When Pain comes Back - 1. When Pain Comes Back

A young boy sat on a chair, gloom, despair and anger all over his face. Beside him sat his case worker and opposite him, a little higher, an elderly gentleman in a black toga, who looked at him sternly, making the boy drop his eyes under the gaze.

“Well son”, the elderly man started to speak with a soothing yet earnest voice, “To be honest: I’ve heard and read enough about you to come to a conclusion. Since your folks seem to be unable or unwilling to help you out at home, I guess it is time we start giving you some guidance and structure in your life. I know, at this moment and in the time to come you will hate me for it. Because I will be the old fool who robbed you of your freedom to roam the streets at will and do whatever you please to do. But I hope, and I expect, that, once you are adult and look back, you will be thankful for this opportunity and maybe you will actually start to like me for what I am about to do. That is: I’m sending you off to a juvenile care home. OK, Mrs. Caldwell, you can take him with you”.

The boy felt the case worker’s hand on his shoulder and heard a soft “Come on, son”.

He rose and followed her but shortly before leaving the room he turned around, aimed his cold blue-grey eyes at the elderly gentleman and said loud and clear:

“Yeah, you got that right. I hate you for doing this!”

The case worker took him by the arm and almost dragged him out of the room. The elderly man smiled sadly and said to the court clerk:

“That was to be expected, wasn’t it?”

 

A watery sun peeked between the breaking cloud cover and shone over the lake and the small town at its shore. It was far from abundant, but who cared: it seemed the first sign of spring. Even without sunshine spring had been in the air for some days now. It was this vibrant atmosphere that intoxicated all living things, human, animal and vegetable, with a kind of new joy in life.

In Main Street a rainbow flag fluttered in the breeze on the porch of a small book- and record store. It was the second one, that had replaced his predecessor after that was blown to tatters by the winter storms, that had raged over the lake’s surface with blasts of great force gusting through the street.

Jeremy and Noah were perfectly happy with the development of their little store. After two years they had to buy the empty store next door as well and tear out the dividing wall. In this way they could add another eight hundred square feet to their shop to establish a separate rainbow department. They were more or less forced to do so. They had no intention to ignore their regional market and were perfectly willing to sell comic books to kids and nice romantic novels to old ladies, but their internet site had been a tremendous success.

One evening, when Noah was doing the book keeping, he exclaimed:

“Wow, the internet store went through the hundred grand turnover”

“In one month?” Jeremy asked in disbelief.

“No, silly”, Noah answered with a smile, “Since we’ve started it”. Only to add jubilant:

“Watch your back, Bezos, we’re coming after you!”

It caused a roaring laughter from Jeremy. Noah just grinned and said:

“Well, that may be a bit away from reality. But let’s face it: with a thirty percent margin it added very nicely to our income”.

It was exactly this internet store, that caused their expansion in shop surface. Because, apart from the local clients, it caused an influx of clients from all over the state, mostly from Montpelier and Burlington but also as far south as Rutland. And increasingly clients from surrounding states started to pay them a visit, looking for queer literature and music, composed or interpreted by queer artists. Meaning in fact, that most of these clients were from the LGTBQ community. One of the books in the shelves was Jeremy’s own “Flying on broken Wings” and it sold pretty well, adding more income since they published it themselves. Like in the old days, when Mr. Leibnitz had owned the store, the customers could count on a comfortable chair and a reading table with a pot of fresh coffee always in direct reach.

It was not only the shop that developed well. Their relationship flourished. It was hardly noticeable for outsiders, only becoming clear in warm loving glances, a soft touch while passing each other behind the counter or a quickly stolen kiss out of sight of the many visitors in their shop.

And they still had many an ardent night, the nights in which Jeremy was not happy with Noah’s smoldering eyes, not content with the trembling and shivering he felt under him and not satisfied by the panting and outcries he heard. He was only in higher spheres when he felt Noah’s love and lust inside out. He longed to feel Noah’s sphincter clamped around his shaft, experience how each small intestinal muscle trembled around his tip and he always wanted to hear the deep, grateful sigh once he exploded inside, sending all his physical love right into the narrow, deep tunnel that encompassed his caring pedigree.

However, over the months both felt that something was still lacking. But both were unaware of the fact, that the other felt the same.

 

The first weeks in the home were mental torture for the boy. He found it hard to find his place in the group of twelve boys, all of about his age, but none of them darlings. Most had a criminal record that might be called impressive for their age and they let the boy know very clearly, that he was the newcomer in an overbearing macho way. But he wasn’t exactly a saint himself, so he managed to maintain his stance against all the hostility.

Then there was this structure. Each morning they were woken up at seven (and, as an exception, ten at Sundays), had to wash and brush their teeth (the fools even checked if you had done so), then breakfast and at school at eight. School…? What was school for him? A museum of unneeded knowledge, that was what it meant for him. There was nothing to be found there, that would teach him how to better survive on the streets.

His first morning in school brought him in front of the principal within the very first five minutes. It began when they had to sing the Star-spangled Banner, of course hand on their hearts, as any good American child is learned to do. He simply refused! It was all a bunch of crap for him and he had no intention to salute a flag, that had done nothing for him. He considered briefly to fall on one knee, like the black football players did, driving Donald Trump into a hysterical tantrum in the process. But he decided to just stand there and defy any correction. Fuck the whole bloody ceremony!

“So”, the principal asked him a little later, “you refuse to sing the national anthem?”

He just stared at the man with cold eyes full of hostility and gave a short nod as his only answer.

“And why might that be?” the man asked.

He refused to reply.

“Well”, the man insisted, “I’m waiting. You must have a good reason to refuse it”.

“Why should I?”, he just asked, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“That is what I wanted to know”, the principal said, his voice still level in a kind tone.

“There’s no reason to do all that crap”, the boy burst out, “What did Uncle Sam do for me? Did he give me something to eat when I walked on the streets with an empty stomach? Did he protect me when this guy wanted to rape me? Or did he defend me when my old man beat me up? So, gimme one good reason why I should salute his flag?”

The principal nodded in understanding, looked the boy straight in the eyes and said:

“You’ve made your point. And I admit it is a good point. But didn’t you forget one thing?”

The sarcasm disappeared from the boy’s face, being replaced by curiosity. What had he forgotten?

Seeing the change, the principal smiled slightly and said:

“Uncle Sam is taking care of you. Maybe not when you thought you needed it, but right now. He’s the one who is paying for your stay here. He’s the one who orders us to take very good care, that you won’t be hungry, that you aren’t beaten up and especially that no one is going to rape you. And that is exactly what we intend to do, take care of you. So, is Uncle Sam still the indifferent kind of guy who doesn’t give a damn about what is happening to you?”

“Fuck”, the boy, brighter than he wanted to admit in public, thought in a flash, “He got me nailed!”

“Well”, the principal asked, “Do you continue to refuse to salute his flag?”

Besides being bright the boy was also stubborn. He was not the type of boy who would give in right away. As a result, he gave a perfectly non-committal answer when he said:

“I’ll think it over”.

“Fine”, the principal said with a knowing smile, “I can understand that. Let me know what you decide. Now…get back to your class before you miss too much”.

The boy had learned never to give a direct answer in spoken words. But next morning, at eight, he barely audible murmured the Star-spangled Banner, discretely mixing in with the other voices, hand somewhere on his chest. The morning after that, he really sang it, hand on his heart, like every good American kid does at this time of the day.

 

After a couple of weeks, he found his way in the home. His position in the group had been determined and he became used to the strict regime, actually liking the structure without openly showing his pleasure over it. He was very well aware, that his admitting it would be very bad for his cool, macho image and it wouldn’t improve his position in the group.

He sure liked the fact, that his stomach was filled at every moment of the day and he found it hard to comprehend how he had managed to live without a warm bed each night.

One of the most incredible things happening to him was, that he actually started to like school. It was something, that came over him without being aware of it. It was not that he liked all subjects equally. As far as he was concerned, he could do without some of them. But others, like history, art and geography, were more of his liking. Although his time in primary school had been limited and the quantity of things learned very sketchy, his teachers noticed his rapid improvement, making clear to them that they had a very bright boy in their class. But also a boy who preferred to hide his brightness to avoid unwelcome attention and pressure from his peers.

Despite all this positive development and stimuli, the boy still had to fight his way through the night. Notwithstanding his full stomach and the blanket warming his frail body, each night was torment. Each evening after “lights out” he stared up to the ceiling, re-living the beatings his father gave him, re-experiencing all the fears he had felt while on the streets and most of all, each night the ever-present feeling of worthlessness re-appearing, put into words by the persistent thought in his mind:

“I’m filth, I’m garbage. Nobody wants me! I’m even less than the litter on the sidewalks or the oil stains and dust on the street. I’m absolutely nothing, even less than polluted air. I’m filth, I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

The devilish mantra kept mulling through his mind until late at night, often early in the morning, when he finally fell asleep, tears of despair in his eyes. And the mantra was there every night, sometimes shorter, sometimes longer.

So every now and then he was able to alleviate his somber moods. Accidentally he had found out he was able to get a pleasant feeling when he started to stroke his still-underdeveloped dickie. He didn’t remember at what age it was, but he knew he had done it for years now. He discovered it when he coincidentally fondled it during his depressed nocturnal feelings. Soon it developed into the only positive feeling in the long, dreadful nights, no…it even became the only positive feeling he could control himself without outside help or approval. It was something that belonged to him and to him only. With delight he noticed each and every time how it got hard and large, ending with a delicious throbbing feeling that seemed to vibrate through his whole body, provided he caressed it long enough. The feeling was so overwhelming, that it liberated him from his awful daytime experiences and dreary nighttime thoughts, at least for a while. Because the nighttime horror always came back with a vengeance:

“I’m filth! I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

Often, he started to stroke his small cock another time only to drive the maddening thought away. It worked, but only for a short while. As soon as the throbbing reward subsided the mantra came back again, so every now and then continuing until he saw the first daylight appear through the closed curtains.

It was only a matter of time, as a matter of fact a very short time, before he found out, that his roommate used the same procedure to chase his own mental demons from his head. Or did his roommate found out about him? He wasn’t sure. It made no difference: they just started to exorcise each other’s fears and thoughts away by playing with the other’s dickie. This activity was gradually expanded to include the freeing of the other’s dick tip by pushing the foreskin back, followed by gently kissing and licking it until this overwhelming relieve came. No, there was no sperm exchanged. Although both of them were unaware that this would happen very soon, their dickies, still in the final phases of their development, were unable yet to come to a full ejaculation. But the tremendous pulsing experience filled both their minds each and every time, giving them a short term real good feeling as if the two of them had taken drugs.

The boy didn’t have the faintest idea how his room- and playmate experienced it. Maybe it was just the kick he was looking for, maybe it was just adventure. But he himself really liked it and he felt a desire for more.

One night, when his roommate ended up in his bed, the skin of the other’s haunches pressed against the boy’s groin. The boy felt the urge to stick his dickie into the other boy. It was a strong wish to feel his roommate’s inside, but he refrained from it. He didn’t have the courage. Besides: he had no right, he would leave his humble place in universe as a nobody if he did so. If his haunches were pushed against the roommate’s groin and that other boy wanted to go inside him, he would gladly accept it. But not he in another boy…he was unworthy…he was worthless.

But most nights he was alone in his bed, enduring the grueling mantra in his head:

“I’m filth! I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

 

It had been a very busy Saturday in the shop with excellent sales and turnover. Being tired, Jeremy and Noah sat on the couch, dinner and fatigue making them too drowsy to watch tv. They were in their most favorite position when they were together. No, that is not fully correct: their most favorite position was in bed, naked in each other’s arms, poking up the fires of the other’s lust. But it was the best position they could think of when fully dressed. Noah had laid his head on Jeremy’s shoulder who reacted as always, thoughtlessly stroking the soft black curls. Both sat in silence with eyes closed, submerged in their own thoughts.

“Tiger”, Noah suddenly said in a lazy tone, “I’ve been thinking”.

Jeremy startled from a condition between being still awake and almost asleep and was only able to utter a:

“Huh?”

Noah kissed him on the cheek and giggled:

“Oh sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“No,”, was the somewhat annoyed reaction, “Not really!”

“But eeuuuhh…” Noah restarted, “I’ve been thinking. I’ve been thinking for quite a while about this”.

“What is it?” Jeremy asked curiously.

Noah took a deep breath and answered:

“I’ve got the feeling something is missing in our lives”.

If Jeremy had remaining cobwebs in his mind, they were gone by now. What could possibly be wrong in their relationship? What did he overlook? Seemingly his eyes expressed fear because Noah kissed him gently and whispered in his ear:

“Relax, tiger. I’m not talking about us…I’m talking about our lives”.

“What is it then that you are missing?” Jeremy almost cried out, burning with curiosity.

“Only if you promise not to laugh”, Noah said with burning eyes, the way Jeremy liked them the most.

“Promised”, he whispered.

“And…” Noah teasingly uttered under his breath, “Sealed with a kiss?”

Jeremy kissed both dark brown eyes and waited impatiently for what was coming.

“What I miss in our lives…”, Noah said deliberately, “is a child”.

Jeremy let it sink in for a few seconds, but then he said, to Noah’s utter astonishment:

“That’s funny. I was thinking the same thing for a while now”.

“You didn’t mention it”, Noah said.

“Neither did you…until a few moments ago”.

“So, what do we do about it?” was Noah’s logical question.

Both were very well aware, that normal conceptions, pregnancies and births were out of the question for gay guys. They had to find other ways.

“I guess adoption”, Jeremy muttered, painfully remembering that it looked as if history was repeating itself.

Noah looked at him with a smile and grinning he uttered:

“Are you really prepared to change diapers umpteen times a day? Or get out of bed four times a night to give the little bugger the bottle? By the way: do you know how to change diapers?”

Jeremy shook his head, but he found it a bright answer he gave when he said:

“No, but my mom can teach us how to do it. She must have done it thousands of times when I was a baby”.

Only then it dawned on him, that Noah was thinking along another line. But having no idea which line that might be he inquired:

“What did you have in mind then?”

“A foster kid”, Noah answered directly.

“What’s the difference?” Jeremy asked, not knowing what made a foster kid different from an adopted kid. Kids were kids, weren’t they?

Noah started to explain: an adoption kid becomes your real child in the legal sense by court verdict, while a foster kid is assigned to you to take care of, to help him or her develop into a mature person, all under supervision, direction, advice and, if necessary, support from Juvenile Care. And with foster kids being mostly older it would skip the necessity of diapers and giving bottles. But honest as he was, he also added that each foster kid has his own history, making them not the easiest kids to take care for.

“But no, it will never be our own kid…not even legally”, he concluded.

“Why do I have the feeling you already discussed this with your dad?” Jeremy asked pensively.

“Yes, I did”, Noah admitted, “But only for the legal details. The rest is not of his concern, that is strictly between you and me”.

“But”, Jeremy asked, not understanding why Noah wanted a foster kid, “Why not adoption? I mean…let’s face it: it probably saved my life. And I ended up pretty well, together with you”.

“I understand your feelings”, Noah explained, “But you know…most babies for adoption are gone like sweets in a candy store. At least, that is what my dad tells me. There are too many childless couples and too few babies to go around. Besides…now comes the hard part of my reason”.

He took another deep breath and continued:

“I told you once I always felt guilty for being privileged when I saw those young castaways in the streets of Boston. Even as a youngster I felt the need to do something for them. Now I know I can’t save them all. There are thousands of them, only in Boston. So, let’s not talk about the numbers nationwide. But when we take a foster kid, I have the feeling that I can help at least one of them, make him feel good, secure and wanted and support him in making a better life for himself. And not to forget…I like the challenge of a kid with a history, even if it is a troublesome kid”.

He giggled somewhat nervously and added:

“I managed to get you out of your shell, so why not with some kid?”

Jeremy just nodded with a grateful smile on his face. But then he noticed something peculiar in Noah’s explanation:

“Why are you talking about him? You only want a boy?”

“I would prefer a boy, yes”, Noah said seriously, “Not that I would refuse a girl if they gave us one. It has nothing to do with my being gay. But I feel more at ease with a boy. I got the feeling I can understand them better”.

He laughed when he said:

“It has nothing to do with sex, tiger. I’ve got you on my hands for that and since you exhaust me every time we do it there is no need for a backup”.

“Fair enough”, was Jeremy’s reaction, “And I admit I would prefer a boy as well, for the same reasons. Besides: two of these greedy monsters would kill me”.

“I never thought any different”, Noah said with a smile.

“How does it work?” Jeremy wanted to know, “The red tape and all that stuff, I mean”.

“I’ll ask my dad to start things up for us”, Noah replied, “But certain things we will have to do ourselves, like the interviews and that kind of things”.

“Interviews?” Jeremy asked, frowning his brows.

“Oh yeah,” Noah said, “They want to know all about us. If Juvenile Care had the idea, that a brain scan can also determine the thoughts and feelings of a prospective foster parent, they would order one. But let’s face it: it’s only fair that they do. They want to make sure that each kid comes with the right foster parents”.

“OK”, Jeremy said, “I love your reasoning. So, let’s go for a foster kid!”

Noah enthusiastically embraced his lover and kissed him full on the lips, softly uttering:

“I really love you!”

“I love you to, angel”, Jeremy whispered back.

The die was cast. None of them knew how long it would take and what kind of kid would be the third person making their house his home, but things could be set in motion.

 

The boy was in his bed after another “black day”, as he used to call them. It had been one of those days on which everything seemed to be shrouded in some black veil, every thought, every movement and every activity. He couldn’t even concentrate on his favorite history class, his mind being fully pre-occupied with his mantra:

“I’m filth! I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

He would love to feel the tender fingers and tongue of his roommate on his genitals, to bring him some relief of the desperation he felt, but his roommate wasn’t there. The boy had no idea where he was.

“Maybe in some police cell”, he mused in acid bitterness. The idea was not that farfetched. His roommate had a tendency to get into trouble with the law for a lot of different reasons.

He tried to concentrate his mind on something else than the mantra. It worried him, that he couldn’t clearly remember how he got in this home in the first place. It seemed as if his memory had voids, as if whole periods had simply vanished. He knew he had been on the street in Buffalo after fleeing another of his father’s aggressive bouts. Then there was this fat guy…and next he knew was, that he was in this home. Carefully he tried to find the pictures in between.

He remembered walking through the street in late evening. It was already dark. Someone called to him from a dark alley, something like: ”Hey, kid, come over here!”. Now he knew it was plain dumb, that he had listened and had gone into that alley. He found a fat guy, much older than he was and much larger. The guy had his pants on his ankles and was playing with his hairy dick.

“I want your cute ass, kid”, he heard the guy growl, “Drop your jeans!”

Vaguely he remembered he had laughed out loud and had replied something like:

“Go and fuck yourself, granddad!”

Apparently, the fat guy didn’t like the answer because his massive hand stretched out and grabbed the boy by the shoulder, while he growled:

“I said I want your cute ass, so I’m going to take it!”

Despite the fact, that the man was much larger than he himself was, the boy immediately reacted in what is called a critical reaction in biology: the final, desperate fight for sheer life itself! He turned around, jumped towards the fat guy’s throat like lightning, swinging his legs forward while he was in the air for a second, hitting the guy full in the balls. The fat man immediately lost all sexual appetite and clutching his painful genitals doubled up and fell on the street surface. The boy jumped on him and started to hit him where ever he could hit him, clawing with his fingers towards the guy’s throat and eyes and letting his fists come down on every part of the guy’s face where they could get.

Coincidentally two street cops saw it happen. They had to use lots of effort to tear the out-of- control boy off the fat guy to avoid that the elder man would be severely hurt or maybe even killed. Handcuffs were not sufficient to restrain the boy, physical force was needed. It didn’t take long before the boy ended up in a police car and from there at the police station.

Then things started to get murky again in his memory. The time at the police station was some kind of haze in his mind. Next thing that popped up was, that he was in juvenile prison.

The guard, that put him in his cell, said something like:

“Don’t you worry, son. You’re not going to stay here. We just keep you here until they have found a place for you”.

Then the cell door closed.

Lying on the bed he started to wonder what that meant: “a place for you”? What kind of place would that be? What did they have in mind for him?

“Electric chair”, he grinned cynically, “Clean up the garbage!”

But prison turned out to be hell for him and he couldn’t wait for the moment they “had found a place”, no matter what place it might be. He was scared to death in this jail. Here he was, just thirteen, between fourteen years old drug dealers, fifteen years old rapists and sixteen years old murderers. He was always looking over his shoulder and could hardly find the courage to sleep.

During his stay in prison, he had only two visitors. One of them was his lawyer, a young guy appointed by the court to represent him, full of good intentions but sadly lacking in insights. The other was some lady, who introduced herself as Marilyn Caldwell but who gave no explanation on what her role in the whole thing was. Anyway, she was quite nice, at least doing a great show on pretending she understood what was going on with him. She asked him about what had happened in that alley and wanted to know how things were at home. He never answered one of her questions and had just looked at her with the meanest bad-ass face he could dream up:

“It’s none of your business anyway!”

But he never saw his parents while he was in jail. His mother didn’t show up. His father…oh well, he didn’t need to see him. It was as if they had forgotten him, one problem less to handle, one mouth less to feed. It had to mean, that they had never wanted him in the first place.

“So, I’m unwanted”, he mused, wiping away some tears while thinking it.

“Yeah”, the thought continued, “I’m filth! I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

The diabolic mantra was born and wouldn’t leave his mind from that day on.

And he remembered this elderly gentleman in the black toga they had taken him to from prison, who told him he would hate him for what the man was about to do. Funny enough this Marilyn Caldwell was there too. Yes, he had hated the old guy, but after some time in the home, where he landed after this meeting, his attitude softened. Since he started to like the home, he saw no reason to hate the old man. No, to the contrary: he had lots to be thankful for.

Suddenly he was fed up with thinking it all over, he just needed the physical distraction. But with his roommate not there he had to do it himself. He liked it better with his roommate, who gave him commands on what to do with him or with himself. He felt, as if his roommate was his master, who put him in his rightful place, the place of a slave, a dog or even the place of filth, just the place where he belonged. But with his master not here he just had to fantasize about that tonight. He stripped his undies off and started stroking his dick. Oh yes….it went up like clockwork, hardening while doing so. He pushed his foreskin back gently and started to caress his head. He was so absorbed by the touch of his fingertips’ soft skin playing around his pee slit, that he didn’t notice the damp glibness. The pressure in his loins increased to an almost unbearable level.

“Oh yeeeahhhh”, he moaned, “Just a few seconds and the throbbing will start. I want it…I need it…!”

The cramp at the base of his dick told him it was coming…right now!!! He closed his eyes to enjoy it to the fullest extent. There it was, the lovely pulsing feeling….

“Fuck”, he cried out slightly panicked, “What’s happening now?”

Some fluid left his dick tip, in spurts, blot after blot, landing on his abdomen. With scary eyes he stared to the ceiling.

“What happened?” he muttered, “Don’t tell me…that I took a pee while doing it?”

He switched on the bed lamp and stared at his abdomen. In the light he saw the glittering of some white, sticky substance, several blots of them. He smeared a finger through it…it was not urine. It was too jelly-like for urine. Curiously he licked some off his fingertip, tasting it. It was kind of creamy, salty.

“OK”, he whispered in relief, filling up with joy, “That’s what it is. It’s my first time!”

Reassured he kept staring to the ceiling, smearing the fluid over his whole abdomen, enjoying its smell. In a way he couldn’t understand, it made him proud and happy that he had just experienced his first ejaculation. Pity that his roommate hadn’t been there to witness it. He was so exalted by the experience, that he switched out the bed lamp and went to sleep with a large smile on his face. It was one of the few nights that the mantra didn’t bother him.

 

After Noah’s father, the town lawyer, had finished the initial procedure for their appliance it was up to the two young men themselves. Only they could hold the interviews, give the honest answers and show the Juvenile Care officials around in their shop and overlying house.

“It will even cost us sales”, Jeremy joked, when the appointment for the first interview was made. There was no other way: Juvenile Care officials don’t work during evenings and on Sundays, so the only thing they could do was to close the shop for an afternoon.

After several more interviews the waiting started. It seemed to take ages, but both managed to get it out of their heads in a way and concentrate on the shop and the internet store. However, the waiting was frustrating, giving them the idea so now and then that they had “failed the exams”.

“No”, Noah’s father said, “They only work terribly slow. When you boys failed, they would let you know in some letter. There’s still hope, guys, because no such letter came”.

As soon as work was done their thoughts and talks were centered again on the one subject: would they be judged suitable? And what kind of kid would move in their house? Daydreams were expressed and plans for the new house mate’s room made.

Nothing happened. Even worse: nothing happened for several months. It started to annoy and depress them. Why didn’t anybody react, even with a letter of rejection. If that was the case, they must have good reasons to do so. For Jeremy and Noah it would mean the end of a dream, but at least they knew that they had to forget about it.

Every day they searched the mail box for the telltale letter, but none came. Both felt their hopes diminish and, in the end, gradually fade away.

Until that late Thursday afternoon, shortly before closing time, when the phone rang. Jeremy answered it with the usual “Syllables and Sounds, how can I help you?”

“Hi there,” he heard, “This is Marilyn Caldwell, Juvenile Care Montpelier. You got a minute?”

“For you I’ve got hours if need be”, Jeremy replied, waving with his hand towards Noah.

“Sorry that it took so long”, the lady said, “Somehow your file circled over the whole agency and nobody knew quite well what to do with it. Then it landed on my desk and it surprised me very positively. I think I’ve got a perfect match between the two of you and one of the boys under my care, but I had to fight for approval by my department head, so it took another few weeks. Now, since I have permission, I would like to make an appointment with the two of you to talk it over”.

It was pretty hard to listen with two heads on one phone receiver, but they managed, both totally excited. The appointment was made at the agency’s office in Montpelier at the beginning of the next week and the line disconnected.

“Here goes another piece of turnover”, Jeremy laughed in relief, “But I don’t fucking care!!

“A boy?” Noah cried out, “Did I hear that well?”

“Yeah, you heard it well. Jeez, I’m so excited!” Jeremy exclaimed.

They embraced and kissed, oblivious of the gaze of the last customer in the shop.

“I’ll call dad”, Noah said with gleaming eyes.

“Finally”, Jeremy sighed, feeling incredibly lucky, “Simply finally!”

 

They entered a non-descript office building near the Capitol in Montpelier, the state’s capital, and found their way to where Juvenile Care had its offices. They met Marilyn Caldwell, a woman in her mid-forties, who led them to her office and asked them to sit down. After introductions and pleasantries were exchanged, she began to look serious and started on the real topic of their meeting:

“I guess I owe you two an apology on behalf of the whole agency. It is something I can’t understand. To be honest: I was elated when I read your file. I guess, it was just what I was looking for, maybe I should call it almost God-sent”.

Jeremy and Noah looked at each other in surprise. If they were that perfect, why did it take ages then?

Marilyn just smiled and continued:

“To be honest: I think nobody knew quite well what to do with a gay foster couple. I see that different. Now, like I told you on the phone: I got a boy in my care that might be a perfect match for the two of you. I’m not allowed to disclose his name yet. You know, privacy protection. But there are things I can tell you”.

Both young men nodded. They were mighty curious about that boy.

Marilyn laughed and said, looking to Jeremy:

“Funny, by the way. It is that you are too young to be his father or he too old to be your son but I might almost think it”.

“Why that?” Jeremy asked a bit shy.

“You’ve got the same light blond hair, the same frail body. Only your eyes are green, his are blue-grey”.

“Must be his mother then”, Jeremy joked.

“No way”, Noah interrupted grinning, “His mother has brown eyes”.

“You’re not his mother, angel”, Jeremy objected, “You are his other dad…at least when the whole thing works out”.

Marilyn looked at the both of them with a charming and amused smile but then got serious again when she said:

“Let’s get to our boy. He is not the easiest kid in town. He is really withdrawn, almost a loner. We’ve got the feeling he is hiding something, but we can’t find out what. Even one of our youth psychiatrists failed to get him talking”.

“He didn’t say a word?” Noah asked surprised.

“Oh yes”, Marilyn answered, “He blathered a lot for two hours but he didn’t say anything. He is very shrewd in avoiding questions. This shrewdness prompted us to do tests on him, like intelligence and character structure, that kind of stuff. We were flabbergasted by the results”.

“Why that?” Jeremy asked.

“He was diagnosed as being hyper-sensitive and highly gifted”, the reply was, “The psychiatrist who wanted to treat him immediately got the picture. He told me, that these kids are very difficult to treat, since they are able to instinctively feel the meaning of each question or remark on an intellectual and emotional level, enabling them to dodge direct answers. But there are also indications of a guilt- or inferiority complex…or even a combination of the two. However, that was not conclusive. Our boy may have sabotaged the test”.

“That smart?” Noah asked in bewilderment.

“That smart, yes”, the woman said.

She stared ahead of her a few seconds and then said:

“His smartness is also proven by his school results. When he came in our home he had large gaps in his school knowledge, having skipped more school than he was present. Now he did two years of primary school in one year. He’s ready for high school now, with only one year delay in relation to his age. We found that the perfect moment to put him in a foster family. A new school, a new town, other people who care for him”.

“Where does he come from?” Noah asked, “And what happened to him before he came in the home?”

“I’m not allowed to give the town or city where he’s from, but he is from Upstate New York State”, Marilyn said matter-of-factly, “My colleagues in New York had him on the radar for suspected domestic violence and neglect, possibly child abuse. Typical development: skipping school, shoplifting, petty theft, pickpocketing, that kind of stuff. Always got away with an admonishment from the juvenile judge. But the thought of what might have happened to him, when he got home, makes me shudder. Until he was busted by the cops when he almost killed an elderly man, who allegedly wanted to rape him”.

“Kill him?” Jeremy asked taken aback.

“Yeap, with his bare hands”, was the reply, “It took the local police four guys to get him under control. Then the fools put him in juvenile prison. He should have been brought to the juvenile psych ward for crisis intervention. When I talked this over with our staff psychiatrist, she was pretty sure that this aggression was not about this old guy’s having a stab at seducing him and the attempted rape. She thinks it triggered a chain reaction in his mind, that had to do with other traumas. Only that explains the excessive amount of violence he was using. Anyway, when the file landed on my desk, I got him out of that jail right away and into this home”.

Jeremy and Noah exchanged a glance of understanding. They were about to get a piece of explosives in their house.

“What about his parents?” Noah wanted to know.

“They won’t bother you. They don’t know where he is now and they won’t know where he is going. The court gave them a contact ban until his adult age. Actually, the ban is meant for his father but his mother is included as well. The judge fears, that when his mother knows where he is, her husband might beat it out of her”.

“Sounds like a real nice family”, Noah muttered.

“But why are we a perfect match, Mrs. Caldwell?” Jeremy asked. He didn’t see any match until now, only a huge, maybe even too huge challenge.

The woman smiled, looked at him and said:

“As I interpreted your file, one of you has firsthand experience in being buttoned up in himself, so he might understand what is going on in the boy’s head”.

Somewhat ashamed Jeremy dropped his eyes briefly but looked at her in due time to see her eyes glide to Noah when she said:

“And the other had the cunning ability to break through that defensive shell and get the real person out”.

Noah gave no reaction, not even a small one that was only noticeable by Jeremy.

“Besides…”, Marilyn said, rising and walking to the window, “There is another reason”.

She stared out of the window for a minute as if thinking it over, turned around and sat on the windowsill. She looked both of the young men in the eyes and said:

“I don’t know which policies my colleagues in other states have to follow, but we in our agency see sexuality as an integral part of the kids in our custody, from a certain age up anyway. We take this aspect into account when we decide things. Now, in his case the home staff sees indications of homosexual tendencies in our boy. So, it sure helps that the both of you are gay”.

Jeremy rolled his eyes and said in disbelief:

“Ah, we are supposed to train him how to be a good gay?”

“No”, Marilyn said with a sharp voice, “How he chooses to lead his life, including his sexual life, is fully up to him. But…with these indications it is madness to place him in a middle-class, strictly religious family. If he wants to come out as gay somewhere in the future, it would only give him an extra problem, not one less. If he chooses to become homosexual, two gay and supportive role models might help him to start the life he wants without or at least less problems”.

Jeremy had to concede the woman had a very good point there and was actually impressed by her foresight.

“Anyway, guys”, she said, “I want you to think it over and discuss it. Don’t decide right now. Summarized: our boy is not easy, it’ll take you a lot of patience and effort but if you manage, you have something to be proud of. But take your time to decide. The last thing I want is to pick up the boy at your place because you can’t handle him and bring him back to a home. That would cause even more damage in that sensitive kid and that is the very last thing I want. I want him to feel secure, wanted and supported, under his own or under a new identity. Of course, you’ll have all the support you need from us and our exterior staff, like psychiatrists and psychotherapists and the like”.

Both nodded. All was said so they shook hands, promising that they would think it over carefully and discuss it before getting back with their decision.

When they left the office building Jeremy sighed and said softly:

“Wow, maybe an adoption kid would’ve been easier”.

“Could well be”, Noah replied, “But being easy is only part of the whole thing. I like what I hear. Let’s talk it over at home”.

 

They drove back in absolute silence, both pre-occupied with their own thoughts. In a way both their feelings swayed up and back from anger on parents, who could do all this to their child, via the desire to help the boy to the dreary feeling, that they would be overtaxed by it, being unable to give the kid a secure environment, only to return again to that anger.

Once home they found it hard to concentrate on their work, hardly speaking with one another and even dinner was in silence.

After dinner they sat on the couch, staring to a tv screen of a tv that wasn’t even switched on.

Only after a while Noah broke the silence when he said:

“Tell me what you think, tiger”.

“I don’t know”, Jeremey said, “It is not that I don’t want to do it, but it seems that this Marilyn-lady wants to give us a very tough nut to crack. I’m not sure if we’re up to it. And if we’re not it would hurt the boy beyond imagination. Besides it might also damage our relationship. It might even destroy what we have together. I’m not sure if I’m willing to pay that price”.

Noah shook his head and, still staring to the black tv screen, said slowly:

“I can’t see that last risk. What we have is too strong to go broke on this. However, the funny thing is, that this Marilyn is very certain, that we are the perfect foster parents for this boy. In fact, she is more convinced of it than you and I are. And since she is the pro in this field, I think we can pull this off”.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself!” Jeremy murmured.

“No, I ain’t”, Noah grinned, “But this Marilyn is pretty sure about us. Maybe we underestimate ourselves, which is not that bad at all. It only makes, that we think it over carefully before we decide”.

“But why could we pull this off?” Jeremy asked, still not convinced.

“First of all, because Marilyn thinks we can. For us however it is more important, that we have the motivation to pull it off. We are willing to raise this kid, to give him a secure environment and to support him through all that he will experience. In a way….”

His voice tapered off, while he kept staring to the tv screen.

Jeremy looked at his lover, seeing that Noah’s eyes shone with some kind of determination. It took him some time before he continued his cut sentence:

“This boy epitomizes all the kids I saw on the streets in Boston: the dangerous situation at home, the petty crimes, the living on the street, the school skipping. They were the kids, that made me feel guilty that I was privileged and rich. I know it may sound dumb, but if we take care of this boy it feels to me as if I can pay back my debt of honor in one installment”.

He looked in Jeremy’s eyes with a shy and ashamed smile and whispered:

“Or did that sound too melodramatic?”

The only thing Jeremy could think of was to take Noah in his arms and kiss his black hair. But then he said:

“That is your motivation. But we have to do this together so what should I feel?”

“Come on, tiger”, Noah said, “You had your share of trouble and fighting during your childhood and youth. Or have you forgotten that?”

Jeremy smiled, answering:

“Someone came in my life who made me forget it”.

Their sterns touched and there were intense glances in each other’s eyes.

Noah sighed and said with determination:

“I say: let’s do it!”

Jeremy kissed the tip of Noah’s nose and with a loving smile he answered softly:

“OK, let’s get started with our side job as foster dads!”

 

They had some very busy weeks, both in the shop and in their private hours. It takes a lot of time to create a suitable bedroom for a thirteen- or fourteen years old boy where he could feel himself at home.

But after weeks of decorating, painting and assembling furniture they drove to the home in the south of the state. There they met up again with Marilyn Caldwell, who led them through the corridors with a smile, asking:

“And, guys? Nervous I guess?”

Both nodded. They weren’t just nervous, they were anxious, belly spasms included.

Marilyn opened a door and walked in, beckoning them in as well. When they entered, they saw a boy with a slim body, light blonde hair standing up in a defiant crop while sides and back of his head were trimmed rather short. He had a narrow face with high cheek bones, an equally narrow nose and yes, as Marilyn had already told them, striking blue-grey eyes, that were able to attract all attention. The only incongruent thing with his light hair were his dark eye brows, sharply contoured over the shining eyes and the equally dark, almost black eyelashes. But Noah saw the immediate similarities with Jeremy at the day he met him at the high school ground.

The boy made a sulking and angry appearance but both young men recognized it for what it was, a defensive screen for the underlying uncertainty and fear, and choose to ignore that.

“Well, guys”, Marilyn said cheerfully, “Meet Jay!”

“Hi Jay, I’m Noah”, who stretched out his hand for a hand shake.

“And I’m Jeremy”, doing the same.

Jay ignored both hands, looked at them with a strange mix of curiosity and plain disgust, looked at Marilyn and said loud and clear:

“I thought you found me foster parents?”.

“These are your foster parents”, the woman replied.

Jay casted another not too friendly glance at the two men and with a smirk he said:

“No way, you’re not going to park me with two queers!”

Both Jeremy and Noah felt stabbed in the heart by the remark, but Noah saw it for what it was: the first rebellious provocation in a long, long series to be expected in the next years. To pre-empt an outburst of anger by Jeremy he only touched his lover’s arm lightly, looked Jay in the eyes, shrugged and with almost cold indifference he said:

“Suit yourself, Jay. If you like this home better you can stay here. We don’t mind”.

Then he simply turned around and said to Jeremy:

“Come on, honey, we’d better go home! There’s nothing else to be done here!”

Noah carefully arranged it in a way, that he was the last one to leave the room. Just before he was about to close the door, he heard the boy cry out:

“Hey, guys, hey…wait!”

Noah looked around with a questioning smile on his face and matter-of-factly he asked:

“Changed your mind, Jay?”

“Yeah…”, the boy stuttered, “If you still want me, that is?”

“Sure, where are your things?”

The boy looked to a travel bag on the floor.

“Is that all?” Noah wanted to know.

Jay nodded in ashamed silence.

“That’s pure poverty”, Noah thought, “We’ll change that as well”.

But to Jay he said invitingly:

“Then let’s go, Jay...let’s go to what becomes your home”.

When Jay left the room, carrying his travel bag, Noah grinned at Marilyn. It pleased him that she stuck two thumbs up. Then he followed the other two to the parking lot for the long drive back.

 

In the beginning the trip back up north was made in complete silence. With Jeremy doing the driving Noah kept an eye on the youngster on the back seat. The boy kept to himself, his eyes radiating a kind of fear.

When they drove through the agricultural belt in the south Noah saw the eyes change. Jay started to look out, almost drinking in all the impressions that passed them by. He behaved like a small child, that saw all these things for the very first time, showing bewilderment so every now and then.

When they passed a pasture with cows Jay suddenly asked:

“What kind of animal is that?”

Not getting the meaning right away Noah looked around, searching for some extraordinary animal in sight but none was found.

“Which one do you mean?” he asked.

“Those there”, Jay called out excited, pointing to the cows, “These brown and white animals!”

“They are cows”, Noah said, not understanding the question.

“What do they do?” Jay wanted to know.

“They give milk!” Noah said with a grin.

“Can’t be”, Jay objected decidedly, “Milk is in cardboard boxes in the supermarket!”

The dime fell in Noah’s mind and he explained:

“That is right. But the milk comes from the cows. It is then collected and goes to the diary, where they do things with it. Don’t ask me what because I’m no expert in these matters. Only then it comes in cardboard boxes and it ends up in the supermarket”.

“Oh…”, was Jay’s only reaction, blushes of shame on his cheeks.

“Didn’t nobody tell you that?” Noah asked kindly.

Jay shook his head and muttered:

“No, nobody tells me anything. And why should they? I’m just garbage!”

Noah exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Jeremy but since the boy withdrew himself again, he decided to leave him in peace for the time being. Actually, he felt pretty pleased with the fact, that the first tiny bit of information had been volunteered. There was no need to push it.

The trip continued in silence again, until they reached the northern parts of the state, which happened to become Jay’s home. Noah observed the boy and saw the eyes burning with an eagerness to take in all they saw, while the youngster’s mouth hung slightly open in amazement.

“You like it?” Noah asked.

“Uh huh” was the only reaction.

The boy seemed fascinated by the hills and the forests with all their shades of green. After staring at it for about ten minutes he said:

“I’ve never seen anything like that!”

“How come?” Noah asked casually.

“I’m from the big city”, was the reply, “I only saw concrete buildings, high apartment blocks, parking lots and dirty alleys”.

“I’m from the big city as well”, Noah said, “Originally I’m from Boston”.

Jay looked at him, visibly hesitating if he would accept the invitation to talk. But after some seconds he asked shyly:

“What brought you here then?”

“Him!” Noah said smiling with a nod towards Jeremy.

“That’s not true”, Jeremy objected good-humored, “You only came here because your dad decided to buy a practice here”.

“OK, I plead guilty”, Noah conceded, “But let’s say, that he made me stay here!”

From the corner of his eyes he saw something that filled his heart with pleasure: on Jay’s face a vague, careful smile was visible.

“May I ask you something?” he asked, barely audible over the engine’s humming.

“Sure, open fire!” Noah said, hiding his excitement and amazement.

“How…how…well,” Jay started stammering, “I don’t think I can ask this”.

“Come on, Jay”, Noah encouraged him, “You can ask anything!”

Jay started his second attempt:

“How…how….”, just to finish in rapid fire, so fast that it was hardly understandable, with:

“Did you meet each other?”

“At high school”, Noah said, smiling at the memory, “I saw this hot boy sitting on the wall and here we are, still together! It was on the same high school you will be going to”.

“Hey”, Jeremy commented, “You were the hot boy, in case you forgot”.

Jay actually started to giggle, but tried hard to stifle it.

“I’m happy you like what you see around you”, Noah told the youngster, “Because that is where we live. And that means, that you will be living here as well”.

“Wow! Great, man!” Jay only uttered, almost breathless.

Amazement became crushing, when they arrived home. First of all, Jay was surprised to find, that his fresh foster dads had a book- and record store, prompting him to remark:

“OK, you guys got a store? I can help you out with that!”

Both Jeremy and Noah looked at him in surprise, but Jay was not deterred and explained, as if it was the most normal thing in the world:

“Yeah. Hey man, I’m an expert in shoplifting. So, I can recognize any other kid who wants to get a try at it”.

Jay wasn’t overwhelmingly pleased with the kind of records he found in the shop. Schubert and Bach were not his thing, he preferred “more modern” stuff.

But he was devastated when they showed him his room. The bed was against a backdrop of muted colors to provide rest and a place to withdraw in case the youngster needed it. The rest of the room was colorful to give some kind of contrast with the dark corner around the bed. In the room were a comfortable red chair, a small desk and some closets for clothing, books, toys and cds. On the desk was a brand-new laptop.

The boy looked around what was his new room, mouth open in amazement, eyes shining.

“I never had my own room”, he muttered.

“Well,” Noah grinned, “we thought it a good idea. Unless you want to sleep with us, that is”.

There was an extremely short fearful glitter, followed by a scolding glance in the eyes but apparently Jay understood it for what if was, a joke, and managed a soft:

“No, seems a bad idea to me!”, only to exclaim:

“And a laptop!”

“A boy your age needs one in the 21^st century”, Jeremy smiled. He forgot to mention that it was appropriately secured against all too adventurous net surfing in the kind of sites that might bring the kid at risk.

“By the way”, Noah said with a smile, “I almost forgot!”

He grabbed in the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled a new smartphone from it, of course fully secured as well!

“Something else a modern kid needs”, he grinned, giving the thing to Jay.

“I could only dream of these kind of things”, the boy muttered, “I never had them”.

“You’ll have them now”, Noah said, “By the way, tomorrow we’re going to do some shopping. Time to get you new clothes and shoes and that kind of stuff”.

Jay stared out of the window, trying to wipe his eyes without being noticed. Noah saw it, nodded towards the door hardly noticeable to Jeremy and said:

“You must be tired from the trip and all the impressions, Jay. You want to take some rest?”

The youngster just nodded, still looking through the window.

“OK, we’ll call you when dinner is ready”, Jeremy said with a big grin on his face.

Both of them left the room. Jay heard the door fall shut and let himself crash on the bed. He pushed his back against the bed head and pulled his knees to his chest. For a long time, he stared in front of him, too overwhelmed to be able to think straight. Then the black thoughts crept back in his mind:

“I’m filth! I’m garbage! Nobody wants me!”

For a brief moment his head inclined to the left, where it rested against the wall, when he thought:

“Is that so? Do these two want me? No, can’t be. Don’t fool yourself, man. They do it for some other reason, just for the money or something like that. They can’t want me. Nobody wants garbage in his house!”

Fatigue overcame him, his head sank on his knees, his eyes shut and he fell in an uneasy sleep.

 

Sommer slid into another autumn. Life in and over the small book- and record store assumed its new normal pattern. Even Jay got the hang of it. His body language and his gleaming eyes made it clear he really liked his new school, his new secure life in the small town but there remained a kind of reticence in his dealing with Noah and Jeremy, who were wise enough to ignore it, always remaining cheerful when dealing with the youngster and stubbornly trying to lure him into a more open attitude without overly pressing it.

On a beautiful autumn Sunday, they took him on a trip around the town, even visiting the small grass patch at the rim of the moors, where their relationship had started. Jay was enchanted by all the autumn colors. Never before in his life he had seen so many different shades of so many diverse colors. It stunned him and he kept talking about it until it was time for him to go to bed, because another school day was waiting for him.

In the meantime, Noah realized another part of his dream. After careful consideration and calculations, he and Jeremy had bought another empty store and had converted the building to a small concert hall. Of course, it was no match for Carnegie Hall but large enough for chamber concerts, forming the basis for a future local chamber music festival, another of Noah’s plans. Part of the investment was paid back by renting the upper floor out to a young couple, that was searching for a place to live.

Autumns do not last forever, neither did this one and once it was replaced by winter, the days for walks and trips in the countryside were over. Jay started to look for other things to fill his time after school and after finishing his homework.

One afternoon he sauntered through the shop. Jeremy, who was behind the counter, was surprised. He had never seen the boy looking at the books before with something akin to interest.

Jay walked past the counter and asked shyly:

“Can I look over there as well?”, nodding towards the rainbow department of the store.

“Yeah, sure you can”, Jeremy smiled invitingly.

Jay disappeared between the queer shelves but returned after about half an hour. With a grin he said:

“Found me a book. Guess I start reading it”.

“Great”, Jeremy replied, happy that the youngster had the intention of reading instead of spending all his free time behind his laptop, “What is it?”

Jay shrugged with clearly studied indifference, at the same time making every effort to hide the book in his hands behind his back and murmured:

“Don’t know yet. I’ll start reading it. Maybe it’s just shit and I’ll give it back in the morning”.

Without a further word the youngster nearly fled up the stairs, on his way to his room.

 

It looked as if the whole of Jay’s move and his adaption to the new situation went without a hitch. It did…until that winter Tuesday morning.

Jeremy and Noah were working in the shop, unpacking boxes with just delivered new books, when the phone rang. Jeremy answered it, listened and only said somewhat in despair:

“OK, I’ll be there in a few minutes!”

Noah looked at him with questioning eyes. Jeremy shook his head with a grim smile and growled:

“I have to go to school. Jay messed up!”

“What did he do?” Noah asked with obvious shock in his voice.

“Don’t know exactly”, was the reply, “It seems he beat up another kid”.

“You want me to come with you?” Noah wanted to know.

Jeremy just shook his head, answering with a deep sigh:

“No, one of us is OK. There can be clients coming so someone has to be here”.

He grabbed his jacket and went out.

It didn’t take him long before he entered the school principal’s office. To his surprise it was still the same man, that had nearly kicked him out of school when he was a student here. Jay sat in a corner, his old sulking, angry look on his face. Jeremy looked at him with stern eyes and saw that the youngster cowered under the intimidating gaze.

“Don’t overdo it”, he thought, “He’s still vulnerable!”

“Hi Mr. Devlin”, he greeted the principal, “And what did our boy do?”

“Hi, Jeremy”, the man answered with a surprised frown and a broad smile, “Long time since you made the school grounds unsafe. Eeuhhh, your boy decided to beat up a classmate. Nothing serious, just a bloody nose and a black eye, but I won’t tolerate it on my school”.

“I can appreciate that, Mr. Devlin”, Jeremy confirmed.

“Really?” the man said with an amused grin, “So I managed to teach you something then, didn’t I?”

Jeremy was only able to manage a sheepish grin at the mans’ remark, but Jay looked at him in utter surprise. Did this mean, that…?

Jeremy was able to hold his stance and told the youngster in not too kind words to get in the car and wait for him. Jay left the room with slumped shoulders.

“Just a second, Jeremy”, the principal said.

“First of all: I put Jay on a one day suspension. I’ll talk to the other boy’s parents, because in the end it was only a schoolboy’s brawl. But eeuuhh…didn’t they call you the Bobcat when you were at school?”

“Yes, sir”, Jeremy confessed with a lopsided grin.

“My God”, the man said with a teasing smile, “And now you and Noah Eisenstern have donated me another pack of trouble. Might be a good idea to call him the Bobkitten! Seems pretty appropriate to me. What do you think?”

Jeremy couldn’t help it but to burst in laughter but he got serious again when he said:

“I better go to my car and play the angry foster dad with Jay. Sorry for the trouble, sir. We’ll do everything we can to avoid any future unpleasantness”.

“I can’t expect more than that. Bye, Bobcat!” the man said with still laughing eyes.

When he joined Jay in the car Jeremy started it for the short trip home. He planned to do it in total silence, but they weren’t even out of the street yet when Jay asked curiously:

“What was that all about?”

“What?” Jeremy countered the question in the most unfriendly tone he could think of without pressurizing the kid unnecessarily.

“This you making the school grounds unsafe? And that the Old Man had taught you something?” Jay continued undisturbed.

Jeremy did his utmost best to hide his awkwardness and just growled:

“Do you think you were the first boy at school who beat up another kid?”

“Wrong question, man!” Jeremy’s mind flashed. He felt himself on very thin pedagogical ice, on the verge of falling through it.

“Did you really?” Jay asked with an incredulous and almost admiring smile.

“This is not about me, Jay. This is about you!” Jeremy said angry, cutting off a conversation that was becoming pretty unpleasant for himself and that he was about to lose.

“Yeah…sure!” Jay just muttered, persisting in his smile. He started to see one of his foster dads in a totally different light now. In his still somewhat socially-constrained way of thinking he actually started to see him in a very positive light.

 

Once they got home Jeremy directed Jay to his room with one gruff command and walked into the store to report to Noah.

“You won’t believe it”, he said, “The Old Man actually put me in an awkward position”.

“How that?” Noah asked with frowned brows.

“He reminded me of the Bobcat”, Jeremy explained, “On itself not that terrible, but Jay was still there in the office, making it some kind of ticklish”.

Noah imagined the situation mentally and it made him smile.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Jeremy grumbled, “Well, I’ll tell you something funny: Jay got himself a nickname from the Old Man himself”.

“What’s that?” Noah asked, burning with anticipation.

“You’ll never guess!” Jeremy took his revenge by building up the tension.

“Oh, come on”, Noah cried out, “Don’t keep me waiting for it. Tell me!”

“He’ll be called the Bobkitten”, Jeremy managed to stutter in a roaring laughter.

Noah joined him in his laughter, both becoming breathless from laughing long and loud. But then it was back to serious business.

“I’ll talk to him later”, Jeremy said, “Let him soak for an hour to think things over”.

“You want me to come with you?” Noah asked.

Jeremy thought it over briefly, shook his head and said:

“No, the two of us might be too threatening for him. I’ll manage on my own”.

After about an hour Jeremy ascended the stairs, knocked on the door of Jay’s room and without waiting for an answer he entered. He found Jay curled up in fetal position on the bed. He knew it might mean two things: either the boy felt completely secure, which Jeremy considered just fine. Or the boy felt insecure, using his position to provide some measure of security, which suited Jeremy just fine as well. Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down on the side of the bed and out of the blue he asked:

“Now, what was this all about?”

It was perfectly clear to Jeremy, that the boy was afraid of looking at him. There was a micro-second glance up to Jeremy’s eyes, just to drop them right away when he whispered:

“He made me angry!”

“What did he do to make you angry?” was Jeremy’s next, totally logical question.

“Does it matter?” Jay asked without looking up a second time.

“Yes, it does”, Jeremy said soft but determined.

“Why?”.

This time the youngster laid his arms over his head, cutting all possibilities for visual contact.

Jeremy waited a few seconds before giving an answer, just to add effect to what he was about to say, but then came:

“Because I want to understand why you did it. And on top of that, I want you to understand why you did it, so that we can work together to control your anger before more terrible things than a bloodied nose happen. Things that might bring you in jail. Do you want that, end up in jail?”

There was a frantic head shake under the arms. One week at that hellish place gave him experience enough to last a lifetime.

“So, I’ll ask it again”, Jeremy said somewhat louder, “How did he make you angry?”

The arms came off the head and the blue-grey eyes looked directly in Jeremy’s with a burning anger in them, maybe the same anger the boy had felt when his fists slammed into their target. But the answer dumbfounded Jeremy:

“He made jokes about the two of you because you are gay. He called names at you and Noah, he sneered about you. I’m not accepting that so I hit the shit out of him”.

“You stood up for Noah and me?” Jeremy asked, obvious surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, that surprises you, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, mister. I’m not dreaming that the two of you love me, you probably all do this for the money, but at least you take care of me in a proper way. And that is reason enough for me to beat the teeth out of every mouth that mocks the two of you”.

The words were spoken with vigor and determination and on a kind of aggressive edge. Jeremy didn’t even blink his eyes at the attack:

“Another provocation, as was to be expected. His way to get validation and security”

“Why…”, he considered his next question carefully, “Why…shouldn’t Noah and I love you? What makes you think that way?”

“Because I’m garbage”, Jay almost spitted out, “No normal person loves garbage!”

The thought and the question resulting from it was burning on the tip of his tongue, but Jeremy decided to swallow it. It was no use. Chances were huge, that Jay had no idea why he considered himself as garbage but Jeremy noted it was already the second time, he had called himself that way.

Instead, he laid his hand on Jay’s upper arm. It caused a slight aversive reaction, but the boy reluctantly seemed to accept it.

“Listen to me, Jay”, Jeremy started, “Even now there are people who can’t understand, that two men or two women can love each other equally intense as a man and a woman do. It has always been that way and it will never change. And because they can’t understand they just laugh away their own ignorance and start calling names and ridicule the lovers. But it won’t help to start using your fists against those people. It will only bring you in more trouble than you already have. So, I think it is a very good idea, that you are not going to repeat that. Is that clear?”

“If you say so”, the youngster answered sulking.

“Now, let me think. I need to find some appropriate punishment”, Jeremy said cheery.

Jay looked at him with undiluted fear in his eyes and cried out:

“Please, don’t whip me!”

“Huh?” was Jeremy’s bewildered reaction.

“Don’t whip me, please”, Jay pleaded.

“What makes you think that?” Jeremy asked, hardly recovering from the nasty surprise. He carefully avoided the word “whip”, because he found it too disgusting to get it out of his mouth.

“My…my old man always does that when I’ve been up to something. He does it as well with my little brother and my sister”, was the barely audible reply.

Jeremy was hardly able to hide his horror behind a neutral face, laid both his hands on the boy’s trembling shoulders and looked in the eyes, where the first tears were welling up:

“Look at me, Jay. Noah and me are not your old man. We don’t whip! We will have disagreements but we will never whip you. It is just that you are suspended tomorrow and I don’t want you to think, that it is just a nice extra day off from school. So, I figured I gave you some job to do”.

Jay’s eyes showed obvious relief when he asked:

“And what did you have in mind?”

“Well”, Jeremy answered smiling, “The contractor has just finished the rebuilding of our new place and before we can open it officially it needs a thorough cleaning. And guess who is going to do that?”

A slight smile actually came on Jay’s face when he said:

“I have a gloomy feeling I know him”.

“You’re a genius”, Jeremy laughed, “So, get in your working clothes, buddy. The building is waiting for you”.

That said he rose and wanted to walked to the door. Just before opening it he heard Jay say:

“Jeremy, may I ask you something?”

“Sure”, Jeremy exclaimed while turning around to face the boy, “What is it?”

“Well, there’s just this one thing I wanted to know”, the boy muttered hesitantly, “Who is the Bobcat?”

It didn’t take long for Jeremy to decide on the answer, especially when he found, that it could be helpful in helping this boy. Completely according to the truth, he replied:

“The Bobcat was me. When I was your age, I had my share of problems as well. I tell you about them when you’re older. But, it seems that, like you, I kind of tried to solve my problems with my fists. I did it that much, that the same Old Man, who suspended you today, almost kicked me out of school”.

Jay was clearly overthinking the answer but apparently found something he couldn’t grasp.

“How did you solve these problems then?” he asked.

The question moved Jeremy deeply and with damp eyes he answered quietly:

“You better ask Noah. He knows all about it!”

He took a deep breath and concluded with:

“Now, you better get changed. There’s a whole building waiting for you”.

Then he left the room. He ran down the stairs, grabbed Noah by a shoulder and said:

“Give me Marilyn Caldwell’s phone number. I heard some horrific things upstairs. I need to talk to her”.

“What was it?” Noah asked shocked.

“Just listen while I talk to her. But I guarantee you, that the cold shivers will run over your spine. It’s about time, that Jay’s home town local cops start doing some serious questioning”.

 

The weeks towards Christmas were hectic. Of course, lots of customers came in the shop to buy presents for their loved ones and the same avalanche of orders was registered in the web shop.

But pressure was increased even further by the imminent opening of the new concert hall. Noah was fully absorbed by that job, while Jeremy did all he could to keep the shop running.

Oh yes, the new building was spotlessly clean, thanks to Jay. He didn’t manage it in his day of suspension but voluntarily donated the weekend after that to finish the cleaning.

Noah was able to contract a very young, very talented pianist from the region, a tip he got from old Miss Jablowski, the old piano teacher in town who happened to frequent the book shop very regularly and who had taught the boy from toddler on, speaking very highly of his extraordinary talent.

Now he was concentrating on the practical odd ends of the opening: ordering drinks, flowers, thinking about posters and other advertisements and the myriad of other things that had to ensure, that the first concert in their new concert hall would be a success.

The biggest problem was the posters. Noah saw no way to get the kind he wanted in due time. And time was pressing! But he got help in a most unexpected way.

It all started on Friday night, about three weeks for the opening. Jeremy had made dinner, put it on the table and tired as he was, he sighed:

“I’ll call Jay down. He’s in his room”.

A yell upstairs only resulted in a muted “I’m coming”.

After fifteen minutes there was no sign of Jay. Irritated Jeremy went back to the stairs and called out:

“Jay, come down. Your dinner is getting cold!”

Again an “I’m coming” was the only reply.

Another fifteen minutes elapsed without any trace of the boy.

“Put his dinner in the microwave”, Noah said, “I’m upstairs to find out what he is doing”.

He went up, knocked at the door and went in. What he saw surprised him.

Jay was frantically working at his laptop, hardly noticing his coming in. In a way Noah couldn’t suppress the impression, that the boy looked happy, as if he really liked what he was doing.

“What are you doing, buddy?” Noah asked kindly, “By now your dinner is cold”.

“Working”, the boy answered, gazing intense to the small screen.

Noah looked over the boy’s shoulder to the screen, seeing a picture with magnificent, surreal colors.

“What is that?” he wanted to know.

“Ah shit, man!” Jay uttered clearly disappointed, “It was supposed to be a surprise!”

“What is it then?”

“It’s the poster for the opening”, the youngster said angry.

“Where did you get it?” an amazed Noah asked.

“What do you think?”, Jay asked, “I designed it!”

The tone in his voice barely hid, that he felt insulted by Noah’s question. Falling from one surprise in the next, Noah asked almost breathless:

“How?”

“Pretty simple”, was the matter of fact reply, “I made a picture along the lake shore, uploaded it on my laptop, airbrushed the colors in with my photoshop program and now I’m working on the correct lettering”.

Noah looked at the screen another time, taking in the details. Then he whispered with genuine admiration:

“It is beautiful!”

Jay responded with a shy smile.

“Where did you learn this?” Noah asked.

There was just a short shrug but after thinking it over Jay said:

“I’ve always been doodling when I was on the street. Always had a pencil and a small booklet with me”.

Noah looked at him, his eyes signaling disbelief.

“Did you learn all this by yourself, Jay?” he asked

The boy looked up at him, his eyes filled with shame and fear and asked timidly:

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

“No, not at all!” Noah exclaimed, “It’s unbelievable. Did you make more things?”

There was another shy smile and eyes dropped. But then a hesitant answer came:

“I did the design they are using now for the school paper cover. And I draw the teacher cartoons for them. Of course, not under my own name. The Old Man would give me another three days of suspension for that”.

The last words were spoken with a grin.

“You have talent, buddy!” was the only thing Noah could think of to say.

A proud and happy smile came on the boy’s face, the first one Noah had ever seen from him.

“I need to find a printing house who can do this”, Noah thought out loud.

“No need to”, Jay answered business-like, “I already checked that. I spoke with a boy at school, whose father has a printing house in Orleans. They print the school paper. He can deliver three hundred full colors in two days”.

“You are a genius!” Noah exclaimed wholeheartedly.

Another shy but proud smile was the only silent reply. But then it came back again:

“No, I’m just a bit clever with drawing, For the rest I’m only garbage!”

“No, you ain’t”, Noah said quietly, “Tell me something. Is this what you want to do with your life?”

The boy’s eyes started to gleam as if a dream became visible when he said softly:

“I would love to work in a printing house, make designs and print stuff, that kind of things. But I would have to study for it. And nobody is going to pay for that, because nobody cares about it”.

Noah laid both his hands on the boy’s shoulders and sincerely said:

“Jeremy and I care, Jay. We are going to pay for it”.

The blue-grey eyes looked up in a sudden movement, surprise and hope in them.

“Would you really?” Jay asked, not really believing what he had just heard.

“Yes, we will. On one condition!” Noah smiled.

“What’s that?” a suspicious question followed.

“That you quit your work for a short while now, come down and eat your dinner”, Noah grinned, “But it will be microwaved by now!”

The blond head went askew for a second. Then a beautiful, happy smile slid over the narrow face, the very first one it showed since being in Newport, and Jay said:

“I guess I can live with that!”

 

The Saturday before Christmas was the great evening of the very first concert. Guests came in, were greeted by Noah and Jeremy and took their places. Even the mayor found the occasion important enough to sacrifice his free Saturday evening.

Jay was recruited to serve the drinks. He was not exactly elated with his one evening job, but an incidental fifty bucks bonus on his monthly allowance sweetened his fate a lot. Regularly he walked in the room with trays of white wine, orange juice and the like.

When everybody was seated a young boy entered, dressed in a black shirt, a faded jeans and white sneakers. He bowed politely, walked to the piano, sat himself on the stool and started playing. Jay didn’t find it very much to his liking. It was typical for Noah: classical music! But he did study the boy. Somehow, he seemed familiar. And increasingly Jay became impressed by the way the boy touched the keys gently with fingers, that seemed to do a fiery dance on their own. In a way, that he didn’t understand, Jay got intrigued by the fingers, by the music they produced and after that by the boy as a whole.

“I know him”, he muttered, “But no idea how I know him!”

After a while the boy hammered the final chords on the keyboard and stretched his arms slightly. Jay immediately noticed the bracelet around one of his wrists: it was the same kind of rainbow bracelet Noah was always wearing.

The audience applauded enthusiastically and Noah announced that it was time for a pause now. People swarmed to the counter with drinks and Jay walked around, serving those who didn’t mix in with the general civilized stampede for the liquor.

“Don’t forget our musician of the night”, Noah whispered in his ear.

Jay just nodded and went to the piano-playing boy.

“Hi”, he said with a smile, “Can I get you something?”

“Eeuhh…” the boy looked at him with gorgeous dark-blue eyes, “Do you have orange juice?”

After a quick glance over his tray Jay said:

“Not on this one, but give me a minute and I’ll get you one!”

While walking back to get the drink it dawned on him: the boy was at the same school! OK, he was somewhat older and in one of the higher classes, but he was definitely in the same school as he was.

He walked back with a glass of orange juice and gave it to the boy who asked him:

“And, did you like it? The first part of the concert I mean”.

“I had to get used to it”, Jay said according to truth, “I’m not used to classical music. But yeah, after a while I kind of liked it. What was it you were playing?”

“Samuel Barber”, the boy said after taking a sip from his drink, “The Excursions: it includes blues and boogie woogie chords. The second piece was “Nocturne” from Amy Beach. By the way, I’m Alex”.

“Oh, yeah…sorry”, Jay said somewhat reddening with shame, “I’m Jay”.

“I know”, Alex laughed, “You’re the one they call the Bobkitten at school. But I never understood why”.

“Ah…well”, Jay muttered, his head becoming even more red, “That’s a long story. I thought I knew you from school”.

“I would love it if you tell me that story”, Alex said softly, an inviting smile in his eyes, “Even the short version if need be”.

“Well…”, Jay stuttered, “Should I really?”

“No, but you would do me a great favor if you did. Better as sitting on my own until the second set starts”.

Jay shrugged and started to tell with a fair amount of trepidation:

“But only the short version. Jeremy and Noah are my foster dads and when Jeremy was my age, everybody at school called him the Bobcat. So, when I smashed Fred Walker’s face a few weeks ago the Old Man dubbed me the Bobkitten”.

Alex broke in a roaring laughter and excitedly called out:

“Such a sweet story!”

“What? Not the part I smashed Fred Walker, I hope?” Jay asked somewhat confused.

“Oh no”, the boy answered decidedly, “No problem there. He’s just a hassle as he is. It was about time that someone put him in his place”.

“Alex, you want me to place a new glass on the piano for the second set?” Jay asked.

Alex shook his head and with a kind smile he answered:

“No use. I need all ten fingers to play”.

Again, Jay felt his head getting red while he muttered:

“Yes, of course. It was a dumb question”.

“Not at all”, Alex said softly, “I think it was a very considerate, sweet question”.

There was a twinkle in his eyes, that Jay didn’t understand mentally but his heart knew more than enough to skip a few beats.

“But I’ll make sure that another glass is ready for you when you finish, if that is OK with you?” he said…, no, he noticed he stammered it.

“What is happening?” his brain cried inside.

“Again, very sweet”, Alex said.

He drained the glass, looked on his watch, for a second time showing the rainbow bracelet accidentally (was it really?), and said:

“I better start the second set”.

“What will you be playing?” Jay asked curious.

“Scott Joplin”, was the answer, “You’ll love him. Rhythmic stuff”.

Alex walked back to the piano, while Noah announced the end of the pause and the recommencement of the concert.

Jay withdrew to the counter with the drinks. From there he closely observed the boy named Alex, who started the second part of the recital with even more vigor that the first set. Jay couldn’t find a particular reason, but he was fascinated by this boy, by the way his sleek fingers literally ran over the black and white keys. He started to study him. Alex was even somewhat slimmer than Jay, 125 pounds at the maximum, and slightly taller with his five feet, 7 inch. His hair was a shade darker than Jay’s and it was not in the same croft, but hung fairly loose, so every now and then covering his eyes while he hammered the instrument, necessitating a quick sweep with a free hand to get it out of sight again. His black shirt hung loosely over his slim body. The longer he studied the boy, the more his heartbeat raised its tempo. He lost himself so much in his observations, that he didn’t notice Jeremy coming by, who whispered in his ear:

“Don’t forget to wash the glasses for the second run, buddy!”

“Yeah”, he muttered startled, starting to take the used glasses but with his attention completely focused on the boy behind the piano, one could rest assured that the accomplishment of this task was not really satisfactory.

When the second set ended as well, he rushed with a glass of orange juice towards the piano, as he had promised, forgetting all the other people who wanted a wine or some other drink.

Alex greeted him with a smile, that engraved itself in Jay’s memory, so radiant and thankful as it was, and swallowed the whole glass in one go.

“Am I too impolite if I ask for another one?” Alex asked shamefaced, “I’m dying from thirst”.

“No problem”, Jay cried out with a happy smile and ran back to the counter to fill another glass. There he noticed a slightly annoyed Jeremy, who had assumed the job of serving the others but his eyes made it unmistakingly clear, that he wanted Jay back on the double!

Jay almost ran to the piano and gave Alex his second glass. Then he giggled:

“Sorry, have to go back now or I’ll be in deep shit later. Do you have to go soon?”

“No”, Alex replied, “I’m in no rush”.

“OK, great”, Jay sighed relieved, “Maybe we can chat later, when all these folks are gone”.

“I’d like that”, Alex said with another heavenly smile, that almost caused Jay to hyperventilate.

When most people were gone Noah passed Jay, who was again cleaning the glasses and in a conspiratorial way whispered in his ear:

“You are dismissed, Jay”.

Jay didn’t see the wide grin on his face when he walked on but immediately ran back to Alex, barely being able to avoid grabbing the boy’s hands.

“Hey, you’re back”, Alex greeted him.

“I said I would”, Jay replied, shuffling nervously, trying hard to find a way to say something sensible. But he found it and asked:

“Where did you learn to play the piano so well?”

“Oh”, Alex answered, “I started early. My mom always says I was four when I started. Then I had a real good teacher”.

“Who was it?” Jay wanted to know.

“Miss Jablowski, the old lady on the first row”, was the casual reply.

Jay looked at the first row, discovering a really old lady, who looked so fragile, that she gave the impression she might break in pieces any moment. Her pepper-colored curls hung pithless from her head and her wrinkled face was dominated by rimless glasses, behind which two eyes seemed to sparkle with intense pride over her successful student.

“I’ve seen her before. She was in our shop”, Jay remarked.

Then another lull in the conversation came, both visibly searching for words. This time Alex won when he said:

“But I’m not only playing classical music. I play blues and jazz as well”.

“Wow, that’s great!” Jay exclaimed impressed, “All on your own?”

“No”, was the reply, “with my band, the “Blue Mountain””.

“Wow man, a band”, Jeremy whispered, “Cool!”

“You can come and listen when we play”, Alex said with another twinkle in his eyes, “You’re more than welcome, I can guarantee you!”

Then the boy looked away for a brief moment, sighed and said:

“My dad waves, that he wants to go home. And since he’s my taxi driver tonight there’s no other way than to go with him”.

Only for a second Alex’s hand touched Jay’s and then the boy whispered:

“Jay, can we exchange phone numbers? I would love to hang out with you some evening”.

With eyes as large as saucers from excitement Jay nodded vigorously and gave the number.

Alex pushed it in his cellular with what almost looked like greed.

“My number is…”, he said after punching the number in.

“Oh shit”, Jay moaned, “My cellular is at home. I can’t note the number”.

“No problem”, Alex said smiling, grabbing in the breast pocket of his shirt, taking a small card out of it.

“Here’s my number”, he said softly, “Don’t lose it, man. I really hope to hear from you”.

Then he kissed his own index finger and pressed it on Jay’s lips.

“I’m off…see you!” were the last words, whispered softly.

Jay watched him link up with a middle-aged man and both left the room. After they were out of sight, he needed at least five minutes before he was more or less able to comprehend what was happening to him.

 

After the concert ended, Noah and Jeremy hung against the counter, relaxing a bit. There were many congratulations, compliments and guarantees from people, that they would come back the next concerts. Both had all reasons to feel very content about their first concert.

Suddenly Noah poked Jeremy in the ribs with his elbow. A startled “Huh?” was the only reaction he got. He turned around, hung with his arms on the counter and bent his head to Jeremy’s ear, whispering:

“It looks as if Marilyn Caldwell was right”.

“Why that?” Jeremy inquired, having no idea what his lover meant.

“That our boy develops homosexual tendencies”, Noah said in a low, insinuating voice, nodding towards the two boys, who were chatting animatedly.

“They’re just chatting, angel”, Jeremy said, somewhat indignant.

“Yeah, sure!” Noah smiled, “Did nobody bother to teach you something about body language, tiger?”

Jeremy looked another time, smiled and only answered:

“You may be damned well right!”

 

Jay tried to sleep but couldn’t. He was too excited to sleep. He switched on the bed lamp, took the book he was reading from the nightstand and opened it, searching for a specific page. He wanted to reread the part he had loved so much, because it was written so wonderful, respectful and sensual, the part where Edwin and Afzal made love for the very first time. It had aroused him once and he was certain, that it would do it again. Because besides coming down from the tiring and emotional evening he needed a physical relief.

He started reading, in the meantime stroking his dick without thinking. It started to enlarge, he felt the rage building up and read on. He could almost visualize it what he was reading, but at some moment his fantasy made a funny twist: it replaced the two characters in the story with others. He became Afzal, Alex became Edwin. However, the sensual and realistic writing remained the same and, even without practical experience in love making, he could almost literally see and feel, that Alex was doing that with him. His urge, by this time extensive, became even larger and his dick, already fully aroused at the moment, got new and more intense stimuli, causing it to reach a length he had never experienced before. And what he thought funny: it was as if his little hole in the back got damp in some kind of way. In his haze he started to moan, first incoherent sounds, then words and sentences:

“Yes, Alex, I want you to do it to me….do it to me, Alex…make me yours…I want you!”

He felt the burning desire to cum increase to an unbearable level. Not being trained yet in holding back he just let it happen. The vibrating and pulsing penis sprayed blot after blot, in quantities surpassing all that he had achieved before.

Once his whirl subsided, the shock waves had left his body, his breathing regulated and his heart beat slowed down, his mind kicked in, destroying his bliss in a matter of seconds, turning it into a gloom as black as a shaft in a coal mine:

“Alex will never do it to me”, he whispered, tears in his eyes, “Alex is not interested in filth. Because that is what I am! Just filth! Nobody wants me, so how can I expect that Alex wants me?”

He threw his book on the nightstand, turned around on his chest, buried his head in his pillow and cried softly. In the end he fell asleep, the tears still on his face, his pillow wet from them.

 

The winter sun shone on the freshly fallen snow, its reflection making the light much brighter than it actually was. It was Sunday morning after the recital, ten o’clock. Jeremy and Noah sat at the kitchen table, still very sleepy, having their breakfast. They both had a great night, but no: not in the erotic sense. After weeks of hard work, they had been too exhausted to even think about sex, let alone do it. They had simply slept very well! The third place at the table was still empty.

“Jay still sleeping?” Jeremy asked absent-mindedly.

“I guess”, Noah muttered with his mouth full of cereals, “I think he was pretty beaten after last night. Besides…”

His dark-brown eyes rolled frolicsome when he grinned:

“He could well have very sweet dreams that he wants to continue for a while”.

They proved to be wrong. As soon as Noah had said his last word Jay came in, humming softly, eyes dreamy. After a perfunctory “Good morning” he sat down, took cereals and milk, poured himself a cup of coffee and started to spoon in his breakfast, staring ahead dreamily. His mind was so pre-occupied with something, that he didn’t notice the grins that his foster dads were exchanging.

“Slept well?” Noah attempted to get the boy back to Mother Earth.

Only a “Hm Hm” was given as an answer and Jay persevered in his trancelike pose. It was that deep, that the boy didn’t even notice that Noah studied the blue-grey eyes with a smile. Only at second glance Noah saw something peculiar: Jay’s eyes had a curious mixture of dreaming and...was that sadness?.

When the youngster finished his cereals and coffee, he looked at the two young men and timidly asked:

“Am I excused?”

“Sure”, Jeremy reacted with an affirmative nod, “In a hurry, aren’t we?”

“Just wanted to read something”, came the evasive reply.

Jay almost raced out of the kitchen. His foster dads grinned another time when Jeremy said:

“My mom always said: staring eyes are deeply in love”.

“Ah”, Noah laughed, “So you always stared at your folks’ breakfast table?”.

But he got serious when he added:

“Your mom was right. But there’s also something else in these staring eyes!”

 

All this didn’t hurt Jay. He stormed into his room and made an immediate mess of his freshly made bed when he jumped on it. He grabbed his cellular and stared for a long time at the number he had punched in the evening before.

“Shall…” he whispered, “Shall I call him? Would he like it if I call him?”

It became the digital equivalent of the old child’s play of counting down the buttons of one’s shirt while saying:

“Does he love me? Doesn’t he love me? Does he love me? Doesn’t he love me? Does he…?”

Jay did it almost on his cellular, counting off the small keyboard digits:

“Shall I call him? Shan’t I call him? Shall I call him? Shan’t I call him?”

He would love to call the boy, but anxiety kept him back until the moment he sighed and muttered:

“Just do it! Maybe it’ll go to hell, maybe it won’t!”

He closed his eyes as if he was afraid to see himself pushing the call button. Within ten seconds he heard:

“Hi! Great, you call me!”

“Hi, it’s Jay here. Only wanted to hear your voice…, if you don’t mind, that is?”

“No, I love it, that you call”, was the cheerful reaction.

“What were you doing?” Jay asked, far too bold and impetuous for his normal way of behaving. He seemed to realize it and immediately let the question be followed up with a:

“Excuse me, none of my business!”

Alex answered, as if he hadn’t heard the apology:

“I was writing the last song for the album”.

“Album?” a surprised Jay wanted to know.

“Yeah, for the band. We’re going to record an album. The songs are almost ready, I found us a cheap studio to record it, so it is all set to go after rehearsing it. I only have to find someone who can design the cover”.

“I can do that!” Jay cried out spontaneously.

“Are you sure?” he heard Alex ask somewhat in doubt.

The mentioning of the boy’s needing a cover designer triggered Jay into an impulsive and glowing exposé about his biggest passion. He told he was the designer of the school newspaper cover and of the poster for yesterday’s concert.

“Besides…”, he sniggered, “I also draw the teacher cartoons in the newspaper. But you better don’t tell that to anyone”.

“Cool, man!”, Alex exclaimed excited, “I really liked yesterday’s poster. Where did you learn that?”

Carried away by his own enthusiasm Jay gave the only honest answer he knew:

“When I was on the streets. I always had a doodle book and a pencil with me and I studied lots of advertisement posters”.

“What were you doing on the streets?”

The question hit him like a sledge hammer right between the eyes, that widened with panic. He had told too much, had talked past his mouth.

“I…I…I…” he stammered, falling silent.

“Jay, are you still there?” he heard Alex cry out concerned, “What’s happening? Are you OK?”

“I…I…I’ll call you later. Have to go now”, he said softly, frantically searching for these few words he was able to utter. Then he clicked the call off.

Alex stared pensively through his room window over the vast white expanses around his father’s farm. The sudden disconnection had jolted him greatly. And it had disappointed him. He would have loved to be given the possibility to describe how, when he had hit the rack bone-tired last night, his tiredness didn’t prevent him to get a hard-on only by thinking of Jay. And that he had dreamed of Jay most of the night…as far as he knew. Not to mention that, when opening his eyes in the morning, his first thought had been of Jay.

“I love this boy”, he muttered, “I love him like he is, with all advantages and drawbacks. I don’t need a perfect boyfriend, but a sweet boyfriend. And he is sweet!”.

He smiled slightly at the memory of some poster he had once read, proclaiming in broad letters:

“Ever met a perfect person? And? Did you like it?”

“But on the streets…what does he mean with that?” his mouth formed a silent question.

If he wanted to get to know the boy, he had fallen in love with, he had to find out.

Because love includes understanding and to understand Jay made it necessary to pry for what seemed to be a secret. Alex felt a few cold shivers when he thought, that it might be a terrible secret, one far beyond his capabilities to handle.

“We’ll see that later”, he decided, “First, I wanna know, because I want that boy!”

 

In a dark room a little boy stood fully naked, literally with his back against the wall. There was no possibility to go back any further, there was no way for another escape. He was completely at the mercy of the vague, towering black shape that approached him slowly in a menacing way. And despite his young age the boy was fully aware of it. The two things, that he could not understand were, that the figure had a head, but he lacked a face. Secondly, the small peeing assistance device between his own legs was nowhere the size the thing the figure had. His was huge, no…even enormous, and it seemed to protrude in front of the shape, directly pointing at its forthcoming game.

The dark figure, actually just a darker silhouette against a dark background, made excited guttural sounds, sounds whose meaning eluded the boy’s understanding. But instinctively he felt, that nothing good could come from it. And he was dead right!

The figure stopped directly in front of him and growled:

“You’re a cute toy. Just what I was looking for!”

The big protruding thing was now pushing against the boy’s chest, behaving like a bloodthirsty but teethless predator. Teeth or not, it looked ferocious enough for the boy’s blue-grey eyes, that were filled with indescribable fear. He felt the thing’s head was some kind of slicky wet, another thing he didn’t understand.

“What…what…do… you… want?” he found the courage to ask, pressing the words out one by one without hardly any breath.

“Shut up, street rat!” the dark shape growled.

With a swift, strong blow from one of the tree trunk-like arms the boy was thrown on a mattress, that was on the ground. Developing a speed, that surprised the boy, the black silhouette went behind him. A hairy, large hand grabbed the boy’s neck and pressed his face flat against the wall, leaving him as helpless as a rabbit in a snare.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, the hulking monster, because that is what the boy’s panicked mind had made of the shape, growled with a mean grin.

Next thing he knew was, that something large and sticky was pushing between his nates and was frantically trying to open up his still virgin poop hole.

“It must be that large thing bungling in front of him”, his mind flashed a useless warning, because no matter how he tried to avoid this to happen, the single hand in his neck had more strength than his whole lean body, simply pressing his face against the wall, making it hardly possible for him to continue breathing. He felt how the “thing” tried to push inside him.

“Oh God, this hurts!” he muttered.

“Shut up, rat!” he heard the black shape snarl. It was immediately followed up with a spank on the soft skin of his buttocks, adding even more pain on the outside than what he was already enduring on the inside.

The “monster” tried hard to get deeper inside him. It felt, as if his whole frail body was torn apart inside out. It hurt like hell! There was nothing cautious, tender or loving about it; it was only brutal invasion!

The pain continued and increased, going deeper and deeper inside his body. The boy was beyond all conscious thinking or feeling. In a reflex he just tried to resist: he attempted to flail his arms, kick the shape with his legs and feet. It all failed miserably: the shape was by far too strong, the “thing” just continued its undisturbed voyage in.

“AAAAAUUUWWWWW…..IT HURTS! ….IT HURTS!”, the boy screamed on the top of his lungs.

“Aww, fuck”, the fearful figure growled, “You’re worthless. Your even less than a rat. You’re just filth…less than garbage on the street!”

There was a short pause, then the voice resumed in a low rumbling:

“I might as well do the city a favor and just clean you up. I might as well kill you right now and here!”

The boy felt the fingers at his neck increase their pressure. Fear went to agony, his eyes were distend. With imminent end approaching he did the only thing he could do. Hysterically he screamed out:

“NO, DON’T KILL ME…! PLEASE, LET ME LIVE…I’LL BE A GOOD BOY…!! NOOOOOO, …….; PLEASE….DON’T KILL ME!!!!!!”

 

Jeremy and Noah were in bed, kissing and cuddling a bit. All of a sudden Noah whispered:

“Shall I tell you how I feel like?”

Jeremy grinned conspiratorial and said:

“But we have to be quietly about it. We’ve got a new neighbor, you know. So, angel, no cooing out loud when I’m in you”.

In mock indignation Noah softly growled:

“Now, hear who is talking? When you cum you sound like a horny cougar in orgasm!”

Jeremy ignored it and started to stroke Noah’s nipples, that immediately went straight up while he moaned softly.

“Yeah, I missed this”, he muttered, “It’s been so long ago!”

The first tender kisses were exchanged, fingertips slid over skin, that became hotter and hotter, over breasts, abdomens, inner thighs, back up to abdomens, hoovering around their centers of lust.

They tasted each other’s intimate fluids extensively on tongue and lips. Then Noah sighed softly:

“I need you, tiger!”

“Roll over on your belly”, was the whispered reply.

Once Noah had done so Jeremy took the lubricant from the nightstand and started to prepare Noah with delicate finger movements, the subject of his attention moaning in anticipation.

“Come on in!” Noah almost begged.

Jeremy lined up, spread Noah’s cheeks and put his head against the quivering muscle, ready to push in with care and affection, kissing the back of Noah’s neck while doing so.

Then, out of nowhere, the blood-curdling cry came:

“NO, DON’T KILL ME…! PLEASE, LET ME LIVE…I’LL BE A GOOD BOY…!! NOOOOOO, …….; PLEASE….DON’T KILL ME!!!!!!”

Both felt their blood freeze in their veins, cold tremors ran over both their spines and they stared in each other’s startled eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” Jeremy stammered.

Noah was more responsive and cried out:

“It’s Jay! Get off me!”

Then he jumped out of bed, grabbed his boxers and ran towards the room beside theirs, almost falling flat on his face when he found out, that running and putting on his boxers at the same time was a very bad combination.

Jeremy had a barely more structural approach which resulted in his barging in in Jay’s room only a second behind Noah. Both looked in shock to what they found.

Jay sat in the middle of his bed on his knees, eyes wide with fear, fighting for breath. His whole body was as white as a table cloth, sweat seemed to cascade from his body and he was shuddering like a leaf in an autumn storm. The room looked as if a war had raged there with blankets, sheets and pillow thrown haphazardly all around it, draped over chairs or lying on the floor. Both were especially shocked by his eyes: as if they were totally void of life, only filled with a feeling, that the word “agony” would only describe insufficiently for not even fifty percent of the intensity.

Instinctively Noah reached out to embrace the trembling youngster, who recoiled in terror, while he started screaming again:

“Don’t touch me!...Don’t kill me…! I’ll be good now. No….don’t kill me”

Without really knowing it Noah reacted as he should: he only spread his arms and hands in a conjuring gesture a few inches from the boy’s face and started talking to him in an almost mesmerizing tone:

“It’s OK, honey. I won’t touch you. We won’t harm you. Just relax. It’ll all be just fine”.

And that was, what he continued to do as long as it took the boy to recover from whatever had happened, which took about fifteen minutes. Only then the trembling subsided, his normal skin color returned and the breathing gradually got regular again. Just his eyes took longer to get back to reality from the ordeal he had been going through. But once Noah saw the first twinkle in them, he knew it was going to be all right.

“You had a bad dream?” he asked gently.

Jay replied with a single silent nod.

“You want to talk about it?” Noah tried.

Just a wordless shaking of the head, but then the youngster added:

“Just leave me alone!”

Noah frowned questioningly and extremely gently he asked:

“Are you sure? Don’t you want us to stay for a while to make up your bed again and until you’re back to sleep?”

Noah would never know if he really saw what he thought he was seeing: an almost imperceptible slight smile of gratitude seemed to slide over the boy’s face.

“Can you walk?” Noah inquired. For making up the bed it was necessary to get Jay off from it.

A single nod confirmed it, but when Noah helped the boy up, he had to support him while staggering towards the chair.

“You stay with him”, Jeremy said quietly, “I’ll make the bed”.

While Jeremy took care of the bed, Jay just sat like a stone pillar, not speaking a word. Noah just kept talking to him with his tranquilizing voice, carefully avoiding to touch the boy.

Once Jeremy was finished, they put Jay back under the blankets and tucked him in. Jeremy switched on the light on the landing and the light in Jay’s room went out. Both sat on the side of the bed, one stroking the boy’s shoulders, the other his hair, both very carefully not to put too much pressure, using about the same lightness they had used while caressing each other a short time ago.

After another ten minutes Noah whispered:

“He’s asleep. Let’s go!”

They tiptoed out of Jay’s room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that they might hear even the slightest sound from it. Once they were back in their own bed they stared up to the ceiling, thinking it all over in silence. After a long, very long time Noah said:

“Something is disturbing him real big time”.

“Yeah”, Jeremy concurred, “but he doesn’t want to talk about it. So how can we find out what is going on in his mind?”

Noah looked to his lover’s face and with great determination he said:

“Not yet! But he’ll come around and start talking. At least, that’s what my guts feeling tells me”.

“Maybe”, a tired Jeremy sighed, “Sorry, angel. My libido disappeared out of the window by a single blast of cold Arctic storm”.

“So has mine”, Noah grinned sadly, “Let’s get to sleep. There’s nothing else we can do until he starts talking”.

The bed lamp went out. However, both didn’t sleep very well, keen on hearing all sounds from the room besides theirs and worrying sick about the boy in their care…and in their hearts.

 

Spring came unexpectedly early this year. In these parts of the state snow was a normal occurrence into April, but this year temperatures shot up over the normal average of 40 degrees, reaching a “scorching” fifty in the beginning of March. After overcoming their initial surprise most people decided to simply enjoy it, anticipating it to be sweet but brief and followed by downpours of rain.

Alex became pretty restless when this spell of early spring came. He hadn’t given up hope yet to get nearer to Jay. But the object of his dreams, both emotionally and sexually, proved to be a hard-to-get target.

Since the abruptly cut-off phone call they hadn’t spoken to each other until Alex coincidentally saw him during a break at school. Their conversation was limited to some insignificant pleasantries, but Alex made every effort to add lots of non-verbal signals to the boy, but it was to no avail. It was as if Jay simply ignored them.

But Alex was a stubborn guy. He kept looking for the boy during breaks for days to come, continuing to endure the idle chitchat and increasing the intensity of his signals. He might as well have spared himself the effort. It was something, that drove him out of his mind. How could the same boy, who was so pleasant and easy-going at the concert be so abrasive and reluctant in the time afterward? How could this boy manage to keep him at a distance but at the same time be so attractive in his shy and almost ashamed demeanor?

“Ashamed of what?” was the question Alex posed himself many an evening, when he was in his bed, overthinking the situation for another time.

“It has to do something with ‘being on the street’, as he called it!” it suddenly popped in his mind, “So, if I can avoid that subject for a while, then everything would be just fine!”

Jay had his own mindset about Alex. Since he had cut off the phone call he had been longing for the boy. He dreamed about him, masturbated while doing so and most of the time ended up being depressed. It was not that he ignored Alex’s non-verbal signals; he simply didn’t pick them up. It wasn’t dislike, it was fear, it was the way he was conditioned. A desirable boy like Alex couldn’t possibly be interested in a piece of filth like him. And on top of that: he got fed up by the insinuating questions from his foster dads about “any developments”, not comprehending that they were only trying to monitor his emotional and relational development.

But Alex was unaware of Jay’s reasoning and even if he would, he wasn’t planning considering it. Spring’s sudden surprise attack had made him restless and edgy.

After working over a music score by Chopin, one of the etudes, in preparation for his tomorrow’s lesson at Miss Jablowski, he lay down on his bed and overthought the whole situation with Jay. Yes…he was incredibly attracted to him, yes…he had fallen in love with him. But not to each and every price. He made his decision: he would do a very last attempt, it was now or never! When Jay declined the opportunity, it would be over before it had started. It would hurt him beyond imagination, but it was clear to him, that it was no use to try any longer. It was the only solution. His hand reached towards his night stand and grabbed the cellular.

 

Jay lay on his bed as well, reading the same book he had been reading for a while now. It turned out to be stern stuff and he had to overthink passages quite often. He had just read a beautiful passage, that the writer had described with incredible eloquence, the lovemaking between two sixteen years-old boys, one de-virginizing the other tender but passionately, only lighted by the flicker of two candles. It was a passage that thrilled him, this sweet encounter between Shan, the swimming athlete and Jesse, the girl-like boy with the girly buttocks. Or, as the writer had dubbed them, the “lover-teens”.

“But it won’t happen to me”, he thought bitter. First of all: he might be slim but he wasn’t exactly girl-like. But more important: he wasn’t a virgin any longer. Someone else had taken care of that problem the hard way a long time ago! So, he could safely assume Alex was not interested in him, no matter how much he desired and longed for the musician boy. He was only filth, only garbage!

The thought depressed him another time. He took a deep breath and resigned to re-read the beautiful passage in the book. Even garbage was allowed to have dreams, wasn’t it?

He was halfway when his cellular rang.

“Fuck”, he muttered, “I don’t feel like talking!”

He picked up the phone; he could always decide if he would answer it, when he knew who was calling. He looked at the display, making his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets from surprise. It was Alex! He accepted the call and excitedly he cried out:

“You called! I…I don’t know what to say”.

He heard a giggle and then:

“How about saying ‘Hi’, like most people do?”

“Yeah…” Jay stammered, “Of course…eeeuhh…hi”

“It seems I disturbed you. What were you doing?” Alex asked.

“No, not at all. I’m happy you called. I was just reading”, was the rapturous answer.

“Really? What were you reading?” Alex wanted to know. The boy was some kind of a pit bull.

“Well…”, Jay replied, “It’s pretty…complicated to explain that. Maybe later. I haven’t finished it yet. And besides…it is pretty boring anyway”.

He knew that the last remark was a lame excuse, but it might buy him time. Alex might be shocked if he told him right now what he was actually reading, especially if he would include what it made him dream of. It seemed to work, because Alex continued with an unexpected statement, making it absolutely clear he didn’t want to beat around the bush:

“Hey, Jay…I told you before, at the concert, I want to hang out with you one evening”.

A brief giggle came, followed by:

“Maybe even longer than just one evening. So, how about tomorrow night. Got any plans then?”

Jay felt his heartbeat rise to a dangerous pace and his breathing went almost out of control when he answered:

“No, I’ve got no plans. Tomorrow will be fine!”

“OK, I’ll pick you up at seven. I guess at the book store?”

“Yeah, just ring the upper bell, that’s where we live”, was the hissed reply.

“OK, I can hardly wait”, Jay heard Alex say, “See you tomorrow. Kiss, sweetie!”

The connection was cut.

Jay didn’t even read the rest of the paragraph. He was by far too elated to concentrate on someone else’s love. With gleaming eyes he stared at the ceiling and muttered:

“What time is it?”

He looked at his alarm clock: it read 21.23.

“Damned, I have to wait another twenty-one and a half hours!” he whispered, his frustration about that and his joy alternating in waves.

 

After Alex had picked up Jay, they found themselves at the Derby Mac. They managed to get a nice, quite table, far away from the bragging and noise of other guys they knew from school. After ordering they sat in silence, exchanges between them being limited to shy glances, mostly from under eye lashes, and equally shy smiles. Without conscious thinking Jay lay his hand on the table, giving Alex the opportunity he was looking for to make it clear that this time he really meant business.

It came in the form of a soft circling with one fingertip on Jay’s back of the hand. It tensed him and he almost instinctively pulled it back, but with uttermost effort he managed to keep it in place. His eyes dropped and he started to nibble on his underlip with his upper front teeth, feeling his cheeks turn red from shame.

“You’re so cute when you are shy!” he heard Alex whisper.

There was only a terse, soft giggle as reaction, courage failed to look up to the most gorgeous and delightful boy he had ever met. Gradually his tension receded, especially when the number of fingertips circling over his skin had been increased to two…well, at least two. Jay was not sure about the actual number. He only knew it felt damned good. In a way he felt something he had never felt before: he felt wanted!

When Alex took his whole hand in his, the tension he had felt, already minimized to almost zero, evaporated and was replaced by herds of butterflies in his stomach. Desperately he tried to find words, think of some subject to talk about, knowing that Alex wouldn’t be impressed when his sole ability turned out to be to sit like a love-sick Buddha and a very shy Buddha on top of that.

“How’s your album getting on?” he asked. He thought it a brilliant idea, totally forgetting that exactly this had caused him great difficulties during their first phone call. But Alex juggled the words in such a way, that gave him an answer without mentioning the dangerous theme, the subject of “the street”.

“It’s almost ready”, he replied.

“The writing you mean?” Jay inquired, feeling his courage rise, “Or…how do you call that?”

“The composing”, Alex smiled, “That has been ready for a long time. We almost finished recording. Only thing left is, that I’m still looking for someone to do the cover design, though”.

Another strained, painful silence followed but Alex kept Jay’s hand in his, actually squeezing it tightly when he asked:

“Will you do that for me, Jay? I can even pay you for it”.

Jay’s reaction to the offer remained as all his earlier reactions to Alex’s attentions: a soft giggle, followed by a fast glance up and a softly spoken:

“No need to. For you I will do it for free!”

Then the pink airs were ripped apart by a sudden intrusion from an unexpected direction. A rough voice cried out:
“Hey, guys, come and look at this. Sissy Mozart and the Bobkitten holding hands! Oh man, how sweet!”

Jay immediately went to defensive mode and looked at Alex, who stared to the source of the outcry with disgust but who said nothing. Jay only noticed fear in the boy’s eyes. Looking up himself he could understand why.

Beside their table stood Franҫois Matelot, who was called “Frenchy” by everybody because of his French first- and family name, probably an indication of his Quebecois ancestors.

“I wish they had stayed on the other side of the border”, Jay thought wryly. Because generally speaking Frenchy was always bad news.

For some obscure reason he managed to become the school’s football team captain, besides being the chief bully of anybody he considered far below his own dignified stardom, which included the biggest part of the school population. And that position had really been earned by merit.

He was huge and muscled, his body topped off with a head with mean eyes, but a head that was as empty as a recently exchanged vacuum cleaner bag. Could well be, that Alex was intimidated by this guy, Jay certainly wasn’t. Being a big city street boy, he wasn’t sure but was fairly confident that he could handle him, provided the necessity arose.

“Yes, he’s strong, but he’s slow and he’s so dumb! Just relies on his muscles”

He turned on his meanest bad-ass gaze from his suddenly ice-cold blue-grey eyes, looked at the guy and hissed:

“Piss off, Frenchy. Be a good boy, let decent people in peace and fuck yourself”.

Alex’s eyes turned to sheer panic at this outburst.

“Big words, Bobkitten”, Frenchy sneered, “Better be careful. I’m not Fred Walker. That’s just a sissy. But feel free to tangle with me, anytime you want!”

“Won’t be that much of a problem”, Jay said, his voice sounding sharp as a razorblade, “Maybe even easier. Fred is smart, you’re just plain dumb!”

“Come on, Jay,” he heard Alex say, “Before this is getting messy”.

“But we’ve already ordered”, Jay objected.

“Never mind”, was the determined, brief reply, “Let’s go”.

“Ah”, Frenchy triumphed with a scornful grin, “At least sissy Mozart is a smart fag. Wouldn’t be fair to make him cry because I crush his sweetheart in front of him. But stay away from me at school, Bobkitten. You might regret it”.

Deeming the boy not worthy of any further glance Jay just said:

“Anytime you want, Frenchy, anytime you feel like it!”

Then his common sense prevailed and he followed Alex out. He had come to be with this boy, not to fight out some brawl at the Mac.

 

Once out on the parking lot Alex sighed:

“What do we do now? Man, I’m hungry!”

Jay thought it over, then said:

“Wait a minute. My foster dads mentioned some place where they always went, exactly to avoid the kind of situation as the one inside. Let me ask them!”

He took his cellular and pushed the pre-select with “Home” behind it. He heard Jeremy pick it up, who advised him to go to Martha. After receiving directions on how to get there he clicked off. Only then he thought:

“That’s funny! Did I change the pre-select to ‘home’? Does that mean, that…?”

“And?” Alex’s voice disrupted his thought.

“Let’s go to Martha’s. At least that is what Jeremy advices”.

 

Jeremy put down the phone with a big smile. Behind him he heard Noah ask:

“Who did you send to Martha’s?”

“Jay”, was the simple, straight-forward answer.

“Why that?” Noah grinned, finding his own question somewhat silly.

“To eat maybe?” Jeremy chuckled.

“On his own?” Noah wanted to know.

Jeremy shook his head, uttering: “No, there’s someone with him”.

“Who?” Noah muttered, sounding as concerned as a mother hen.

“Guess!” Jeremy asked teasingly.

With a comical expression on his face and a naughty twinkle in his eyes Noah stared at the ceiling as if he had to think about it deeply. Then he said:

“Justin Bieber? Or Maurice Ravel?”

“Fuck you, angel!”, Jeremy grinned, “You know very well who is with him”.

“Yes on both counts”, Noah beamed.

“Huh?” Jeremy reacted surprised.

“Yes on both counts!” Noah repeated with a seducing smile, “The first: fuck me. The second: he’s hanging out with a boy, whose first name starts with an A and ends with an X”.

“Get to the bedroom, you scoundrel”, Jeremy growled good-humored.

“Uuuuhhhhh”, Noah cried out tempting, “Becoming a bit dominant, are we?”

Kissing and giggling they went to their bedroom. Just before the door was closed Jeremy whispered in Noah’s ear:

“My father always used to say: ‘I love it when the kids are not at home’”

It elicited a low, desiring moan and a soft giggle from Noah, indicating that his core temperature had reached heights never heard of before.

 

After they had their dinner at Martha’s (which was rated as “pretty good” by both of them), during which they had chatted about their dreams and hopes for the future, Alex asked if Jay was willing to join him at one of his secret spots. To his own surprise Jay answered in the positive, such was the effect of the still tumbling butterflies, making all fear and apprehension fade away.

They drove out of town into the by now dark countryside. After crossing the lake Alex turned his old Chevy FWD left in the direction of the Canadian border. Jay looked around in awe.

During the days he had lived in the city, as a kid and a very young adolescent, the darkness had always frightened him. He had found out the hard way that danger could be lurking on every street corner and from each obscured side alley. But now, with Alex with him, he felt secure and enjoyed what he saw. In the beginning he saw the dark wall of trees on each side of the road, but gradually that was replaced by open farmland. The sky was a very dark blue and a full moon shone, reflected by the lake at some distance. A soft, relaxing classical music played on the radio, soothing their moods further. Combined with the dinner the music was that relaxing that Jay threatened to doze off, causing Alex to laugh.

“Where are we going?” Jay wanted to know.

“To one of my dad’s sheds. He uses it to store hay but at this time of the year it is mostly empty. Its advantage is, that it is almost directly on the lake, giving a beautiful vista when it is full moon: It’s kind of…romantic”.

Alex had no way to see how Jay’s eyes lightened up when he used the word “romantic”, busy as he was with watching the road in pitch darkness. They turned onto a dirt road and finally Alex stopped at a dark shape, some distance from the trail in the middle of a field. Ahead of them the moonlight sparkled on the small wavelets of the lake.

Guided by the light beams of their cellulars they walked to the shed. After Alex had unlocked a padlock on its door, they entered it. The first thing that struck Jay was the smell in the small structure.

“What is that scent?” he asked in wonder.

“Hay”, Alex answered matter-of-factly, “Wait a minute. I’m looking for that oil lamp so we can have some light”.

He found it, lighted it and hung it on a wooden pillar.

“We better be careful”, he grinned, “My dad won’t be pleased when his shed burns down because we have been careless”.

Jay accidentally saw an old whip hanging from another pillar in the flickering light. Suspicious he looked at Alex, but the boy didn’t seem to notice the thing. A short shiver ran over Jay’s spine. It gave him memories, that he could do without…especially this evening. He just returned to his extasy over the scent he was sniffing in for another time.

“It smells great!” he exclaimed.

“You know what smells great, honey?” Alex asked, his white teeth glittering in the kind-a-orange light of the lamp, “It is when my dad has freshly mowed the fields. The scent of freshly mowed grass, the herbs and the wild flowers that grew among it, the total scent of that…it’s almost psychedelic, you know?”.

“Really”, Jay muttered in admiring amazement, “I would love to smell it”.

“Just wait until next May or June. The whole area will be smelling like it”, Alex grinned.

There was a short, tense silence, both looking for words. Then Alex almost overwhelmed Jay when he took him clumsily in his arms, asking softly:

“Did it bother you, that I just called you honey?”

Jay said nothing, but his head shook fanatically. Then the boy embraced Alex as well, awkward at first, but with increasing eagerness and self-assurance. They stood in each other’s arms for a while, just gazing in the other’s eyes, the urge to come closer boosted by the minute, no…by the second.

Was it biology, the simple physical drive to relieve their sexual longings? Or was it physics, the forces of magnetism or gravity (not very likely in this case, unless one stumbled and accidentally fell against the other)? Could it have been Greek mythology, like Amor firing his arrows haphazardly like some maniac, not really caring whom he hit with them? Maybe it was metaphysics, that hazy realm, especially one of its main phenomena, the four-letter word that everybody knows but that no one is able to define, the four-letter word that each living human has used more than once, but that no one is capable of explaining, that simple four-letter word “love”?

No matter what it was: their heads came nearer and nearer until soft lips touched soft lips, both surrendering to each other’s sensual touch. Their lips rubbing, their tongue tips striking the sensitive tissue, their eyes burning, sparks flashing between them, they stood for minutes on end, only sharing this one kiss. One of them moaned, but it was unrecognizable who did it.

Finally, they parted. Their eyes remained locked. After taking a deep breath Jay whispered:

“My God, this was…awesome!”

“I love you”, Alex whispered.

It startled Jay beyond reason. He went red with shame and stammered:

“You…you…you can’t…love me!”

“Why not?” Alex asked, “Because we are both boys? Well, everybody in town knows that I like boys and I don’t care how they feel about it”.

“No…”, Jay continued, almost in panic, “Not because of that…there is another reason!”

“Which is?” Alex quizzed, eyes full of incomprehension.

“I’m…I’m just filth, Alex. I’m just garbage. I’m not worth to be loved by someone as beautiful as you”, came the crushing answer.

In his exalted state Alex was unable to grasp the deeper meaning of Jay’s words. He resorted to stroking the boy’s cheek gently and whispered:

“No, silly, you’re not filth. You’re the most desirable and loveable boy I ever met on this damned planet. Hey…you want another kiss? Just to make you feel better?”

“Yes”, Jay muttered softly, eyes spitting fire of desire, “I would love that”.

They kissed again. Having overcome their shame and restraints, it was even more intense than the first one, becoming more physical with every second it lasted. Pelvis pushed against pelvis, aroused phalluses pressed against each other through the textures of both their jeans, sweat of one’s chest wetted the other’s t-shirt. And the lips kept touching, the tongues kept stroking each other. Without his lips parting Alex’s Jay started to breath heavily and finally groaned, his whole body appeared to cramp against Alex and eyes pinched, an expression of absolute delight plastered on his face. After a few seconds his lips separated themselves from Alex’s. In the orange light of the oil lamp his head looked like a pumpkin from shame when he muttered:

“Sorry, I…I…I have just cum!”

Alex giggled, gave him a short kiss and whispered in his ear:

“Doesn’t matter. Me too!”

“Really? I didn’t notice it!” a surprised Jay cried out softly.

“Well, “, Alex said with a shrug, “It only means I’m more proficient in hiding it, but not in holding it back”.

“Oh man, what are we going to do now?” Jay asked in desperation. He looked around if he could see something with which to clean up, but the only thing was a muddy, oil-stained cloth. The idea of keeping his sticky undies on didn’t appeal to him.

“Go home, I guess, and get a shower. But not before I say, that I want you to know how I enjoyed this. I hope we can come here more often”.

An incredible sweet smile slid over Jay’s face when he said:

“I’d love to do it each and every day”.

“Maybe that time will come, honey”, came the sincere, warm reply with a sigh of delight.

Then Alex looked at his watch. Without knowing it, he used the same words Noah said to Jeremy once on their secret spot at the rim of the wetlands:

“We better go home before our folks start to worry!”

Painstakingly he blew out the oil lamp and they walked back to the Chevy hand in hand. When they drove back, Alex was grateful that the old car was an automatic. At least it enabled them to hold hands while driving back. Looking in each other’s eyes…? Well, the desire was there but that was a bit too risky!

 

Jay slipped out of his shoes at the bottom of the stairs and sneaked up on his socks as silent as a cat stalking the last yards towards a non-suspecting bird. His sole objective was the shower in the bathroom.

“It looks like I can pull this one off!”

He smiled in satisfaction, searching his way to the bathroom by touch. Just when he found the door knob the light came on. In shock he saw both his foster dads standing at their bedroom door, both in their skimpy undies, a big grin on each of their faces.

“There he is”, Noah grinned, “How has it been, buddy?”

Still in his blissful haze Jay put on a happy face and with a broad smile he exclaimed:

“It was great! It was…fantastic!”

Then he added in a lower voice:

“But I really need a shower…”

Only to end with a very timid:

“And I need it really bad!”

And gone he was, hastily disappearing in the bathroom.

“Got the picture, buddy”, Noah sniggered.

Both foster dads went in their bedroom and went to bed, giggling for a long time. They heard the shower running and the soft singing of the boy under it…:

“You are so beautiful, to me”

“Funny”, Jeremy remarked, “A boy his age who knows Joe Cocker”.

When the shower and the singing stopped, Noah said:

“Let’s quiet down. First time emotions can be pretty exhausting so he needs his sleep”.

“Are you serious?” Jeremy asked astonished.

“Actually, I am, tiger”, was the caring answer, given in a low whisper.

“Do I hear my mother talking?” Jeremy muttered dumbfounded.

“Shut up, tiger”, Noah chuckled, “or you can forget about sex for at least the first three months to come”.

Jeremy thought it wiser to capitulate after such a doleful threat. They put out the bed lamp, kissed good night and went to sleep.

 

Alex found his way to his own shower as well. With the hot water cascading and splashing over him, he also felt like singing. As a musician he had a somewhat larger range of songs to choose from, but he made his mind up on:

“When will I see you again?”

When will we share precious moments?”

He sang as loud as he could, annoying his father, who picked exactly this evening to concentrate on his tax return.

 

Euphoria is a wonderful sensation, but has the intrinsic characteristic, that its shelf life is very limited.

The moment Jay opened his eyes the morning after he noticed, that yesterday’s evening’s pink filter, that had dominated his vision, as well as the pink clouds, that hat influenced his dreams during the night, started to fade away. It was not that Alex was forgotten: each and every time Jay thought about the boy it seemed as if his heart skipped a few beats. It was just that the feelings of the evening before were less intense, gradually reducing in time and already crying out for a renewal of the potent medicine.

He managed to extend the durability of his highly volatile feelings by starting something akin to a monster project to him. He wanted to prove his new-found love, that he could design the most dazzling cd cover available, exclusively to be used by him.

He started to experiment with fat crayons, trying to find the color combinations he was looking for. It took him hours of effort, lots of spoiled paper on which unsatisfactory combinations were made and Jeremy literally had to drag him to the kitchen for the reason that “you got to eat something!”

After a quick bite he went back to his room, looked over the most promising raw draft and decided: this is it. It started in the lower right corner in blue (for the band name “Blue Mountain”), turning diagonally to deep purple, red, crimson and ending in pink in the upper left corner, as a symbol for what he had felt the evening before.

Jay was no fool. He knew he was looking for technical trouble, since he wanted the transfer areas between each of the colors very, very gradual as if the colors flowed into one another all by themselves.

“That means a lot of very delicate air brushing”, he muttered.

And then there was the problem of the lettering, the types and colors. But he decided to concentrate on that later. First, he had to tackle the tricky part.

By now, in early evening, he was tired. His eyes were hardly able to see details after staring to the lap top screen for hours on end.

“Tomorrow there’s time enough”, he said to himself, stretching his somewhat cramped muscles.

Now he lay on his bed. He knew he needed the rest. At first, he had considered reading in his book. Yes, it was still the same book: it was heavy stuff and, because of its complexity, required all his concentration over the full 500-plus pages. He felt too tired right now to start reading. So, he just rested with his eyes closed, hoping that sleep would come.

But his sleep didn’t come. With his rapture fully depleted, the black thoughts crawled out of the dark dungeons of his sub-conscious and started to fill his thinking. With his eyes closed he started his dangerously destructive reasoning:

“I have no right to love Alex. Filth has no right to love anyone, especially not such a beautiful person as Alex. Who did I think I was to come alive? Maybe I could accept being an insignificant insect, an ant or a fly. But no, I trespassed the line: I became what I am…(how did the reverend call it?) the crown of creation, the image of God, a human being! With what right? I’m just filth! I should be punished! I deserve severe punishment!”

He briefly stopped thinking and blinked his eyes. Then his brains raced on:

“I know that the whip hurts. I felt the lashings. Yes, it hurts like hell. But…would it hurt more, if the punishment was administered by a person I love? Would it hurt more when…? Alex? Would I feel more pain if Alex whips me? Instead of that son-of-a-bitch?”

A wry smile slid over his face:

“And even that hurt! You can take my word on that. But if Alex does it? I guess it would hurt even more, being lashed by the one I love. Alex is the answer. Alex must punish me for my impunity. Alex is the executioner of God’s punishment for my sin of having trespassed the line from nothing to human. Alex has the right to do so. I must convince him that he has to do it. How do I do that? He is the only one who has the right to punish me to set my guilt at ease!”

Gradually his thoughts became more and more chaotic, as if each thought slipped into another direction. The reasoning, dangerous as it might have been, disappeared, it seemed as if every thought popped up without any connection with others, leading its own life for a few seconds until it vanished in the restless entanglement of a slumbering, exhaustive haze, that kind of resembled sleep.

 

The next date Jay and Alex had in the small shed, the Saturday after their first, now in the afternoon, proved somewhat disappointing. It was not, that the love between them had evaporated (kissing and stroking had been plentiful), but in a way, Alex was kind of absent-minded and seemed to worry about something.

“Is it your parents?” Jay asked, “Is it because you’re gay and because we have a relationship now?”

Alex shook his head and answered decidedly:

“No, my parents know I’m gay. They don’t see it as a problem and they support me in that. Everything is just fine there”.

He grinned when he added:

“Can’t be a problem for you, is it? Both your foster dads are gay!”

“No”, Jay laughed, “It would be a larger problem if I came home and had to come out with ‘Dads, I have to tell you something…I’ve fallen in love with a girl!’”.

Alex only smiled at his remark, meant to cheer his love up but then returned to his somewhat depressed mood.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Jay insisted, “What is eating you?”

In the beginning the only answer was a forlorn sigh, but then Alex slowly said:

“I’m fed up with school”.

“Why that?” Jay reacted in astonishment.

“That damned Frenchy makes life hell for me at school. He’s just one huge bully head. He ridicules me for being gay and for being a pianist, always calls me the sissy Mozart. He makes me the laughing stock at every opportunity, humiliates me in the meanest ways you can imagine. Yesterday he started telling his fantasies about how I would have sex with you, at least as far as his limited intelligence was able to. And that in class, with all the other kids chuckling and howling. It was so embarrassing! I could have crawled under the floor to make myself invisible. You know, honey, I hate him but there’s nothing I can do about it!”

“Why not?” Jay wanted to know.

Alex turned away his face and stared to the ground, wiping with his hand over his eyes.

“Take a look at me and then at him. He would crush me with one blow of his fists. Besides…I have to be careful about my hands. If I damage them, my dreams of a career as a pianist are history forever”.

Another deep sigh followed, then a single sob, another sweep over the eyes and finally a whispered:

“I can’t take it any longer!”

Jay put his index finger gently under the boy’s chin and delicately positioned his head in such a way that their eyes locked. It shocked Jay to see the despair in Alex’s damp eyes and he made up his mind:

“Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll take care of him!”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked with a frightened, squeaking voice.

“You’ll see”, was the only reply, “But he won’t bother you any longer!”

 

Jay spent Sunday in preparation. He concentrated his thoughts to his days as a street kid, something that almost occurred to him as his “former life”. He remembered Mitchy for the first time in years. Mitchy, the youngster who had taken a liking in him, when the, in those days, small Jay had looked on when the boy did his fighting move exercises and who had taken him under his wings, making him street-wise.

His most important lesson had been:

“Listen, kiddo, the first blow is worth two bucks, but the second is worth ten! Always make sure, that the second blow comes from you! And when you do that, always aim for the same point. Got that, kiddo?”

For the first time since then he wondered how Mitchy had fared. But it was besides the point now. He had to concentrate at the problem at hand.

Mitchy’s wise lesson dictated the tactics to be followed: he had to provoke Frenchy, luring him into striking the first blow but he had to be fast enough to make sure that it would only hit thin air. Because he knew, that if Frenchy would get a grip on him, he would be a goner. And then…after the enormous fist had hit only emptiness, the boy would be free game for him.

Then he did his physical preparation, loosen up his muscles and warming them up. After push-ups and sit-ups there was a round of jumping ropes and all was finished by rehearsing his falls: hip first to absorb the impact, then shoulder to soften it up further, all to avoid to hit the ground with his head, then roll on and get up again, another one of Mitchy’s street lessons.

After some strenuous exercising he was certain he was ready for it. Frenchy’s terror would be a thing of the past very soon!

 

Monday morning was as usual. Things came to a heed during the midday break. Kids streamed out of the building into the spring sun on the school ground. Jay followed, gazing around with the sole purpose of finding his target!

He spotted him, walking away from him, joking with his friends, who were clustered around him. No doubt they were looking for their own prey to bully. Could well be they were looking for his boyfriend.

“Not today, pal, it won’t be for today!”

Jay followed them until he was at some distance from Frenchy and called out:

“Hey, Frenchy, did anyone tell you that you are just a huge asshole?”

The boy stopped walking and stood for a few seconds as if in shock. Then he turned slowly around, aiming his eyes on the kamikaze, that had dared to call him an asshole, disbelief on his face. When he saw Jay, he produced a mean smile and hissed:
“Well well, sissy Mozart’s love bird”.

“Shut up, asshole”, Jay growled, “I only tell you once so listen carefully: leave Alex alone. Got that?”

“And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?” Frenchy asked in a low grumble.

“Beat the shit out of you!” was the curt reply, given as matter-of-factly as if Jay was inquiring about the boy’s health, “In a way that you won’t need a crap for the next six months”

“I feel like crunching you!” Frenchy cried out.

Jay just shrugged and with his coldest voice said:

“Then try it! Make my day!”

There was an extremely tense stalemate. Being on his keenest Jay noticed some faint twinkle of uncertainty and fear in the big boy’s eyes.

“I got him where I want him! He has to attack or he’ll lose face with his buddies real big time. If he wiggles his ass out of it, he’s finished without any second blow!”

However, Frenchy refused to comply with Jay’s reasoning: with the clumsiness of a cow, he lumbered forward, swung his trunk-thick arm and aimed his fist at Jay’s head. Jay saw it coming and reacted as he had rehearsed: he let himself fall to the right, cushioned the impact on his hip and then on his shoulder, rolled on and in one swift move he rose again. Within microseconds his left leg swung up, directed at a point under the big boy’s sternum where his foot impacted with devastating force at the solar plexus.

Frenchy fell back on the ground, feeling kind as if his lower body was paralyzed and the boy had to fight for breath.

“Target neutralized!” Jay’s mind clinically registered with military precision.

Jay’s kick could have been explained as an act of self-defense against Frenchy’s attack. That is: if he hadn’t lost control!

Black and red spots danced in front of his eyes and his mind went blank. With the speed of lightning he dove on the still panting and defenseless boy and his fists started hammering indiscriminatingly on the face with the speed of a jackhammer.

He felt someone tugging at his shoulder but ignored it. It was a teacher, who had rushed to the fight and was now unsuccessfully trying to tear the boy off his victim. A second teacher ran to his assistance but the two of them were unable to bring the frenzied boy under control. Only one thing could save Frenchy and exactly that thing happened.

Someone told Alex of what was happening, who ran to the trouble spot and pushed his way through the bystanders with shoulders and elbows. There was a second of fright but then he yelled at the top of his lungs:

“Jay, stop it! You’ll kill him! He is not worth it! Stop it! Please!”

The voice of his “life’s everything” registered in Jay’s mind. The spots in front of his eyes disappeared, his adrenaline subsided and his mind became clear.

The teachers pulled him off the by now unconscious Frenchy, whose head looked like a pumpkin, small wounds and bruises all over it and bleeding profusely from nose and mouth. Jay didn’t even care to resist.

“You…” one of the teachers growled, “To the principal!”

Meekly he followed the man.

“I’m going with him!” he heard Alex say.

“No, you ain’t!” the teacher cried out angrily, “You stay here!”

“No way”, Alex responded, “I’m going with him”.

He looked the teacher in the eyes, his own filled with cold determination.

“Very well”, the man reacted, shaking his head, “Suit yourself!”

 

It was to be expected: Jeremy and Noah entered the principal’s office pretty soon, where they found Jay shamefaced with bowed head, receiving the Old Man’s furious ball busting, who roared:

“You are even worse than the Bobcat! I didn’t believe it possible, but you managed to outdo him. Let me get one thing clear, mister: if this happens one…I repeat ONE more time, you’re out of this school! Got that, boy?”

Jay did the only thing he could: he nodded silently with appropriate showing of his guilt. Jeremy moved his fist quickly in front of his mouth to hide a sudden grin, when he thought:

“History repeats itself. I know this! I’ve been here before. The Old Man is even using exactly the same words he was throwing at me. Must be some standard formula from the School Principal’s Handbook or something like that. What is this, a déjà vu??”

Only now they noticed to their surprise that Alex was also in the office. They nodded at him, he nodded back, face white, looking tense.

The principal turned to the two young men and said:

“Sorry, boys. With Frenchy being brought to hospital I see no way to keep it under wraps this time. The cops are already on their way. This is going to have consequences for your boy!”

Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped by Noah’s raised hand.

Then, with his most amiable smile on his face, Noah said to the principal:

“We can fully appreciate that, sir”.

Both Jeremy and Jay looked at him in astonishment, Jeremy surprised, Jay shocked, feeling betrayed.

When the police came, they asked some questions, which the principal answered. When Jay wanted to say something, Noah stopped him again with his raised hand. Jay was handcuffed and after the prescribed litany of “You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…(etcetera, etcetera)” was read to him, he was brought to the police cruiser, leaving a trail of hushed murmuring behind him when they passed over the school ground.

“I want to go with him!” Alex exclaimed.

“No way, son”, Noah said decidedly, “You ride with us!”

Only then he took his cellular, scrolled over the list of his pre-selects and pushed the icon, that would connect him to his father’s office.

 

With Jeremy and Noah up front and Alex on the back bench the drive initially was in total silence. When they had crossed the lake and turned left towards Alex’s father’s farm, the boy said:

“It’s all my fault!”

“Why that?” Noah asked, turning to look at the boy, “You didn’t remodel that Frenchy boy, did you?”

Alex shook his head and softly he said:

“No, but I shouldn’t have told him”.

“What?” Noah wanted to know.

“That Frenchy was always bullying me for being gay. And when the asshole found out, that Jay and I got something going, it only became worse. So, I guess Jay just freaked out!”

“Ah”, Noah feigned surprise, “You got something going with our boy?”

Alex produced a nervous giggle and nodded silent.

“Tell me about what you endured from this Frenchy type”, Noah asked bluntly.

Alex gave him some kind of summary, making Jeremy shaking his head.

“You know, angel”, he said to Noah, “If someone had been doing that to you, I might beat the shit out of him as well!”

“Shut up, Bobcat and just drive!” Noah grinned.

“Aye aye, sir”, was the laughing reply.

“Why did I suspect something like that?” Noah wondered, mighty glad he had been right about it. It would make things a bit easier, if his foster kid wasn’t considered just another ordinary criminal.

Time for another call to his dad!

 

Mr. Noah Eisenstern Sr., Attorney-at-Law, not to be confused with the shop owner with the same name in town, had to do some fancy talking to get his son’s foster kid out of trouble, volunteering too much personal information about the boy’s circumstances to his own liking (but he had to give his adversary something to come to the decision that the lawyer was aiming for). After a lengthy conference call with the District Attorney, the judge, Frenchy Matelot’s father and Juvenile Care (that agreed to pick up the tabs for Frenchy’s medical and dental expenses as result of the fight), the DA decided that under the specific circumstances there was no use to prosecute the boy and he dropped all charges. His legal reasoning was, that the suspect was in a way provoked by the victim’s initial attack, making it a clear-cut case of “extended self-defense”.

Which did not mean that the perpetrator in question was released right away, because his guardians decided to leave him in the police cell for a little while to, as Jeremy called it for a second time, let him soak for a while.

 

Jay lay on the cell bunk, his bent back towards its closed door, legs pulled up with his knees almost reaching his chest, head covered with arms and hands and eyes closed: the typical pose of a kid, who wants to push all imagined or real dangers out of his mind, a position providing at least some tiny measure of protection and security. On the floor was his dinner…take away food from some dubious quality outlet. He didn’t mind the poor quality, he was used to eating junk food and shit. He simply was not hungry.

“I’m going to jail now…I don’t want to go to jail! I want to stay with Alex and with Jeremy and Noah!”

The first tears came in his eyes.

“I’ll never see Alex again. After what I did, he’ll turn me down, he will never want to see me again. I can’t live without him, not anymore. I love him! He is all I live for. If he is gone, why should I live then?”

Salty water started to trickle down his cheeks.

“I messed up again. Like I have messed up all of my life. Please God, tell me why it went as it went. I can’t understand! The last year was so good and still I messed up another time. I don’t want to go to jail…I want to stay with Alex and with Jeremy and Noah. God, please…explain it to me!”

God didn’t answer. Jay had never ever felt so alone in his life. Even God had puked him out.

Or…did he really?

His ears picked up the creaking of the door lock but, absorbed in his somber thoughts, his mind didn’t register it. The next sound however tore his dulled brain into reality when it recognized Noah’s voice, who called out without any trace of anger:

“Come on, buddy, time to go home!”

Jay tossed over facing the door and stared in surprise to Jeremy and Noah, who stood grinning at him. His face had an expression of incredulity, that was beyond description, but both foster dads thought it to be absolutely priceless.

It took Jay several seconds to recover from the utter surprise, even that long that it prompted Noah into saying with a lopsided grin on his face:

“Unless you like this place better, of course”.

“No…no…”, Jay exclaimed excited, “Do you want me back then?”

Without a word spoken both young men’s eyes gave all the answer Jay needed and he rose from the bunk.

“Come on, buddy”, Jeremy said, putting his arm around the boy’s shoulder, “We better hurry. I’m parked on a wrong spot and that right in front of the police station! That’s asking for a ticket”.

Jay felt the short trip back to the store somewhat awkward. He sat on the back bench and his eyes slid skittish from one head to the other. But both dads simply chatted about some client, who had ordered a special and very expensive book this morning as if Jay wasn’t there in the first place.

“They should ask something! Like why I did it or what the hell it was all about…or something like that. They don’t! They don’t even look around. They’re simply ignoring me. As if I’m… filth…no, not them…there must be some other reason why they do this! Can’t say I like it, though”.

The reason became very apparent once they got home. While they ascended the stairs to their living quarters Jeremy only said:

“Kitchen table, buddy!”

“He’s really getting dominant”, Noah giggled mentally.

As “ordered” Jay sat down at the kitchen table. He felt tense and showed it by looking up through his eye lashes with bowed head. Jeremy and Noah sat down at the other side of the table, shoulder to shoulder.

“This court is in session!” Jay thought somewhat sarcastically.

Noah just started to drum with his fingers on the table for a while but out of the blue he abruptly asked:

“So, you don’t want to go to jail?”

“NO!” Jay cried out in fear, his head shooting up, his frightful eyes crying out despair.

“Then, buddy”, Noah continued, “I’ve got news for you. You have no idea how close you came to going to jail this time. You hurt that boy pretty badly. A judge might give you more than just a talk at the kitchen table. I sure hope, you keep that in mind next time you get angry”.

Noah let that sink in, then continued:

“My father had to do some stiff talking to get you off the hook. As a matter of fact, he told me that it had been a very close call! Anyway, he managed to get it done”.

“I don’t know what to say”, Jay stammered, “How can I thank your father for that?”

With a smile Noah answered:

“I already took care of that”.

With questioning eyes Jay looked up:

“How?”

“I hugged him to pieces and kissed him, if that is OK with you”, Noah smiled, “Of course, I’ll have to give him a bottle of good cognac, which I will. See it as his fee. I entrust you won’t object when we deduct that from your allowance?”

Jay shook his head. It was a small price for being out of jail again. Although he didn’t have the faintest idea what a bottle of good cognac costed.

“Now…”, Noah went on, “I guess you’re wondering why we didn’t ask you what made you do this”.

“You bet I am”, Jay thought.

“It is”, Noah answered his own question, “because we already know. Someone was kind enough to tell us. My father would call it an “anonymous witness”. And we want you to know we are actually proud of you. You did a very commendable thing: you stood up for your boyfriend”.

Jay’s head shot up, his eyes staring at Noah, his face red with shame.

“Yes…boyfriend, buddy”, Noah smiled, “That’s the word I used. Do you really think we got dirt in our eyes? It was so obvious, starting at the evening of the concert, Jay”.

“Shit!” Jay muttered.

“But…” Noah said, his eyes turning serious, “You went too far. The reason for doing it was very positive, but the way you did it, with all the unnecessary violence, was out of order. Jay…you’re a very sweet kid, you only have to learn to keep you anger under control. How about if we start working on that, you, Jeremy and me? Just to keep you out of jail. How about that?”

A grateful smile slid over Jay’s face and softly he muttered:

“You’re right. I would love to work on that…to keep me out of trouble!”

“Fine”, Noah said firm, hitting his fist on the table as if he wanted to substitute for the judge’s hammer this way, “Then, that is settled!”

“You forget something, angel”, Jeremy said in mock seriousness.

“Oh yes…of course”, Noah exclaimed, “There’s a visitor waiting for you in the living room. This court is adjourned!”

“Who is it?” Jay asked curiously.

“Come on, buddy”, Jeremy shrugged laughing, “You’re a big boy now. Go and find out for yourself”.

Reluctantly Jay walked to the living, wondering who could be waiting for him. With a slight tremble in his hand he opened the door and walked in, only to stop in overwhelming joy.

“You’re free again”, Alex whispered, face shining in delight, eyes glistening with happiness. The boy walked slowly towards him, stopping in front of him, his eyes mesmerizing him.

“You…”, Jay stammered in fear, scared to death of the verdict, “You still want me? After this?”

A sweet smile came on Alex’s face when he took Jay’s hands in his. Then he said:

“What kind of stupid question is that, silly? You did it for me, remember? You were so…how do I call it…so courageous. But…” he added, “I admit I’m happy, that I was able to stop you in the end”.

Then Alex bent over, hugged his lover and kissed him fervently, oblivious of any spectators in the room.

Jay floated to heaven instantaneous, ignoring Jeremy and Noah, who looked on smiling, until Noah nodded towards the door with glittering eyes, muttering:

“Come on, tiger, let’s give these two lovebirds some privacy!”

On their toes they left the living, closing the door ever so softly behind them, while inside the kissing, whispering and giggling went on and on and on. How intense the kissing had become was only clear to them when they heard excited giggling coming from the bathroom, while the shower was running. They grinned knowingly to each other.

 

May!

Many people consider it the most wonderful month of the year, with all the budding young green and the sounds of more birds than anyone can remember to have seen, but in the north of Vermont it had stiff competition from autumn, when the maple trees assumed their once-a-year multi-faceted colored glory.

At school the bloody encounter was forgotten, although the principal had given Jeremy another three days of suspension, re-iterating in the process his serious warning, that the next time he would lose self-control he was out and out forever! Jay had kept his mouth shut and had only humbly nodded in acknowledgment.

But the principal’s threat didn’t bother the two boys right now, as they walked at leisure and hand in hand through the high grass of the meadows, that lay in abundant sunshine.

“I’ll be graduating next year this time”, Alex smiled, “And then it’s off to University to study piano”.

“You’re gonna leave me?” Jay asked startled.

“No way”, Alex smiled, “I’ll be home during weekends. It’s only a two hours drive. No, honey, I wouldn’t want to live without you. Besides, I assume you will go to university as well after your graduation, to study Graphic Design. Ups…shit…!!”

His face turning red and his hand in front of his mouth from shame he giggled:

“I almost forgot. The band has accepted your cover design. They think it is really great!”

“Thanks”, Jay reacted with a modest smile. But in his heart, he was elated with the compliment.

When they continued their walk, pausing so every now and then to kiss or cuddle, a horse walked towards them in a neighboring meadow and stood whinnying at the fence. Alex walked towards the animal with a friendly:

“Hi Breeze, looking for a hug and a cuddle as well, you jealous beast?”

The horse moved his large head up and down as if it wanted to say “yes” and Alex started to stroke its snout.

“Be careful”, Jay muttered with a trembling voice, “He might bite!”

“No, sweetheart”, Alex laughed with shiny eyes and wide-open mouth, making his teeth sparkle in the sunlight, “Breeze is sweet, he never bites. Ain’t that so, Breeze?”

Breeze only snorted in response and started to nose Alex’s outstretched hand.

“Come”, he said invitingly, “You can pet him as well. He’s really friendly”.

But Jay stayed put. He felt somewhat ashamed of being afraid of the big animal, but firmly made up his mind he was close enough for the time being.

“Now what is that?” Alex started teasing him, “My hero, who had no fear for the school’s gruffest bear, is afraid of a horse?”

“Well”, Jay stammered clumsily, “My city time kind-a prepared me for bears of his sort, but not for horses this size”.

“Come here!”, Alex softly said, “If you manage, I’ll give you a kiss!”

That incentive proved more than enough. Still somewhat afraid Jay came nearer to the fence, but recoiled when Breeze lifted his head and pointed it directly in his direction.

“You won’t get a kiss that way, honey”, Alex continued teasing, “Come, I’ll show you how it is done!”

Jay gave in, although very reluctantly. The promised kiss was too strong an attraction.

When he stood beside Alex, the boy stretched out his hand, palm forward and totally stretched flat. Breeze started to sniff and nibble it.

“Always stretched, honey”, Alex warned, “He nibbles very softly, but if your fingers are in the way it is going to hurt a lot. Now you do it!”

Jay didn’t fancy the idea, but since Alex was always very careful with his hands and that the nibbled one wasn’t amputated right away, he decided it couldn’t be as dangerous as he had expected. He stuck out his flat hand as well. Breeze’s big head switched attention to his, sniffed it and started nibbling it very softly.

“Hihi”, Jay giggled, “It tickles!”

“Now you have made friends with him”, Alex said smiling, “Now you can pet him”.

Jay petted the horse on his nose and switched his eyes expectantly to Alex.

“What is it, honey?” Alex said with a seducing smile.

“You promised me a reward if I had the courage to do this”, Jay stuttered.

Alex hugged him and a most tender kiss was pressed on Jay’s lips. Actually, he was in doubt if his lips had also felt a tongue tip. Breeze cautiously pushed his big head against both boy’s shoulders, causing Alex to exclaim:

“Shit, Breeze, you’re really one jealous horse. Did you know that?”

After the horse wandered off, the boys continued their walk in silence. It was a silence, that Jay deliberately searched, because he was thinking it over, if this was the perfect moment to break the subject of his desire for punishment. They were both relaxed, almost at the point of being mellow and there was a twinge of erotics in the air. Suddenly he asked:

“Alex, may I ask you something?”

“You may ask me anything!” was the clear-cut answer, given with twinkling eyes.

“Would you do something for me?” came the next hesitant question.

“For you I would do anything, honey”, Alex smiled, reaching out for Jay’s hand again.

“I would even die for you if you asked me to”, he mused, “But I’ll keep that to myself until the occasion arises, which I hope never will!”

“Really?” Jay asked embarrassed.

“Really!” Alex replied.

“Promise?”

“Promise”, the prompt reply came, “Cross my heart”.

Jay sighed, still in serious doubt if he could ask what was on his mind, but he had stuck his neck too far out by now, so he cautiously pressed on:

“If you promise not to laugh!”

“I won’t”, Alex said, “Not even if you ask me to fuck you”.

He added with a giggle:

“I may even be tempted to do that!”

Jay shook his head fervently:

“No, I’m not worthy of that!”

“Sorry?” Alex reacted, taken aback, “And why not, if I may ask?”

“Because I’m just filth, garbage!”.

Alex blinked his eyes, genuinely shocked by this answer and cried out sharply:

“What kind of bullshit is that?”

He immediately regretted his outburst. It had been by far too sharp, because the smart boy felt instinctively that there was some kind of problem playing up.

“I can’t help it. It’s just the way I feel about myself”, Jay muttered, close to tears.

Alex embraced him and pulled Jay against his body. Then he asked concerned:

“But why?”

“I don’t know!” was the sole explanation.

The curtness of the answer let Alex know, that either Jay really didn’t know or that he simply didn’t want to know the reason. It made no difference: the question would remain unanswered! So, he poked a bit into the actual point, that Jay had wanted to make:

“But, what did you want to ask? What do you want me do to for you?”

Initially no answer came, but Jay started to nibble on his under lip with his two upper front teeth.

“Funny! He always does that when he is nervous or shy. It makes him so cute!”

Apart from Jay’s cuteness, Alex saw as well, that his boyfriend struggled with a decision if his question would be answered or that it would be postponed to somewhere in future, maybe even remain unheeded forever.

Jay surprised him when, after a deep sigh, he said:

“I want you to punish me!”

If Jay had expected a wholehearted “Of course!”, then he was dead wrong. He was no fool: he knew, that Alex would put up resistance.

Alex looked at him, his eyes spitting out a mix of disgust, disbelief and incomprehension.

“I won’t do that! I want to love him, not punish him! And why punish him?”

“Why should I do that?” he cried out exasperated.

Jay dropped his eyes and almost unintelligibly soft said:

“Because I am alive!”

Alex grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him, screaming:

“Jay, is this a bad joke? Are you kiddin’ me?”

Jay only shook his head.

Alex calmed down and thought it over:

“He’s dead serious about it. What is going on? Why does he want me to do this?”.

The last question he spoke out loud, resulting in a sad:

“Because you love me and because I love you! I think, that when I’m punished by someone I love, it will hurt more than when it is done by someone unknown”.

“Can’t Jeremy or Noah do it?” Alex tried an avenue of escape.

Jay just shook his head. With a wry smile he answered:

“They wouldn’t. The only thing they would do is set up an appointment with a shrink”.

“As they should!” Alex mused grim.

“I don’t need a shrink. I’m not mad”, Jay added.

Alex started to shake his head frantically, calling out:

“No way, Jay. I’m not going to hurt you. You done me nothing wrong, so why should I punish you?”

The blue-grey eyes stared in the dark-ble eyes, almost fixating them, when Jay muttered:

“You just promised!”

His eyes turned ice-cold and in a reproachful tone he added:

“Are your promises always made up of meaningless, empty words?”

“Huh, did I promise to punish you? When was that?”

“No”, Jay specified, “You promised me to do anything for me!”

“He trapped me! Yes, I promised that. But hurt him? Is that part of the deal? On the other hand: I thought, that I would even die for him. I can do this without dying…maybe a little on the inside only! But promises are promises. I’ll find a way to do it gently. In that way we are both unhurt”.

Distraught he stared over the meadow. Despite that, he reached a decision; no, it was more a halfhearted compromise:

“No, my promise was not void. It stands, because I never break promises. I’ll do it!”

“But in my own way!”

A grateful and almost serene smile came on Jay’s face when he whispered:

“Thank you, my lord. May I suggest we go to the old hay shed?”

“Lord? What is this, some dumb S/M game? Or…is that answer too simple, too shallow?”

It didn’t matter any longer, he had committed himself.

No longer hand in hand and in an almost icy silence they walked towards the hay shed. When they entered the dimly-lit structure, even their non-verbal communication reached a level, that could only be described as tense! Jay immediately started to undress, causing wonder in Alex.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Take that rope over there and tie my hands on that pole by the wrists”, was the clinical, practical reply, “With my back towards you”.

The tying up of Jay’s wrists seemed to take ages. It was not, that it was so incredibly difficult, but Alex had problems with controlling the somewhat slippery rope with his trembling hands. During the process Jay said nothing. He just looked straight ahead of him with empty eyes, avoiding Alex’s gaze.

Once he was tied Alex asked:

“And now?”

“Take the whip and give me ten lashes, my lord, because I deserve them!” was the harsh answer.

“Whip?” Alex cried out in horror, “No way, honey! I won’t do that!”

“Just do it, my lord”, Jay insisted, “Your slave deserves it”.

“I’m so close now. Don’t let me down, my sweetest lord!”

Feeling fear and panic coming up Alex took the whip and gave the first lash. Well, lash? It was more a tender stroking over the bottom.

“Harder, my lord, on my back. You’re not petting Breeze now!” was the immediate reaction.

With trembling hands Alex let the whip come down with increased force on Jay’s back. The boy grimaced from pain, but no cry came from his lips.

“Harder, my lord!” he only urged his nolens volens tormentor on.

A third lash followed, another grimace.

“Are you sure you want this, Jay?” Alex asked with a squeaking voice, “I’m perfectly willing to stop!”

“No, my lord”, Jay cried out, “Go on!”

The fourth whiplash resulted in Jay clenching his teeth to stifle a cry. It broke Alex’s heart and tears were forcing their way up in his eyes.

“I can’t do this any longer! It hurts him…it hurts me! This is madness!”

The fifth lash…Jay kept his cheeks cramped, his eyes pinched close, a shock went through his body.

“Hit your filth, my lord! Hit it…destroy it!” he muttered, fighting for breath.

The sixth…Jay’s physical reactions on the lashes became more and more violent and spasmodic. Now it was Alex who closed his eyes, no longer able to look at the boy’s suffering.

“That I induced…that I gave him”

The last lashes did not result in any perceptible stronger physical reactions by Jay. It was as if he had resigned in it, giving up all resistance. During the whole lashing not an outcry of pain was heard.

When the tenth lash was executed, Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s over…it’s done! My God, I feel like I’m going to faint!”

With shaking hands (“Are they still shaking? Or again?”) he released the wrists and supported the staggering boy to a bale of hay, where he sat him down. Scared of what he might find there he looked at Jay’s back.

“That’s strange! Only some whipping welts. No wounds, no blood. Does this mean the skin of his back is used to this?”

He never posed the question out loud, but looked worrisome in Jay’s eyes. The boy seemed to sense his question, his empty eyes giving all the answers Alex needed.

“My God, what have they done to him?”

When Jay was somewhat recovered, Alex sat down on his knees in front of him and took both his hands. He looked in the blue-grey eyes again and with sincere concern he softly asked:

“Honey, can you explain…at least try to explain what is going on in your head?”.

A sigh came, then Jay shook his head, whispering:

“I can’t. Besides, even if I could, I think you wouldn’t understand!”

“Do you…”, Alex insisted hesitantly, “Do you understand it yourself?”

Jay stared out into the sunlight outside, that was framed in the dark contours of the only door opening and muttered:

“I doubt it!”

 

They had a great summer and the school holiday months (Alex’s last) were a kind of heaven for them. They swam in the lake, hiked through the vast expanses of forests around the town (which always seemed to amaze Jay, lapsing into respectful silence), fooled around with Breeze the horse and had their intimate moments in the little hay shed.

However, so every now and then the ugly demon in Jay reared his head, when the boy let it be known that “He needed punishment”.

When August slid into September it had happened about five times. Every time Alex was simply requested, commanded, cajoled or brutely extorted (“So, your promise was empty?”) into five excruciating heart wrenching moments, short in duration, long in suffering, five awful moments of administering ten whiplashes each time. And each time passed without an explanation as to the why of it all!

It started to eat Alex from the inside out. After each of these dreadful experiences he went home, withdrew in his room and let himself fall on his bed, where he relived each and every whiplash he had given, not with some kind of sadistic pleasure, but with guilt! He felt increasingly hopeless. He wanted to do something to get his boyfriend, his lover, his bright spot in life out of his strange desires, but he knew he couldn’t. He was aspiring to become a pianist, not a psychiatrist. Gradually he became aware, that he was powerless against Jay’s strong inner drive for punishment, that he could not cope with by Jay’s persistent self-image, that he was just filth and garbage.

“This is far beyond some S/M game. It can’t be just that. Because…what kind of game would that be? The slave demands to be lashed by his master, who complies almost without will, and while being lashed he calls his tormentor “his lord”. I really wonder who the lord is in this game and who the slave”.

Alex thought about it so much, that he became slovenly with his piano studies, skipping them altogether after a while. When he had his non-emotional, bright moments he knew it was the death knell for his fledgling career to stop studying in exactly the year he had to apply for University admittance. But most of the time this reasonable thinking disappeared very fast, to be replaced by sorrow, guilt and despair.

Despite the fact, that he longed to be with Jay every possible minute, he noticed how he started to avoid him with lame excuses about “Rehearsals with the band”, “Piano study” and other uncontrollable, logical but untrue grounds.

“I’m not avoiding Jay, I’m avoiding the inevitable moment that he says ‘My lord, I need punishment’”.

It didn’t make their relationship any better. To the contrary: it was controlled by fear, guilt and a certain extent of suspicion on Jay’s side, making it grow into an unmanageable and unsatisfactory whole, despite the fact, that they still loved each other with an unimaginable intensity. What promised to be so beautiful rapidly evolved into a disaster.

This early September evening, after the fifth lashing the afternoon before, Alex, lying on his bed with eyes closed, really started to wonder if they had any future together:

“What can I do about it? Each blow with that damned whip hurts me more than it seems to hurt him. Is that what he wants? If so, it’s pretty…sick. Doesn’t matter: if he really wants that punishment, he is asking for, it’s kind a sick as well! No normal person can desire that, well…apart from S/M freaks. But I’m convinced this isn’t a game. There’s more going on in his head”.

He opened his eyes and stared at the Beethoven bust on his piano.

“Any bright ideas for this, Ludwig?” he muttered with a wry attempt at smiling.

But Ludwig just stared back with cold, stone eyes, not deigning himself to give an advice on such a pitiful matter to some heartbroken mortal.

“You’re no help at all, thank you very much!”, Alex whispered.

“If I’m not careful, he’ll suck me in in his dark world. No matter how much I love him, I don’t want that to happen. He leaves me with increasingly paralyzing guilt after every lashing. Maybe…I don’t want to…maybe…no…but, should I leave him?”

A tear rolled over his cheek.

“If necessary, I should die for him…compared to this dying seems the easy way out. If I’m dead, there’s no longer any anguish or pain, not to mention guilt. If I stay with him, all this will continue…and it would destroy both of us! I don’t want to leave him…I love him”.

The tears started to increase.

“Stay cool, man. Just think! If I could bring myself to leaving him, what would that bring? I will have a tough time but it would set me free. On the other hand, I would…abandon him. He will feel himself filth and garbage with an even greater intensity for sure, because I left him. And guess what that brings me…yeah…right: guilt! What am I? Have I become a hostage between two kinds of remorse? Is my only chance, that I can choose between the two of them?”

He might have blamed Beethoven for not giving an answer, but his own effort at solving his questions were limited to a mere sigh as well.

“Reason, Alex, reason! No matter the guilt, I must leave him. It’s no use to go down together. But…No, I’m not leaving without a struggle. I still want to try that none of us is going down, I owe that to him…I like that thought…one desperate last attempt to save our love, to save him. If it doesn’t work…maybe I blame myself for leaving him, but nobody can blame me for doing it for no good reason. I will know I have fought for us and fought for him!”

His eyes lightened up. He felt a glimmer of hope:

“Yes, one final, maybe even desperate stand. Now…next step: how…can…I…do…that?”

Desolation almost crept back in his heart, because he saw no viable possibilities. However, at least he had taken his basic decision: no surrender, there would be a tough fight over Jay! The demon in Jay’s head might well be advised to prepare for it!

 

He sensed he heard something, but was far from sure. He was fast asleep. After another tiring day the word “sleep” didn’t cover his condition; it was more appropriate to call it a coma. Semi-conscious he turned over, ready to sink back in his blissful state.

There it was again: some kind of scream.

“What’s going on? Goddamn, just let me sleep!”

His irritation over the disturbance turned into shock, when both ears and brains registered it:

“NO…DON’T KILL ME! PLEASE!”

Startled he gave a hard push in Jeremy’s ribs, who shot up with a:

“Huh?”

“He has one of his dreams again. Come on!” Noah cried out.

They raced to Jay’s room, finding the same scene they had found before: the sad, heartbreaking sight of Jay on his knees on the bed, shaking and shivering, sweating profusely, expelling unintelligible sounds in the same rhythm as his a-rhythmic, completely unregular gasps for breath, the diluted pupils in his almost lifeless eyes fluttering around, desperately searching for some point of reference in reality to hold on to. As at the previous time blanket, sheets and pillows were scattered all over the room.

“Don’t touch him. It’ll even scare him more!” it flashed through Noah’s brain.

So he did as the first time: again he spread out his arms in an incantation and his voice started droning the soothing formulas:

“It’s all right, honey. We’re here, we will protect you. Nobody can harm you any longer, no one hurts you!”

A sudden idea came in his head, but he hesitated:

“Can I really say this? Oh well, why not? It might sooth him!”

“The Bobcat watches over us and protects his Bobkitten against all bad things that want to harm it”, he continued sotto voce.

“You bet!” he heard a soft, determined confirmation behind him.

Then something unexpected happened, Noah seriously doubting if he saw it well. Jay’s trembling hand reached out to him in almost spasmodic movements.

“He wants me to take his hand! Incredible…he trusts me!”

Despite the sad circumstances he felt joy and pride surging up. Jumping at the opportunity he gently took Jay’s shaking hand in his and continued his magical formulas:

“You are safe now. Nothing can happen to you. Jeremy and I are with you now”.

Still trembling like a leaf Jay’s torso moved forward and the boy pressed himself against Noah’s body, the head ending up on his shoulder. Noah put his arms around the boy’s shoulders and started stroking the blond hair with one hand, keeping silent, allowing the boy to recover from his ordeal.

The close embrace had the desired effect. The trembling subsided, Jay’s breathing slowly resumed its normal tempo. With the head still on Noah’s shoulder, eyes closed, there was no way to determine if these were showing signs of recovery as well. The youngster stayed where he was, almost clamped against Noah.

“Shall I dare to ask it?” Noah doubted.

He looked at Jeremy, his dark-brown eyes one big question mark, searching silent advice. Jeremy seemed to understand the question and just nodded.

Hesitantly and extremely carefully Noah then asked:

“Will you tell us what happened in the dream, honey?”

A few seconds nothing happened; Noah feared he had gone one step too far. But to his delight he felt how Jay, the head firmly on his shoulder, started to nod. With eyes full of excitement he looked at Jeremy another time, whose eyes expressed as much excitement as his must have been doing at that moment.

“OK…”, he exploited the situation cautiously, “Just take your time. Tell us about it”.

Jay took his time, but finally he started to speak with a quivering voice:

“He was there…he was there again…this time he had a face…In other dreams he had a head, but never had a face. This time I recognized him”.

“You know him?” Noah asked lenient.

“Not really…I don’t know who he is…but no matter where I would see him, I would recognize him anytime!”

“What did he do that made you so scared?” Noah softly probed.

“He…”

The word was followed by a slight sobbing. Then Jay seemed to have found enough strength to say:

“He…he raped me!”

Two pairs of foster dad’s eyes turned towards each other in horror.

“How could that be, Jay? How did he manage that?”

“You wouldn’t understand”, Jay sighed in obvious desperation.

“Try me out!” Noah carefully insisted.

Jay’s hold on Noah’s body became even tighter, as if it helped the boy to gather sufficient strength to tell it. After another deep sigh he stammered:

“My father…he…he just gave me to him!”

“My God!” Noah heard Jeremy exclaim. If he had looked at his partner he would have seen, that he was holding his hands in front of his eyes.

“Not now, tiger! Jay’s first. Concentrate…keep it gentle…don’t push him!”

“How that?” he inquired delicately.

The boy actually laughed, but it was a bitter, sinister and ominous laugh, making Noah fear for the worst.

“He did it all the time!” Jay replied, “Any guy who would pay enough could get me for everything he wanted”.

“It is the worst. Even worse than I could imagine in my most disastrous expectations! My God, I thought I saw it all in Boston, only to find out I haven’t seen nothing yet!”

“There was only one real sweet guy, an old man”, Jay continued almost matter-of-factly, “I really liked being with him. The rest…they were just assholes,…bastards, only bent on getting their potatoes emptied. But…this guy…the guy in the dream…he was the worst!”

“Why?”. It seemed a logical question to Noah. But it was followed by deep silence.

“Damned…gone too far! Wanted too much too fast!”

It took time, but Jay seemed to force himself in talking on:

“I…man, how can I tell that in an even halve-decent way?...It hurt like hell. I couldn’t handle his….well, you know…his thing. I tried to get away from him, from the pain. Then he flipped out…he wanted to kill me. He…scared…me…to…death!”

Jay’s head pressed harder on Noah’s shoulder, who felt how the skin was wetted by the tears.

Noah resumed the stroking of the hair, repeating over and over again:

“You’re doing fine. Just take some rest. You’re doing fine. You’re doing real great”.

After a few minutes it looked if Jay was able to continue his incredibly sad story. When he did, Noah noticed something strange. It was as if the youngster’s voice’s pitch had gone up some notches.

“But he didn’t…he just gave me some hard blows, told me I was worthless filth and handed me back to my old man. What happened then was as usual!”

“What do you mean, brave boy of me?” Noah tried to find out as much information as this opportunity gave him.

“I got my lashings. He did it always when I “hadn’t delivered”, as he used to call it. Ten lashes, for every outcry of pain one extra. And he said always I was just filth, only garbage”.

Noah felt no urgent need to find out, what this “not delivering” might mean. He had a pretty good idea of it. Besides, he almost felt the boy breaking apart in his arms.

“Time to stop probing! He can’t take it any longer!”

“I…”, another sob…”I learnt very fast to shut up…not to cry out…just to take it”.

The weeping got really intense by now. Noah pushed Jay’s head against his cheek with some mild pressure, still uttering comforting and encouraging mumblings.

“There’s this last thing I need to know”.

“Jay?” he whispered in the youngster’s ear, “How old were you when all this happened?”

“Don’t know…”, the answer came, interspersed by sobs, “It started…I guess I was about seven…maybe eight….and after that…it just went on and on!”

The sniveling went on. It was apparent, that Jay was mentally exhausted after telling his story. His shoulders continued to shock in Noah’s arms.

Unexpectedly he rose his head, staring directly in Noah’s eyes, then in Jeremy’s. It appeared as if the emotions of the by now sixteen years old boy had regressed to the terrible age of seven or eight. With the wide opened eyes of a frightened child, his voice raised to the pitch of a little boy, he asked with trembling gasps of air:

“Am I a bad boy now...? Do I have to go to jail?”

It froze both their hearts!

“No, my sweetest boy”, Noah exclaimed, feeling his own tears burn behind his eyes, “You’re not a bad boy…you’re the most brave and sweet boy I’ve met. You won’t have to go to jail!”

The inevitable happened: emotionally and mentally drained Jay went to pieces. He entrenched himself in Noah’s arms and started to cry uncontrollably with deep intakes of air, pressing it out afterwards with force. The dams of sorrow broke through!

Noah just held him, not saying a word. Jeremy sat down beside them and embraced the two of them as an extra measure of support.

“Don’t say anything. Let it all come out!”

It didn’t stop after fifteen minutes…not after half an hour…not even after an hour. The boy kept crying hysterically for somewhere between three and four hours. Then he calmed down and, exhausted as he was, fell sound asleep against Noah’s chest in the blink of an eye.

Carefully Noah released his grip around the sleeping youngster, then Jeremy took him in his arms and laid him in bed. They more or less arranged the sheets and blankets around them. First morning light seeped through the closed curtains.

“I’ll call him in sick at school tomorrow”, Noah whispered, “He’s not going anywhere in the state he is in now”.

Both stroked the boy’s cheek softly, who was so deep asleep, that he didn’t react.

“Poor kid”, was the only thing that Jeremy was able to say.

They switched off the light and again they left the door ajar.

Once outside Jay’s room Noah said:

“And then I call Marilyn Caldwell!”

Jeremy looked at him in shock:

“You want him to go back to that home?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Noah reacted sharply. The outcry startled Jeremy. Never before Noah had reacted that sharp and aggressive.

“No”, Noah added sighing, “but this boy has been trying to handle something all on his own for some years, something he will never be able to cope with without help. Now, I know you and I will do everything to help him and support him with the best of our intentions. But, tiger…we’re not trained therapists! And that is what he needs!”

“But they are going to put him in hospital for that!”, Jeremy objected.

“No, she’ll has to find a way that keeps him here in his safe surrounding, his own school. All he got used to since he’s here”.

Jeremy rolled his eyes, still not convinced:

“Yeah, sure, you ask for a tailor-made therapy on our conditions. I seriously doubt she’ll do that”.

Noah shrugged, answering:

“I, no…we only want the best for that boy. If she doesn’t cooperate, I’ll let my dad handle it in juvenile court. He stays where he is…with therapy!”

Jeremy considered it pensively, only to conclude:

“You’re right. But there’s one tiny problem: he will only agree to that, if he wants to go into therapy himself”.

“Damned”, Noah sighed, “You’re right!”

 

Listlessly Alex walked into the room, where Miss Jablowski gave her piano lessons. After the obligatory and polite “Good afternoon” he sat down on the stool and opened the score of one of Bach’s preludes from the “Well-Tempered Clavier”. If he had looked at his teacher’s face, he would have noticed that she raised one of her eyebrows in a wondering gesture. He started playing the prelude.

He noticed how his fingers almost literally stumbled over each other and he was well aware that what he was playing sounded like shit and certainly didn’t sound well-tempered. He wasn’t the only one thinking that!

After only a few minutes Miss Jablowski decidedly stuck up her hand and cried out rather sharp:

“Stop it, Alex!”

He stopped. What else could he have done?

“Did you study this, my boy?” she asked, still with that irritated, almost venomous voice.

He turned red with shame and failed the courage to look at his teacher, when he mumbled:

“No, Miss Jablowski!”

“And why not, may I pray?”

After studying with her for years Alex knew he had it coming. No, she would not yell or scream or swear. That was way below her standing and dignity. But she would reprimand him in quiet, but painfully sharp words, slipping in old English politeness forms while doing so and it would hurt just as much as any bellowing. Her “may I pray” was just a precursor for the stylish ball busting he was about to receive.

“I had other things on my mind, Miss Jablowski”, he muttered.

“Oh, what kind of things?”” she asked, her voice increasing in acerbity.

“It’s none of your business anyway!” the student thought.

Nice thought, but he knew he had to produce some answer so he said:

“It has nothing to do with my piano studies, Miss Jablowski!”

The old lady’s head shot up and her old eyes spitted fire when she said:

“Thou will forgive me for disagreeing with you, young man! When my most brilliant student suddenly starts playing at a level, for which an untalented beginner would shame himself, it has very much to do with your piano studies indeed! So, my boy…spit it out! What is worrying you?”

Before he could think of an answer, she held up her hand and with a chuckle she said:

“Could it be, that it has something to do with that cute young man, who was waitering at your recital shortly before Christmas?”

He felt his blood rushing to his cheeks, making him blush as he had never blushed before.

“Ah, yes”, the old lady exclaimed in triumph.

“Was it that obvious, Miss Jablowski?” he asked in shame, looking at her.

The way she looked surprised him. Her old, wrinkled mouth gave the same impression the smile of a young girl gave when she was dreaming about her desired young prince and the eyes twinkled behind her glasses.

“I don’t think the rest of the audience noticed it”, she slightly giggled like an overaged school-miss, “but for me it was very clear, that you had a real hard time concentrating on Amy Beach each and every second you laid your eyes on him”.

However, her voice turned serious again when she asked:

“But it looks as if it didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to turn out, did it?”

“No, Miss Jablowski, actually it turned out just fine…apart from…well…it’s personal, it’s strictly between me and him”.

“Don’t you worry”, she said, waving his objections away with an airy gesture of her hand, “I won’t sell the story to the gazetteer. Unless…it is real juicy of course”, she added teasingly.

After short consideration Alex started talking. It felt good to share it with someone he trusted. It felt better that fighting it out on his own. Besides, he valued her wisdom. When he had been scared to death from his emerging homosexuality, it was she who made it clear to him, that the only way to become happy in life was to follow his heart. He told how they loved each other deeply, but that Jay had this strange desire for physical punishment with a horsewhip and that his self-esteem only included the words “filth” and “garbage”, how it made him feel guilty each time he gave him the wanted punishment, that it depressed him more and more, ending, being close to tears, with:

“I really don’t want to, Miss Jablowski, but I think that splitting up is the best thing to do!”

Miss Jablowski proved to be tough. She didn’t console him with vague words but confirmed his own line of thinking and fears, when she reacted with:

“Wouldn’t help neither of you, my boy. You would feel guilty for leaving him to his own devices and he would even feel himself more filth and garbage, simply because you left him”.

She slid a hand over her bony chin and said:

“Let me think this over!”

Alex nodded and wanted to rise from his stool.

“Why the hurry, boy? My brains aren’t that fast at my advanced age!”

Miss Jablowski started to stare at some undetermined point of the room’s ceiling. Alex kept quiet as a mouse, studying his teacher. Sometimes her eyes were pinched half closed, at other moments they twinkled naughtily behind the glasses. And there were times, that her lips moved as if she mumbled something.

The room was in total silence. Only the old-fashioned clock on the mantelpiece could be heard, ticking away the seconds, one tick for each of them, sixty a minute, like a lazy metronome. Time passed slowly.

After what seemed hours to Alex the old lady said unexpectedly:

“Yes, I can see you have a huge problem on your hands”.

She smiled compassionately, only to add:

“But I think I see the solution as well!”

Alex caught himself red handed staring at her with open mouth, so astonished was he.

Once he got a grip on himself he uttered:

“What then? What is it?”

“Push that stool closer and get over here, my boy”, she smiled invitingly.

Once he sat close, she started to talk:

“I think your boyfriend was conditioned that way”.

“What does that mean?” Alex wanted to know.

“It means, that somebody told him very often, even incredibly often, that he was filth and garbage, probably helped with a fair amount of physical abuse. It was told to him so much, that he started to believe it and started to act accordingly. Now…”

She took a deep breath, only to continue:

“The advantage of conditioning is, that one can be re-conditioned, can be brought to modify his behavior. But, I’m not going to lie to you, it will be a lengthy process and it will tax your willpower, your determination and your stamina, because in the beginning you will have to continue punishing him”.

“Must I?” Alex asked in shock.

“Yes…I’m afraid you have to continue to burden your conscience. There’s no other way for re-conditioning”.

With a sigh Alex said:

“I want to help him! What should I do?”

“I’ll tell you. First, replace the whip with something else, a cane for example”.

“Why that?” Alex wanted to know. It eluded him what use that might have.

“A whip”, the old lady replied, “is too rough a means. It might cause injury, tear his skin, cause wounds. Now, a cane hurts like hell, but it is safer. The only thing that happens, is that the places, where you hit him, turn red. But there’s no risk of actual wounds. And these red spots will fade away pretty soon”.

“Fair enough”, Alex muttered.

“Then”, his teacher continued, “you must unlearn him to use the words ‘filth’ and ‘garbage’ and replace them with ‘dust’”.

“What’s the difference, filth or dust?” Alex cried out exasperated.

Undisturbed the woman went on:

“That will be a lengthy process. These words are so deeply engrained in his mind, that it will take a lot of effort to get them out, making him to replace it with ‘dust’. You’ll just have to endure it. If he uses ‘filth’ or ‘garbage’: punish him with an extra blow with the cane. If he uses the correct word ‘dust’: reward him. I’ll leave it to you how you do it. But there comes a moment he will use it faultlessly and that is what you should aim for”.

“But you haven’t told me what the difference between ‘filth’ and ‘dust’ is,” Alex cried out.

“I’m coming to that now”, the old woman said with a smile, “But that is phase two. Come closer. I must talk too loud now and it tires me to talk so loud, old wreck that I am”.

Alex got closer.

Then she said:

“Pay attention, my boy! It might be your chance to recover your love from his nightmare!”

She spoke for a long time, but once she finished, Alex thought:

“This might work! I’ll do it. Maybe it is the last-ditch effort but it is a whole lot better than sitting on my hands, only feeling sorry. I want to fight for that boy, I want to keep that boy. So, let’s do it!”

 

Alex planned it into detail and prepared thoroughly. Using the subterfuge, he was going to buy new clothes, he drove the two hours to Burlington, where he bought a flexible cane in a sex shop in some run-down suburb of the city, the sales lady guaranteeing him that “It hurts like hell, but won’t cause real harm, provided you keep to the safety rules of course, no hitting on abdomen, head and that kind of places”.

To alleviate Jay’s suffering while being tied, caused by the chafing and cutting in by the ropes, he bought a set of nicely crafted leather manchets, lined with a soft texture and connected by a silver-colored chain.

The excuse of buying clothes gave him the chance to smuggle the erotic contrabands into the house and his room, carefully hidden between new jeans and shirts.

But now it was “showtime”! Somewhat tense Alex admired Jay’s naked body, fixated at the pole with his brand-new manchets. He bowed forward, swallowed his apprehension away and whispered as mean he could imagine himself to be:

“Well, slave, are you comfortable?”

“Yes, my lord”, was the soft reply.

“Fine”, Alex continued with a haughty pose, “I have decided to change the rules somewhat, slave. First of all, no more whip. I’ll use a cane. Rest assured it will hurt even more than that damned old whip. You got that?”

“Yes, my lord”, a somewhat anxious reply came.

“Keep it up, boy!” Alex thought, “It must be done. Damned, the way I talk…awful”.

A slight smile slid over his face when his thought continued with:

“I shouldn’t become a pianist. I should be studying to become an actor!”

The first hit with the cane, carefully aimed at Jay’s bottom, struck flesh. Jay’s face immediately grimacing in pain.

“That’s number one”, Alex growled threatening in Jay’s ear, “You like it?”

“Yes, my lord!”

“And there’s another change in rules. Your lord will no longer accept the words ‘filth’ and ‘garbage’ when I ask you what you are. Your lord will only accept the word ‘dust’. Each infringement on that little rule will result in extra pain from the cane. You got that, slave?”

“I feel like I need to puke”, Alex thought.

“Yes, my lord”

“So, slave, tell me: what are you?”

“I’m filth…”, Jay responded submissively.

Before he could finish the sentence, the cane fell on his bottom again, hitting the skin with force, causing another grimace of pain.

“What did I hear?” Alex asked in the meanest way he could imagine.

“Forgive me, my lord…”, Jay panted, still fighting the after effects of the ebbing pain, “I’m dust, my lord”.

“Hm…you deserve a reward!” Alex muttered, kissing the boy softly in the back of his neck.

“Thank you, my lord”, was the reaction.

Alex proceeded with the remaining nine “regular” lashes, remorse stabbing his heart like a dagger while doing so. When it was done, he asked:

“Tell me, slave, what are you?”

“I’m filth…”

Another hit smashed the red skin of his bottom, the twelfth.

“Don’t overdo it, Alex. That skin looks really awful!”

“Did I hear some unwanted word?” he asked with a slight lisp.

“I’m dust, my lord, I’m dust”, Jay hastily corrected his error.

“Very well, my slave, another reward earned”, Alex said with feigned satisfaction, pressing another tender kiss, this time on Jay’s shoulder.

“That’ll do for today”, he then announced.

He untied Jay, helped him to the hay bale as usual where he allowed him to recover. While sitting there, gathering his strengths, Jay thought:

“Why all of a sudden this word ‘dust’? What is the meaning of it? Oh well, he’s the lord. If he wants ‘dust’ he’ll get ‘dust’”.

Unknowingly to the both of them the first small seeds of a dramatic change had been planted.

 

Seeds have the drawback, that they don’t develop into beautiful plants or alluring flowers overnight. The seeds of change possess the same quality: they need time to prosper.

In reality it meant, that Jay’s re-conditioning became a long and tedious process, driving Alex into despair at times. Often, he gave air to his anxieties and frustration during the lessons with Miss Jablowski.

“This will never work, Miss Jablowski. Either it is so deep in him or he is just too stubborn, but it doesn’t seem to work!”

“Patience, my boy”, she had smiled, “You can’t expect your boyfriend to change something so essential in a matter of weeks, after it had been beaten into him over years, can you? Keep your head up, go on with what you are doing and I’ll promise you: it’ll turn out just fine for the two of you!”

So, he persevered, sometimes feeling hopeful, at other times feeling desperate.

Until, after about a month, things started to change. The “filth and garbage” seemed to decrease rapidly. At first Alex couldn’t believe it, but to be sure he started a kind of record of it, carefully noting the number of extra cane blows.

“Yes…”, he whispered elated after a few weeks, when he was analyzing it, “It is decreasing. It is decreasing structurally”.

Finally, a few days before Christmas, almost exactly to the day one year after they had met for the first time, Jay performed flawlessly: there was no “filth” or “garbage”, there was only “dust”.

Excited he broke the news to Miss Jablowski, who just smiled:

“Congratulations, my boy. That was a real achievement you managed! But I warn you: not too hasty. See if it continues for, let us say, two weeks. When it stays that way, then it is firm in his mind and you can start phase two. Do you still remember what phase two is made of?”

Enthusiastically he nodded: he had repeated it so many times, that he would have a hard time trying to forget it.

Two weeks into the New Year Alex decided it was time for phase two!

 

For a change phase two did not start in the old hay shed. Alex had other ideas for what he considered a small festivity and planned accordingly.

Luck was on his side: he managed to coordinate it with the fact, that his brother would be gone to his girlfriend for the weekend and his parents wanted to visit an aunt, that lived in New Jersey. But who would look after the animals when they were gone? The solution was simple: he voluntarily offered his services to do that during their absence, thereby making the whole house his own for two glorious days.

“As long as you mind your hands, Alex”, his mother had warned him in her over-concern.

He found time for another trip to Burlington to buy satin red bedsheets for the occasion and started to set up his room: some dimmed lighting here, some candles there, maybe some incense scent. When he checked his cd rack, he found out he had a problem, a very peculiar problem for a musician.

“Shit,” he murmured, “Nothing that I can use. It must be quiet and kind of hypnotizing. Oh, damned….no, not Bach, especially not Beethoven, although…the Mondschein? No, let me settle on Von Bingen”.

Since it was dark outside, he closed the curtains, looked around and satisfied he found everything in good order, apart from igniting the candles and the incense. The wine stood ready, uncorked, the most expensive glasses from his parents’ cabinet stood beside the bottle on standby. He glanced at his watch: 18.15. Jay would come at 19.30, so he had some time left to think over the things he wanted to discuss this evening.

 

Jeremy and Noah sat in the couch, having a quiet evening of watching television. Footsteps were heard and then a tense, almost angry:

“See you, dads. I’m off to Alex”.

Feet clattered off the stairs to the shop.

Noah shrugged and said:

“One might expect he is going to Alex to have a good time. Didn’t sound like it”.

Jeremy just hummed in confirmation.

Jay was back within ten minutes, storming into the living, crying out in anger:

“What the fuck is this? First, I broke something while washing the dishes, then I couldn’t find my favorite jeans…”

“You might clean up your room some time, buddy”, Noah just smiled.

“And then there is no gel!”

“If you had told us, we would have taken care of that”, Jeremy said.

“And on top of it all that fucking car won’t start!” Jay literally screamed, throwing his car keys across the room.

“Slow down, buddy!” Noah said in a tone, that was sharp and soothing at the same time.

“No, damned”, Jay cried out, “I won’t slow down. I’m supposed to be with Alex and I’m still stuck here!”

“It’s not a train that is leaving”, Noah tried, “He can wait a little while. And if you are delayed too much you can always call him”.

Over the top as he was, Jay didn’t pick up the subtle advice and he most certainly did not slow down: screaming and stamping his feet like an angry small kid he started hitting the living’s door with his fists, almost letting the glass pane in it fall on the field of honor, running the risk of hurting himself.

Jeremy jumped out of the couch, took him by the pulses and restrained him physically in the most literal sense of the words, sternly crying out:

“Stop that, Jay, what you are doing now won’t bring you one inch nearer to Alex!”

This sobering remark seemed to calm down the boy in a way, so with a much softer voice Jeremy asked:

“Tell me, what’s wrong with your car?”

“It won’t start, man…I just told you!” Jay yelled.

“Relax, buddy”, Jeremy continued, keeping his voice low and quiet, “If you relax enough that you can drive my car…then you’ll have it. That could get you to Alex. But not in the state you’re in now!”

The uprising spiral of frustration turning into aggression was broken in a split second, deflating even faster as it had grown. Jay looked in Jeremy’s eyes and asked cautiously:

“Really?”

“Yeah, really”, was the reply. Jeremy grabbed in his trouser pocket, got out the keys and held them in the air in front of the boy’s face.

With eyes shining in expectancy the youngster looked at the keys bungling in Jeremy’s hand and grabbed them. He embraced Jeremy, pushed a quick kiss on his cheek and exclaimed:

“Thanks, dad!”

And off he was.

“Say hello to Alex and have fun, the two of you!” Noah called out after him. The boy didn’t even hear it.

 

Alex was so immersed in his ruminations, that he didn’t notice right away that time had passed beyond the agreed 19.30.

“He’s late”, he mused, “Oh well, can happen to anyone”.

Despite the logical reasoning he felt he became increasingly unsettled. After a while he glanced at his watch again: 19.52!

“Jay’s never late. What’s going on? Or has he decided not to come?”

After a short while a next impatient glance at the watch followed: 20.06!

“Don’t do this to me, Jay!”

“Damned, where are you?” he muttered, grabbing his cellular. His finger hoovered over the pre select with Jay’s number under it when the doorbell rang.

In a flash Alex did the last things to do: he lighted the candles, ignited the incense and put on the music. Then he ran down the stairs and opened the door.

“Hey, there you are!” he said with relief.

They fell in each other’s arms for the first passionate kiss.

“What happened?” Alex wanted to know.

“Don’t ask”, Jay moaned, “Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. To top it all off my car didn’t start!”

“Ah”, Alex smiled, “Murphy’s Law evening. How did you get here?”

“Jeremy loaned me his”, Jay said matter-of-factly.

“Uuuuuhhh…” Alex reacted with clear admiration, “That shiny, new Bronco? Man, that would brighten up my day!”

“But I’ve got some real good ideas to brighten up yours”, he mentally smiled.

“Come on, let’s get upstairs”, he added invitingly.

Jay stared at him, questioning and hesitantly.

“Come on!” Alex urged him on, already standing halfway the stairs.

When they entered the room Alex was surprised. It was not by the piano, that stood prominently against one of the walls; that was to be expected. It was the whole atmosphere in the room, the gleaming red bedsheets, the candles, the dimmed light and some sedating scent, that he didn’t know,

And then there was this strange music…music that he had never heard before but that captivated him beyond reason on grounds he couldn’t comprehend. The high and thin voices gave him the image of a universe, in which disembodied voices all strove to ascend an illusory ladder at the same time in an effort to get higher and higher, so that they could float freely in the air for a short time before they fell back down to earth to enrichen the ear of every living creature. It held an unspoken promise, clearly a good omen for a return trip to heaven.

Alex let himself fall on the bed and patted with his hand on the free space beside him. Jay joined and without any delay an intense kissing started, Alex rolling up on Jay’s chest.

Until Alex stopped, looked in Jay’s eyes with eyes full of mystery and rolled back on the mattress. It came as some kind of shock to Jay. What went wrong that this wonderful spell he was enduring was broken?

“What are you, slave?” Alex asked with a strict, ice-cold voice. Jay’s feeling of being shocked only became worse and worse:

“Why this sudden coldness?”

But dutifully he answered:

“I’m dust, my lord”.

“Very good”, Alex reacted, the coldness from his voice gone, “Time for a reward, I guess. Or maybe even two or three…”.

He pushed three gentle kisses in rapid succession on Jay’s lips. With his head over Jay’s he stared to some undetermined point with a far-away glance for a few seconds and then said softly:

“Honey, have you ever thought over the word ‘dust’?”

Jay shook his head, muttering somewhat perplexed:

“No, should I?”

“Hmmhmm” was the reaction, “Because, if you did, it might have occurred to you, that there are some peculiar things about dust. First of all: we are all made of dust, all human beings. I’m as much dust as you are; my mom and dad are as much dust as I am or the neighbors next door and your foster dads are also about the same quantity of dust as the barber living across your street. We…are…all…dust! You know, there’s some pop song from the eighties that has a line in it: “All we are is dust in the wind”. And even the Bible says so when it is written:

“From dust thou are made

To dust thou will return”.

Got that, my sweetest?”

Jay was not sure he “got it”, he was lost as to where Alex was aiming at, so he asked:

“What are you getting at?”

The dark-blue eyes glistened when Alex pushed his finger on Jay’s lips with a soothing:

“Hushsssssshhhh….”.

He kept silent for a few seconds and then said:

“Listen first to my reasoning. When I’m done, you can react!”

Somewhat stunned Jay nodded.

“But…”, Alex continued, “Dust has another characteristic as well, apart from being general. Millions of years ago, when the earth was being formed, a certain kind of dust was compressed by unimaginable forces of pressure and temperatures beyond even the most absurd fantasy, making it into something, that the whole present-day world craves for”.

“Huh?” Jay asked with eyes wide open, thinking:

“Has this dude been smoking grass?”

It seemed, that Alex sensed his disbelief, because he smiled mysterious, talking on undisturbed:

“The dust became raw diamonds. One can ask: does that matter? Because, for the untrained eye a raw diamond looks the same as any filthy piece of stone in the ground. Only the one, who knows what to look for, can discern it from the other stones, sensing its potential for beauty and value. However, even then it is still a raw diamond. Until a skilled diamond polisher starts working on it, diligently, carefully and patiently removing all the worthless stone parts, then polishing it until a beautiful and valuable treasure becomes visible for the human eye: the diamond in all its splendor and glory”.

Jay was more than intelligent enough to understand the words Alex spoke, but their underlying meaning and the reason for telling all this kept eluding him. His eyes seemed to express this beyond any doubt, because, while stroking his cheek tenderly with one finger, Alex asked:

“You still don’t get it, do you?”

“No”, Jay replied, almost desperate to hear Alex’s reasons.

“I’ll explain it to you”.

Alex started his explanation in an almost sing-song chant, that was mesmerizing Jay more and more with each next word:

“About seventeen years ago a raw diamond came into this world in a big city somewhere in Upstate New York. Unfortunately, none of the over two hundred thousand people living there recognized it for what it was. They just thought it was another piece of worthless filthy stone, that they could throw away or kick around. Now, by pure coincidence, or was it a stroke of luck?...or maybe even Divine intervention?...the raw diamond ended up in a small rural town, where it came in the care of two extremely talented and gifted diamond polishers. They started working on that raw diamond and with infinite patience unveiled him to be the most beautiful diamond that this world has ever beheld!”

“Are you implying…?” Jay muttered in extreme hesitation.

“Go on!” Alex whispered as sole reply.

“Are you implying, that I am a diamond?”

“Yes!”, Alex’s warm and emotional voice said softly, “You are a beautiful diamond. In my eyes you are the most precious diamond in the world!”

“But…”, Jay objected.

Another “Huuushhhhhh” was heard and another finger was pressed on his lips, followed by:

“Let’s celebrate your transition. How about some wine?”

“Oh no…”, Jay quickly said, his hand raised up, “I have to drive back. I don’t think Jeremy will like it to find his shiny new car back in another condition than the one he loaned it to me”.

“What a shame!”, Alex muttered somewhat disappointed, “I’d hoped you would spend the night with me. So be it…!”

“Well…uuhhh”, Jay stammered. He felt uneasy over Alex’s disappointment and he tried to find a way to comply, especially since the prospect was very enticing.

“It would suit me just fine”, Alex said, “You could help me with feeding the cattle and the other animals tomorrow. And once we’re done with that, I’ll make you a large country-style breakfast. How about that?”

“Sounds great!”, Jay admitted with a broad smile, “OK, I’ll take some wine. But let me call my dads. They’ll be worried sick if I don’t come home. Or maybe Jeremy will only worry about his new car”.

He took his cellular, pushed the “home” pre-select and delivered his message, while Alex poured the ruby-red wine in the glasses.

 

Jeremy put the telephone back on the sideboard and with a grin on his face he said to Noah:

“Our boy lets it be known, that he won’t be coming home tonight”.

“Oh”, Noah reacted with a smile, “What might that mean? But, very considerate of him”.

While falling back on the couch again Jeremy asked:

“What do you mean?”

“At least we don’t have to worry”, Noah giggled, “That reminds me of two kids who forgot to call their parents that they wouldn’t be home for the night, occupied as they were”.

“Now, who might that be?” Jeremy inquired, barely able to keep his laughing back.

“Think, tiger”, Noah said sternly.

“Ah, those two at the wetlands”, Jeremy laughed.

Noah didn’t react at his remark, but put his head on Jeremy’s shoulder, whispering:

“And it is very thoughtful of him to let us know we won’t have a neighbor next to our room. So, how about celebrating that beautiful memory?”

“Good idea!”, Jeremy hissed, “Let’s go”.

Laughing, giggling, kissing and cuddling they moved to their bedroom.

 

They quietly drank their wine without speaking. It was not that much that they didn’t want to speak, but more the fact that there was no necessity to do so. So much had already been said. Besides, they felt content in their togetherness, completely at ease from hearing each other’s breathing and perfectly happy with the warm, loving glances they casted, the glances getting an increasingly erotic, desiring expression with each passing minute.

The outcome of this progressively strengthening intensity in their eyes was pre-ordained. In the shortest possible time they lay naked on the bed, enjoying the vista, the touch and the sensuality of the other’s body. Clothes were strewn all over the room: a sweatshirt here, a shirt there, a heap of tangled jeans on the floor and neither of them had the slightest idea where their shoes and socks had landed. It didn’t matter!

Lips were glued to each other, fingers softly slid over cheeks and faces. Alex’s head then slid down to Jay’s chest. Playfully he took one of Jay’s nipples in his mouth, carefully put his teeth in it and pulled it up slightly.

A pang of pain flashed through Jay’s body, expressed by a soft “Ouch”, but he felt how the pain immediately subsided and how it was replaced by an exhilarating stimulating shiver throughout his whole body. When Alex took the other nipple in his mouth, he knew what was coming. The moment the tender pull between the teeth came, he pushed his upper front teeth in his lower lip, sucked in the air through them and surrendered to the next wonderful shiver. Alex looked up, eyes burning, a serene smile on his face.

“You are so beautiful, to me”, Jay mentally sang.

Alex’s head, and especially his tongue, slid down, touching Jay’s abdomen, his loins, the inside of his upper legs. He felt himself falling in trance, his reactions at the touches muted to a soft moaning.

Vaguely he noticed how his balls were sucked in in Alex’s mouth, one after the other, and how they were stimulated in the warm, moist environment, only to be released again. Alex’s tongue started an upward move along his shaft…a bit up, a bit down, a bit up, a bit down, a soft and tender kiss so every now and then, a bit up…finally ending at the rim of his dick’s head.

Yes, it was sweet, it felt great…but nevertheless it was a kind of torture, a torture that seemed to last for hours,….no, years…..ages! A torture he didn’t mind at all.

“Hold back! Not yet…please not yet!” his senses screamed in agony.

Alex let his tongue tickle over his pee slit but then the head went up again. The lips followed the contours of his body, sliding over the shoulders and the neck until they ended up at his left ear, where they whispered:

“I want you! Will you allow that?”

Intoxicated as he was by the whirl, Jay just nodded without thinking.

“Roll over on your belly”, the lips suggested in his ear.

He did.

Alex got on top of him and placed his phallus tip between his haunches, ready to go in. At that moment an ice-cold hand seemed to clasp his heart and in a state nearing terror he cried out:

“STOP!”

Alex rolled off him, looking at him in shock:

“Don’t you want me?”

“Yes…”, he replied, “But there is something you should know before you do it. Once I’ve told you, you can decide if you still want me!”

“What is it?” Alex asked with a voice, trembling in distress.

Jay told him, slowly in the beginning, picking up speed and momentum during his story, about the many, many men he had been “given to” to quench their desires. He told of the lashings he received when his performance had been bad, or, as his father always called it, “had not delivered”, ten lashes each time, an extra one for each outcry of pain.

“Strange. I feel no emotion when telling this. There’s not a tear burning behind my eyes. It is as if I’m writing a newspaper article or telling a fairytale. I’m feeling as cool as cool can be”.

He ended his story with:

“Now you know it all, my dear. It is up to you if you still want me”.

In Alex’s mind all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place: the punishments for what Jay must have considered as his “wrongdoings”, the lack of outcries of pain when he administered them.

Jay closed his eyes, waiting for the feared verdict, opened them again and saw Alex’s damp eyes inches from his. The boy looked ahead for a few seconds and then the judgment came. It wasn’t “Yes”, it wasn’t “No”, it wasn’t even “Maybe”. After a sigh Alex said:

“Jay, many, many people have caused you harm and unbelievable pain, but you didn’t cause any harm or pain to other people. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s them, who should be ashamed of themselves. Don’t you ever forget that!”

“But…”, Jay asked hesitantly, “do you…?”

Alex reacted by giving a soft kiss on his lips. With eyes shining like torches he muttered under his breath:

“Come on, silly…let’s get on with it!”

He liberally applied lube on Jay’s bottom and on his own lance, mounted Jay a second time and positioned himself to enter the tight most intimate inner sanctum he was yearning for.

Then he slid in, feeling how Jay pushed himself on his knees, pressing his bottom against him.

But Jay soon found out, that the weight distribution on him was wrong and, despite struggling to stay up, he lost his balance when his right arm collapsed under the pressure, making him end up somewhat askew on his right side while still upright on the left, supported by his arm.

He noticed the weight on him shifting forward as if Alex was bending over him, feeling the confirmation of his sumption, when he sensed the soft, warm airflow of Alex’s exhalations on his shoulders and in his neck. He saw Alex’s hand being planted next to his left hand, searching support on the mattress. Immediately he grabbed it, two of his fingers stroked the hand, the others clasped the wrist like a vise, determined as he was not to let it go. He turned his head in the direction of where the breathing came from, searching Alex’s lips, finding them not even an inch from his own.

“Kiss me”, he panted.

Their world shrank to the two bodies, burning with lust, the small sphere of light directly around them and the delicate, red underground, that seemed to them as if they were floating on air. The room, the farm around it, the whole universe had vanished. They tongued without interruption, while Alex continued his deliberate, lazy and tender thrusting.

After the multiple brute rapes and emotionless penetrations Jay experienced something beautiful for the very first time. After feeling apprehensive at first, he wholeheartedly invited Alex to explore his inners, receiving him with fervor. His heart felt ready to explode with love and he made every effort to direct this feeling to his bowels, so that it could be transferred through their mucous membranes to Alex’s hard shaft, that probed deeper in a gentle way, searching its bearings in his deepest insides. He felt the passionate warmth radiated by Alex through the rod as it got in and out like a slowly moving, loving piston, aimed at robbing its receiver from his common senses so that he could soar into a realm of overwhelming happiness.

It is hard to understand what happened in Jay’s mind and even harder to describe the occurrence in intelligible images. But it appeared, as if a microscopic element in the outer defensive core of his subconsciousness and his emotions made an imperceptible, miniscule shift, causing a weakening of its overall cohesion. This shift rapidly gained momentum, resulting in a miniature avalanche of emotions, going faster and faster, until the whole structure of fears imploded in itself within a matter of macro-seconds.

Jay gasped for breath:

“He loves me! He wants me! Somebody wants me,…I’M WANTED!! No filth any longer, no garbage, no dust…ALEX WANTS HIS DIAMOND!!”

He couldn’t understand what was happening to him. He felt as if he floated in a nebulous haze of joy (or could it have been dust clouds from his mental landslide?), of uninhibited joy, not curtailed by any of his traumas, as if their shackles had evaporated into thin air. Yes, it was a delight to feel that way, but at the same time it scared him. He took another deep breath in an effort to clear his head, to overcome the frightening feeling.

“I don’t know what I feel...I don’t know how I feel! Is this how it feels to go to heaven, is this how dying feels? God, I’m scared, I’m terrified but please: DON’T LET IT STOP!”

Slowly a kind of mantra slid in his thoughts. It was not the old, devastating mantra, but one he didn’t know. Mentally he repeated it time after time. He felt as if he was screaming it out:

“Take me over the rainbow…! Take me over the rainbow…! Take me…”

“Over the rainbow”, Alex heard the scream, sounding as if it had come from the deepest of Jay’s soul, “Take me over the rainbow! Please…take me over the rainbow!”

It caused him to shiver briefly, but then, urged on by Jay’s passionate screams, Alex redoubled his efforts. Jay’s hand maintained his vise-like grip around his wrist, making perfectly clear to his lover that he had no intention what so ever to end their coupling.

Alas, all couplings have to end, one way or another. Some end, when the sweet intruder decides to abandon his voyage of exploration in his beloved’s inner spheres, others end when the final fulfillment takes place.

In this case it was the ardent fulfillment, melting their souls and bodies together and cooling down their desires for each other. With a deep moan Alex had his orgasm, that was received most willingly and thankful with a loud, primordial roar coming out of Jay’s throat.

“Don’t go”, Jay murmured, feeling how Alex collapsed on top of him, “Let the rainbow stay a little longer”.

Rainbows don’t exist into eternity. Neither did this one: it faded slowly, finally disappearing into memory, when Alex’s phallus limped again and slid out. He rolled off his sweetheart and lay beside him, taking him in his arms.

Jay looked at him with a brightness in his blue-grey eyes Alex had never seen before.

“I feel so…strange”, he said slowly, “So different. I don’t know what happened to me!”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked worried, “You feel sick or dizzy or something like that?”

“No, to the contrary. I feel great. It feels like…don’t know how to say it…”.

He kept silent for a while, as if he was searching for the right words, but then resumed:

“I feel kind a free. Like I left it all behind me. You know, what I was telling you about, before we….”, ending the sentence in a giggle.

“I feel so happy”, he continued, “Just…simply unbelievable happy!”

“I’m so happy for you”, Alex retorted.

Stifling a yawn Jay said with a tired smile:

“But I’m also very tired!!”

“It must be the emotions that tired you out”, Alex remarked with an understanding smile, “Then close your eyes…slumber…sleep…and dream of the rainbow!”

It didn’t take three minutes before Jay’s regular breathing betrayed to Alex, that his lover was sound asleep. With utmost care he broke his embrace, slowly recovering the arm, that was wrapped under Jay. He rose, drank the last wine in the glass, switched off the music, blew out the candles and stood beside the bed, looking at the most beautiful boy he had ever seen, sleeping like a nymph.

“I didn’t think it all out, sweetheart”, he mused, “It was miss Jablowski who found the solution. Man, I have to find a way to thank her in a most spectacular way!”

Finally, he turned off the lights and cautiously crept back in the bed, lovingly pushing his cheek against the soft and warm skin of Jay’ shoulder.

How could he have known, that he would never have a chance to thank his piano teacher: that same evening they made love, the old and wise lady passed away peacefully in her sleep, at the age of eighty-seven.

 

Despite a very early wakening up they kept to their planning the next morning and started to take care of the animals. Jay felt somewhat useless. He was impressed, even a bit frightened, by their huge appearances, so he kept his distance from the cows. But he didn’t believe his eyes when he saw, that Alex was not only a gifted pianist, but also very proficient in milking the big beasts. The supple fingers moved over the udders like they were playing the black and white piano keys. When he expressed his astonishment Alex only laughed and said:

“I can operate that monster there as well!”, nodding his head in the direction of an enormous blue tractor, whose large tires seemed to dwarf the two boys.

Jay looked at the machine with open mouth, only capable of uttering an “Awesome!”

Alex embraced him, gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and smiled:

“That happens when you’re a farmer’s son. I learned milking cows at the age of…I think I was six”.

Once the work was done they went to the large kitchen, where Alex started to make breakfast, which, as promised, turned out to be copious. By now Jay was used to good breakfasts but this one was the indisputable pinnacle.

While he sipped from his mug of strong, hot black coffee Alex said:

“Honey, may I ask you something?”

His mouth stuffed with scrambled eggs and bacon Jay nodded.

Alex made it perfectly clear that he meant serious business right away when he said:

“I’m not going to do any fancy talking, honey, but don’t you think you got a problem?”

Jay forgot his scrambled eggs right away and looked up with a startled face:

“What…what do you mean?”

“Your past, sweetie, and the way you handle it in the present” was the straightforward answer.

“Well, you took care of it, that I got over it last night”, Jay muttered half-assed with a shrug.

Alex shook his head in determination:

“No…that was…some kind of accident. I was shocked when I saw it happen. It was a positive shock, but I was shocked nevertheless. It made me see the real Jay, I saw the diamond at its brightest. And I admit, that I fell in love for the second time with the same boy, who was another boy at the same time. But…it won’t hold, it is not the permanent solution”.

“So, tell me: what is the permanent solution for all this?” Jay carefully asked.

“Find professional help”, came the no-nonsense answer.

“A shrink?“ Jay called out in disgust.

“Don’t use that word”, Alex reacted somewhat irritated, “The word ‘shrink’ says nothing about the doctor, but everything about the patient, who is afraid that he might be branded as a weirdo by some ignorant fools and who is prepared to let his chances for a happy life slip out of his fingers only to avoid such a condemnation. I tend to call it a psychotherapist”.

“What’s the difference?” Jay shrugged reluctant.

“A lot”, Alex insisted, “A psychotherapist is somebody who can help you to solve a problem, that is too enormous to cope with on your own”.

“You can help me!” Jay tried with some faint hope, “And Jeremy and Noah can!”

Again, Alex shook his head decidedly:

“No, we can’t! No matter how well we mean it, no matter how hard we are willing to fight for you: we don’t have the qualifications to do that. We don’t know which techniques to use, we don’t know how we can get things out of you. Well meant or not, it would be dilettante work! Only a real pro can handle this!”

He put his mug on the table, rose, walked around the table and stood beside Jay. He almost literally pulled him off his chair and pressed him against his body. Then he took Jay’s head in both his hands. The gentleness he used during this move hid that it was a way to force the boy to look in his eyes, when he said:

“My sweetest love, if I ask you…no, if I beg you…to search professional help, would you do that for me? For us? And most of all…for yourself, so that this gorgeous diamond can shine even more brilliantly?”

Tears welled up in Jay’s eyes when he muttered:

“I’m so scared!”

“For what, my sweetest?” Alex asked compassionately.

“That I will not be able to do it. That even worse things come out that were hidden so far!” was the choked, creaking reply.

“Exactly”, Alex confirmed, “Those hidden things must also come out, so you can get rid of them as well and can breathe and live free. And you won’t have to do it all by yourself!”

When he looked up, Jay’s eyes expressed, that he didn’t understand what Alex was saying.

“I’ll be right behind you, every time you need me”, Alex said determined.

“Really?” an anxious voice asked.

“I just promised you: I’ll be right behind you. And as you know: I always keep my promises””

Staring at the floor tiles Jay said nothing for a few seconds. Then he looked straight in Alex’s eyes and said:

“Then I’ll do it!”

Alex felt he could cry of happiness. He didn’t but he pulled Jay’s head forward, so that their sterns ended against each other.

“I’ll have to talk it over with Jeremy and Noah”, Jay said with a sigh, “They must set it up with Juvenile Care. Man…I don’t know how to say it! Maybe they’ll laugh at me!”

“For the third time: I’ll be right behind you. I’ll come with you”, Alex smiled encouragingly, stroking Jay’s cheek softly.

He looked at the breakfast table. There were still lots of food on it, but who cared about that? The hogs wouldn’t mind. They would take care of it!

“I guess you had enough for breakfast. So, let’s go to your place right away to discuss it with your foster dads and we’ll do the dishes after that”.

Jay nodded with eyes that betrayed, that he was starting to see hope.

“Come on!” Alex said, taking him by the hand, leading him to Jeremy’s brand-new shining Bronco.

 

Coincidentally Jeremy and Noah were having their breakfast as well, when Jay entered the kitchen, closely followed by Alex.

“Hi buddy”, Jeremy said cheerfully, “Hi Alex”.

Alex returned the greeting, Jay stood somewhat forlorn and dazedly, his eyes drifting away from his two foster dads.

“Now what do we have here?” Noah wondered.

It took some time before Jay started to speak. Faltering he stammered:

“I eeeuhh..I wanted…well, we wanted….”.

Noah saw, that Alex whispered something in Jay’s ear and he strained to read the boy’s lips: did he read it well? Was it:

“Go on, honey…just say it!”?

“Why don’t we all go to the living and sit down?”, he suggested, “Might make the talk a little easier”.

They did. Jeremy and Noah sat on one couch, the two boys on the opposite coach and both foster dads waited expectantly.

Jay seemed to sense that he had to say something, because he started talking again:

“Well, the point is….we…no…I…”

Jeremy saw it all happen and without any sarcasm meant he mused:

“Won’t be a marriage proposal. That’s supposed to be a happy occasion and his face sure doesn’t look like a happy thing”.

No, Jay didn’t look happy: while his upper front teeth chewed his lower lips again his eyes wandered off, as if they wanted to run away from the thing that was on his mind.

Alex took Jay’s hand and gave a tight squeeze as encouragement. It seemed to work, because Jay took a deep breath and started talking again:

“You know, dads…Alex made me see I have some kind of problem. I mean…not at school or with the two of you…but in my heart, in my soul. He thinks…no, he’s pretty certain, that it is too big to handle by myself…so…he kind of convinced me to search professional help”.

Both Noah and Jeremy were hardly able to avoid their mouths sinking open in utter surprise.

“So…”, Jay continued, “I wanted to ask you if you can set it up with Juvenile Care. So…well, I can live…I mean really live…. Will you do that?”

Alex gave another squeeze in Jay’s hand, this time meant as a genuine compliment. Noah’s heart skipped a few beats, when he thought:

“ALLELUJAH!!! He wants it himself! Let’s get this going before he changes his mind!”

Then he glanced at Jeremy. What he saw brought him another musing:

“What do I see now? Is my tiger trying to sweep a tear away unnoticed?”

Jeremy coughed to clear his throat, then said:

“You make me real proud, son! That was very courageous! How about you, Noah?”

“It sure was”, Noah confirmed, “Of course we’ll set it up for you! Consider it done, honey!”

Both boys on the opposite couch embraced. Noah and Jeremy joined it in an encompassing hug for both boys.

Alex felt slightly squeezed by Jeremy’s bear hug, but despite that he looked his lover in the eyes and whispered:

“I love you! I’ll love you from now until eternity and all the way back if necessary, so that I won’t lose you somewhere along the track!”

“I love you too…”, Jay whispered.

The four of them sat in that way for a long time.

 

Jay didn’t change his mind. Shortly thereafter he started his therapy. It was an arduous process of recurring, long forgotten excruciating memories that returned with a cruel vengeance, of living through humiliations and reliving mental and physical pain and fears, of screaming out his frustrated anger and his hate for his father. He cried out his guilt for not standing up for his little brother and sister and the shame for not having done so and went through heartbreaking sobbing and of crying gallons of tears, using wholesale quantities of tissues while doing so. All along this heavy road he was backed up unconditionally by Alex and supported equally unreserved by Noah and Jeremy, so that after a little under a year his psychotherapist folded his hands and placed his fingertips at the tip of his nose, as if he was thinking. Then the man had said, glaring over his half glasses:

“Well, son, I think you’re back again. No, let me rephrase that…it is clear to me, that you are re-born. Get on with your new life and make something beautiful out of it!”

On top of this Jay managed to do his remaining two years of high school within a little over a year. His very high intelligence, something unnoticed or maybe even ignored in his “previous” life, enabled him to push through the subjects and grades with the force of an ocean liner at full speed, entering university only six months after Alex did.

They found a small apartment over a pharmacy in downtown Burlington where they could live together.

Jay kept up his murderous studying pace and both boys graduated the very same day in their respective fields with a time difference of four hours, kindly arranged by the dean, so that they could attend each other’s graduation ceremony.

Both felt immensely proud of the other but, knowing Jay’s history and background, Alex might have felt more pride of him than the other way around. As a matter of fact, he embraced and kissed Jay without any shame or embarrassment in front of the dean and all the other people present.

 

With student life over it was time to start thinking about the future. For the moment they decided to stay in their apartment in Burlington, since Alex had made himself somewhat of a reputation as an exquisite pianist, well versed in both jazz and the more serious kinds of music. He saw his contacts in the city as his springboard for developing his fledgling career.

When he found a job as a hotel pianist, giving them a tiny basic income, expanded on an irregular basis with jazz gigs and classical recitals so every now and then, it seemed as if the decision was straightforward. They had to stay in Burlington, especially when Alex managed to carve himself a pretty solid reputation in the small musicians scene in town.

Jay had a harder time. He did some odd jobs during his studies for the University newspaper and some designs for band concerts in town, but his actual personality turned out to be more shy and modest than Alex’s outgoing and “get what you can get”-attitude. It meant, that he had to find out about his options for the future almost from scratch.

It turned out to be a hard search: Burlington might be the largest city in Vermont, but it sure wasn’t Buffalo N.Y, not to mentioned New York. Jobs for graphic designers were very scanty.

And there was a specific reason why he preferred to stay in state. In a way he had become used to living in a small town and he had become very attached to Jeremy and Noah. Since he had reached adult age, they were no longer his foster parents, having no longer any legal powers over him. It went beyond the legal matters: he felt emotionally attached to them. In the years he had lived with them he had started to consider the two gay men as his real dads. He valued their advice, appreciated their easy-going ways and the warmth they radiated. In a way he preferred going back to Newport, but was well aware that the professional options there were even worse.

His attitude towards Burlington started to change one somber October morning, when he was scrounging the local newspaper for jobs on offer, coincidentally seeing a small ad, in which a small printing shop was put up for sale. Spontaneously he dialed the mentioned telephone number and the same afternoon he found it in a street downtown, just around the corner of the city theatre and close to Lake Champlain’s water front.

The shop owner, a Mr. Garnier, showed him around, talking on and on of all the things printed here in an exuberant way, but that it was time to go into retirement, now he was approaching his seventy.

Jay was pretty satisfied, even impressed, by what he saw. Although small, the shop was perfectly equipped for high volume editions, like leaflets, company stationary, door-to-door advertising and the like. But he was delighted when he discovered an old screen printing machine tucked away in a corner and clearly out of use for years, including a large stock of screens in all possible dimensions and ready for use. His eyes got kind of dreamy.

“Perfect! The high volume stuff for the turnover, the screen printing to fulfill my dream: art poster designs in limited editions for sale over selected outlets! Man, this is great!”

He noticed a kid in the shop, somewhere around eighteen. Funny enough he was unable to determine if it was a boy or a girl.

“At least not with his clothes on”, he mentally grinned.

The kid appeared to work here, He (or she) did visual quality checks on the prints, made some adjustments to the printing presses and mixed colors for some new project. Jay looked questioningly to Mr. Garnier, who just said:

“Yeah, he works here. He’s a good kid, somewhat quaint maybe but nevertheless a good kid”. And Jay noticed how the kid was clearly intrigued by his own appearance.

Even the apartment on the upper floor was perfect. Now they had two rooms and a kitchen, this one had four rooms and a kitchen. Jay started to dream again:

“Cool…a living, a bedroom, a music room for Alex and a design studio for me. This is so cool!”

But the dream was crudely crushed, when Mr. Garnier mentioned the price he wanted for the whole shop and apartment. In a sad mood Jay walked back to their own tiny apartment.

When they were visiting Jay’s dads the next Sunday, he told them about it but finished his story with:

“Oh well, I might as well forget it. No way I can afford that. I’ll have to search on, I guess”.

He couldn’t have known he was very wrong!

Shortly after the boys left back to Burlington, Noah switched on his laptop.

“What are you doing, angel?” Jeremy asked casually.

“Nothing!” was the curt reply.

By now Jeremy knew his partner well enough to understand, that the answer really meant to say:

“It’s none of your business. At least, not yet!”.

After staring to the laptop screen for a long time Noah rose, stretched himself with a yawn and said:

“I’ll buy that shop for him!”

Then he sat down beside Jeremy on the couch.

Jeremy looked at him, saw the determination and knew he couldn’t change a thing about it, but despite that still asked:

“Why would you do that?”

“First of all, because I love that kid. As you do, I assume!”

Jeremy nodded fervently: of course, he did. It was beyond any doubt!

Noah’s dark-brown eyes stared dreamily for a few seconds and then he added:

“And…consider it as my last installment on my debt of honor to the street kids of Boston! I’ll call my dad tomorrow morning to start negotiations!”

With a smile Jeremy hugged and kissed his lover, whispering:

“Angel, you really are an angel!”

“You wanna prove that?” Noah giggled.

“Now? Here?” Jeremy asked in surprise.

“Now…? Yes! Here…? No, let’s do it in the bedroom!” was the seducingly whispered reply.

 

After the transfer of the printing shop and its associated apartment above had taken place, Jay moved to his new address to get the shop operational and make the apartment habitable.

In the starting up process (“under new ownership”) he offered the only employee, the young kid who called himself Neoki, to stay on the job. Jay had never heard of the name before, actually doubted that such a name existed and had no idea what it meant, but with the kid insisting that he wanted to be called that way he simply called him Neoki. Soon enough business was booming with lots of old clients staying or coming back.

In the shop’s office a large, framed poster hung prominently on the wall. It was the poster, that had announced Alex’s his first public concert, shortly before Christmas some years before, the evening when they met the very first time. And, as it turned out, the evening, that marked the beginning of the end of Jay’s recurring pains, which by now had fully faded into oblivion. As such the poster represented the beginning of his new life.

After a few weeks a young Burlington pianist, who in the mean time had achieved a good reputation, not only in the city but in the whole state, made it known, that he was moving to a new address, somewhere close to the theatre and the waterfront.

Now…might that be a coincidence?