well, i've stayed away from fictionpress for far too long. i apologize to all those of you still waiting on ghostings, rasta guy, and perfect uncle. but i haven't been writing on anything old for a while now. so sorry! i did start this one shot, as well as starting an rp with deepcrimsonfeenix, that we are looking to eventually publish into a book as well.

as of now, the rp is tentatively called Il Nostro Ballo Fortuito (Our Fortuitous Danceit's about an italian construction worker and a lovely male bellydancer. nice, ne?

this one shot was great to write, i enjoyed it quite a bit. and it's long to somehow make up for my lack of posting lately. heh.

beta'd by amindaya, a true marvel! (had it back to me in less than 24 hours, how awesome!)

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EDIT: oh fuuuuck, i totally forgot! this story is dedicated to the wonderful no name girl!!! dearest, don't hold it against me that i barely remembered, ok?!

sunday, 9 september, 2007. 4:55pm.

---

You know that weird kid in your family, the one nobody gets or altogether likes that much?

You know, that quiet and unobtrusive one who shows up when everyone gathers together, and he’s the one who has a toad in his pocket, but he doesn’t tell anyone unless they’re all, “Hey, whatcha got there?”

That kid is me.

Well, sort of. I’m quiet, yes, and unobtrusive, yes. And I have been known to catch toads and carry them around, yes. But I guess I never really thought I was so weird, just different. I knew I was different, because it was so blaringly obvious.

The rest of my cousins would laugh and cry and jostle each other around, running to and from their parents and knowing that they were wanted where they were. My mom and dad never wanted to know about me unless to make sure I wasn’t out in the street or setting things on fire or sticking dynamite to the neighbor’s dog, or the thousand and one things they used to say was wrong with “today’s youth.”

Not that they cared, but if I were to do any of those things, their parenting became public. Or lack thereof.

When I was fifteen, my parents divorced. My dad went off, assuming I was staying with my mother, and my mom went off, assuming I’d of course be staying with the man who couldn’t even bring himself to look at my grades when they came in the mail. My grades would come in with the rest of the mail, and the envelope addressed to them would sit unopened on the table for weeks, lost amongst the junk mail that accumulated often. I would pick through and find that letter, and I’d open it and see that I was doing ok, my grades mostly B’s with an occasional A.

But both parents left me behind. So I ended up at Grandpa’s.

Grandpa was Mom’s dad, and it wasn’t that he was mean, but he was stern and didn’t quite know what to do with me. He never had any boys, well, except for one who died when he was a little baby from that sudden infant thing, and he just had Mom and my aunt Denise, especially when my grandma died before I was ever born.

My first day there, I spent it outside, sitting up in a big tree out in the woods and just…listening to the wind, hoping it was telling me that it liked me, if only a little bit. When I came in for supper that night, we ate in silence except for the old radio up on the fridge, full of static and gently rolling out old songs Mom always called “dusty.”

I didn’t mind the music, and I didn’t mind our silence. I was used to being invisible, and for all that Grandpa never really talked to me a lot, I knew I wasn’t invisible to him. I think he liked my quietness, because he grew to linger in the living room when I would read there at night, the two of us quietly minding our own business together. He read the newspaper or various magazines, and I read my novels.

I rather liked living at Grandpa’s.

The local school was ok, and I got on fine with the other kids there, but I didn’t make any close friends, other than the few boys who would talk to me in class, or sit with me at lunch when their friends weren’t in school for the day.

For all that I spent a lot of my time alone, I was never really lonely. I just…existed.

--- --- ---

The summer between my sophomore and junior year, my aunt Denise and her husband, Harvey, decided that they were going to take a vacation somewhere in Asia, and that their son needed to get away from the big city and into the country. So, he came to spend the summer with us.

Ken was their youngest, his older sister and brother already out of home and away in college somewhere, but he was the same age as me, if not younger. By a month or two, I guess. We never shared birthday parties as kids, I could remember that much.

Grandpa didn’t really have a guest room, just the room my mom and my aunt used to share when they lived here, so that’s how come Ken and I ended up sharing the same room. Our twin beds were against different walls but not opposite, and he got the bed next to the door and not facing it, like mine was. I’d already been living in that room for close to a year, but my stuff was contained on my side and in my dresser, for the most part.

When he showed up, I was out in the woods, like always, so I didn’t know he was there until I came in for supper, sizing up this new person I only vaguely knew.

Ken was never really very close with me, and was certainly never my friend, but he was one of the cousins I actually liked, because he never made fun of me or ignored me, and had laughed like crazy the time I had a snake in my pocket and it escaped, causing nearly everyone around to freak and run around while I tried to crawl beneath the table to retrieve it. He thought it was a lot of fun, and had even held the snake for a while, the two of us grinning even though we both got tossed outside to release it back into the garden. Guess we were about eight or nine then.

The guy sitting at the dinner table was far from his nine year old self. At fifteen or sixteen, Ken was probably over six foot and solid all over, easily outweighing me by at least sixty pounds. I’m short, maybe five-foot-five, and I doubt I weigh more than a hundred-twenty, which is puny when you’re a guy. At least I already have to shave three times a week, and I know for a fact that while I’m short and somewhat thin, I’m not weak by any means. One of the guys from school was pissed off at the world one particular afternoon and thought to take it out on a nobody like me, slamming me into the lockers with a grunting snarl. I’d shoved back and followed the momentum until he was down on the tiles as I stood over him, wordlessly asking if he was still looking to fight me. Oh, I bet he was itching to, but he must have thought about it just long enough to remember how quickly he went from being in control to being flat on his ass, and he let me walk away without contest.

Ken tried to be friendly with me, at first, but my bewildered attempts to return his overtures for friendship only confused him, and he never understood it when I would disappear into the woods for hours at a time. It’s not that I purposely ignored him, but I was set into my routine and wasn’t sure just how to include him into it, not when he was more interested in watching television or heading into town to hang out with a few guys he met not long after coming here. And maybe they told him about how they didn’t know anything about me…I’m sure that when he mentioned my name, they’d looked at him and asked, “Who?” That’s if he bothered to ask, anyway.

-

After about a month, he brought one of his friends over to the house, a guy I’d seen in the halls at school. I was in the barn when they rode up on their bikes, chatting up a storm even as I stood at the open heavy-wood door and stared out at them.

I was curious and…jealous, yes.

Everyone knew what people said about Chase at school, about how he stared at guys in the shower and made passes like he was going to grab their dicks while in the locker rooms. He’d grin when people would rib him about it, and ask them if they thought they were missing out or something. I was jealous, yes, bitter and angry.

And when I watched them lean the bikes against the side of the house, I saw the way Chase touched my cousin’s shoulder, the hand that “casually” trailed down to rest at the small of his back for two or three seconds before pulling away.

Ken turned in mid-sentence and caught sight of me standing in the barn, his face lighting up as he called out, “Jackson! Hey, Jackson!”

Chase turned at the call, but I was already gone, grabbing my book from where it lay on the dusty-wooden floor. I ran out the opposite side of the barn, heart thumping with unnatural panic as I heard my name being called again. Ground and grass pounded beneath my bare feet as I ran towards the woods, rushing into the sanctuary of their thickness, tearing through a familiar trail of mine. I ran until I was sure I couldn’t be found without effort, and then I staggered over to a small fallen tree, slumping to the ground and pressing my back up against the tree’s solid form.

I was so jealous.

-

After a time, I ventured closer to the house, listening to the birds and squirrels chittering up in the trees as I quietly walked along, until I heard voices, low and masculine. Stalking the sounds, I finally stopped when I caught a glimpse of dark blue through the foliage; Ken was wearing a Notre Dame t-shirt.

The same jealously as before spurred me to glance upwards and around, spying a tree that might offer me just enough leverage. Tucking my book into the back of my pants, I circled the tree and decided for a covert approach up the backside, just in case. It was easy to hook my hands around the trunk and leverage my feet against its bark, pulling myself up the tree with practiced ease, and I reached an appropriate level in no time at all.

The foliage was thick enough that they wouldn’t be able to see me without really looking, but not so thick as to obscure the view I had of them, my judgment good about the vantage point. I’ve never spied on anyone before, not like this, and the rush was tingling along my spine as I leaned forward and attempted to make myself comfortable upon the thick branch on which I was perched.

I could see enough to know that Ken was grinning with laughter about something, his deep voice just barely carrying up to me, not enough to discern words. Chase was louder, but his words were ineffectual to me, so I chose to ignore them. The minutes passed as they horsed around a bit in the small clearing they were in, and I nearly grew bored enough to pull out my novel instead.

Until Chase closed the distance between them and kissed Ken square on the lips.

That’s when my heart crashed in my chest, my hand flying up to grip my shirt as my jaw became slack, watching Ken reach hands up as if to shove Chase away…before he relaxed and simply touched Chase’s shoulders, keeping him in place as he responded to that kiss.

No. No.

Tears blurred my eyes and I hid the sight from my view, cupping my eyes and cheeks with my hands to cry silently hot tears against my palms and fingers.

---

I remained in that tree long after they stopped kissing and left the clearing, quiet now after they walked away. I remained in the tree as darkness began to fall, my face tired and dirty from crying and my body aching from holding the same position for so very long.

Stars were beginning to dot the sky,visible through the leaves, when I finally slithered down the tree and put my feet to the somewhat soft ground. The darkness hindered my progress somewhat, but I took the time to think about my feelings, the way they stung and burned and chafed. It hurt so badly because it was wrong, of that I was certain.

Grandpa was going to be so angry that I missed supper.

When I reached the house, I first stopped at the back pump, running the tepid water into my hands as I scrubbed them together to remove dirt. I also scrubbed my wet hands up and down my face, ridding the traces of my tears from my skin. And when I finally entered the house, I locked the back door behind me, giving Grandpa the time to emerge from the living room and fix me with a sternly rebuking stare once I turned to face him.

“Supper is at seven, Jackson.”

“I know, Grandpa.”

“I am well aware of that fact. And since you were so ready to skip it, then I’m sure you’re also aware that the meal is gone and your belly will rumble regardless.”

My eyes drifting to the floor, I nodded and acquiesced, “Yes, Grandpa.”

With that, he snapped his newspaper against his thigh and left, heading into his bedroom, the only bedroom on the ground floor.

I went into the living room and found Ken watching television. “Dude, Grandpa was uber pissed you missed dinner. I thought he was gonna have a coronary and ever’thing.”

Unable to force a response from my mouth, to speak around my enlarged and dry tongue, I turned and lightly ran up the stairs just beside the living room, heading for our shared room. I threw myself onto my bed and felt my book digging into my spine. I pulled it from the back of my pants and curved it within my hands, feeling the pages graze the tender flesh of my palm. A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. I’ve read it nearly a million times, and this dog-eared version is testament to that.

“Jacky?”

I looked over to see Ken standing just in the door, his shoulder holding his weight against the frame as he looked at me with something akin to curiosity in his eyes. After a moment’s worth of him just staring at me, I looked down and checked my shirt, puzzled if I’d put it on backwards or gotten something all over it or somethin’ like that. But no, it was the same White Snake band shirt I once found in a box of my dad’s old college shit, and it wasn’t backwards or torn or even really dirty. Although, I did notice a few lingering bits of bark and leaves, which I brushed off as I do every day. My shorts were faded denim made soft through extensive wear, and there was nothing wrong with them either.

Finally, I looked at him and adjusted my glasses, “What?”

He drifted into the room and heavily threw himself down onto his bed, bouncing in place before settling half on his side and propped up by an elbow.

“Where were you today? After you ran from me in the barn.”

Glancing away, I riffled the pages of my book and offered a shrug. “Nowheres.”

“Chase is like, the only dude around here who seems to think you’re ok and not weird; I thought I’d bring him by so we could all hang out.”

Stung by the reminder of what I’d seen them do, as well as that reference to me being ‘weird,’ I frowned down at my book. “Chase is just a fucking whore.”

Shocked by the vehemence and cursing, Ken sat up and stared at me; “Why would you say something like that?!”

“He is! Everyone knows so, it’s all over school. And he kissed you, didn’t he?!”

All the color sped from Ken’s face, his mouth gaping before he spluttered, “N-no!”

“Liar! I saw him, you let him kiss you! He’s just…dirty!”

He still appeared to be having a nervous breakdown, but through it, he managed to find the gumption to spit, “Why the fuck do you care?”

Shocked, I pulled back into myself, my anger morphing into nervous pain; “Because…I liked you first.”

Silence fell after my confession, Ken beyond words or understanding what to make of it, what I’d said.

And we were saved from the painful awkwardness by Grandpa’s voice calling up the stairs, “Jackson, you have a phone call.”

“O-okay, Grandpa. I’ll be right down.”

My voice was normal despite the shaky beginning, and I stared at Ken a moment more before blushing, tearing my gaze away and silently sliding off my bed and out the room to go downstairs.

“It’s your mother. Maybe you can ask her what’s so important to be calling at ten-thirty at night, hm?”

His tone was severe, but I saw some flicker of concern in his eyes. Still, he gave me privacy as I went over and picked up the phone, standing in the middle of the kitchen as Mom’s cheery voice blared through the receiver and into my ear.

“Jack, baby, how are you?!”

“Fine, Mom. Why are you calling so late?”

“Whaa-at? Oh, I totally forgot the two hour time difference!”

She laughed, and my eyes fell towards the floor, my voice monotone, “Yeah, well, Grandpa thought it was something bad.”

“Oh, pshaw, that old dusty codge? He thinks the world’s going to end with every thunder storm.”

Her laughter made me cringe, and I swallowed the urge to yell at her for once in my life, to tell her to shut up, to carve her own voice box from her throat and jam it down the sink disposal. But I didn’t say anything, because she’s…Mom.

“So, Jack, um…you have a good birthday? It was this week, wasn’t it?”

“Three months ago, Mom, I turned sixteen.”

“Whaa-at?! That can’t be right! That would mean…oh dear, you’re out of school already. I’ll send you some money, Jack-baby, ok?”

I closed my eyes and nodded into the silent kitchen, “Sure.” I won’t see that money unless her boyfriend, Rick, remembers for her.

“So…what did you father send you?”

Father? Huh, I haven’t heard from him since I was dumped at Grandpa’s, and she knows it. The spiteful bitch.

“A check, Mom. Twenty dollars.”

She ‘tee-hee’d’ into the phone, eating up my fat lie, and my stomach clenched up tighter than it already was.

“That’s good, baby, real good. Um…well, I guess you didn’t know, but I married Ricky last month. Real pretty wedding; Hanna was the flower girl, and the twins were both the ring bearers. …I would have sent for you, but I was so sure you were still in school, I figured you were better off staying at Dad’s….”

Meaning she forgot about me. With her three ‘step-children,’ I doubt she has the time to remember the son she left behind.

“Yeah, I was busy. Sorry I missed it.”

I just couldn’t inflect feeling into my tone, so I didn’t even try.

“Well, that’s kind of the reason why I called…the wedding, I mean. Well, living with Rick and the kids, I mean. …Er, um…maybe you’d want to come live with us? Spend your…last two years of high school here in Arizona, what do you think? Rick thought it was a great idea, all of us living together…one big family….”

I didn’t want to live with her, I’d kill myself before willingly moving in…but I fought back tears, knowing that inside, she didn’t want me to live with her either. Rick wanted me to, and the man’s never even met me.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I managed to state, “No thanks, Mom. I’m settled in here, and me and Grandpa…we keep each other company.”

Her laughter was relieved, cheery all over again.

Fuck you, Mom.

“Ok, ok, if that’s what you want, baby. Oh shit, it’s the twin’s bedtime, I’ve got to go. Love you, Jackson!”

She hung up before I could respond, and I forcibly slammed the phone back into its cradle, shakily going over to the table in order to crumple down and place my head into my arms to silently cry, shoulders shaking from the force of my tears.

-

When I finally made my way back upstairs, the light was out and Ken was feigning sleep in his bed. I silently undressed down to my underwear and crawled into bed, rolling over towards the wall and dropping into sleep.

---

It wasn’t even dawn by the time I woke up and rolled out of bed the next morning. Ken’s heavy breathing came from his half of the room as I quickly stripped naked and pulled on a new set of clothing, wearing olive-green cargo shorts and another White Snake t-shirt that used to belong to my Dad. Pressing my glasses onto my face, I padded from the room barefooted, going downstairs and finding Grandpa sitting at the table with a plate of eggs and sausage as he read the morning paper.

There was more food upon the stove, and I quietly got into the cupboard and brought down a plate, loading it with just a little more than normal to placate the large rumbles from my belly.

Sitting down, I quickly dug in, and Grandpa waited until my pace slowed a bit to ask, “So, your mother called last night. What did she want?”

I swallowed; “She got married to Rick. He wanted me to come live with them.”

Somewhat surprised, he looked at me and asked, “And?”

I shrugged, keeping my eyes upon my plate as I loaded up my fork; “He wanted me to, not her. So I saved her the headache and declined.”

There was a long moment of silence, and when I looked up, his eyes were somewhat troubled as he steadfastly stared at the newspaper; his gaze never moved, and I knew he wasn’t reading. Still, neither of us offered up any more conversation, and I finished quickly and rinsed off my plate into the sink.

I went over and looked outside, where the sky was just beginning to lighten. “I’m gonna go to the river and fish a while.” I said this mainly to let him know not to expect me in for lunch, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to, I know he heard me just fine.

But when I went to walk past him, he cleared his throat; “Jackson.”

I stopped, turning to look at him. He struggled for the words; “What…whatever it was I did to make Anne turn out like the…utter bitch that she is, I’m sorry. I’m…proud of you, son.”

I was stunned, and he glanced away, voice somewhat brittle and showing his age more than anything else ever has. “I know it don’t mean much to kids these days to hear that sort of thing, but…it’s the truth. I…like having you here.”

My hand reached out and touched his, gripping the back of his hand, feeling its thinner skin and bones than my own; “It does mean a lot. I like it here too.”

His smile was warm, probably the warmest smile ever given to me on purpose, and my grin was wide even as I pulled away and left the house through the back door.

The fishing equipment was in the shed attached to the house, and I had to move Ken’s bike from in front of the door before going inside, utilizing the flashlight kept upon the shelf just inside. I quickly found my fishing rod and the pail for bait and another for anything I might catch. I replaced the flashlight on the shelf and closed the door behind me before following the faint trail I’d made through the woods to the river.

The grass was damp with the morning dew beneath the soles of my feet, making my toes go numb before I was close enough to hear the water gurgling, but I didn’t mind. I never do. I followed the river to one of my favorite fishing spots, and I set my rod and one bucket aside to go dig for some long night crawlers, the best to use for bait.

Using a stick I pulled up from the nearby brush, I quickly dug into the soft and damp soil along the river bed, unearthing plenty of worms to keep me going for a while, my fingers damp and gritty from the dirt, and mildly sticky from handling the worms. Picking one squiggling worm from the mess of them I’d amassed, I cleanly speared him onto my hook and set my line out into the water, satisfied with the arc and depth of the swing.

I then settled down into the dampness to wait, not caring at all that the seat of my pants would be stained. Not that anyone around here cares what I look like.

--- --- ---

By the time the sun was up and burned the dew from the grass, I’d caught two small river trout and even an average-sized bass. I debated in setting free the trout and keeping the bass, but that was a measly addition to any supper table, so I figured I’d wait a few more hours and see what turned up. It wasn’t really the right time for the fish to bite, but there was no harm in waiting anyway.

It gave me plenty of time to rethink Mom’s phone call from the night before, and the bitter sting rose anew. Guess a guy must be pretty horrid if even his mom wants him to stay away from her; at least she used to pretend to care, sometimes.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I didn’t fight them, allowing droplets to well up and flow down my cheek until they became frigid on my chin and neck. Pulling my knees up to my chest and looking at my feet, my being miserable was only further flamed by the ache in my throat and the uncomfortable wetness on my face.

-

It was too late when I heard the footsteps, turning my face to see Ken cautiously approaching; he paused at the sight of my tears, and I ducked my face and surreptitiously wiped my palm across my cheeks and eyes.

“Hey, um…Grandpa said you were out fishin’ so I just thought I’d….”

I didn’t respond, just ducked my head further against my knees, eyes staring out at the somewhat clouded water of the river. He hesitated and nearly left, but instead came over and quietly sat next to me…but not too close, no. There was a good three feet between us, and my brow crinkled in supreme bitterness.

“Hey, you’re not…because of me, are you?” His voice was low and unsure, and I curtly shook my head, my eyes scrunching up tighter than before as I was overcome with the returning fire of tears.

“If it ain’t that, then how come you’re…?” He was concerned. Of course he would be, Ken was a great guy, one of the reasons why I…love him.

My fingers tightened against my jean shorts, digging into the sides of my knees as my shoulders hunched. My voice came out throaty and hoarse, “Mom called me last night.”

“Oh…but ain’t that good?”

The poor dope doesn’t know what it’s like not to feel happiness when a parent calls; every time his call, he walks on cloud nine for at least an hour or two.

“S-she got m-married, and h-he wanted me to live with them. But she didn’t, she doesn’t want me…neither of them want me! Nobody does!”

I couldn’t help the wretched sobbing that welled up, my whole body spasming as tears spurted from my eyes and blotched the denim of my jeans.

Somehow, he got over his discomfort of being close to me by scooting over and putting a heavy arm across my jerking shoulders, his voice low, “Awww, that ain’t true. Grandpa must like ya an awful lot to let you live here. Remember Carl David, that petty asshole? Um…Aunty Gina and Uncle Vincent’s kid? They were going to ship him out here, and Grandpa refused, said he didn’t want a foul-mouthed punk living with him. But he took you, no questions asked.”

I let out a strangled laugh, and he rubbed my shoulders a bit; if it were anyone else touching me, I’d have shoved them off and run away. Or punched them in the nose. But it’s Ken, my Ken, and so I let him comfort me, wistfully drawing as much touch as I could. Before he remembers how creepy I am, managing to fall in love with my own cousin.

Once I stopped crying, he pulled away, but the three feet between us became just one, his shoulder companionably right next to mine as he stared out at the water. After a time of non-conversation, his gaze drifted down to his feet, and then, in contrast, to mine.

My skin is browned gold from the summer sun, and my feet are just as dark, if not darker, than everything else. They’re tough and scratched and calloused from going without shoes except for whenever I can’t help it. Ken is tanned, sure, but lightly enough to be mere vanilla compared to me. And he’s always wearing his high top sneakers with low cut socks, and when he takes both off, his feet have a fish-belly white skin color. It’s always made me wonder if his ass and dick area are the same white, or if they’re even whiter than that.

Above all else, Ken wears a shoe size probably five times bigger than mine, and the difference is easy to see when we sit so close. He’s taller than me, bigger than me, but he’s gentle and kind and funny, and I’ve started fantasizing what it’d be like to sit with my back to his chest, nestled between his legs as he holds me, wanting just to hold me forever. How stupid of me, no?

As if he followed my train of thought only up to the comparison of shoe size, he wiggled his feet and looked at me, a silly little grin on his face.

“What?”

“Oh come on, it’s funny, ain’t it? Our moms are sisters and look so much alike, but lookit us, we’re different and shit. Why are you so small?”

That stung more than it should have, and I snapped back, “Why are you so big?”

Blinking, he sobered a bit as he replied, “Because Dad’s a behemoth, I guess.”

Silently, he held up his hand with his fingers outstretched, presenting his palm to me. I frowned with confusion before slowly holding up mine to match, putting them closer together and seeing that my hand was dwarfed dramatically compared to the huge paw of his.

Without speaking, he guided his palm against mine and curled his fingers downwards, locking our hands together in a way that made my heart and breathing stop, my eyes wide and somewhat pained.

“Ken, I….”

The warmth of his hand stole my words, the somewhat scared look in his eyes making my stilled heart painfully thump back to life. My body went numb everywhere except for my hand; that extremity was alive with fire, fire spilling from his hand to mine.

“I’m…always in awe of you, Jack. You’re crazy amazing and strong, so much stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. I used to wish you weren’t my cousin, so I’d never have met you to be so…intimidated. You make me feel small.”

His words were soft and honest, and I thought my vision would begin swimming; his grip on my hand was the only thing keeping me up, it was my lifeline. My anchor.

“How can someone like me be…like that?”

My whisper was unsure, and he offered one of his smiles. “You just are. You remind me of Grandpa; you don’t answer to anyone but you, your eyes see things differently. Guess that’s why I’ve always admired you, Jacky.”

I pulled my sweaty hand from his with a small grin, butterflies in my belly as I worked out the crick in my knee before standing, reaching out for his hand so that he could pull himself up as well, which he did without asking why. I left the fishing gear where it was, the pole anchored well in the crevice of an old fall tree as I turned and lead him away from the river, heading for a spot that nobody else knew about…or cared to know, at any rate.

It was a somewhat large clearing within a huge clump of thorn bushes, the foliage thick and somewhat uninviting; I only found out about the clearing because I’m foolish and stubborn and pigheaded. I tore myself bloody that first time, but I soon devised a route inside, and it was this which I lead him through when we reached the thicket. He didn’t ask where we were going, but he offered low musings from time to time about this plant or this tree or what type of mushroom had been growing on it.

The clearing was difficult to see until you were practically in it, and Ken stumbled a bit before he realized that it was the end of our walk, that we’d reached our destination. I stood there as he looked it around, eyes wide as he wandered the circumference of the rough circle before he looked back at me, grinning.

“This is wicked awesome, Jacky! Is this where you run off to?!”

I shrugged; “Sometimes. I come here and read, and sometimes I just climb trees and stuff.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to mention all the times I had reached this clearing and stripped naked, reveling in the sinful pleasure of being nude while outside, in the middle of a harsh thicket where no one could ever see me. I’ve masturbated in this clearing, even since he came to stay with us. I would kneel on the ground and my fist would fly as I gave voice to my growing vexation, to my needs and wants for my cousin. I didn’t say any of that to him though, because even for me, it sounded weird. And creepy.

Still, he didn’t rebuke me when I sidled up close to him and shyly took his hand into my own once more, glancing up at his face and seeing that same uncertain fear from before, coupled with a not-so-secret desire. He wanted me.

So I moved in front of him and reached up, standing on my toes as I curled a hand to the back of his head and tugged him downwards. He didn’t resist, easily meeting me halfway with an otherwise unsure kiss, lips touching mine and becoming stiff. I moved my hand to the side of his neck, gently stroking as I kneaded his lips with my own, wanting him to kiss me back and save me the embarrassment of being forced to admit what a fool I am.

He relaxed with a nearly-inaudible sigh and returned the kiss, and then went one further by parting his lips and slipping his tongue up against my mouth. I sighed, soft and wavering, as I obediently opened and pulled his tongue in against mine, already initiating a demanding pace for our kiss that had him giving a low groan from the back of his throat.

I had to break it eventually, my calves quivering from holding myself up on my toes for so long, and my legs actually gave out on me, sending me down to the ground in a rough slump. He dropped to his knees before me, reaching out to see if was ok, but I offered a smile in reassurance.

“You’re too tall.” I teased, and he blushed, but shot back, “And still growing.”

I groaned somewhat, “God, I hope not, I’ll need a stepstool!”

That gave him serious pause, looking at me and realizing that I meant it exactly how it sounded; “You want…to be together.”

Surprised, I looked at him, “Course I do…don’t you?”

He pulled back some, looking away and obviously a mess of thoughts and feelings. “I don’t…know. That’s kind of…we’re cousins.”

Bitter, I demanded, “Oh, so you can kiss me as a lover one minute and then just be my cousin the next?!”

He didn’t respond, his face turned downwards and flushing a mottled red.

“You should have just left me alone!”

Flinching, he finally looked back at my face and saw my angry hurt, the tears that were threatening to spill over. Somewhat overwhelmed and frustrated, he stated, “There’s a difference between kissing somebody and fucking them! Of being boyfriends with your own cousin!”

“If you didn’t want it, you shouldn’t have touched me.”

My voice was thin and on the cusp of breaking; I felt fragile, one quick breath and I’d snap in half.

“I never thought you’d let me.”

He was sorrowed, shoulders slumping downwards, and I reached out with unsteady hands to touch his face, causing his gaze to meet mine. We shared a long moment of indecision before something gave way in his eyes, and I wasn’t startled when he chose to close in and resume kissing me, tongue heated as I sucked it into my mouth.

One of us moaned and the other answered, needy and passionate, and I finally allowed myself to touch him, to touch his chest and arms and shoulders, causing him to shudder.

The one boyfriend I’ve ever had didn’t like that, he used to bat my hands aside except for when he was too far gone to care. I’d been stupid with him, accepting the one-sided limitation of touch, because he used to touch me all the time, inappropriate caresses in public. Even during class, he once reached out and grabbed my ass, loving to see me blush and get angry. He talked me into anal before I was ready for it, before he even knew what he was doing, angry when I’d gone soft due to the harsh invasion and lack of pleasure.

I could see myself lying beneath Ken, being fucked by him, of crying out in orgasm as he thrust up inside of me, his voice in my ears telling me he loved me.

His larger hands settled on my shoulders, fingers kneading, shocking me at how…aroused just that bit of touch made me, my gasp high and somewhat embarrassingly girlish. His chuckle met my ears, and it wasn’t derogatory, just amused, and I tugged him forward against me, demanding and aggressive. Shocked, he went with it, pressing forward until I happily went backwards, ending up nestled beneath his wanted bulk as I sighed and arched against him.

“Jacky….”

He was wavering and unsure, but I stopped his words with another kiss, hot and wet, and he moaned and relaxed against me, allowing my heels to come up and pressed at the backs of his legs. I curled and curled and still felt like I could place more of him against me, touch more, needing more of him.

“I love you.”

He stuttered only briefly before giving a shaky laugh; “I’m terrified of you, Jacky, terrified to be with you, terrified you’ll swallow me up. But…I’m pretty sure I love you too, man.”

I smiled, still attempting to press myself into Ken, as if we could merge and become one person, two persons inhabiting one body.

“You don’t think I’m weird?”

He again laughed, looking down at me with affection, “Jacky, you’re weirder than a foot fetish.”

I grinned and snaked a hand between us to touch his belly as my hip ground up against his groin, causing him to flush and give out a low moan, his body hunching before he thrust downwards. Sparks ignited, and I panted, sweat cropping up all over my body as I grew closer to that feeling of flying.

Lust. Love. I needed Ken.

He didn’t protest when I fumbled at the closings of my shorts, lifting his hips up before he sat up and jerked at his as well, actually removing both his shorts and underwear, not shy before me as he helped me to peel mine free of my legs. Hands touched my thighs and then moved upwards, teasing my cock before actually firming their hold, causing my back to arch as I gave a low cry.

I rolled my back upright, startling him as I quickly said, “Lay back!”

He did so, and I clambered over his thighs, situating us so that I could hold our cocks together in both my hands, rubbing gently but sending fire licking at my nerve endings. He groaned as if skewered, hips rising up, twitching as he was pushed too far, too fast, and he fell over the edge, his voice guttural as he came against my fingers.

I was still hard when he resumed some sense, and he panted and motioned me further up, and I slowly crawled along until crouching above his upper chest, my lips parting in awe as he took my erection into his mouth and gently stimulated it with his tongue.

It was too much, and I shuddered, moaning, jerking as he accepted my taste into his mouth and down his throat.

Finally pulling from that sweet suicide, I backed off a bit, still crouched over him as I ran fingers through his hair, smiling. My glasses were haphazardly slipping down my nose, and he teasingly pushed them up with a finger, his other hand hotly nestled just above the curve of my ass, burning me with his touch.

“I do love you,” I murmured, and he blushed.

“You really are going to swallow me up and devour me whole,”he responded, almost serious, but looking as if he was rather looking forward to it.

We spent the afternoon quietly, lying side by side, half naked in the middle of a thicket. His hand found mine and didn’t let go. Not until after we’d recovered my fishing equipment and were nearly to the house.

--- --- ---

The summer passed quickly. Ken and I spent as much time together as possible, but we still left time for ourselves; I’d read up in a tree and he’d go into town, both of us hiding the nugget of our secret in our chests and minds.

If Grandpa knew, he never let on, even though I caught him looking at us sometimes, face blank but his eyes somewhat musing.

Both of us felt the looming darkness of our separation as summer grew to an end, and Ken didn’t stop me from coming over to lie in his bed with him some nights, our silence heavy as we lay in our under-shorts, passion dormant.

-

I felt his growing anxiety in the way he touched my ribs while we shared kisses, in the tenderness of his cock invading me while we were in our thicket, in the dark and unused loft of the barn, or by the river. We never had sex in the house, because…that was Grandpa’s house, it didn’t seem right to consummate our secret that way, not in his home and without his knowledge.

-

We sneaked outside one night to look at the stars, quietly sitting atop the hood of Grandpa’s truck. I tucked myself in-between Ken’s legs and leaned against his chest, his arm curling around my front and possessively holding me against him. I looked up and back, and we shared a brief kiss before turning back to look at the sky, pointing out constellations.

I’m pretty sure I felt eyes on us from the house.

--- --- ---

“Ken?”

“Mm?”

Fingers grazed their way through my dark hair, and he looked down at me, my head lying in his lap and resting on his crossed legs. I had been reading out loud from one of my books, but had eventually stopped, setting the book aside and looking at the privacy of our hidden clearing.

His parents are coming to pick him up tomorrow afternoon.

“You’ll still be my boyfriend, even if we don’t see each other, won’t you?”

His eyes were sober as he replied, “Yeah.”

But then he smiled, somewhat teasing but mostly serious, “So you’re not allowed to fall in love with anyone else, k?”

I laughed, stretching and pressing into his groin. “As if.”

He bent down and just barely managed to brush a kiss against my mouth before he had to pop back upright, and I teased him for being too tall even as I sat up and turned around, leaning forward for a proper kiss. Tongues flashed, and he pulled me into his lap once more, my legs curling around his back as I rubbed our clothed groins together. His hand freely wandered down to my ass and groped, thumb and fingers squeezing and kneading enough to send sparks of raw lust deep inside me.

“Wanna…?”

My breathless question made him groan in agreement, and it wasn’t long before we were naked, Ken’s shirt beneath his bare ass as he slicked his cock with some smuggled lube from the drugstore in town. He’d bought condoms that day as well, but we’d only used them once and never again.

Maybe we were stupid that way, but we were sixteen, horny, and in love. Happy.

I resumed our earlier position, sitting in his lap, filled by him. My breathing was quick and jerky, and he kissed me gently, kissed my neck to calm me back down, to pull me from the edge of orgasm.

This is our last day together, free.

Once moving in tandem, our passion lasted for over an hour, exhausting us, but we were happy.

--- --- ---

Ken had his bags ready when his parents pulled into the drive, the two of us looking from the upstairs window, in the room we shared for three months. The one that housed our secret as lovers for two months out of three. Not nearly long enough, not to us.

I could see his happiness of seeing his parents again, but it was tempered with the same gut-wrenching sorrow that I felt myself. Still, I put a hand on his arm and smiled, and he pulled from the window and swept me into a tight embrace, his arms pulling me into his chest as he tried to absorb us into inhabiting the same body.

Aunt Denise and Uncle Harvey didn’t want to stay long, as they had another two days of driving before they arrived back home. So Ken nodded a casual good-bye, his eyes refusing to look at me for fear our secret would come tumbling out, and then they were gone.

Gone.

I didn’t care what Grandpa knew or thought as I flew from the back door and into the woods, hiding myself in my grief until darkness had fallen, supper long past. But a plate waited for me on the table when I let myself into the house, the light above the stove left on for me. I was done crying, but felt my throat tighten, knowing he understood.

Looking up, I saw a faint line of light from beneath his bedroom door, when he should have been asleep hours ago, and I stood and went over to his door.

Knocking lightly, I simply called, “Night, Grandpa.”

There was a pause, and then his voice, “Night, Jackson.”

And the light clicked off, and I went and ate my dinner, my chest lighter.

Maybe I’m the weird kid in my family, the one nobody understands. But I’ve found love and acceptance within it, more than I ever thought I would. And as I was washing my plate in the sink, the phone rang, startling me.

“Hello?”

“…Hey, Jacky.”

“Ken, how’d you know I’d be up?”

He somewhat snickered, “Figured you’d run off and come crawling in late.”

“Bastard.”

My lips curved upwards, and he laughed.

“I can’t talk long, I’m on a payphone. I just thought of something, and had to call.”

“What?”

“You’re not my boyfriend, ok? You’re my lover, you’re my partner. So you can’t,” he swallowed around the thickness that had built in his voice, “you can’t move on. I love you, Jack.”

I snickered gently; “You boob. I knew that.”

“I know, but I just…had to say it,” he whispered, “Saying it makes it real, makes it like magic.”

Smiling, I stated, “I love you.”

“Love ya’…oh shit, I’m out of change. I’ll write!”

And the line went dead, and I leaned against the counter.

Happy.

--- --- ---
--- --- ---

Two months before my senior graduation, Grandpa went to bed one night and never woke up. I was eighteen, alone, and the sole beneficiary of Grandpa’s house and holdings.

Nobody in the family protested the will, except that my Aunt Denise asked if she could have her mother’s things, her jewelry and some of her furniture that Grandpa had kept through the years. I acquiesced, and she drove a truck to come pick them up.

I didn’t expect anyone else, but I still waited by the front door the entire day she was meant to come in, my chest thudding as the vehicle pulled into the driveway and parked.

Aunt Denise dropped from the passenger side of the truck and waved at me as I came out onto the porch, but I was riveted by the young man exiting the driver’s side, his eyes catching mine. Denise came into the house, disappearing off to use the restroom, but Ken remained by the truck, as if stuck there.

He’d gotten even taller during those two years, nearly six feet and a half, but I’d only grown two inches and hadn’t gained any weight at all.

I finally stepped from the porch and slowly made my way across the front yard until standing before him, looking up and feeling sun glint from my glasses.

“You’re too tall.” I quipped, and like a brilliant flash of lightning, his grin spread across his face, and he pulled me to him, my face buried in his chest. And the tears came then, my fears and loneliness, pain at losing the man who’d cared for me for just three years of my life.

“Hey, whatcha crying for?”

His whisper was soft, and I choked, “Ever’thing.”

His hand smoothed the back of my head, fingers carding through my hair in a familiar caress; “You’re as weird as a foot fetish.”

I laughed, and pulled away, wiping my face and turning to go inside. He followed me all the way to the porch, until I was on the second step, and he grabbed my wrist to cause me to turn, where I was surprised to see that we were on eye-level.

Grabbing my face, he pulled me into a kiss, and I melted against him, tilting my head to accommodate our desperate rekindling. I’d never fallen out of love with him.

“You ate me up and devoured me, Jacky….”

His breath was warm against my mouth, and I grinned.

“Only because you let me.”

He laughed and finally pulled back, taking my hand into his own; “Mom knows.”

Only momentarily startled, I nodded, and we went inside as lovers.

---

A/N: love, love, love love love loooove. -pwt's

anyway, glad you stuck it out 'til the end. i've been writing some sweet fics lately! mad crazy, huh? don't worry though, i'm cooking up an idea for something unsettling and most probably graphic/macabre. we'll see if i get around to writing it. lol