All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at:
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PJ
D'n'M Part 4
From Chapter 20:
"Goodnight Grey. Thanks for ..., well, just thanks." There was no reply so Milo rearranged the blanket, adjusted his still slightly sticky dick and settled himself in preparation for going back to sleep. Not surprisingly sleep was a long time coming. Now that he'd spoken aloud about the cross-roads he was facing there was no way his mind, either half of it, would let him just close his eyes and sleep. Unfortunately, neither half could provide any sort of help in choosing the right course of action. Oh yes, it was obvious which branch of the fork in the road Milo was going to have to take but there was no Lonely Planet or Rough Guide to give advice on how to take the first steps along it. And after all, with broken ribs and a busted leg, he wasn't going to be going anywhere for quite some time so maybe he could stop thinking about it and put off, at least for the next few hours, having to do anything about what he knew he was going to have to do.
Chapter 21:
Milo kept being told that he was young and strong and healing better and faster than anyone expected. That may well have been true, but as far as he was concerned, the whole healing process was taking way too long. You might think it would be a teenager's dream situation, lying in bed all day, with other people running around, anxious to provide for your every need. Well that was okay for three or four days, five tops, after that it all became totally lame and frustrating. Nearly a week after the surgery, and once he had proved that he could manoeuvre himself around in a wheelchair without being a danger to anyone or anything in his path, he was allowed home, where his dad's downstairs den had been converted into a bedroom and an agency nurse named Amy had been hired for the days when Gerry had no choice but to be in the office or away on site somewhere and therefore unable to care for his boy.
Once it became clear that Milo was about to get the go-ahead to be released from hospital Dan had suggested to his parents that they should offer to help out by having Milo come and stay with them for the duration of his convalescence. Helen kicked that idea into touch straightaway, explaining that, with her and Roger out at work most days and Dan in school, Milo would be no better off at the Reed house than he would be in his own home. Although he could see the sense in the decision, Dan had, at first, been not at all happy with his mum's embargo but then, having thought about it some more, he realised that she had, without knowing that she was doing it, saved him and M from disaster.
Living with M 24/7, Dan realised, would be agony in every imaginable way. How could he possibly have M so close and not have his feelings for him become even deeper and more intense? And then how would he resist the temptation to own up to those feelings? Or even worse, accidentally reveal them? And even if he could manage to cope with that, just how painful would it be to be asked, as he was bound to be asked, to help M with personal stuff like using the bathroom and taking a shower - seeing him naked, touching him in the most intimate of ways? Of course he would want to do those things for his best, his closest friend, but now that he knew that his feelings for M were way more than those for a best friend, he really didn't think he'd be able to handle the pressure. How would he resist the desire, a desire that he knew would build up inside himself, to go too far, touch too intimately or in some other way take advantage of the situation? And even if he somehow, by some miracle or superhuman power, managed to avoid falling into any of those traps, just how agonising would it be to have Grey come to visit, maybe every day? To see them together laughing, exchanging looks and smiles, touching, sharing conversations that didn't include him? No, every one of those scenarios had disaster written all over it. So thank fuck for his mother and her good sense. Once again she'd saved his butt.
Once back at home, Milo's days soon took on a predictable pattern of eating, sleeping, physio-therapy and school work, while his late afternoons and evenings were reserved for hanging-out and video-gaming with friends. Any `spare' time was given over to Skype and/or FaceTime and keeping up with social media. He had no time to be bored. Gerry made sure to touch base with Milo each morning and evening if it was a working-away-from-home day and more often if he was home-based, though he made sure he didn't get in the way of school work or physio. The school work mostly came via Dan although there were occasional on-line learning sessions available for extension activities and collaborative research tasks.
There was a pretty much constant flow of friends calling in, either after school or throughout the day at weekends. Swimming team-mates were in the majority but Milo was surprised and secretly pleased to discover that a good number of his classmates were happy to spend an hour or more hanging-out. It was Dods who eventually pricked the `Mr Popular' bubble by pointing out that Nurse Amy was blessed with a spectacular pair of tits, an irresistibly curvaceous butt and legs to die for. It was deflating, to say the least, for Milo to discover that it definitely wasn't his wit and sparkling personality that provided the incentive to call by!
D, of course, visited every day, sometimes appearing both before and after school. Naturally he was the person that Milo most wanted to see and hang-out with but, until he'd found the courage to finally admit his true feelings, he was also the one who he didn't trust himself to spend too much alone time with. What surprised him was that D, too, seemed most comfortable when there was at least one other visitor, unless that visitor was Grey.
In quiet times during the day and virtually every night in bed before falling asleep, the two halves of Milo's mind wrestled with how, exactly, and when, D was to be told. One half argued that they should maximise the sympathy vote potential, doing it sooner, while Milo was still obviously struggling with the aftermath of the hit-and-run. The other half was all for waiting, arguing that Milo would need to be fully fit and on top of his game, able to cope with whatever fall-out there might be from the big reveal. Milo himself, caught in the middle of this endlessly repeated cycle of debate, sometimes favoured the `let's do it now and get it over with' line of argument but at other times preferred the notion of putting it off for as long as possible in the hope that D would finally hook up with some girl or that he, Milo, would fall madly in love with someone else. Grey repeatedly made it clear that he was at the front of that particular line. The end result of this circular indecision? - no conclusion was arrived at, at least, not one that hung around for more than five minutes before evaporating away.
Two weeks after getting back home and three after the hit-and-run, Milo's ribs were pronounced healed' which meant the green light for him to progress to crutches. Fantastic. Finally, he could get himself to the bathroom and, after a couple of days of trial and error, manage to take care of business unaided. Even though there had never been any danger of Nurse Amy causing little' Milo to get excited it was still majorly embarrassing to rely on her to deal with the demands of his most basic bodily needs. He had very quickly knocked on the head any suggestion that she should help him in the shower, insisting that that was a job for his dad. If Gerry wasn't available Milo chose to remain unwashed rather than ask D - it would be just too big a risk - and he fervently hoped that he was a good enough actor to successfully conceal his reluctance to have his best friend's help. A few times, when his dad was away for two or three days at a stretch, Milo got Dods to help him out and that had the added benefit of providing much-needed opportunities for Milo's membership of the Cum Brotherhood to be maintained, something Dods was only too happy to supervise.
From crutches it wasn't long before the doctor okayed the use of an orthopaedic support boot and walking stick for moving around inside, along with the hint that if the current level of progress was maintained, and if he stuck with the physio and exercise regime, it wouldn't be long before a return to school on a part-time basis could be considered. This was brilliant news -- sort of. It was great that there was the prospect of a return to something approaching normal life but not so great in that it brought ever closer the moment that could be avoided no longer, when the bullet would have to be bitten, when the truth of Milo's feelings for D would have to be owned up to.
Lying in bed (where else) on Sunday morning, the day before his agreed return to school, Milo finally accepted that he couldn't put it off any longer. He picked up his phone and sent his dad a message. Seconds later, having received a positive answer to his question, he sent a second message, this one to D:
Meet me in the park near the kids' stuff at 3. M
After that it was just a matter of killing time. He showered, something he'd been allowed to do alone for several days, then spent quite a while going through his drawers and cupboards trying to find the perfect outfit, something thoroughly under-stated and ordinary, something that gave no outward clue to the momentous announcement he was going to be making, something that would not give D any reason to think the planned meeting was anything out of the ordinary. That, at least, was what Milo was telling himself, although the reality was that he wanted everything to appear normal just in case everything turned out to be normal due to him wimping out at the last minute. A dark blue T, paler blue basketball shorts and a grey hoodie, along with white socks and well-worm Nikes created the perfect look. Some gentle exercise, a couple of slow circuits around the back garden and lunch occupied the remainder of the time before Milo loaded himself in his dad's car to be driven to the rendezvous point in the park, close to the young kids' play equipment.
Had D not arrived at the park first there was a good chance Milo would have told his dad to turn the car around and drive straight home, so nervous was he, but there D was, sitting on a bench a few yards away, looking directly at Milo, not smiling but raising a hand in greeting. The knot which had begun to form around the lunch he had so recently eaten pulled itself tighter and Milo felt there was a real danger he might be about to get a second viewing of his dad's famous beef lasagne. He swallowed hard.
"Do you need a hand getting out son?"
"No thanks dad, I'll be fine. Just give me a second or two."
"Are you sure you're up to this? That it's not too soon for you to be out and about?" Gerry, clearly aware that Milo wasn't feeling 100%, was anxious for his son and keen to relieve any pressure he might be feeling.
Milo's answer was to release the catch, open the door and carefully swing his newly-mended leg round and out, quickly followed by the good leg which made contact with the ground, taking the weight and allowing the rest of his nearly six-foot frame to stand, slightly unsteady though mostly unaided, apart from a hand on the roof of the car.
"Thanks dad. I'll message you when I'm ready to come home."
"I can just hang around if you like. You know, just in case." Gerry had picked up the clues that there was something about this meeting that was less than straightforward and more than a simple hang-out for two best friends, but he had no clear idea what was really going on so didn't feel justified in pressing Milo any further.
"It's cool dad. I'll text you." With that Milo slammed the car door and took the first couple of steps towards Dan. Gerry put the car in gear and left. Okay, no turning back now. Let's do this.
Dan watched M as he oh so carefully placed one foot in front of the other in his direction. He almost literally had to keep himself rooted to the bench and not run over to offer to help. He instinctively knew that M would hate that. He had been sitting in the same spot for at least fifteen minutes before he saw Gerry's car drive in through the park gates, fifteen minutes in which he had done a lot of thinking -- again -- thinking which had confirmed the decision he'd only recently made about the future of his relationship with M. M's text that morning had been a surprise. Only yesterday they'd agreed that he and his mum would drive to the de Beer house on Monday morning to pick M up and drive him to school. Today, Sunday, was to be M's final rest day, his last chance to conserve his energy before his return to school. So there had to be something on M's mind, something that couldn't be talked about on the phone or at either of their homes, something important enough to overturn the recently-agreed plan for today.
Dan had been so pleased when M had been discharged from the hospital and had immediately gone into hyper best friend mode, visiting at least once every day and being a go-between with school, carrying books, assignments and gossip backwards and forwards. What he hadn't anticipated, having finally accepted just exactly what he felt for M, was quite how hard he would find it to be alone with him and he had quickly tried to make sure that there were always other guys around, other guys who didn't include Grey that is. As he had predicted at the time when he had been keen to have M stay at his house, he had found it really hard to see M and Grey together knowing, as he did, how they felt about each other and what they had done together. A couple of times he had come close to throwing Grey out and admitting to M exactly what he felt for him. Thankfully he had managed to keep himself under control but the most recent time, when the two of them had seemed particularly friendly, had been the penultimate turn of the screw of his resolve. M's message that morning had provided the final turn.
Eventually M reached the bench. He sat. There was no high-five or fist bump. He was relieved that he and D could be side by side, face to face would make what he had to say so much harder.
"Hi."
"Hi yourself. How're you doing today?"
"Pretty good. You?"
"The same."
Crap this was painful.
"Looking forward to tomorrow?"
"Yeah, it'll be good to get out of the house, even if it's to go to school."
"It'll be cool, and don't forget Ms. Ohura has given permission for me to help you around. And for the first week it's only gonna be mornings anyway so ..."
Before Dan could finish, Milo's patience with the situation snapped. "D, shut up a minute will you? There's something I need to say and if I don't do it now I think I'll go mad."
M's sudden outburst took Dan completely by surprise. For the last couple of minutes, all through that awkward `conversation', he'd been trying to steer it in the direction of his big announcement, and here was M barging in and making that impossible.
"Okay M, and I've got something to tell you too, but you go first. I'm listening."
Although they had automatically turned towards each other for the chat about M's return to school, they were both now facing forward again, determinedly avoiding each other's gaze. M took a deep breath. It was now or never.
"Do you remember the last time we were here on this bench?"
Oh yes, Dan remembered. "It was the day you told me you were gay. How could I forget?"
"And you were so cool about it, so unbelievably cool. I was sure I was gonna lose you as a friend. Worse, I was convinced you were gonna hate me, not only for being gay but for keeping it a secret from you."
"Yeah, I remember I'd been beating myself up and thinking you'd been off with me cos of something I'd said or done, not because of the big gay' secret." This line of conversation was a surprise, Dan hadn't been expecting a trip down Memory Lane. He couldn't work out where the destination might be.
"And you said then that we'd always be friends, but on one condition."
"Did I say that?" He knew, of course he knew, remembered very well exactly what he'd said, but being reminded was making him feel very uncomfortable, making him feel that it was even more important that he should tell M the truth, and tell it just as soon as M had finished saying whatever it was he was leading up to now.
"Yes, you did. And the condition was that you'd always be there for me as long as I never kept anything important secret from you again."
Yeah, he had said that and it had sounded great at the time and he had 1000% meant it. Dan definitely hadn't expected it to come back, more than three years later, to bite him on the butt, not when he was the one keeping the secrets. If only Grey hadn't appeared on the scene, hadn't built a home for himself in M's heart, hadn't presented himself as perfect boyfriend material after all the crap M had suffered with his bitch of a mother and bully cousin. Yes, Grey had said that M was in love with him, D, but he didn't believe it. Over the years there had been countless opportunities for M to tell D that he loved him -- the sleepovers, the working-out, the jerk-offs -- but he'd never given any hint that they were more to each other than the best of best friends.
"I remember," Dan began, "I remember saying it `cos I knew, even then when we were thirteen year-old kids, that I wouldn't know how to cope if there was anything really important in your life that you didn't feel you could tell me. What sort of friend would I be, eh?"
"The best friend, the best friend anyone could ever have, that's what you've always been to me." Dan could hear the absolute sincerity in M's voice and it made him feel fantastically happy and desperately sad, both at the same time. In a few minutes he was very likely going to be blowing that friendship out of the water, but he couldn't be a hypocrite, couldn't expect total honesty and openness from M if he wasn't prepared to offer the same in return. Fuck, he hated this new Dan Reed!
"And that's the problem," continued Milo, "You being the greatest friend I will ever have. That's what I need to tell you." Had Dan not been intent on keeping his face turned outwards in order to make sure M couldn't see the moisture collecting in the corners of his eyes he would have seen his friend, his absolutely BFF, struggling in the same way.
"I don't understand. How is it a problem that we're best friends?" Dan knew how he could, should, answer his own question, he definitely wasn't prepared for M's answer.
"Because ..." It was now or never. "Because I love you." Instantly Milo could hear the klaxons going off in his head, blaring out `WIMP ALERT! WIMP ALERT'. "No, that's not true."
"Huh?"
"I don't love you." Gulp. Klaxons fading, but not yet silent, D looking totally bemused. "I'm in love with you." There, he'd said it. Now for the fall-out. "Always have been. It's one of the reasons it took me so long to come out to you three years ago. I was too scared of telling the whole truth and frightening you away." By now Milo was looking at D, watching the tears running silently down his face. Crap! So it really was as bad as he'd feared. With those few, though true, words he'd destroyed years of friendship and reduced D to tears in the process. He made to stand up, to get away before D had a chance to tell him to go.
"Fuck it M, that was my line!" They were fully facing each other now. "I was supposed to be telling you that. I'm in love with you. Totally!"
For five, maybe ten seconds they looked at each other, blurry through their shared tears, then Dan -- Milo would argue for years that it was actually him -- took M's face in both hands, pulled it gently forwards and tenderly, oh so carefully, brought their lips together. It was a moment neither would ever forget but which both would struggle forever to put into words.
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