DISCLAIMER: This story contains depictions of homosexual contact between underage males. Read at your own risk, and do not read at all if it is illegal in your city, state, or province. All characters depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons can be attributed to chance.
Leaving Everything to Chance Chapter 9: The Letter
A couple of days afterward there was a envelope in my mailbox. It wasn't postmarked, and there were no destination or return addresses, and it was slightly yellowed with age. It was simply marked, in a smooth but definitely male script: "To You."
I had a pretty good idea who it was from. I'd called and talked with my boyfriend Chance everyday since our last date, and although he was obviously going through the the trouble to hide it, I knew he was going through years of belongings looking for something. I would hear an odd echo sometimes that would tell me he was in his attic. Our the hollow thuds of cardboard boxes being handled. Occasionally he'd say something along the lines of "Heh, I haven't seen this thing for years." When I'd question him on it, all he'd say was that he was "Just looking for something." I held it up to the sun, and I could see that it was packed pretty well with a thick sheaf of papers. I looked down the lane to my boyfriend's house, and wondered what he was up to this time.
I put on some Killers and stretched out in my bed. My mom was baking again, and occasional tendrils of chocolate and cinnamon would waft through my room, making me a little hungry. I carefully opened the letter, since it was carefully sealed, and unfolded a thick sheaf of papers. It was dated September 21, 2001., and it was addressed "To my Future Boyfriend." I read on. * * * * * September 21, 2001
To My Future Boyfriend
I'm writing this on my 12th birthday, 10 days after the attacks. I'm celebrating alone, really, because my father isn't talking to me, and my mother is in her room crying. My uncle Jim, her older brother, was one of the many still not found amongst the wreckage. She's also crying because her and my father have just finished a big argument. My father showed up at my school and made a scene when my teacher called him and told him that I got caught kissing another boy in the bathroom. Justin was his name, and although of course it had been his idea, he lied and said I had forced him. And stupid old me, trying to protect probably the only boy for miles around who would kiss me, I went along with it. First my father was yelling at the principal for even suggesting that his son would do such a thing, and when she called me down and I admitted to it, he picked me up by my shirt and nearly beat me there in the office. Had not security been on the way, he probably would have. But since security didn't follow him outside, he simply waited until then. I will probably have these bruises for weeks. When we got home, they got into an argument, him blaming her for raising a boy who likes boys, and her blaming him for not realizing that it was just a phase, and that it wouldn't be long and we'll all have forgotten about this. Either way, it was obvious that I would have an uphill battle with my parents to get them to realize that I was gay, and that wasn't going to change. So here I am, burned from puppy love, and bruised from fatherly love, 12,and alone. I'm writing this to let you know that I've been waiting for you, and I can't wait to meet you.
If you're reading this, then I've found you. You're the boy I've fallen in love with. You're cute, smart, and have a big heart with room for me in it. I enjoy spending time with you, and we sometimes don't have to say anything, just lean on each other, know we're there for each other. If you're that one, then I smile when I see you, and I know you smile when you see me. I want you to know that I'm waiting for you, and I know our first time will be the best thing that ever happened to me. If I give this letter to you, I want to thank you for rescuing me, because I've probably been going through a little hell everyday without you.
Love, Chance * * * * * I finished the letter, and was almost in tears. in the fold of the letter, there was a picture. It was of Chance and he was absolutely adorable, dressed up in baseball gear. There was a man who slightly resembled him standing behind him, sporting a whistle, shades, a huge grin, and a cap that was perched on Chance's head. They were proud and happy. The back of the picture read "Chance and Uncle Jim's first big win." I carefully place the picture back in the envelope and read the next letter. * * * * * September 21, 2002
To My Future Boyfriend
Happy Birthday to me. I'm writing this a year later from my first letter to you, and to be honest, I'm not much better off than the last time. I've had do endure a year of going on forced dates and pretending to enjoy them, and I've managed to convince my parents that I'm not gay. I'm really ashamed of myself. Somehow, I managed to go back in the closet. That's really the opposite of progress. I've seen plenty of cute boys, some who were nice to me, but none of them are gay, and I don't think they're you. So, I'll wait. And as I blow out the candles, I'll wish that you are thinking of me.
School hasn't really gotten any easier, and Justin has been trying to "win me back" since last fall. I realize now what he wants and I don't think he'll get it from me. He's older than me by 2 years, and he's already in high school. God knows he's cute but he's just a pervert. Oh well. Where are you? I'm waiting.
Love, Chance * * * * * Attached was a picture of Chance, dressed in a suit, looking awesome, with his arm around a girl. She looked pleasant enough, but I knew Chance well enough to know that his smile was fake. They were standing in front of a car, and the back read "Fall Dance 2002--Chance and Jess" written in a suspiciously motherly script. I smirked at that and read on. * * * * * September 21, 2003
To My Long Delayed Boyfriend
Heh, it's been a crazy year. The house burned down. Not kidding. We've moved across town, to a somewhat smaller house. High school's alright, the teacher's, the classes, the boys! Are you one of them? I've given up on the girls. To be honest, it's just too difficult trying to make them happy when I really don't want to be with them. I'm so much more comfortable around guys. I'm sure that not before long, my dad will be asking about my next girlfriend or lack thereof. I'm getting tired of hiding it though. Ever since last year, we've all come closer together, with the whole me being straight and the house burning down. Mom cooks (well, I must say.)and we sit around the table talking and laughing like a real family. I'm going to miss it. I'll see you (soon, hopefully.)
Love, Chance * * * * * This picture was of a slightly older and much taller Chance, donning a killer leather jacket, leaning over a pool table in some smoky pool hall. There was a man, whom I presumed to be his father, who was perched over the table next to him, showing him the correct finger placement for the hand bridge. Chance's blue eyes were locked in concentration, and they had a newfound maturity unseen in earlier photos. I can't quite tell, but he looked a lot more like he does now. I guess he was right, it had been a pretty crazy year. I checked the back for a caption, and there wasn't any. I guess it didn't need one. * * * * * September 21, 2005
Dear Boyfriend, I'm so sorry. I've failed you. I gave my love to someone, and he took it and used it and threw me away.
I didn't write a letter to you last year, because I brought my other letters to my friend at the time, Colin, on my birthday. We had been going out for weeks
and I thought he was genuinely interested in our relationship. I slept with him, and the very next fucking day he returned the letter to me, unopened, saying "Thanks for the good time, but that's all it was." I left school early because I didn't feel like crying through all my class periods. That was a indicator of how the rest of my year was going to go. Colin's parents outed me to my parents, and hell broke loose. Everyone said some things they really didn't mean, and Mom ended up sobbing loudly in her room again, and Dad ended up going to the bar to get plastered, which was something he hadn't done for years. At least he didn't beat me. Since then, my parents have been somehow content to ignore any aspects of my life except for making sure I'm clothed and fed. It sounds like it's progress, but it's really not. It hurts, being alone in my own home. * * * * * There was no picture with this one. But, I could see wrinkled and smudged spots on the paper, and it was obvious the author of this letter was in tears as he wrote it. * * * * * September 21, 2006
Dear Boyfriend (Hey sexy!)
As I dig out this old envelope and reread last year's letter, I can truthfully say that this year was better. Mom and Dad are talking to me again, although he's made it clear that he still doesn't approve, and I probably shouldn't be parading any beaus around the house while he's around. They're convinced by now that I'm not just doing this to spite them, but they still would like to have grandchildren someday. It's been a long hard road to rebuilding my family's relationship, but I'd like to think we're doing alright. My folks aren't bad people, but they grew up in a certain way of life, and it's kinda hard for them to accept mine when it's so drastically different. When they're ready, and we're ready, I'd like you to meet them. But that may be years from now. It should be obvious that they love me as much as you'll do, so there should be some common ground, right? Until then, my friend and lover. * * * * *
I reached the end of the letters, and placed the envelope on my dresser. I was a little overwhelmed. My boyfriend had been through hell, and I've more or less sailed by. I felt sorry for him but proud for him just the same. I also felt so freaking good inside, as Chance had singlehandedly demolished any doubts in my mind as to if he loved me, and if we were made for each other. And regarding his infidelity, I could hardly blame him. He was young, he didn't even know me yet, and dear God, I didn't mind the experience it gave him.
I grabbed the letters, my car keys, and ran out to my car. I was going to let Chance know what I thought of him after learning so much about him. But when I got out there, there he was, leaning on my car, looking nervous as hell. He looked up startled, and tried to judge some sort of reaction in my face. Wordlessly, I went to him, tears in my eyes, and embraced him. Almost instantly he burst into sobbing, collapsing into me. "I love you so much Chance. Were I to lose everything I've ever known, I would consider myself a king for just having held you, like this, right here."
Hello, readers and friends. Here's the end of a chapter, but not quite the end of the story. It will take a different turn from here, but I've not quite figured it out yet. That series I announced last time has been scrapped for the moment, for a lack of interest and inspiration on my part, I'm afraid. You might still get to meet the protagonist, someday. But do not despair, there's a new story, which I won't delay in finishing for long. It's set in an indeterminate time period, which is more likely in the past. The boys you'll meet in this story will be of a different mold, and I warn you, it probably won't have any of the shameless sexual fare that this story contains. But it will be a love story about two boys, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as you enjoy this. "Here at the Top of the World," coming soon, from yours truly. inlwtx@yahoo.com