The following story involves homosexual characters, relationships, and acts; cataloging the fictional lives of people that do them. If this offends you, LEAVE. Your mind is far too dense to understand the story below anyway. As for the rest of you who have yet to venture from the page, I appreciate your time spent here, reading with curiosity and suspense, hopefully enjoying the story I have to offer. Questions, comments, and suggestions; if in good faith, are always welcome.

"Welcome, everyone, to Harrington High School. You are now all Harrington Hawks, and as a Hawk, you should learn to…"

Sean's attention tore from the speaker easily: the principle's voice droned to the point that Sean believed Al Gore's voice was less monotonous. His attention drifted around the room, to the faces and hairs and people and things he could pick out. His nervousness of being in an unfamiliar place got to him, and he fretfully ran his thin white fingers through his short, yet somehow still messy blonde hair.

"Thank you all for listening, and I wish all of you a wonderful freshman year here at Harrington High School."

"Hey Sean," someone said. Surprised, Sean turned; only to see another boy answer the long-haired brunette's call. "This is a new school," Sean thought to himself, "Nobody knows you here."

Sean walked home from Orientation with a plan to drown his troubles the way he always had- his beat-up acoustic guitar his dad had left him when he was born. He'd played it since he was small, since they'd never had the money for many toys or other fun things Sean could have been doing at a daycare center or the like. By 14, he knew all the notes, could play by ear and, while he couldn't read music, he could play almost any song you knew if he'd heard it before.

As for his dad, well, Sean had never seen him. His mom worked in a diner where they'd lived before, but they came to New Orleans when a man who was just passing through stopped to have a drink at the local bar where his mom would sing on Saturdays. He heard her voice and told her that his boss, who owned a casino there, would love her voice and would hire her to sing in the much classier venue; if only she would agree to move there. They found a small apartment outside the city, in Harrington, where Sean would be going to high school for his freshman year.

Sean's mom was home when he got home, she'd be working nights mostly as it was. The owner of the casino gave her a big contract that was supposed to bring them lots of money, but neither Sean nor his mom had seen a check yet. This was his mom's dream, though, so Sean was willing to be patient, and embrace the hope.

Sean's mom, Clair, saw the glum look on her son's face as he'd returned home from orientation. Sean had always been rather introverted and hard to reach, unless you knew how to reach him and get him to open up to you. The way she'd found to do that was through music. "Would you like to play some chords with me, Sean?" She asked the frown in the doorway, watching as the lips curved back upward.

"Sure," he said, color returning to his face, "What you wanna play?"

"Test me." She said. They would often sit and let Sean play a song, letting his mom guess what it was by beginning to sing along. The results when she guessed wrong could be pretty hilarious.

Sean went into his room to pull out the guitar, and sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter. Facing his mother, he began to play the opening notes to "Time After Time," a song his mother used to sing when he was little that he'd learned to love playing at an early age. It was always a perennial favorite when they were together.

"If you're lost you can look, and you will find me, time after time; if you fall I will catch you, I'll be waitin', time after time..."

His mother's young, pretty voice was ringing out pleasantly when the two heard a knock at the door. Sean wore a confused and slightly put-out look at their interruption, while his mother walked the two or three feet to the door and opened it; revealing a chestnut haired boy with a smooth complexion and golden tan sticking out of his Harington Hawks Football t-shirt. "Hi," he said nervously, his head turning down as his feet pivoted on the floor nervously. "I just wanted to say you guys sound really… um… good." Clair's warm, motherly smile fell across her face as she said "why, thank you very much. I'm Clair, and this," she motioned to the guitar-ridden blonde behind her, "is Sean, my son. Say hi, Sean."

"Hi, Sean." Sean replied with an evil smirk, eliciting a laugh from the tanned boy. His mother scoffed, and asked the boy in the doorway, "So what's your name?"

"Chris." He said. The word weighed on Sean, held him still; the small voice of the kid was addictive in its honey-like smoothness.

"Well, Chris," Clair said, "Why don't you come in for a bit? I've made some tea, and Sean and you can get to know each other. Would you two like that?"

"Yea, sure" they grumbled in half-hearted unison. Sean's mom was always trying to get him to surround himself with more friends, as quiet a boy as he could often be. Chris, on the other hand, was simply struck dumb by the whole situation- he'd come here not sure what to expect, but being welcomed in to the apartment of a hot blonde guy wasn't on his list of expectations.

Chris had known he was gay for a long time; he didn't hide it well but at his age kids in school were only beginning to catch on to his orientation. It wasn't like he flaunted it or rubbed it in peoples' faces. If his mom was ever sober and awake when he was home, she might have noticed; but she didn't. Chris was fairly self-sufficient, but was well aware that he could be living much better than he was. This knowledge made him wish scary things sometimes- wishing he'd had different parents, or wishing he could just run away someplace else. But at 12, its hard to find work, he knew that! So he stayed with his mom for the moment… always looking ahead, always watching the clock until he was older.

After several minutes of talking, and familiarizing themselves with their new neighbor, Sean and Chris were served red Kool-Aid in clear plastic cups, square ice cubes floating in a red sea of sugar-water. Both boys had already learned that they shared the same rather unpleasant background, as well as the fact that both of them managed to do well in school despite that. Sean's concentration waivered from Chris' words to his facial features. His eyes crept over the curves in his cheeks when he smiled at Sean, and he licked his lips at the butter-like quality of Chris' smooth skin. The pure-white teeth that showed when Chris grinned, Sean noticed, made artful contrast to his deeply tanned face. Suddenly, Sean noticed the lips purse and, vaguely as if though from far away, he heard "Did you hear me Sean?

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Sean stuttered in reply, "I got distracted."

"By what?" Chris asked, knowing the answer but wanting to watch the boy's reaction. He grinned sweetly at the boy again, for added effect.

"Um…" Sean stalled, squirming. Thankfully his mom entered and said, "Chris, do you like pizza?"