Seventeen - 2. Chapter 2

Whilst Jane went off to some camp, possibly involving cheerleading, Brandon and I had been sent to football camp. The first realisation of my difference from normal boys came when Brandon decided that we couldn't say that we loved one another anymore. At the age of eight we’d known each other roughly five years, the three of us had grown close, and we knew that we loved one another. We were definitely best friends, pretty much family, but when an older boy at camp, Ryan Shepherd I think he was called, heard us say goodnight, he was probably a little shocked.

"Night Brand, love ya bro."
"G'night Brett, love you too. "

The next day, Ryan had a quiet word with us; Brandon thought Ryan was looking out for us, like an older brother or something, but I didn't like what he said, it stung me subconsciously.

"You two gotta be careful with what you say, I know you're young and stuff, and you're close…" he began.

Like hell he knew anything; he'd only just met us!

"But you gotta know that if guys hear you talking like that they'll think you're queers!" And with that Ryan slipped off to the locker rooms, leaving me and Brandon standing there. Brandon looked deep in thought; I just felt confused.

"Right then, Brett, I guess we can't say we love each other no more," he said after thinking it over for a while.

"Oh," was all I could reply, and it hurt; even at the young age of eight I must have known that I was somehow in love with my best friend, and he was now denying me the opportunity of expressing that love, even verbally. Of course I never resented him for this, and even though that night at camp had been the last time he'd said that he loved me, I knew he still did; if not the way I wanted deep down, then I knew he loved me as his best friend, as his brother.

That fortnight at camp led Brandon on a course which would take him into football; he loved the sport. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoyed watching the game and even playing it from time to time, but the jock thing just wasn't what I was into, unless you count Brandon. He was now a major hot jock on the school’s football team; his position was linebacker and he played well. People say linebackers are the heart of the defence for a team, and this was definitely true of Brand. Being the son of an English born and bred father, however, meant that I was predisposed to playing soccer, which I wasn't bad at. I’d played on school teams up until I turned 16, and then I concentrated more on my gymnastics and generally staying fit.

Realising that I’d shied away from team sports, most likely because of my sexuality, didn't really shock me. It would be social suicide if I were to enter a shower after a game, and I knew it.

It would probably go a little something along the lines of:

"Brett do you have a boner from showering with us?!"
"No...it just always points that way...". Yeah. Definately social suicide.

Anyway back to my Birthday night. Processing my day began to upset me; I had been inwardly miserable and subdued, and distracted enough outwardly to warrant Mom’s, Dad's and the twin's concern. I just kept thinking over what had caused this reaction; the thoughts that I fell asleep with on the night before.

How can I be coming up to seventeen and still be denying that I'm gay?

But I'm not gay! It's a goddamn phase.

Who am I kidding?! I am.

Having this argument in my own head soon ended, and whilst I didn't want to admit it, I knew I was gay! I guess I’d finally accepted it. The thing that really scared me was the likely reaction of everyone I loved; I mean knowing you're gay is one thing... having everyone you love in the world abandon you because of it is another.

So during my birthday, the realization still plaguing me, I was distracted and even zoned out when my family and friends sang me a happy birthday.

After the escape from my grandmothers, I was contemplating the relationship I had with Jane. I was so preoccupied that I wasn't really interested in driving my new car, so I sent Brand to have his fun. I was thinking about the possibility that I might not ever be a father, that I wasn’t going to end up with white picket fences, the perfect wife and children.

Would I be a failure to my parents?

Jane seemed to notice I was deep in thought… possibly due to the fact I hadn’t replied to whatever she was talking about. I looked up and then past Jane as I noticed Brand coming in through the double front doors. The sun glowing behind him, he really did look perfect, I’d always aspired to be like him, sometimes even felt in his shadow. I’d worked hard to get to where I was and I didn’t want the fact that I was gay to mess it all up.

Brandon was grinning inanely, so I guessed he’d enjoyed the ride, but when he looked at Jane his smile vanished and he looked concerned.

“Yo man! What’s goin on? You guys coming back in?” someone asked from behind us. I turned and saw Paul poking his head round the dining room door.

“We’ll be in, in a minute Paul” Jane replied, flashing him a smile.

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

"Look Brett, we both care about you, and I for one certainly know something's the matter. Now are you going to tell me?" Jane asked as she turned back to me.

"Yeah man, what's going on?" Brandon added as he caught up with Jane’s track of thought, or at least partly caught up… a tight knot of confusion appeared on his face as his brow rose and his forehead creased in further puzzlement. "Come on man! It's your birthday; you just got a new car, imported from Germany might I add! What's with the zoning out? It's not like you. Even when something is the matter, you never let it show... well except for your eyes... they always show it."

Brandon wasn't one for blushing normally, but the slight view of his smooth chest that I had, showed skin beginning to flush with embarrassment at his sudden outburst.

"I... erm... nothing, " I sputtered out. I wasn't expecting him to be so observant to my mood. Sure we were best friends, but he never seemed to be the one who read me; that was always Jane, she could read me like a book. But no, he'd noticed, and so the famed complexion of the White family came into play; my smooth skin began to blush and my rosy cheeks started to glow a slight shade of scarlet. I’d wanted to run to my room and hide under the covers; I hated blushing.

Jane developed a knowing smile and looked pointedly at her twin, telling him in that silent way of hers to leave the two of us alone. With that, Brand grabbed my car keys and said he was taking her for another quick spin on the private road that was our driveway. You see, we lived in a private gated community, and whilst the houses were supposedly nothing compared to the once splendid halls of England's Gentry, they suited my family just fine. I merely nodded my agreement at him taking the keys. As if I had a choice.

Once Brand had gone, Jane grabbed me by the arm, and in the gentlest way possible, dragged me up to my bedroom. After sitting me down on the sofa, she took her usual seat on the cushioned bay window and looked over at me with a look of compassion. As she gave me that look, I wanted her to just hold me as I sobbed at the frustration, fear and confusion I felt. Instead, I waited for her to ask me the question I knew was coming, but it never came. She just idly gazed out of the window, across the garden we had played in as children, and farther onto the neighbours’ large houses and beautiful gardens. Confused, I questioned her.

"Aren't you going to ask what's the matter with me?"

"Are you going to tell me what's up with you?" she smartly replied, giving me a sweet smile.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her. She was a clever young lady, and her intelligence was only matched by her beauty and compassion. She had all the ability to be the most popular girl in highschool, and yet she wasn't. Like me, she had shied away from it, even though we were well known and liked by most people, probably due to our connection to Brandon, and possibly because he would kick the ass of anyone who hurt either one of us. We preferred to stay within our tight circle of friends.

She was the perfect catch, and yet there she sat, thinking that I loved her the way that she must love me. At that moment a pang of guilt hit me, one so strong it must have shown, because she stood and came to sit next to me, taking my hand in hers. She looked me in the eye and spoke, telling me something that she'd told me before and I hoped that she would tell me again.

"Brett, you know that I love you very much? You're my best friend."

"I'm your boyfriend," I interrupted, which made her smile sweetly.

"I know that something's bothering you, and I’ll be here when you want to talk," she continued, "If it helps, I think I might know what's up."

"Why don't we have sex?" I blurted out, trying to put up a straight front, hoping that at that moment she didn't know what was actually bothering me. It was her turn to chuckle then. She kissed my cheek, looked into my eyes, and replied.

"I think you know the answer to that.” Then in response to my puzzled and what must have been panicked expression, she pressed on. "You don't seem comfortable when we kiss on the lips, let alone go further, " she stated. "Brett, if you're gay, it's ok! It wont change how I feel about you."

Just as she finished her sentence, Brandon came through the door. There was a puzzled expression on his face. "Did I just hear right sis? Are you accusing our Brett of being queer?"

"Brand!" Jane scolded and gave him a look.

"Brett ain't gay, though, are you bud?" Brand chuckled, more as a rhetorical question; that is, until he saw the look on my face. "Are you?!" he urged, mild horror creeping into his voice.

I couldn't respond, I was too panicked and confused, so I just sat there, dumb. Jane leaned over and kissed my cheek again, and then whispered, "Everything is ok, baby, we love you."

Yet Brand just looked confused, turned on his heel, and left the room without looking back, and soon after, when she realised I wasn't going to speak anymore, Jane left as well.

Shortly after, the party dispersed, I could hear everyone leaving, yet I locked myself in my room and didn’t even manage to say goodbye to my grandparents.

“He’s not feeling too well” I heard Jane tell people.

So there I was, in my bed, thinking about what happened, wondering how I was going to fix it all, cursing myself for not denying it, hating myself for wanting to deny it, and grateful it was summer vacation and I didn't have to face school anytime soon.

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After a restless night's rest, I rose out of bed and went to the mirror, my short dark hair was a mess, and I had an evident sleepy look about me. The night before, I’d come to the conclusion that if Brand didn't want to be my friend anymore, then whilst it would hurt, I didn't think he would hurt me to the point of outing me to the school. I’d even entertained the idea that Jane had feigned her acceptance, just to get me to come out. However, climbing into the shower to wash my sleepiness away, I knew that she at least did still love me.

Staring in the mirror, I began to think: ok, so if Brand doesn't want you as a friend, the trio is broke. It will be Brand, the hot jock, Jane, his beautiful and scarily clever sister, and me, the cute guy who threw away his popularity… I’ll just be another preppy geek… they’ll know I’m gay.”

I was the guy the girls threw themselves at, who was too mature and nice a guy to just "do them".

Most of my classmates liked me; we were popular, to the point that people looked up to us. Yet just before Jane and I had got together, a few guys had started asking questions, and since the age of 14 my sexuality had been questioned a couple of times, in that I was asked why I wouldn’t go out with certain girls. But the questions stopped after Jane and I got together. I guess I was lucky to have Jane, but I just didn't get what she would have got out of a relationship if she knew I was gay.

Gazing at my boxer-clad body, I understood why the girls liked me, 6’2", broad and muscular on top, slim and toned abs and legs; I was hot. I traced my collarbone, the angle of my arm causing my biceps to bulge. Running my hand across my pecs, I felt the results of years of gymnastics and generally staying fit. I was blessed, and this made me feel incredibly guilty for my mood yesterday. I’d zoned out when celebrating my birthday, surrounded by my best friends and a loving family, but some people would be lucky to have just that. Yet there I was, unhappy with thoughts passing through my head that I shouldn't have, when I should be happy. My life was blessed, except for the fact that I was gay, and I couldn't complain about that; I just had to accept it.

My hand passed down my solid abs, my gaze following it; I brushed past the waistband of the CKs I’d just put on, idly brushing my thumb across the skin at the top of the boxers.

"I've had enough self exploration for one day I think," I chuckled to myself, looking at my prominent morning state. My attempt at humour lifted my mood a little, and I felt less depressed and preoccupied with my sexuality. I had more important things on my mind than myself; I wanted to know that Brandon was ok, that he didn't hate me. Strangely enough, I had resolved a number of years worth of issues in one night. Whilst thoughts of Brand distracted me, I decided I could at least put on a brave face to eat breakfast with the family.