it. Well, not into the kiddy seat, obviously, but into the cart itself.

“You’re insane, you know that, right?”

“Lead the way, Aragorn,” I said, pointing forward. “The Mines of Moria await!”

His face flushed when several people glanced at us.

“Stop it!” he hissed whisperingly. “Get out!”

“Hey, you told me to get in; you asked for it,” I grinned back, whispering as well. Then, with a louder voice I pointed behind him, to a particularly voluptuous woman. “You….shall not….pass!!!”

I made the sound of thunder, and he rolled his eyes.

“Who’s the kid here?”

Well…
I raised my arms.

“Daddy! Daddy! Out!”

“Would you cut it out?!” he hissed, avoiding the looks of several people who passed us, including the woman. “Get out. Now!”

I snickered and got out of the cart, much to his relief. He pointed at his forehead.

“Nuts. Completely nuts.”

“Yeah, yeah; you go get the cauliflower. Meet you at the dairy court.”

He disappeared, all too happy to not be associated with me for a while, and I turned into an aisle, perusing the items, slowly stocking up on groceries. By the time I arrived at the dairy section, Kit came walking toward me with a whopper of a vegetable.

Careful placing it in the cart, he grinned when I raised an eyebrow.

“You plan on feeding a halfway house or something?”

“No?”

“Go get a smaller one, then.”

He sighed and took the vegetable from the cart, returning a few minutes later with a much smaller one, and proceeding with me to the dairy products.

“How many?” he asked, pointing at the milk.

“Full crates. Two.”

Between the two of them, his dad and Kit drank that in a week. He placed the crates in the cart, lifting them without so much as a grunt, and we continued.

“I’m almost done. You need something else? Magazines? Come on; be the man. Playboy? I’ve always wanted to buy that; I think it would make me appear butch. No? Any other dirty mags? Awww, you’re no fun.”

He had subscriptions to several sports magazines, but I never knew of any others. Not that I frequented his room, these days; he was at that age where you just don’t barge in anymore. Boys need their privacy. I remembered, at that age, when my dad used to walk in; some embarrassing situations had barely been averted. I sure wasn’t going to do that to Kit.

“How about cigarettes?” I asked, when we passed the tobacco section.

He made a face. “Yuck. There’s this new guy in my class? Christopher? He smokes. Half the time he sits next to me and when he asks me something, he just…stinks.”

He shuddered, and I grinned at that.

“Best reason not to do it. You never told me there was a new kid…”

He shrugged. “Forgot. He’s been here for about a week. Remember the mansion, couple of streets back from us, that was for sale?”

I frowned.

“That Spanish hacienda style?”

He nodded.

“That’s the one. They moved in about a week ago. His dad’s a producer. I think he does TV series or something.

“Oh, I love that house. I didn’t know it was sold yet.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Chris’s alright; Greg and I, we’re going surfing and he’s coming with us this weekend. Apparently he’s some sort of whiz on the board.”

It amazed me how easily he made friends, but at the same time, it’s very telling of what kind of guy he is. Social, easy going; to my knowledge there wasn’t a bad bone in his body. Not even a misbehaving one. Some people would call that boring, but I knew him to be far from that.

We arrived at the cash register and put our items up on the belt. The young girl behind it flushed a bit when Kit acknowledged her with a lift of his chin, smiling wide.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey!” He easily greeted back. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Ah, so he knew her?

I watched with interest, and found that she definitely seemed into him. Oh, poor girl. I couldn't blame her, though; what’s not to like? Not that I’m drooling over my own son, but come on; I’ve got eyes. He’s definitely a looker and, shallow as it may sound, I’d jump his bones if I were on the prowl. And if I fell for guys his age. He’s got everything working for him, even more so than his dad, who’s definitely not bad either. But I’m prejudiced, I guess. I’m glad that I thought about his dad just then. Thinking about Kit did nothing, but about his dad? Yum!

“Alright, I’ll see you in class,” Kit replied when the last of our groceries had passed through her hands. I paid, and he took the cart, wheeling it toward the exit, while I waited for my receipt. I caught up with him at the doors.

“So…she’s in your class?”

He grinned.

“Yeah…”

“She doesn’t know, huh?”

“Nope.”

He’d come out to us about a year ago, and been very open about it; girls didn’t interest him whatsoever, and he’d felt attracted to a guy in class, back then. He didn’t feel ashamed, or felt embarrassed, much like thousands, if not millions, of boys out there that had to go through the process of telling the parents that they’re gay.

I remember Mitchell feeling quite guilty about it, thinking it was his son being brought up by two men that had influenced his sons’ feelings. It’d taken the both of us, Kit and me, to get him off that line of thought but since, Kit hadn’t even hinted at so much as one other special guy. Somehow, giving us that news and then not act on it, was something I couldn’t quite get my head around; Kit always went after something he wanted. Be that a thing, or a person. I think. I now had a chance to find out what exactly happened back then, while loading the groceries into the car.

“What happened to that other kid, then? In class? “
He frowned, slamming the trunk on the crates of milk, wheeling the empty cart to the storing area.

“What other kid?” He asked when he returned and got in.

“Alex? Jack? God, I don’t remember; you were kind of hot for him?” I tried to recall, starting the engine and backing out.

“Oh! You mean Jack Alexander...“

“Whatever… he could be Hannibal the Cannibal; what happened with him?”

”He gained a girlfriend.”
His facial expression soured a bit. Yeah, he’d been quite smitten. A first love, especially the unrequited ones, are hard to get over.

“Ah…” I had to pay some more attention to the road, before I could continue my prying. “And since?” I asked, when we’d turned into a quieter street.

“Tay….” He sighed, exasperated.
I growled softly. The kid was tough to get to talk, when he didn’t want to.

“Kit…” I replied, in the same tone. “Come on. You’re open about everything except that. What’s going on?” He was obviously beginning to get uncomfortable but I pressed on. “Well?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“Because it took me a long time to get over Jack, alright?”
It sounded kind of snappy and I looked sideways.

Oh wow, he was genuinely pissed. I guess I pushed a little too far.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
Swallowing, he watched out the window. Then, all of a sudden, spoke, almost startling me.

“I had it all in my head, you know? I’d tell him I was in love with him, and he would say he loved me too. We would do stuff together; go out, watch movies, sports, whatever. I’d take him home and introduce you guys, and you’d both accept him as my boyfriend. I… I was stupid.”
Aww….

“You romanticized it,” I said, touching his knee. “That’s not stupid. A little naïve, perhaps, but not stupid. Don’t ever think that. Real life is just not that way. Hah, if only!”

“Yeah, I found that out real quick.”
He sounded so sad at that moment, that I really felt for him.

“What happened?”

“We were at a party, a whole bunch of us, and I had planned to tell him. He got there, and just as I was about to go up to him, and…you know…go somewhere private, to talk, this girl showed up and…well, let’s just say my world crumbled.”
He groaned and, thinking back, I remembered a short period, last year, where he’d seemed a little down. Back then, we’d blamed it on his coming out, and his adjusting to it.

“And so now you’re scared? Because of all this?”
He frowned.

“Scared? Why would I be scared?”

“Your first ehm…crush, didn’t exactly pay off, so you now are a little scared to get out there?”
He huffed at that.

“Of course not! I just haven’t met anyone I find interesting, is all.”

“Kit, you don’t go out, I see no one else but your regular friends; how on earth do you expect to meet someone if you don’t step out of your comfort zone?”

“Why is my meeting someone so important to you?” He fired back.

“I live vicariously through you; daytime soaps don’t exactly do it for me anymore?”
His snorted laugh reverberated through the car.

“Yeah, right; I think it’s the other way around.”
He winked and grinned, and I raised an eyebrow.

“How would you be living vicariously through me?”

“Well, from the sounds I hear at night…”
I think I blushed, because he snickered, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“The walls aren’t exactly massive, between our bedrooms, you know? And not just at night…”

“That’s enough, thank you.”
Oh wow, I really had to have a talk with Mitchell. Turning into our street, I glared at him.
“You’re moving, tonight. I’m giving you up for adoption.”

“Teehee, sure you are. I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“Nope. You love me too much.”
He laid his head on my shoulder, blinking exaggeratedly, grinning wide.
“And I wuv you too.”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed him off of my shoulder and pulled into the driveway.

andr0gene 2005-present
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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