Tyler's Dilemma Part One - 4. Part One: Midnight Voyeur

The sun had already slipped behind the mountain, but not before giving one last burst of warmth to the valley floor. As if to say, for now you’ve won but I shall return tomorrow. As the last ray of light disappeared into the September sky, the mild temperatures plummeted to the mid fifties.

All across the valley, children rushed inside to escape the weather as smoke rose lazily into the sky from hundreds of chimneys that guaranteed a haven of warmth inside the four walls. As if to taunt the chilly weather into testing the mettle of the town’s inhabitants. Families were sitting down to enjoy the evening meal together and to inform one another on the day’s events. To share those moments that kept a family together.

For Brandon Myers, things weren’t so simple nor wonderful. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten dinner with his parents when it didn’t end up in a verbal fight. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and maybe it was. Because the Brandon they remembered and claimed to love was long gone. In his place was a driven young man that felt lost and alone most days.

This is why he was currently locked inside his attic room while his parents were getting ready to pretend to care about one another over the evening meal. He had known long ago, maybe even before they did, their marriage was basically over. All that was left was the pretense of happiness mixed with an undertone of disgust.

Everyone considered Brandon to be extremely smart. He had devoured most of the local library’s selection by the time he turned sixteen. He had taken to scouring the internet for books that captured his fancy.

He wondered what the mailman would say if the man ever found out how many hundreds of pounds of books he had delivered over the years. And not just art books, he had rows of science, philosophy, and history books stored in his brain like a giant wiki entry where he could summon the knowledge seemingly at will.

The world he learned from those books mirrored his own distorted life and gave him an outlet for creativity. His art was already heralded by the entire town and most thought the young protegge would go far in the art world.

But Brandon cared nothing for those predictions nor did he care about those that made them. He considered his life to be a journey. His constant searching for that one experience that would allow him the chance to achieve something extraordinary. This self-imposed journey was the reason he was locked in his room, swaying in time to the music that blared in the background. Inside the safety of his attic, he was hidden away from the rest of the world, an island isolated in an ocean of mediocrity.

In his younger years, when it became undeniable his art was on another level, his father finished the attic space above the garage for his studio. When he was seven, it was a haven to paint in peace. But as things grew increasingly tense in the main house, he slowly added chairs, then a bed, and before anyone noticed, he had practically moved in above the garage. During the summer months, he would go unseen for days, only appearing for food that he would take back to his home away from home.

The only downside to living in the attic was the lack of natural light. On the far end of the room, in front of two large windows, he had set up his easels and sculpting table. The area was littered with discarded brushes and empty paint tubes with a strong smell of paint thinner. To him, it was a scent he associated with home.

Along the floor were smeared spots of color that had been left to dry where they fell. Though a few had been strategically placed during a phase he called spontaneous creation.

The walls were covered with his least favorite paintings while the ones he favored were stacked sometimes five deep along the base of the wall. A good portion of the canvases that hung on the walls were unfinished, abandoned for some reason or another while others were cut into ribbons during bouts of frustration and anger.

Yet no matter what he might personally think of his work, he’d never throw anything away. He considered them all stepping stones and a reminder of his journey and hoarded the ruined paintings like a packrat hoarded bits of colored strings.

As was his custom, Brandon painted in thin shorts, his lithe form weaving to the music as he allowed his creativity to guide his hand. His blue hair was damp with sweat and his eyeliner ran down his cheeks. Periodically he would brush the strands of hair from his eyes as he feverishly smacked the canvas with his brush.

His bare chest glistened with sweat as he narrowed his eyes in concentration. He was so focused on his work he didn’t recognize the sound of someone pounding on the locked door. It wasn’t until there was a break in the music that he heard the sound. He paused and looked over at the door.

Another loud banging came and he threw the brush against the far wall in frustration. He stormed over to the door and yelled out, “I’m busy, go away.”

“Can you open the door?” His father, Scott Myers, called out loudly.

“No,” Brandon yelled back. “This is a no adults fly zone.”

“God damnit Brandon,” His father shouted and then pounded on the door harder. “Just open the door so I don’t have to shout at you.”

“I’m good, you just go ahead and leave me alone, thanks,” Brandon called out as he looked at his unfinished painting with longing. He started painting this particular piece shortly after Tyler left and he had an overwhelming desire to finish it today.

“This is my house.”

“Technically it’s your garage,” Brandon argued back.

“Don’t argue semantics with me.”

Brandon walked over and unlocked the door. His father quickly pushed it open and stepped inside. He looked around and said sarcastically, “I can see you haven’t bothered to clean up since the last time I was up here.”

“Okay, you’re in,” Brandon said as he walked over to his nightstand and grabbed his cigarettes.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” His father chided him as he took in the sight of paintings. “Especially up here, it reeks of paint thinner and you could easily blow yourself up. Don’t you ever let fresh air in?”

“Blowing up might be preferable to talking with you,” Brandon said as he shut his eyes and dramatically lit the lighter. He opened his eyes and said sadly, “Damn, not this time I guess.”

His father sighed loudly and stood in front of the canvas Brandon had been working on all day. He shook his head and said, “This is really looking good, who’s the boy?”

Brandon stood next to his father and stared at the canvas for a few moments. Then he bent down and dipped a paint roller in a bucket of white paint as he asked, “What do you want?”

“I would like for you to come have dinner at the house tonight."

Brandon shook his head and then ran the roller across the canvas, erasing all the work he had done for the last ten hours.

“Why would you do that?” His father demanded to know. “I liked that one.”

“And that’s the reason,” Brandon said absently as he looked at the now white canvas and tried to puzzle out what had gone wrong.

His father looked at him like he had grown another head but said, “I would like to talk to you.”

“I don’t believe I have a single thing to say to either of you,” Brandon said as he dropped the roller into the bucket of paint thinner. “I’m also fairly certain you have nothing to say I’d want to hear.”

“Just this one time, could you come in and eat inside?” His father pleaded.

“Would you agree to never bother me again when I’m painting if I accept?” Brandon countered as he gave his father a defiant stare.

“You’re always painting.”

“That’s exactly the point.”

“I’m your father, I don’t have to leave you alone as long as you live in my house.”

“That is a tired argument that is beneath a man of your supposed intelligence,” Brandon said arrogantly as he stomped over and turned the volume on his stereo as loud as possible.

His father ripped the plug from the wall and grabbed Brandon’s arm tightly. He dragged him towards the door saying, “You’re coming inside to eat dinner whether you want to or not.”

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Brandon demanded but his father was stronger so he had no choice but to follow him down the stairs and across the lawn.

His father threw open the kitchen door and shoved Brandon inside. Brandon yelped as his back slammed into the marble countertop. He rubbed his side as he said, “I could report you for that.”

“And maybe wherever you end up being placed they’d have better luck at teaching you a bit of respect,” His father argued as he grabbed a hand towel and threw it at his son. “Now wipe that shit off your face and go into the dining room and have dinner like a human.”

Brandon glared at his father for a moment then slowly brought the towel to his face. Then he washed his hands and calmly walked into the dining room where he plopped down into a chair.

His mother, Michelle Myers, looked at him with unfocused eyes and smiled drunkenly at him. She said, “Thank you for joining us. We so rarely get to see you any more.”

Brandon shoved his plate away and replied, “In your condition, can you even see me at all?”

HIs father sat down opposite of his wife across a rather large table and calmly cut into his steak. His mother lifted her glass and gulped it noisily.

Brandon reached over and turned the bottle of wine in the chiller so he could read the label. He shook his head in disgust and said, “You’re drinking a three hundred dollar bottle of Grand Cru, you’re supposed to sip it, not gulp it like some homeless person drinking Boone’s Farm.”

His mother ignored him as she refilled her glass. She asked in a slurred voice, “What did you do today?”

Brandon eyed his perfectly cooked steak and grimaced. They might have been able to force him to sit at the table but they couldn’t force him to eat. He answered, “I woke up this morning with a half naked boy in my bed. That was a good way to start the day.”

His father looked at him over the rim of his glasses and admonished, “That’s not really appropriate dinner conversation.”

Brandon’s stomach rumbled noisily and he gave into the smell. He grabbed a green bean and shoved it in his mouth. He said, “We also pissed out the window because we both had boners and couldn’t piss in my bucket without making a mess.”

HIs mother dropped her silverware in shock. She covered her mouth with her hand as his father barked out, “That’s enough. I didn’t ask you here to get a play by play of your perverted lifestyle.”

Now that he had them both angry, he pulled his plate towards him and cut his steak in half. He picked up one half with his hand and took a bite.

HIs mother took another gulp of wine and still gripping the glass tightly, asked softly, “What did we do to have you hate us this much?”

“If you’d leave me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t have to hate you,” Brandon said cheerily. “It’s really such a simple concept even a drunk like yourself should be able to grasp the general idea.”

“Is it that hard to enjoy a meal with us?” She asked as she picked up her silverware and tried to cut her steak with shaking hands.

Brandon wasn’t sure if she was shaking from anger or from the wine. He didn’t care either way. He took another bite and said, “Yes, both of you made it clear years ago that you didn’t want a faggot for a son. Why should I want to be around either of you under those conditions? Words have consequences.”

“I said some things I didn’t understand nor mean at the time,” His father said diplomatically. “But I have grown and moved on from those ideas. I feel differently now.”

“Okay,” Brandon said as he put the piece of steak on the plate. He wiped his hands on his napkin and then asked pointedly, “Do you still think I’m going to hell for sucking dick?”

“Fine,” His father declared as he smacked the table angrily. “Go back to that mess you call a life. Inhale some more paint fumes, hide away from everyone so you can justify being a tortured artist that no one can understand. And when I find you dead one day because you can’t breathe through all the fumes, I can sell your unfinished paintings to cover your funeral expenses.”

Brandon methodically finished the food in his mouth, then he wiped his face with his napkin. He stood up and said, “That’s all I really wanted. And they say parents don’t understand us kids.”

He picked up the uneaten half of the steak and put it in his mouth. He walked into the kitchen, stopped long enough to take a bottle of wine from the fridge and then headed back to his room.

Once inside, he dropped the steak on the floor and pulled off his shorts. He slipped into a pair of jeans then a hoodie and grabbed his backpack. He put the bottle of wine into the bag along with his painting supplies and ran back down the stairs.

His father watched him disappear into the night from the dining room window. He turned back to the empty dining room and sighed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Brandon approached Skaters Cabin carefully. It had taken him almost two hours to walk the five miles from his house to Mendenhall Glacier. And then another twenty minutes to circle the lake to Skater’s Cabin. And as the cabin dimly came into view, he could hear voices coming from inside.

He couldn’t see any cars parked out front so he assumed whomever it was, wasn’t old enough to drive. He relaxed a little. It was usually the older kids that gave him a hard time.

He couldn’t really hear what they were saying, so he decided to creep closer. He stayed in the shadows, which wasn’t hard as the sun had long dropped behind the mountains.

Skaters Cabin was a stone cabin that had been there for as long as anyone could remember. It wasn’t so much a cabin as it was a stone building with a blue tin roof. There was no door but the cabin had two entrances along with several opening for windows though there was no evidence glass had ever been installed.

As he moved towards the side of the cabin that faced the lake, he could see through the back door. He saw it was two boys, maybe sixteen or so. He couldn’t really see them clearly but now he could hear them plainly.

“I’m ready to go, come on Billy.”

“I still have a joint and since you already had your fun, it’s my turn now, Dylan,” Billy said with a chuckle as he held up a single joint.

“That’s the problem, I didn’t have any fun. She threw up on my fucking shoes and then passed out,” Dylan complained bitterly.

“That would explain why you still have a boner,” Billy said as he pointed at Dylan’s crotch.

“Why are you looking at my cock?”

“I like looking at cocks,” Billy said matter of factly.

“I told you, looking at my cock is just teasing yourself. I’m not into you like that,” Dylan said softly.

“I never said you were,” Billy declared loudly as he threw his hands up. “For me, let’s just stay a little while longer.”

“Did you see him? He didn’t leave her side all night,” Dylan replied angrily. “And you kept following him around like a lovesick puppy. It’s embarrassing, have some self respect. He’s not gay either.”

“Hey, it’s easier for you to find a hole to stick your dick inside, it’s a bit tougher for me to find a dick to stick in my hole.”

“You are so gross,” Dylan said in a disgusted tone.

Billy actually laughed loudly at that comment. “You didn’t think it was so gross when I jerked you off last summer.”

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Me neither,” Billy said with a chuckle.

Brandon could tell the two boys were good friends. Though it was a bit shocking that Billy had jerked the other off before.

“I will never understand why you like things up your butt,” Dylan declared as Billy threw his arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Because it feels good,” Billy said as he rested his head against Dylan’s cheek. “I’ll never understand how you can bury your face between a girls legs.”

“What kind of shampoo do you use, it smells good?” Dylan asked suddenly. “LIke coconut and strawberries.”

“I could let you use it tonight,” Billy said and then sniffed at Dylan’s hair. “You should use it.”

“What?” Dylan demanded as he ran his hand over his hair and then sniffed his hand. “My hair stinks?”

“When was the last time you washed it?”

“I wash my hair everyday,” Dylan informed him as he shoved the boy playfully.

Billy grabbed Dylan’s head and then buried his nose in the boy’s hair. “With what? Ball sweat and cigarettes?”

“Does it really smell that bad?”

“Maybe it’s all the cigarettes you smoked tonight, it makes you stink.” Billy teased him as pretended to punch him in the shoulder a few times.

“I don’t stink everywhere,” Dylan fired right back as he dropped into a boxing pose.

The two boys pretended to box for a moment and then Billy boldly asked, “Is that an invitation for me to find out?”

“I told you,” Dylan declared as he dropped his hands. “Last summer was just the one time. I’m not gay.”

“I know, you’ve said that many times,” Billy said as he leaned forward and nuzzled into the side of Dylan’s neck. He breathed deeply and said, “Well, your neck doesn’t smell.”

“No,” Dylan responded in a nervous voice. Then he giggled as Billy kissed his neck softly.

Billy walked around and lifted Dylan’s shirt about half way up his back. Dylan’s back was smooth, a few moles spread across the pale skin. Billy leaned forward and ran his nose along the boy’s spine.

Dylan shivered from the contact and was immediately covered in goosebumps.

Billy said softly, “This doesn’t smell either. Well, it has a smell, but not bad. It smells like you.”

Dylan had to stifle a moan as Billy ran his cheek down until it made contact with the waistband of his jeans.

Billy asked softly, “Do you want me to continue this experiment?”

Dylan shook his head and said honestly, “I’m not sure.”

“You started this game,” Billy reminded him as he ran his hands along Dylan’s sides. He grabbed Dylan’s waist and applied a bit of pressure as he said, “Turn around.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea right now.”

“Because you’re hard?” Billy asked in a husky voice.

He hadn’t really planned on seducing his friend but Dylan’s scent filled his nostrils and he didn’t seem able to concentrate on anything else. He had to fight the urge to bury his face between the boy’s cheeks to really capture the essence of his friend.

“Yes okay, you gave me a boner,” Dylan said softly. “Does that make me gay?”

“Nope, doing what I want to do to you makes one gay,” Billy assured him as he nudged the boy again to turn around. “You letting me do what I want to do only makes you horny. But don’t worry, my mouth is gay enough for the both of us.”

Brandon couldn’t tear his eyes away from this intimate moment even though he knew he should. It was one of the most erotic things he ever saw.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Dylan asked as he slowly turned around. But he did stand there proudly with his tented pants on full display.

Billy ignored the bulge for a moment as he raised Dylan’s shirt until it was just under the boy’s armpits.

Dylan was borderline skinny and so pale he almost seemed to glow in the semi-darkness. Billy ran his finger down the boy’s chest and stomach until it reached the top of the boy’s jeans.

Dylan’s cock jerked in his pants and Billy had the urge to bury his nose in the dusting of hair that was underneath the boy’s arms. Instead he ran his nose along the center of Dylan’s chest, inhaling deeply. “So far, you’ve been right on the money.”

Then Billy sniffed Dylan’s nipple right before he gently started sucking, biting and kissing it until Dylan began to squirm from the new sensations he was experiencing.

Billy chuckled for a moment and then buried his nose in the boy’s armpit.

Dylan yelped as Billy moved his nose back and forth in the light brown hair.

Dylan giggled and said, “That’s kind of gross.”

“Well, you said you don’t smell everywhere, I’m just being thorough.”

“I guess,” Dylan said with a quiver in his voice. Though now Dylan was looking down as Billy went back to sucking on his nipple. He grabbed Billy’s hair between his fingers and guided him to the other one.

But when Billy began to kiss his way down the boy’s stomach, Dylan stopped his head from progressing lower. Billy licked across the pale skin and asked breathlessly, “Do you want me to stop?”

“I don’t know,” Dylan admitted softly. “I like what you are doing. But if you go further, I would have crossed a line I’m not sure either one of us really want to cross.”

“I think when I buried my face in your armpit we already crossed that line. I just want to follow that line until I reach the buried treasure,” Billy admitted lustfully as he focused on the small bit of skin directly in front of his lips.

“I know what happened last summer was my fault,” Dylan said as he stroked Billy’s head softly. “But I won’t be able to return the favor. I can’t be gay.”

Brandon almost walked away. Though the boy’s didn’t even know he was there, he had a bad taste in his mouth as he spied on them.

“I wasn’t expecting anything in return,” Billy replied as he moved his head down another few inches. “Just like last summer, I didn’t expect anything then either.”

“Last summer I kind of made you jerk me off,” Dylan responded. “Now you’re offering to blow me.”

Billy chuckled and said, “You didn’t make me jerk you off. And I really want to do this, not for you, but for me.”

“Then what are you waiting for,” Dylan said as he guided Billy’s head to his crotch.

Billy growled as he cheek brushed against Dylan’s cloth covered dick. He knew he’d have to be careful. Dylan was already worked up from his earlier encounter with the girl and there was no way he was going to be robbed of getting every drop that he could. He quickly undid the boy’s belt as he kissed and sucked on Dylan’s lower stomach. He just hoped that his research was enough for both of them to be satisfied.

Dylan was beginning to squirm though he held lightly onto Billy’s head, he was not influencing the boy’s movement. He seemed to be enjoying running his fingers through Billy’s hair as much as he was enjoying the tongue bath the boy was currently giving him.

Billy undid Dylan’s pants and pulled them down a few inches. He was hit with a musky smell that was one part sweat, one part laundry soap, and part what he was quickly coming to associate with Dylan himself.

His eyes rolled back as he slipped the pants down a few more inches and saw Dylan’s pubic hair, untrimmed and filled with new smells. He pulled the front of Dylan’s briefs down and shoved his nose in Dylan’s bush.

“How does that smell?” Dylan asked curiously.

Billy looked up at Dylan who looked genuinely worried to hear the answer. He grinned and said, “Like the rest of you except more concentrated.”

“You’re weird,” Dylan said as he continued to softly stroke Billy’s head.

Brandon couldn’t look away. Though the feeling of being a creep covered him he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene playing out in front of him. He wondered if this was really the first time these two boys had done this or if it was some kind of game so it didn’t appear gay.

Billy turned his focus back to Dylan’s crotch. He caught his fingers in the waistband of Dylan’s pants and underwear to slowly pull them down to Dylan’s ankles.

Dylan’s dick plopped out and stood straight up bobbing back and forth. It wasn’t very long, slightly thicker than average, dark pink with the largest cockhead Billy had ever seen, flared and bright red in Dylan’s excitement. And nestled underneath were two of the smallest balls he had ever seen.

Billy had heard the expression all meat and no potatoes but he had never seen one, not even in porn. But Dylan’s dick was really like no other he had ever seen and with his untrimmed bush and hairy balls, his vision seemed to blur as he got closer to his prize.

Dylan didn’t move Billy’s head but he strengthened his grip by clutching Billy’s hair. His breaths came in gasps and Billy could see the boy’s balls tighten against his body. Dylan was so close and he hadn’t even begun to pleasure him. He feared that even a single touch would send the boy over the edge.

Billy looked up, Dylan was watching his every move intently. Billy smiled and then brought his nose to the boy’s balls and inhaled deeply. They smelled sweet with a hint of dried piss. He took both in his mouth and started to suck. Dylan moaned and spread his legs wider to give him better access.

Billy continued to suck until he felt the balls go slack again. Then he stretched out his tongue as far as he could and licked up under Dylan’s balls. Dylan’s eyes grew wide and a moan exploded from his lips as Billy’s tongue swiped across his hole.

“Oh god,” Dylan muttered as Billy ran his tongue over it again. “You know you’re licking my asshole?”

Billy stopped and said in a raspy voice, “I know, it’s amazing right.”

Dylan didn’t say anything, he just forced Billy’s head back towards his balls.

Billy was a bit disappointed that Dylan had zero precum leaking out. From his research about blowjobs, that was one thing that excited him about giving his first. He could already feel his underwear being wet as a steady stream soaked through his jeans.

“Out of everywhere, this is by far my favorite smell,” Billy said as he again buried his nose into Dylan’s balls.

This time he caught a whiff of Dylan’s hole and he lost all his control. He spun Dylan before the boy could do anything. Dylan tensed as Billy tried to spread the boy’s legs further apart. He said gently, “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to fuck you.”

Dylan allowed Billy to move his legs apart and then he even bent over slightly as Billy spread his cheeks to get his first look at Dylan’s dark pink hole. Billy reiterated, “Trust me, the only thing I want to put in your asshole is my tongue.”

“That’s so gross,” Dylan muttered but he bent over even further.

Billy chuckled and then plunged his face against Dylan’s cheeks until his tongue met the puckered skin. He started sucking and kissing around as Dylan began to moan loudly as he thrashed his head from side to side.

Dylan managed to say, “That feels fucking amazing.”

Then Billy shoved his tongue inside Dylan’s ring and the boy grabbed Billy’s head and tried to pull him closer.

“Oh fucking christ, why haven’t we done this before?”

Billy had yet to even touch Dylan’s dick and it was there, bouncing around as Billy reached underneath to caress Dylan’s balls. He figured it was time to give the boy some relief.

Billy again spun the boy around and Dylan’s dick smacked him across the face. Dylan grinned and sheepishly said, “Sorry.”

In one quick movement, Billy swallowed as much of Dylan’s cock as he could. But mixed with his inexperience and Dylan’s huge cockhead, he started to gag almost immediately.

But that didn’t stop Dylan from grabbing Billy’s head and start thrusting wildly as he chanted, “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

To stop himself from gagging, he grabbed Dylan’s hips with one hand and used the other to stroke up and down while maintaining suction as best as he could. But Dylan wrapped his fingers in Billy’s hair and tried to go faster. Billy choked and struggled to breathe out his nose as Dylan continued the frantic pace, like a piston going in and out.

Several times Billy choked and nearly threw up but he’d wipe his face and went back down. After a few minutes he felt Dylan’s body tense and he hoped he’d be getting his reward soon.

Dylan’s breath came in strangled gasps and he started bucking his hips forward as he tried to force more of his dick down Billy’s throat. Billy’s eyes filled with tears and he hoped it would be over soon. As he gasped for breath, he decided to try something he saw online. He felt around until he found Dylan’s asshole, he pressed in and suddenly Dylan screamed out as his orgasm tore out of him directly into Billy’s waiting mouth.

Dylan made some kind of weird noise as he held Billy’s head tight against his stomach as he continued to twitch. “Oh my god.”

Billy didn’t get to taste a single drop, Dylan blasted it straight down his throat. He started to see spots in front of his eyes and he frantically tapped Dylan’s thigh.

Dylan let go of his head and Billy fell on his hands and knees as he struggled to catch his breath. His lips were swollen, his eyes were filled with tears, and snot leaked from his nose. But as he sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth, he had a satisfied expression on his face.

Once Dylan stopped shaking he looked down at Billy’s smiling face. HIs cock, half hard and glistening, had a string of cum touching the ground. He took a deep breath and said softly, “Why’d you do that?”

Billy looked at his friend for a moment and then asked, “Any regrets?”

Dylan pulled up his pants and quickly buttoned them. “I don’t know. When you were doing it, it felt amazing but now I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t make you gay,” Billy said lamely as he ran his fingers through his short blond hair.

“I know that, I’m not like you,” Dylan said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “She made it home safe.”

Billy’s smile faded. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Dylan said sharply as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I know I’m supposed to be crashing at your place. But she wants me to come over.”

“You should go,” Billy said softly.

“If my mom calls, just tell her I’m sleeping or something,” Dylan said as he ran out of the cabin. He grabbed his bike and quickly disappeared from both their sights.

Billy stared after Dylan for a few moments. Brandon could tell the boy was crying. But after a few minutes, Billy jumped on his bike and took off the same direction Dylan had gone.