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    Thorn Wilde
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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. 

Storms - 16. Michael

As promised, a calm in the storm.

I woke up on my sixteenth birthday with Daniel’s warm body in my arms. His back was snuggled up to my front, and from this vantage point it would be so easy, so effortless, to kiss the back of his neck, or his earlobe. Then I realised that we were holding hands. His hand was small in mine, his skin warm and soft, and I couldn’t help but gently squeeze it.

That seemed to wake him, and I quickly disentangled my fingers from his, but otherwise stayed still.

‘Morning,’ I said as he emitted a sleepy yawn.

‘Mm . . . Good morning . . .’ Daniel turned over on his back, and I shifted a bit, propping myself up on my elbow to give him room, but I left my other arm draped across his chest. It felt good to hold him. He didn’t seem to mind.

‘You sleep okay?’ I asked.

Daniel seemed to consider for a moment. ‘You know what?’ he said finally. ‘I actually did. I slept really well.’

I grinned, feeling almost smug. He felt safe with me. I loved that. ‘That’s good,’ I told him, and he returned my smile.

‘I should go check on Mum,’ he said and sat up. I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. I would have liked to keep him in my arms just a few minutes longer. Then again, if I had, there was no telling what I’d do. Like kiss him. That would have been bad. On the off chance that he was into me, anything that happened had to happen at his pace and on his initiative. And assuming he wasn’t interested, the more likely scenario, I didn’t want to scare him off or give him a reason not to trust me.

He got out of bed and pulled his clothes on. I reached for my trousers and pulled my phone out of my pocket. While he went to check on his mother, I scrolled through twenty or so birthday greetings on Facebook. I also had a text from my sister, and one from my parents as well, who promised to call me that evening.

Daniel reappeared a moment later. ‘Do you want breakfast? Coffee?’

I put down my mobile and reached for my t-shirt. ‘Breakfast, yes please. Not much of a coffee drinker, though.’

‘I think we have some tea.’

I smiled. ‘Tea would be nice. If it’s no trouble.’

He returned again soon after with two bowls of cereal, a cup of tea for me (milk and sugar; he must have remembered, which made me inexplicably happy) and coffee for himself. He sat next to me on the bed.

‘Didn’t know you were a coffee drinker,’ I said, taking a sip of my tea and setting it down on the nightstand.

He shrugged. ‘Only sometimes. I mean, I’m not normally a breakfast person, but I was in a breakfast-y mood today.’ He indicated his bowl of cereal.

‘You’re full of surprises.’ I smiled.

My phone buzzed on the bed between us, and Daniel glanced down, seeing the Facebook notification about new birthday greetings flash across the screen. His expression froze, and he looked up at me.

‘I thought your birthday was tomorrow,’ he said in a small voice.

‘The actual day is today,’ I replied with a shrug. ‘It wasn’t a good day for a party, so I’m celebrating tomorrow.’

‘But . . .’ He turned his eyes away, looking suddenly ashamed. ‘You let me . . . You should have better than this on your birthday. I’ve hijacked your birthday breakfast . . .’

He looked so sad and regretful that I couldn’t even laugh. I put my cereal bowl on the nightstand as well and put my arm around his shoulder. ‘You didn’t hijack anything,’ I told him. ‘I chose to come here. I’m happy to be here. There are plenty worse ways to wake up on your birthday than next to a friend.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.

‘Don’t be sorry! I told you, I want to be here!’ It was hard not to get frustrated with him, especially when I was this close and wanted more than anything to kiss him. ‘Danny,’ I said softly, ‘listen. There’s no way I’d rather spend my birthday than with a friend who needs me. Okay?’

He met my gaze at last, and finally he seemed to believe me. He nodded. ‘Okay.’ Then, after a deep breath, he said, ‘Happy birthday, Michael,’ and smiled.

I smiled back. ‘Thanks, Danny.’

* * *

We walked to school together again. It felt good, walking next to him, talking about everything and nothing, and I found myself wishing that we were neighbours or something, so we could do this every day. Unfortunately, Daniel lived in the opposite direction from me from school.

It seemed that people had not forgotten about the previous day, and Daniel was met with sniggers and catcalls. I could see how much it distressed him. He raised his shoulders and cast his wide-eyed hazel gaze to the ground. I wanted to punch every single one of them, but it wouldn’t do him much good, or me. So instead I devised a plan.

I couldn’t be seen walking him to every class, not if what he said was true and the person who had been hurting him wanted him to distance himself from me. So instead I texted Julie. They had nearly all their lessons together. That day, Julie barely left his side, and when she couldn’t be there, I was. I reasoned that whomever it was couldn’t blame Daniel for me not letting myself be pushed away entirely. At the end of the day, I was sorely tempted to go home with him and spend another night sleeping next to him, but Liz would be upset if I didn’t come home on my birthday, and there was so much that needed to be done for tomorrow.

I still texted him, though. Will you be all right by yourself tonight? I don’t like leaving you alone.

The moment I’d sent it I felt embarrassed. It sounded kind of stalker-ish, didn’t it? But his reply came almost at once.

I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow! :)

* * *

‘Happy birthday, bear!’ Liz hugged me tightly the moment I got in the door. ‘Sixteen years old! But you’ll always be my—’

‘I’ll always be your little bear. I know.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘In honour of you being one step closer to legally being allowed to drink, I am making us a tasty steak dinner tonight! Oh, and I got you this.’ She held up a tall, narrow gift bag.

I took it from her and opened it, to find a bottle of Spanish red wine.

‘A contribution for tomorrow,’ said Liz with a grin. ‘Oh, and there’s another present for you in the living room, from Mum and Dad.’

I walked into the room in question to find a large rectangular parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper on the coffee table. There was a card on top, and I started by reading it.

 

Dear Michael,

Happy Birthday! We’re so sorry that we can’t be with you today, but we hope this gift will somewhat make up for our absence. When we get home again we will celebrate properly, but in the meantime we hope you have a wonderful day, and a wonderful party! We love you so much and we are so proud of you!

Love,

Mum and Dad

 

I pulled the wrapping off the gift to reveal a keyboard. Eighty-eight keys, over a hundred instruments, built in speakers and MIDI output.

‘Holy shit!’ I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I hadn’t taken piano lessons in years, but I had wanted to get back to playing, and I wanted to be able to compose.

Behind me, Liz laughed softly. ‘I take it you like it, then?’

I shook my head. ‘Are you kidding? I love it! This is perfect!’

‘Good. I already put the stand up in your room.’

I turned around and hugged her, because even though the keyboard was from Mum and Dad, I knew she’d had a hand in it. ‘Best birthday present ever.’

I set up the keyboard between my drum kit and my computer. I had just turned it on when my phone rang.

‘Happy Birthday, Michael!’ said Mum’s voice. The connection wasn’t great, but I could hear Dad echo her in the background. They must have me on speaker.

‘Thanks!’ I said. ‘And thank you so much for the present! It’s perfect!’

‘Thought you might like it!’ said Mum, and I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Have you had a nice day, love?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, truthfully. ‘I stayed over at a friend’s place last night.’

‘On a school night?’

‘He needed me,’ I said simply.

‘That’s my boy,’ said Dad’s voice. ‘Always looking out for his friends!’

‘What friend was this?’ asked Mum.

‘A new friend. His name’s Daniel. He’s in year ten. Liz has met him,’ I added.

Dad chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, son, we trust you to pick your friends.’

Again, I considered it. I considered telling them, coming out. I was running out of excuses not to. At this point, I felt as certain as I was likely to get of my sexuality. I had feelings for Daniel. I had kissed Jasper. If I wasn’t gay, my mind, heart and body were doing a really good job of faking it. Still, it felt weird doing it over the phone, while my parents were a continent away.

We talked for a little while longer, about school and my friends and who was coming to my party tomorrow. (‘A few friends,’ I said, instead of the more honest, ‘My entire year plus a few more.’) Then we said goodbye, and I sat down at my brand new keyboard.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that I still remembered Bach’s Prelude No. 1.

* * *

The following day, Liz and I got everything ready for the party. We decorated the living room, and Liz baked me a cake that wasn’t quite as good as what our mother might have made, but nevertheless looked amazing.

An hour before the party was due to start the doorbell rang and I found Amy at my doorstep. She looked good, her hair tied back into a large, curly bun to show off large gold hoop earrings. She wore a short, blue dress and tasteful heels with gold buckles. In true Amy fashion, she did not wait for me to invite her in, but kissed me on the cheek and stepped inside, depositing her coat on a hanger by the door.

Without preamble she said, ‘We need to talk about Daniel.’

I blinked. ‘Okay?’

‘He’s coming tonight, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you are aware that some of your other guests see him as being on the bottom rung of the social ladder?’

I crossed my arms. ‘I can protect him.’

It was almost as if she deflated. She took my hand gently and walked me into the living room, where she sat us down on the couch.

‘That’s what we need to talk about,’ she said softly, and her demeanour was so un-Amy-like that I found myself wondering who this was and what she’d done with my friend.

‘Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, and don’t get upset with me for prying, but . . . Michael, are you gay?’

For a moment I sat motionless, completely at a loss for how to respond. I’d had a feeling that maybe my friends suspected. That wasn’t surprising in and of itself. But I really hadn’t expected her to come out and straight up ask me like that.

‘It’s fine if you are,’ Amy went on. ‘Obviously. You don’t need my approval. Just saying, I honestly don’t care. I mean, yes, I had a thing for you at one point, but that’s water under the bridge, so please don’t think that I’m being petty or anything. I know it’s not really my business, it’s just that . . .’ She took a breath. ‘I see how close you and Daniel are getting. And I thought maybe you had feelings for him, and given how he acts I think he might have feelings for you too. I just want you to know what you’re doing, because . . .’ She looked me straight in the eye. ‘You like helping people. You like fixing them. I want you to think about what will happen once you fix Daniel.’

I licked my lips. This was a lot to take in. Amy was possibly the last person I had suspected of being capable of this degree of insight, and I found it slightly unnerving, on top of how much everything she had said had struck home.

Finally, I nodded. ‘I . . . I think I am. Gay. And, yeah, I have . . . I like Daniel.’

She nodded. ‘Okay. That’s a start. But, Michael, do you like him, or do you like that he needs you?’

‘Of course I like him!’ I said quickly, and I heard the defensiveness in my voice. ‘Yeah, sure, at first I just wanted to help him, but I really do like him.’

‘Okay,’ said Amy. ‘Good. Because you can’t just abandon him when his life gets better. That’s not fair. He deserves better than that. Whatever happens between you two, friends, boyfriends, whatever, he’s gonna keep needing, like, support and love and all that jazz. You know?’

I smiled. ‘I know. I’m surprised at you, Amy. I didn’t know you gave a shit.’

She opened her clutch purse (also blue with a gold buckle) and pulled out a tube of hot pink lipgloss and a pocket mirror. ‘Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,’ she said nonchalantly, applying the lipgloss. ‘Beneath this fabulous exterior beats the heart of a true humanitarian.’ She smacked her lips and met my gaze again. ‘And don’t you forget it.’

Copyright © 2016-2019 Thorn Wilde; All Rights Reserved.
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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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Chapter Comments

8 hours ago, Shadow086 said:

It's so nice to see Daniel and Michael slowly opening up to each other.  I hope they can keep this momentum going, because this is exactly what Daniel needs right now.

 

I can't help but see the dark clouds on the horizon, though, and I think I have an idea of where this is going.

 

Michael is very empathetic. He's good and finding out what people need. It's my favourite thing about them. Sometimes think I'm making him a bit too perfect, though.

  • Like 2
1 hour ago, Nancer said:

Omg I'm so excited to Amy to pop open her magical trunk of insight on everyone. She reminds me of so many friends! 

 

I love writing Amy. I, like many authors I could name, have a tendency to put characters in my story who are, kind of, the voice of the author. I think in this story, that's Amy for me. She says a lot of what I'm thinking. She's also very similar to many of my friends, as well.

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28 minutes ago, Defiance19 said:

Amy makes a very good point. I think Michael will keep her advice in mind going forward. Daniel’s problems are big and Michael might falter even the strongof us may not be able to handle it at first. But who knows? 

I am rooting for all good things by the way.  

Amy’s a lot more insightful than anyone gives her credit for.

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On 10/20/2018 at 1:27 PM, Thorn Wilde said:

I, like many authors I could name, have a tendency to put characters in my story who are, kind of, the voice of the author. I think in this story, that's Amy for me.

Funny, I thought it was Michael, maybe a bit of each?

Lightening the mood, in keeping with the chapter, "but I was in a breakfast-y mood today." Now you've shown yourself as a true Brit (even with those Scandanavian links). I don't think anyone other than a Brit would say "breakfasty!" 😁

Michael said, "She looked good, her hair tied back into a large, curly bun to show off large gold hoop earrings. She wore a short, blue dress and tasteful heels with gold buckles." Funny how he notices all those things, I probably would only have noticed she looked nice, and maybe copped the large earrings. 

And, for that wonderful person who translates (explains) British: copped (slang): to get hold of, to notice, catch.

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