I was looking for some good gay fiction tonight and was deeply disappointed to find almost all of it was smutty sex stuff. So I thought, why can’t there be good gay fiction out there? So I took it upon myself to write a story tonight. Here it is. 🙂 Hope you all enjoy it.
Motionless
—
I was very fortunate to have him live nearby me growing up. His name was Michael. He moved into town when he was ten and I was nine. I remember the first time I saw him. He was alone and was calmly sitting in the tire swing in his front yard. It wasn’t swinging at all and Michael’s feet were flat on the ground. I ran across my yard and the neighbor’s yard to get to him. Michael turned to look at me, and then quickly turned his head away, all without disturbing the swing.
“Hiya,” I said. Looking back, I’m sure he thought I was an idiot, I was smiling so big. “My name’s Charlie. I live two doors down. Who are you?”
Michael didn’t say a thing. He just stared out across the street, his piercing blue eyes squinting slightly. His mouth was a perfectly horizontal line across his face and his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was deep in thought or looking for something. The sunlight glinted off his blonde hair and the side of his head rested peacefully against the rough rope of the tire swing, which – still – had not moved at all. And I remember, even at nine years old, thinking he was really a sight to behold.
I’m not sure if he didn’t hear me or if he chose to ignore me, but it ended up that he just sat there motionless until I decided to give up on him and go back inside.
I didn’t say our first meeting was at all promising. I simply said I remember it.
–
It took a while – well, years, really – for Michael to warm up to me. From time to time, I’d try to talk to him or make friends, only to be rebuffed every time. I think, maybe, he came to realize that pushing me away all the time was more trouble than it was worth. All I know is four years later, when I was thirteen and he was fourteen, there was a rainy day and then, the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was Michael, soaking wet and looking miserable.
“Michael?”
“Hi,” he said simply.
There was a pause. I was shocked to see Michael standing on my doorstep, ringing my doorbell, and I think Michael was shocked that he had somehow been forced to turn to me for help.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is it not obvious?”
I stood there silent for a few moments. I had forgotten that even though he had shown up at my door, it didn’t mean that he particularly wanted to be friendly.
I let Michael in and then ran to the bathroom to get a towel for him. You should have seen my mother cooing all over him when she saw how he looked. Michael explained that he had been locked out of the house by accident and his parents wouldn’t be back for a few hours.
“Well, you can stay with us as long as you like,” Mom said. I smiled at that. Then she looked at Michael and frowned. “Except you’ll have to change out of those wet clothes. I’m sure Charlie has some clothes you can borrow. Charlie, how about you take Michael up to your room and let him change into something dry?”
I nodded and took Michael upstairs. On the inside, I was excited. For so long I had wanted a chance to befriend Michael. Now fate had arranged it so that he was not only going to be in my room but also wearing my clothes. I tried not to come off as too happy. I’m certain I failed at that.
Michael entered my room and instantly sized up the place. “Wow, your room is clean.” It was true. I had always been a neat freak growing up. Didn’t like anything being out of place. I felt proud of myself. Then Michael turned to me. “So where are your clothes?”
I opened my closet for him. He looked through it and picked out some clothes. “Do you mind if I just throw my wet clothes on the floor here?”
“Sure,” I said slowly, not really thinking through what I was saying. “Go ahead.”
And then Michael began to take off his clothes in front of me. It did not occur to me at the time that it would happen. It did not occur to me at the time that I wanted it to happen. But I felt guilty. “I have to go downstairs really quick,” I said. I didn’t really need to. I just said it to get away.
He ended up sleeping over that night. I didn’t talk as much. I was still taken aback about the incident, taken aback by myself. To my surprise, Michael did talk though. And he talked a lot. I learned that he liked video games, that his parents argued a lot, and that he had an older brother who he actually thought was pretty cool most of the time. And I learned that he liked a girl. A girl named Debbie Stevens. I had never met her, but I could feel her name slip into my chest and wrap itself around my heart like a noose. Debbie Stevens. I turned over on my bed. I turned to face the wall. Debbie Stevens. Why had she even been born?
When we woke up the next morning, life was normal. Life continued to be normal for the next three years. Michael began to open up around me more. He no longer pushed me away. He came over to my house more often. Living two doors away probably had more to do with that than the fact that he preferred me over any of his other friends. But spending time together does wonders for a relationship. Pretty soon, I considered him my best friend. And I felt like I was his. No, I knew I was because I had asked him about it and he said yes – although he then qualified that statement by saying he had many best friends and didn’t think it was right to pick just one. Whatever. He had said yes to me. I was over the moon.
I heard Michael go on more and more about Debbie Stevens. I only had to endure it for seven months. They broke up. Somehow, I never did meet her. But she was soon replaced by a second girl who I did meet. Her name was Hayley Robertson. She was cute. I could understand while Michael was so excited about her. Hayley managed to break through my initial grudge and somehow even got me to like her. Hayley, Michael, and I – we were all of us friends. I still am good friends with Hayley, but I should point out that she is the only one of Michael’s girlfriends I had ever – ever – liked.
Fast forward to a year after Hayley and Michael broke up. I was with Hayley at a party. I couldn’t stand it anymore and I went outside. It rained. (Somehow, things always seem to happen when it rains.) I decided to just sit on the porch instead. Hayley came looking for me and found me there alone. We started talking. And then I felt like it was time. Somehow I managed to choke up the words to tell her. Our conversation was not even related to this – we were talking about fruit punch for some reason – but I told her anyway. “Hayley. I like guys.” Hayley looked at me, somewhat shocked, I think. She was searching for the words to say, I’m sure. “I’m glad you told me. This doesn’t change anything. You will always be the same Charlie Clemmons I grew up with.” Except we didn’t grow up together. It sounded like she was reading from a textbook. She was still breathing a little bit hard. I think she may have been taking the moment just as seriously as I was. Maybe that’s it; maybe she was just as confused as I was. But then she went back to being the Hayley I remember. “So then who do you like?” I could only smile. I was still too shy to say. Hayley was impatient. “Come on, Charlie! Tell me!” Finally, I whispered his name under my breath.
“Michael. I like Michael. I’ve liked him for years.”
It got around. I know it was Hayley’s fault. I remember seeing her a month later, crying and ashamed of how she had been so loose-lipped. She didn’t think it would be hurtful to me. I forgave her. I still do. I should’ve expected as much from her. But Michael – Michael never came back. And when I say he never came back, I mean exactly that. After a while, I never saw him anymore anywhere. He had disappeared. Hayley told me his family had moved and it had nothing to do with me. Maybe so, but the fact that he never told me about it made me angry. I thought we were friends. I thought he was better than that. Hayley gave me his e-mail address (which I obviously already had) and said I should e-mail him sometime.
Well, I did just that and he never responded. I sent him a second message and it was the same thing. A third time. Finally, I got a response. It was from his parents. It said that Michael was not capable of answering e-mails at this time and that I should stop trying to contact him. So I did.
Hayley told me later that she got a similar message. “Don’t take it personally,” she said. “It’s nothing against you, I’m sure.” I think Hayley was just an incurable optimist. Whether it was personal or not, the response didn’t stop me from thinking about Michael. It took about a year for me to find out what happened. You see, Michael – just last week – finally wrote me back. He doesn’t live at home anymore. He misses me. His older brother gives him some extra money from time to time to help him out. And he’s now in Nashville, Tennessee. I have no idea how he got there. We used to live in Oregon. He hasn’t told me that much, so I still don’t know what happened to him. All I know is he used to live near me and now he doesn’t.
I’m sad about that. I really am.
|
