This story is completely fictional. Any similarities to any persons or events, past or present are purely coincidental. This story will contain scenes which involve sexual situations. If this type of material is offensive to you, or it is not legal for you to be reading this type of material, then please stop reading now. This story is copyright © 2007 by Toni Philips. Please do not copy this story for distribution or post on any online server without the author's permission. Please send all your comments to: janeebest@yahoo.com. Thanks and enjoy the story.
Uhh..I doubt anyone is reading this, but if you are, make sure you've read the prologue...it's pretty important. Plus, I know the story is pretty lame right about now, but hold on. I promise I'll make it better. Also, if you don't know already, I'm the author of "Paulie" in the same section you got this from. I think that one may be a little more interesting, because that one has gotten responses, while this one hasn't. :D Enjoy... And email me afterwards! Please.. Oh and, thank Baruch for editing. He's great... NOW you can enjoy. :D ***Chapter One*** Timothy jumped up in bed with a scream. He looked around his dark surroundings. It was familiar: It was his room. He felt around and touched his bed. Timothy then let out a deep sigh. He had only been dreaming. Not even a minute before, Timothy had been a ten-year-old boy, pointing a gun towards his father's chest. As soon as the trigger was pulled, Timothy woke up. The teen lay back down on his bed and tried to return to sleep. However, the look on his father's face after he shot his dad tormented Timothy. That face, the one with astonishment, anger, and shame all mixed in one, haunted Timothy every night. No wonder Timothy was not a morning person!Every morning, Timothy woke up feeling badly. When the boy arose, he cursed the sun and anything else that was bright. Timothy reluctantly got up to shower. After showering, he dressed in his regular dark, baggy clothes and went downstairs for his breakfast with the Miltons.
He hated breakfast with the Miltons. They were always perky and perfect and... terrible!
Besides how could he be nice to the people who fostered him? They did it out of pity.
Anyway, Timothy would be out of the house in three years. And, they'd have all that money which they didn't spend on him saved up.
Timothy was pushing his eggs around his plate, and Mrs. Milton, noticing his actions, said, "Stop Timothy, honey. No wonder you're all skin and bones. You don't eat my food!" She paused then after a while continued, "It's okay, isn't it, dear?" The teen hated her calling him dear, for he wasn't her son. Timothy was no one's son, which in his eyes was mostly his own fault. If HE hadn't ran his mother off when he was a baby and killed his father when HE was ten, HE would be fine. The boy shook his head to clear it. Then answered, "It's fine." "Fine, who?" He sighed loudly. "Mom! It's fine, Mom!" Mrs. Milton smiled and continued eating her pancakes. Mr. Milton, though, noticed Timothy's mood. "Son, why are you so angry this morning?" "I'm not your son," Timothy thought. Instead he said, "Nothing's wrong, Father." He said 'Father' with annoyed emphasis. Mr. Milton left Timothy alone. He never liked getting into confrontations with Timothy. He just worried sometimes over the boy's attitude. Timothy finished eating his breakfast without tasting anything. His mind was elsewhere, because he was constantly thinking about his father's death... the one HE had caused! On his way to the bus stop, he thought about his father. Timothy still was so deep in his ponderings that he hadn't even noticed the boy. Thus, Timothy ran straight into teen. When he was finally jarred out of his thoughts, Timothy noticed the boy's books were scattered over the street next to which they were walking. He bent down to start gathering the books at the same time the boy did. Both teens must have both noticed their almost choreographed movements, for they looked up at the same time, also. Timothy immediately was attracted to the intense light brown eyes of the teen. His eyes were so were so nice that Timothy spent what felt like minutes staring into them. The other boy, though, didn't seem bothered by his staring. In fact, that teen was doing some gawking of his own. The boy observed Timothy's slightly red and plump lips, his cute nose, and the blonde eyebrows framing Timothy's beautiful blue eyes. The only things odd were Timothy's eyes. They were nice but seemed in turmoil. The eyes appeared to hold pain and anguish. After awhile, the boys both noticed their gaping at each other and awkwardly decided to introduce themselves. The boy went was first. He stuck out his light brown hand and said, "Hi, I'm James." Timothy spent some time staring at the hand, while wondering if it was a genuine sign of friendship. He decided it probably it wasn't. Timothy abruptly stood up, while wiping off his jeans. "Yeah, well, my name's FUCK OFF! Try it." He left James with his sprawled items to go to the bus stop. Although Timothy had departed, the gorgeous boy was still on his mind.All through first block, Timothy kept thinking about the brown-eyed boy, James. Timothy had focused mainly on his eyes, but he had also noticed James' tan skin and short coffee-colored hair. Timothy would have loved to run his fingers through that hair...
The teen shook his head and tried focusing on the fat bald biology teacher in front of the class. He attempted taking notes but soon started doodling pictures of James' eyes.
Timothy had already drawn James' eyes almost a dozen different times and the boy's name at least ten, when he was shaken out of his reverie. He looked up and found that his bald teacher was less than two feet away from him, looking pissed off.
"Sir?" Timothy found nothing funny, but the class roared with laughter. After a while of confusion, Timothy asked, "What's so funny?"
This only made the class laugh louder. It was really pissing him off!
Before he had a chance to lash out, the teacher said, "You're funny, Mr. Milton." Timothy HATED being called `Mr. Milton.' His last name was Wells!
"Baldy" continued, "I called your name six times, Mr. Milton. SIX! It seems you'd rather" He pointed to Timothy's paper, "DRAW than listen in class."
The teacher snatched Timothy's paper. "What is THIS anyway?"
Timothy was so surprised that the teacher had taken the paper that he didn't even try to grab it back. He only hoped that "Baldy" wouldn't read it aloud. It was bad enough people teased him about everything else. They didn't need more ammunition.
Timothy figured wrong.
"James, James, James, James, James. Who is this James, Mr. Milton, and why are you so obsessed with writing his name?"
Timothy's eyes grew wide, and his breath quickened. He tried stammering out a response, but the teacher cut him off, "And... why all the hearts? Someone has a crush, I think! Why don't you tell me about it in detention!"
He crumpled the paper up, threw it in the trash, and left Timothy to be devoured by his classmate's endless taunts and laughter.
The teen sunk down lower in his seat, and waited for Hell to end.
Timothy looked around the cafeteria full of stupid teenagers for an empty table. He spotted one in the corner, and hastily made his way towards it. He then sat down and started eating his burger in silence. The boy had started on his fries when James sat across from him. "What are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to fuck off?" Timothy was still pissed off from earlier, and decided to take it out on James. He didn't even draw those hearts! "Well...there's nowhere else to sit." "So? Can't you see I don't want you here?" James' gorgeous eyes glared at Timothy. "Why are you such an asshole?" "Why are you such a faggot?" As soon as the words left Timothy's mouth, he felt bad. He hadn't meant to call James that, especially because he was one himself! It looked like James was about to punch Timothy, but all he did was turn his head and eat his lunch. When he finished, he stood and said, "Thanks for letting the fag sit with you." He turned to leave, then turned back around. "I thought you were gonna be different." Timothy sat alone at the table, feeling like the scum he was. Why had he pushed away the only person that tried to be his friend? Sometimes he hated himself. Sometimes he wished his father HAD killed HIM, and not the other way around. Not the other way around.When Timothy got on route 60 for his afternoon bus ride, his eyes immediately focused on the brown eyes of James.
"God they're beautiful," Timothy thought.
But the thought didn't last long, for when James' eyes focused back on Timothy, Timothy's eyes shifted towards the dirty aisle. He made sure he sat in a seat far behind James, so he could look at the back of the teen's head of brown curls without James' knowledge.
Timothy was just sitting there, waiting for the bus to start moving, when he saw a nice looking junior with golden locks and a chiseled body, sit next to James. His blood boiled with envy.
Why is that junior sitting with James? It's his FIRST day! He can't possibly be making friends THAT quickly; he probably only wants to get in James' pants. Asshole!
The entire ride, Timothy witnessed the junior all up ON James. They were practically cuddling on the freakin' school bus! The junior would gently push James, then James would retaliate, and it was like a bunch of hugs! Well, that's how Timothy saw it, anyway.
Soon, though, the fun ended, and it was time for the junior to get off the bus. He said something about calling and visiting James later, and it only made Timothy madder. When the time came for Timothy, James, and the other kids who live on the same street to exit the bus, Timothy walked down the aisle, passing James while simultaneously "accidentally" knocking James' books off of the seat.
Timothy saw James' beautifully tanned face redden, but he ignored it. It was only until a few minutes after walking off of the bus, that James confronted Timothy. Or rather, James' palms connected with Timothy's back, pushing him onto the ground.
It happened so fast that Timothy hadn't even noticed that James had pushed him until he was laying flat on the asphalt. Timothy got up quickly, though, when he realized that a group of teenagers was forming around him.
Standing up, he turned around to face James. "What's your problem?!"
"What do you THINK is my problem? You've been messing with me ALL day. I'm sick of it. So if you wanna fight, we can do it now." James stood there boldly in front of Timothy with his arms planted at his sides, fists balled.
"Sorry, my parents taught me not to hit girls," Timothy replied with a grin.
The crowed `ooh'ed and laughed, while James' eyes squinted. "Fuck YOU, Timothy! You don't even know me!"
"I know you enough to know you're nothing but a dirty fag!"
Timothy had barely pronounced the g-sound, when James' fist connected with his jaw. He had no time to defend himself when James threw him on the ground, while getting on top of him and punching his face without a break.
When James' fist reconnected with Timothy's jaw, Timothy started going wild on James. He was kicking, yelling, and punching. He even turned the tables by flipping James over, and being the one on top. Both were punching each other's faces, causing blood to spill on the hot street. The only reason Timothy stopped fighting James was because he felt large hands grab his shoulders and pull him off of James. He was still pouring out curse words and kicking his feet, even though the man had him locked tight.
After a while, Timothy calmed down enough for the man to let him go. He got a glance of the man, or boy. It was the junior. Timothy's anger fired back up, but the junior saw this, and grabbed Timothy before he had a chance to launch another attack.
"LET...ME...GO!"
"Not until you calm down," the junior said calmly.
"Fuck You! You have nothing to do with this!"
"Yes, I do."
The Junior reached out his hand for James. While pulling James up, he said, "James is my friend, and if you don't watch yourself, your life's gonna be a living hell."
As if it already isn't!!
"Whatever! Why don't you two FAGS go play!"
The junior looked as if he was about to go attack Timothy, but James' hand held him back.
James said softly, "Why don't we!" Tears formed in his eyes. "C'mon, Babe, let's go play."
James had a pained look on his face accented by pools of tears clouding his brown eyes. The junior turned towards James questioningly, and when James nodded, the junior enveloped him in a hug and kissed the top of James' head. The boys walked off while holding hands.
Timothy gaped with his mouth wide open, and his chest tightened. Life couldn't get any worse!!
Timothy made sure to expand his "lost love list" when get got home.
Make sure to add James there...along with his mother and father.