Blue Eyed Twink - 1. Chapter 1 Getting It Together

A heart is just a heart. It has been said that some hearts, are as lonely as a solitary prisoner. Others, dance merrily to the bopping beat of a prancing popular dance tune. No one knows why the heart behaves so. Needless to say, they do.

It is then, that a matter of the heart beats along to a mournful melody. Tugging away at our emotions. Like a mosquito descends up on us. Having done its worst, then leaves us with an awkward feeling afterwards. No one can stop it from happening. It’s as inevitable as a humongous utility bill dropping in at the most unfortunate time. Shit happens.

A heart can be a most annoying thing. It can also be the most beautiful thing. Depending of course on the outer shell of the person who carries it. For without the heart belonging to the eighteen year old boy in question, in this instance there would be no story.

Toby, like any other fresher at university, prowled the dorms like the lone wolf seeking his prey. The young and gorgeous sporty types always caught his eye. Sometimes, the longing or wishful thinking might have got the better of him. Until he was told to where to go and how to get there if he perhaps observed more than he should in the changing room showers. His own physique wasn’t that bad. He did his basic men’s exercises but every time he checked his look in the tall mirror, his slim waist, firm chest and stomach did him some justice. He supposed that was fine. Could have been better. Even worse, much worse, his bottom was now beginning to spread. Only a little. If he could see it, then it was obvious to everyone else. As wide as his eye could see could see the offending rump of his behind, he would either have to get some jogging in as an extra or, go to the gym with his eyes closed. Even better, if he got a boyfriend then he, the lad in question, would be the best exercise of all.

Observing a few hairs on his chin, he felt obliged to ask himself, ‘who’s a good looking bastard then?’ The whimsical guffaw he let rip forth hid the realisation that razor blades and shaving foam would now have to be accounted for. ‘If only the student fees weren’t so fucking high, I could afford to shave,’ he continued to tell himself. In looking up at his messy light brown hair he couldn’t stop himself. ‘And maybe get a fucking haircut for crying out loud.’ Ensuring there was still a twinkle in his buoyant blue eyes he stared and asked himself the most important question of the day. ‘What the fuck are you doing talking to yourself in the mirror for? Sod off out there and meet someone.’

Jogging on through the campus grounds, the smell of the late summer air not filled the lungs with fresh air. A shame then the hint of weed wafted through some of the open dorm windows. If freshers needed that now, what would they be like by the end of their final year he wondered. Handcuffed to a never ending supplier of the illegal stuff he considered. Give them a miss was his final thought on the matter. The cheesy grin formed a disparaging appearance on his face, however, when the wind changed, he concentrated on his pace once again.

Other joggers nodded as he passed by. Ensuring his red shorts gave a civilised appearance if a girl passed by was more out of courtesy, than to display his family jewels. His sleeveless black running top was a snug fit. Not like the ones he’d seen some of the other boys wearing. They paid more for those and needn’t have bothered putting them on. He could have drawn those boys topless from memory. How each of their pecs moved whether they were on their right or left foot. How many stomach muscles they had tucked in there. How hairy their chest was and how much sweat was really on their skin beneath those breathable shirts. For he, preferred to leave something to the imagination of others, besides, it was cheaper.

In reaching a certain midway point, a bench by a litter bin, he sat looking towards the doorway to one of the more elitist dorms. Located for its close vicinity to the gym and racetrack, the inhabitants were members of the sporty set. Football, rugby, cricket, rowing, tennis as well as the race and track minded were all housed together. Likeminded people who brushed aside their academic studies in favour of elaborate keep fit classes and exercises. Sure, it was true they might hand an assignment in on time. The general opinion from the other students, especially those studying drama, was that these assignments were graded as per their sporting achievements. A little harsh I thought.

Bursting through the door, out he ran. The highlight of my morning. Blue boy as I called him. He wasn’t rude or anything, as far as I aware. Same blue sleeveless top and dinky blue shorts. Bouncing with blowing bolts of lightning from here to there. In a constant fidget almost. Shooting forward like a fired cannonball. Rushing like a rocket. Speeding with whooshing zoom as he whizzed by. Majestic with style. His running form was mesmerising. Wish I could run like that. I’d keep up with him then.

From head to toe, Blue Boy was slender, athletic and well formed. Most striking of all was the monster that swung from side to side at the front of his shorts. I could watch that in my mind’s slow motion all day long. I’d sketched it after the first time I saw it. Normally I’d draw the whole figure. This time. I drew the running midriff at its best. Pencilling away in art class, my mind was as consumed as a saucy tart for lunch. Careful not to overexaggerate, I included the veins of that perilous penis as they appeared through his thin shorts. Several sketches emphasising the main attraction thrust first to left as he raised his right leg and then in the opposite direction kept me alive during that morning’s tutorial.

‘It’s so nice to see the penis clothed,’ my tutor remarked as she stood over my shoulder. She must have noticed me blush and quickly added, ‘don’t worry, we’ve all drawn a cock or two every now and then.’

A wonderful woman in her sixties. Tall or what? It could have been her heels. She wore the longest dresses I’d ever seen in my life. All as colourful as any rainbow which matched her moods perfectly. You’d never know what colour or mood she’d be in at any time of the day. Just look at what she wearing, and guess. As for her hair, she must have a wig for every day of the year. Funny as fuck though.

Unlike Blue Boy. If serious had a personification, that would have to be him. I swear, if he ever smiled, the heavens would have poured down on us for forty days. A shame in all honesty, for in my eyes, he was as hot as hell itself. How I would love to get my fingers burnt touching that one. With pure brownie blonde hair set in a simple bowl cut with a low fringe, I had to sharpen my gaze to get a glance of his beguiling brown eyes. Yes, he was sweetly handsome. A shame he still needed detention in charm school.

I would nod and he, would blank me. I would nod to him again and he, would simply tut away to himself. I wonder if he had meaningful discussions with the mirror as well? Sitting, dreaming in a world of my own as relived his willy swinging from side to side, I suddenly found myself being spied on by him. I should have looked him in the eye; however, my gaze was on his groin. Such a fine specimen he had on him and as he turned to walk inside, that butt of his. Tiny, perfectly formed glute muscle didn’t mince at all. It was there in front of me and my eyes gazed upon the very things I just want to grab a hold of. Well-toned, bony but hand grabbing attractive at the same time. Shit, now when I went home, I would have to draw it. What the fuck would my tutor say? ‘Oh, we’ve all drawn a tidy ass in our time,’ I shouldn’t wonder.

What was this? He looked back at me. Fuck, did I have a hard on? Almost. Was he going to speak to me? I hope he would, he’s so well fit. Did he think I was cute? Cute? Handsome, yeah handsome. Perhaps? Perhaps he didn’t know what to say either? I wish I knew what the fuck to say to him! Some artist I am. A piss artist more like. Hope he didn’t think I was a stalker. Although, cruising a guy had to done with a such subtle behaviour. Yes, the triumph of the cruise was the willing surrender of your mark.

I had to do something. So, I stood up. As he went inside, I have no idea what the hell came over me or, why I did it. I followed him in. Approaching his open door, I slowed to a steadier pace. to appear more of a casual passer-by. I’m sure he ran in there with more vigour than when he was on one of his runs. Just inside his doorway, he stood in wait. With legs apart, tensed muscles and a raised right hand with the palm almost upright he posed in a defiant stance. Pouncing, he asked, ‘are you following me?

A true believer in honesty is the best policy I told him straight, ‘kind of.’

His defiant stance became relaxed as he realised, I was as much of a threat to him as a wet tea bag. ‘Why?’ he was keen to learn.

‘I just wanted to talk,’ I replied. Tilting my head sideways I turned on the charm. Relaxing my eyes made them more welcoming. In looking into his face, he relented as I told him, ‘You see, erm. I wondered how you got so fit?’

It is a genuine question. I did wonder how he got to be so fit, other than exercise. He already knew he was cute. The only other thing I could have commented on was his attitude. Thinking the better of it, I didn’t think such a subject would have done me any favours.

‘Better come in then,’ he said.

The first thing you see in his dorm room is his single bed on the right hand side of the room. A big massive window in between the bed and his desk shed some light on his situation. There were some textbooks on his desk. At least he did some study I surmised. From the titles they must have been American novels. It was probably best not to be too nosy when you first meet someone. I find its best to let a boy have some secrets at least. Makes him so much more interesting.

Make ‘em laugh, that’s what my old man used to say. Proper comedian he was, shame he never took it up professionally. With this in mind having been invited in I asked the obvious. ‘On the bed?’

‘Ern NO!’ he exclaimed. ‘On a chair.’

I had no idea what happened to his sense of humour. Perhaps I should organise a search party.

There were two chairs to choose from. From this little outburst I thought it best not to take his seat at the desk, but the chair at the side of it nearest the door. Just in case I was shown if. Yes, this seemed the appropriate chair for visitors, so I quietly sat there.

In an attempt to lighten the mood somewhat, I mean, let’s face it, Mr sourpuss looked utterly pissed off with something or someone, I thought it best to come out with it. Telling it as it was, so to speak.

‘You see, it’s like this. I just want to turn some of my puppy fat into muscle.’

Sniggering like a sarcastic schoolgirl he replied, ‘and you thought I could help with that.’

‘Well yes mate,’ I responded, ‘you are well fit.’

‘Wait!’ he shouted as he stood up from his bed to lean on the back of his desk chair raising his right hand again. There it was, his palm in a stop position. Shit, I thought, was I too gay?

‘Are you here asking me to train with you, OR, are you just trying to get into my shorts.’

In all honesty, either or both would have done me. I did turn and face the door. After all, that’s where I honestly thought I was headed. As I did so, stopping myself from giggling was as tough as sitting perfectly still through a laughing gas attack. What was wrong with this dude? Then, it dawned on me. ‘Have you had that problem before? ‘I asked.

His muscles retired from tensing. A more mature Blue Boy sat back on his bed quietly saying, ‘you could say that.’

I just wanted to go across and hug him and tell him how much I loved him. Perhaps it was best not to. It sounded as if the poor lad had been through enough already. So why was he smiling at me? Returning a smile, out of courtesy of course, I adjusted my seating position to face him direct. The view I got looking down his shorts almost sent me into orbit. Perhaps I should make my excuses and look forward to chatting with him again, when he was fully clothed perhaps.

So as not to appear rude myself I politely enquired, ‘so, is it ok if we become gym buddies?’

Ooh. The gym was obviously somewhere he didn’t want to go to again either. In sliding to crouch down by his bed staring through the open door, I’m sure he uttered, ‘not really, my ex works out in there,’ underneath his breath. More coherently he then suggested, ‘it might be best if we do some personal workouts at yours.’

In staring at the closed door opposite, he was fixated on it for a moment or two. As he started to shiver at whatever thought went through his head, it was obvious he needed some time out. Whoever was on the other side had done something so bad, that having never been in such a situation it gave me the willies. Least it helped me get rid of my semi.

I looked away for a moment contemplating what was the best thing to do. Here was a lad who’d been badly hurt, and I all I wanted to do was, well, probably the same as the other person had done. Only, perhaps be a little bit nicer about it. I was better than that, I told myself. No matter what my cock said, I had to follow my head. Somewhere in the middle of that I also had to listen to my heart too. Fuck it. Agree with him and see how it goes.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ I said in the most encouraging voice I could master.

As he smiled back at me, I checked the window to see if the clouds were about to gather. The sun continued to shine. Almost for a second, I thought I saw the sun transform into a smiling emoji. What a day that would have been had it done so.