Phalen

Phalen - Reputation and Honor

Chapter Eight

By Roy Reinikainen

Coach Cline exerted all his willpower, to not slam the door to the locker room as he left. Even so, the sound of the door closing was louder than normal. 'How dare he talk to me like that! He almost as much as accused me of abusing someone. I've never abused a living soul. Anyone I've ever been with has been with me of their own free will. They all like having a strong figure in their lives. Why else would they ever agree to let me plug their butt? It's a game, to everyone I've been with, and I enjoy playing. Abuse!' he snorted. 'Some people, like me, are naturally dominant, while others . . . like Randy, Marty, and the others, are submissive.' He snorted his contempt for such a person. 'Those sort of people deserve what they get. They want it! No matter how much they moan and groan, it's what they want!'

He paused a moment to check out his reflection in one of the athletic complex's windows, as he passed. He pushed a strand of his dark wavy hair from his forehead, with practiced nonchalance, then lowered his sunglasses to his eyes.

'It's no wonder you've got the guys lining up,' he thought, appreciating his reflection. 'You're one of the hottest studs on campus.' He felt his penis twitch as it freely moved beneath the fabric of his slacks. 'Damn,' he smiled, 'a person can almost see the head of my monster as I walk! And my nuts . . . as big as eggs, and heavy with built-up loads . . . .' He frowned, 'which I have to shoot up someone's hole.'

A familiar figure caught his eye. 'Well, I haven't seen him in a long time,' Coach Cline thought, as he watched the trim figure walk toward him, pretending not to recognize him. "There's the hole I'm going to be leaving a deposit or three in tonight." He smiled, mentally rubbing his hands together in anticipation of climbing between the young man's spread legs like he had so many times.

"Aren't you going to even say hello?" he asked, as the dark haired young man appeared ready to walk past. The guy stopped, and turned to him, wearing a perplexed expression.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you. I think you must be mistaking me for someone else."

"Don't get cute with me, Denis." The boy reacted as if he had been slapped.

"We haven't seen one another in over six months, but I refuse to believe that you could possibly have forgotten all the . . . pleasure . . . I gave you." He casually groped his groin, wondering why Denis had gone pale, and had begun to tremble. 'Admittedly,' Coach Cline told himself, 'the last time we parted could have been a little more pleasant, at least for me.' He could still remember how Denis had fled his apartment, crying. 'Sissy,' he said in scorn. 'Well,' he dismissed the past with a shrug. 'I won't hold a grudge. He can't help what he is.'

He studied the young man he had grown to know so well. Denis had, like so many others before him, been thrilled for the good looking man to show him some attention. 'I spent a lot of time and . . . effort . . . cultivating him. I'm not going to allow him to pretend he doesn't know me . . . not after all the fun we've had together.' The thought of Denis' hole stretching to handle him was almost too much to bear. He felt his erection begin to push against the fabric of his slacks as it thickened and snaked down his right leg. 'This boy's mine,' he said, mentally stripping the familiar figure.

"Denis knew you?"

"Don't get cute, Denis, pretending you don't recognize me. Maybe you'll only recognize me if you see me naked, with my monster cock aimed at your asshole." He snickered. "Remember how much you love squirming on it?"

"I'm not Denis!" the young man said, facing him, his eyes flashing. "Denis was my twin brother. He . . . he's dead." The words seemed to be torn from a raw throat. "He killed himself."

Coach Cline snorted in derision. "Likely story. Twins! If you don't want me to plow you, just say so. I won't do it right here . . . on campus. I'll make like a nice guy, and wait till we're back at my apartment. Then, you'll be begging, just like old times, eh?" He reached out to take the young man's shoulder, only to have him violently twist away, the abrupt movement catching the attention of nearby students.

"I'm not Denis!" the young man shouted, drawing even more attention. His haunted eyes gave even Coach Cline pause. "Denis is dead! I . . . I never knew why he killed himself. I'm thinking that now I do." The young man's lip curled. "He always was a sucker for a pretty face. He also never seemed to be able to see beneath the surface to the type of person that pretty covering hid." The eyes of the person who swore he wasn't Denis, flashed. "I never had that problem. For instance, I can tell exactly what type of person you are. You are responsible for my brother's death!" He turned on his heel, heading back to the center of campus, and shouted as he looked over his shoulder. "And, if it's the last thing I do, I'll see that you pay!"

A number of students had paused, captivated by the scene being played out in their midst. As one, they watched the person who claimed not to be Denis, disappear into the crowds of students moving from class to class, then turned toward Coach Cline, who shrugged.

"Must have just escaped from a mental ward someplace," he laughed.

Ed Bowen had not slept well since Doctor Layson had spoken to him about the possibility of someone in his department preying on Randy Shaw. 'There's a connection,' he thought, half dreaming, 'but, I'm not sure of the things being connected.' He paused, turning over and angrily fluffing the pillow. 'Surely there's no connection between Doctor Layson's warning, and Mister Kelly's.' His mind suddenly put all the clues together. He sat up with a start, disturbing his wife who was lying at his side.

'It's Jackson,' he said to himself. 'He is the missing piece of the puzzle I've been searching for. It's got to be him! Ever since Randy has taken his leave, Jackson has been increasingly upset. And,' he continued, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, 'when Randy left, that's about the time when this stuff with Marty started.

'If Marty's brother is right, and Marty hasn't given in to my nephew's advances, the frustration Jackson feels could be the reason he's so angry all the time. He has no one to abuse, so, instead of physically abusing the person, he verbally abuses them in absentia, accusing them of drug use, or laziness, or whatever. That's probably why he said he was going to find out what sort of trouble he could get into. He wasn't joking!'

The coach stood and walked across the bedroom, angrily raking his fingers through his hair. 'What am I going to do? I can't just accuse him without some sort of evidence. Right now, all I'm going on is the doctor's and Mister Kelly's word, and my belief that I've found the missing piece to the puzzle. Jackson's surliness could be caused by any number of things.' He turned away from the window, irritated at himself for trying to think of excuses. 'It has to be Jackson. All the pieces fit.' He stopped in mid-stride. 'This . . . behavior . . . can't be a new thing.' Coach Bowen covered his face. 'Oh, lordy, how many other young men has he abused? And I provided this . . . this . . . viper . . . the opportunity to prey on the very people I've sworn to be like a father to. It's my fault! Randy, Marty, and who knows how many others have me to blame for their pain and suffering.' Even as the thought formed, he realized how ludicrous it was. He had behaved honorably. He thought he'd made it clear to everyone on the team that his door was always open to them, for any problem, whether it be personal or something having to do with the team.

'Why didn't Randy feel comfortable enough to come to me? Because of Jackson?' Ed Bowen bit his lower lip. 'Is the same true of Marty?'

Coach Bowen stood in front of the bedroom window, staring into the night. "What am I going to do? How can I make amends? How can I make sure this sort of thing never happens again?

Dani Aarons sat across the conference table from police officers from the Phoenix City Police, the Tempe City Police, and the University Police. Immediately after his encounter with the person on the campus mall, he'd gone to the Campus Police, to report both the encounter, and his fears that the man who had approached him had, in some way, been responsible for Denis' death. The tidal wave of anger which had swept him across campus and into this meeting had slowly dissolved, leaving him exhausted. The officers though, were trying to squeeze more information out of him.

"I'm sorry, sir, Dani sighed. "I know I haven't been able to supply you with any hard evidence, but, as far as I'm concerned, this man knew Denis and had had some sort of sexual encounter with my brother. The way he approached me, the way he groped himself . . . his entire demeanor, led me to believe that he is not a person one would want to deal with. He seemed . . . dangerous. It's like . . . he's accustomed to getting everything he wants. He was really well dressed, a big guy . . . not fat . . . big, muscular."

"You and your brother were . . . close?" one of the officers asked.

"Oh, yes. If you're not a twin, you can not imagine what it is like. You know what your twin is going to say before they say it. You'll laugh at something they're going to do. That doesn't qualify as close, sir. It's as if you're living in one another's skin.'

"Yet you detected no change in his behavior."

"Not so. Like I've said. He suddenly started behaving strangely . . . withdrawn. He was always out, volunteering for something, but suddenly he became almost a . . . a . . . recluse. He was afraid to leave the apartment, jumping at every strange sound. He stopped going to class, as well as his work at the nursing home. He even hid in the bathroom once, when someone rang the doorbell. I asked him what was wrong . . . many times. He'd only get all teary-eyed and want to hold me, murmuring how sorry he was.

"There for a while, I thought he'd done something to be sorry for. I couldn't imagine what, though. It wasn't like him to get into any sort of trouble. He was too busy having fun and stuff, to do anything like that.

"I can imagine Denis initially going along with this guy, though. Like I said, he always was a sucker for a nice looking face, and this guy is good looking, at least I thought so before he began speaking. After he mentioned knowing Denis, though, all I saw was a . . . link to the death of my brother." He grimaced. "I'm not even sure I'd be able to pick the guy out from a bunch of pictures. All I was thinking was him being with my brother.

"I bet this guy had some sort of hold on Denis. In fact, I'm certain of it. Along with being a sucker for a pretty face, Denis was . . . I don't know . . . sensitive, I guess. He took things to heart. If this guy put pressure on him, I don't think Denis would have been able to handle it. He and I looked the same, but we were pretty different."

"You believe that you would be able to handle any . . . pressure . . . this man might have placed on your brother?"

Dani thought a moment, then shrugged. "I would like to think I could. But, who knows? Denis and I were identical in more ways than our appearance. If I was feeling that sort of . . . pressure . . . I'd like to think that I'd be able to talk to someone about what was happening to me. I can't imagine why Denis didn't feel he could talk . . . at least to me."

"And, you have no idea who this man, who approached you, is?" the sergeant, asked. "Did he appear to be a student?"

"No, I don't know him. I've never seen him before, and he didn't look like a student. He wasn't old, just too old to be a regular student." Dani shuddered, "He was so cocky, so sure of himself . . . so sure I was Denis . . . so sure I'd want him."

Dani shook his bowed head, and spoke in a murmur. "Poor Denis."

The dinner had been wonderful, as had the roughhousing in the swimming pool, both providing a pleasant distraction from the discussion about the damned guy who was bothering Marty. It had been amazing to watch . . . and listen . . . to Phalen talk. He seemed to be in constant motion, full of expansive gestures and good humor which frequently bubbled over until everyone in the room was laughing. Phalen had been a recurring topic of conversation ever since Eric had met Marty, and, now, Eric could understand why.

When Phalen had asked Marty to practice with him and some of the guys from the baseball team, the man had instantly gone from being an admired player to someone Marty would willingly walk through fire barefoot for. 'Unless I've got my signals totally screwed up,' Marty thought, 'Phalen's been talking to the coach about Marty being on the team, not someone who also happens to be a good ball player, like he claims. The little warning twitch of an eyelid told me though, that I shouldn't mention anything. 'Ohhh, Marty would be so happy!' The possibility was enough to make Eric almost giddy with excitement.

Even with Marty's encouragement, though, he'd not been sure that spending an evening in the buff, with two guys he barely knew, was the right thing for him. Jeff and Phalen had been wonderful hosts, though, each doing their best to ease Eric's discomfort about being naked, by example. Jeff had greeted him and Marty, already in the nude, but for a kitchen towel casually thrown over his shoulder, and, in only minutes, both Phalen and Marty had stripped down and were laughing and carrying on like old friends. Even though Eric had chosen not to leave his clothes in the sunroom with Marty's, the guys had treated him no differently than if he had been naked. They'd told him they expected nothing of him. If he chose to be nude, that was great. If he chose to remain clothed, that also was fine.

'I've got nothing to be embarrassed about,' he told himself, as he dropped his underwear on top of his shed clothing. He caught his reflection in the expanse of glass, looking out to the courtyard from the sunroom. 'I'm decent looking, my body's not up to par with Phalen's, or Marty's, but it's not bad.' He ran a hand from his chest over his stomach, watching his reflection. 'No belly,' he thought, pleased. He gently tugged on his penis, then, with a crooked smile, stopped. 'That's not gonna make it any bigger!' He studied himself, while the others laughed and chatted in the dining room. 'My dick wouldn't qualify as a candidate to the porn-star hall of fame, but, again, it's decent, and only fools would choose to compare themselves with one of those porn-star guys. I do think I've got a nice butt, and legs, from all the bicycle riding I do.' He flexed the muscles of his buttocks, feeling deliciously daring. 'I haven't felt this nasty since Akio Imamura and I went on a naked hike, back in high school.' He grinned, recalling the hike and the fun he and his boyhood friend had had afterward.

When he entered the dining room, there was a subtle change of mood. While he'd been undressing, he'd heard everyone laughing. The mood had changed during the short while he'd been daydreaming of his friend, back in Hawaii. The scene was subtly different than when he'd left to get undressed. Marty and Phalen were still sitting on high stools on one side of the large kitchen island, facing Jeff across the counter, his back to the kitchen and the fragrant dinner he was preparing, but, instead of smiles, each man was wearing a serious expression. Eric's questioning frown was met by Marty's slight smile, and a quick squeeze of a hand. Instead of sitting, Eric moved to stand behind Marty, casually snaking his hands beneath Marty's arms, and drawing him close. He could feel each breath Marty took, just as he had last night, while they slept side-by-side.

"I wonder if there's a connection," Jeff said, acknowledging Eric's presence with a distracted smile, and breaking the heavy silence. When Eric made a questioning sound, Jeff explained. "I was telling the guys about a student of mine." Jeff swallowed, his eyes momentarily becoming haunted. "He was telling one of the other instructors about an encounter he'd had with a guy who mistook him for his brother. Apparently that guy and Dani's brother had had some sort of sexual relationship. Dani's a student in one of my architectural history classes.

"What's sad, though, is that Dani's brother, Denis, has recently died, and this guy didn't seem to realize it, but went on treating Dani as if he were his brother. I didn't realize it, but Brad . . . he's a good friend of Dani's, told me that Dani and Denis were twins."

Marty extended a hand. "Wait a minute." Jeff raised his eyebrows. "Brad?" Marty asked. "In architecture?" Jeff nodded.

"He's my brother! You're talking about Brad Kelly, right?"

Jeff nodded. Now that he thought about it, Marty and Brad did resemble one another. Brad had said that he had a younger brother or two, but had never mentioned any names.

Marty continued. "I've met Dani. Brad introduced me. Nice looking guy, sorta quiet." Jeff nodded, as Marty continued. "I've told Brad about what the coach has been doing to me. For some reason, I thought ol' Coach Cline probably stayed with guys from the baseball team."

"Oh, shit," Phalen said, almost to himself.

"It gets worse?" Jeff asked.

Phalen shrugged. "I'm not sure. Possibly. It's almost like pieces of a puzzle are starting to fall into place." Phalen raked his fingers through his hair. "Geez, I hope I'm wrong."

"About what?" Jeff prompted, causing Phalen to grimace. He chewed on his lower lip a moment, then heaved a sigh.

"One of the other guys on the team has had to temporarily leave the team. I wonder . . ."

"Randy Shaw?" Marty asked, sitting up straight, his wide eyes turning toward Phalen. "Oh, my god, I bet you're right," he said in a low voice. "I know Randy's gay. He propositioned me once, a couple months ago. When I told him I wasn't interested, he left me alone, then . . . suddenly, he was gone."

"He propositioned you?" Phalen asked, his eyes wide. "I thought I knew of all the gay guys on the team, as well as the couple who hate gay guys. So far, there hasn't been any trouble, but every time we go on a road trip, I'm half-afraid something's going to erupt if one of those guys has to room with someone everyone knows to be gay. I think Coach Bowen knows what's going on, though, and those two guys always room together.

"I don't think even that is enough for Sandy Grisholm, though." Phalen flicked a glance at Eric and Jeff. "He's one of the anti-gay ones. I've heard him say that he's looking for someplace else to play ball. Someplace less accepting of freaks." Phalen made a face.

"I didn't realize I'd fallen for such a popular guy," Eric grinned, hoping to lighten the mood.

"You're the only one I didn't turn down." Marty looked over his shoulder to return the grin.

"Y'think Randy might have fallen for some line the coach threw at him?" Phalen asked. "Maybe he offered him something, like he's doing to you."

Marty thought a moment. "I don't know, but I do know that I saw him a couple weeks ago, while you guys were having one of those meetings about NCAA rules, or something." He made a dismissive gesture. "I don't remember where everyone was, but I know Coach Bowen was in his office, 'cause he'd spoken to me about something a couple minutes earlier." Marty stared into the distance. "I got the feeling Randy was purposely there when the team wasn't. I thought maybe it was because he was embarrassed by how he looked, or something." Marty turned to Phalen. "He looked bad . . . all shrunken-like, with dark circles under his eyes. He looked really sick, but he specifically told me he wasn't, and not to believe anyone who said he was. He told me he wanted to apologize for . . ." he shrugged, "for hitting on me and for acting like he did."

Marty held out a hand to prevent Phalen from jumping to conclusions. "Randy was a little obnoxious, nothing more. He's always been a little cocky, but guys . . ." Marty paused, he also told me to watch my back and not believe half the things I heard. I didn't know what he meant, but I'm betting he did fall for some sort of proposition Coach Cline made, and, since he knows I'm gay, was sorta warning me, without using the coach's name or anything." Eric kissed Marty's neck and tightened his embrace, the fact that he was nude, totally forgotten.

"I'm thinking that accepting Coach Cline's proposition is more than a one-time thing," Marty murmured, "otherwise Randy would have walked away." He thought a moment. "There's got to be more to it than just sex, too. Randy seemed . . . beaten down . . . sorta defeated, or something. It was as if he'd been in a fight, and lost."

"Damn." Phalen smacked the countertop with the flat of his hand. "I wonder if Coach Bowen knows about any of this?"

"I'm not gonna tell him," Marty murmured, not meeting Phalen's eyes. "After all, Coach Cline is his nephew or something."

"Men," Jeff said, gathering their attention. "It seems as if we've begun piecing together the puzzle, but there's nothing we can do about any of it tonight. I'm sure Dani's not going to give in to anyone. In fact, I know for a fact that he's staying with friends, in case the guy that stopped him happens to know where he lives. That'll all be moot soon, since he's going to have to move. Since his brother died, he can no longer afford the rent on his apartment. And," Jeff warned, "we only think this coach of yours is responsible for . . . everything. We're not sure, yet. Marty is here with us, so we know he's safe. We'll have to assume this Randy person is also looking out for himself. So, let's do our best to enjoy our dinner, and each other's company. Okay?"

"Umm," Phalen said, thinking, then turned to Marty, studying him with a critical eye and a crooked smile. "Y'know, Brad doesn't shave his pubes."

Marty hooted a laugh. "Of course not! He can grow a beard, too. He and my other brothers got the hair genes. There was nothing left for me. I'm lucky to have hair on my friggin' head."

"I like bare pubes," Eric grinned. "Ho' boy, Marty get beeg bambulas, too. Nice huh?" he chuckled, grinning unrepentantly when Marty playfully scowled over his shoulder.

"Whooooo," Phalen crowed. "Hey, Marty! Eric thinks you have big bambulas!" Marty blushed, as everyone looked towards Marty's groin. "I agree; bare pubes and big bambulas are nice," Phalen tore his attention away from Marty's thickening cock, and patted his hand in apology for drawing attention, "but in this case, what I really like is the guy they're attached to."

"He is cute, isn't he?" Eric smiled. "Sort of in a little boy, kind of way."

"Hey!" Marty twisted, looking up at Eric who was broadly smiling.

Jeff laughed, leaning on the counter and looking from one man to the other. "I love it!"

"What?" Eric asked.

"Finally, I'm not the one who's the straight man for everyone's jokes."

"No worry, brah," Eric laughed. "You next!"

"Good morning! It's Eric, if I recall," Coach Bowen said, smiling a greeting at the young man who was waiting next to the entrance to the Baseball Practice Facility. "If you're looking for Marty, he isn't scheduled to be here until this afternoon's practice." The coach unlocked the door, and held it open. Each of the few times the coach had seen him, Eric was unfailingly smiling. Today however, he appeared grim. 'Oh, God,' Ed thought, 'please . . . no more bad news.' "In fact, I don't expect anyone for a couple hours, at least," he continued.

"Thank you, sir," Eric said, as the coach gestured for him to precede him into his office. "I've heard that you come in early on most days. That's why I'm here. I need to speak with you." He bowed his head. "Marty doesn't know I'm here. No one knows I'm here . . . but you, of course."

Dani stood at the foot of the bed he and his brother had shared since coming to the university, and recalled how Denis would laughingly jump onto the center of the bed and urge him to hurry up. 'Denis was always laughing,' Dani thought. 'He always had a kind word and a smile for anyone. Panhandlers always thought they'd struck the jackpot when they asked Denis for a handout. He never could say 'no'. He'd buy 'em lunch, and listen to their life's story, then give 'em five bucks and a pat on the back.' Dani sank to the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed.

'He never could say 'no'. He refused to think that anyone could treat him badly.' Dani shook his head. 'Too damned trusting, and look where it got him!'

Dani flung himself across the apartment's bedroom. "Damn you, Denis!" he shouted. "Damn you for being so trusting. Damn you for trusting someone on the street, but not trusting me enough to tell me your problems!" He turned toward the bed and kicked a pillow, which had fallen to the floor when he'd jumped off the bed, moments earlier. "Damn you for not giving me a chance! And, damn you most . . ." his voice caught, "for leaving me alone!" Dani threw himself onto the bed, landing on his stomach and sobbed into Denis' pillow. "I can't take this, Denis. I . . . I . . . I don't know if I can go on without you. Everyone tells me to, 'grow up, that people lose their brothers all the time. They don't understand. No one understands."

He sniffed. "I'm trying. I really am, but I . . . I miss you . . . your voice, your laughter, the feeling of your arms around me." He rolled into a fetal position. "I feel so alone," he whimpered. "Why'd you do this to me, Denis? Why'd you leave me alone?"

"What have I done," Coach Bowen shouted to the walls of the empty office, "to deserve this?" He held his arms out to his sides and let them drop, to hang limply at his sides, as he stared out the window to the green of the practice fields, the palm trees, and mountains in the distance. Everything seemed so peaceful, yet the his life was in turmoil.

'Poor, Eric,' the coach thought. 'I must've frightened the poor boy half to death. I should not have shouted, after all it does no good to shout at the bearer of bad news. But, here I am, getting all this news about Jackson from strangers. First, Brad Kelly, now Eric. Why can't the guys on my team come to me? Do I frighten them so much, or, is it like Eric says . . . they fear Jackson and the possibility that he'll find out who has been telling me about what he's done . . . and if members of the team fear Jackson, why doesn't Eric?'

Ed Bowen raked his fingers through his hair. "Now, it's not only Marty who Jackson has been accused of approaching. Eric reports that my nephew is the cause of Randy's problems, and . . ." Ed shook his head, finding it difficult to even contemplate the rest of what Eric had told him. 'Is it is also possible that Jackson has driven one . . . or more . . . young men to suicide?' Eric stressed that a connection between Jackson and any of the young men who killed themselves, had not been established . . . yet . . . but that the evidence involving Jackson, in at least one of the deaths, was damning.'

"Oh, Randy," Coach Bowen groaned, slowly sinking onto his desk chair and covering his eyes with his hands, as he leaned his elbows on the desk, "I am so sorry for what has happened to you. And . . . at least one death!" The coach shook his head, thinking of the poor boy's parents. 'How would I feel if one of my boys took his own life because of someone like Jackson?' The distant fields wavered through a watery haze. No matter how sorry he, as a coach, was, there was nothing . . . absolutely nothing he could do to help someone who had lost their son. 'I do believe that I am beginning to hate my nephew.

"I'm tired of this, T," Kerin groused, trailing his brother into the gymnastics practice facility. "I'm tired of not being able to practice, of being treated like an invalid by all the guys, of feeling like a useless . . . slug." His mouth twisted into a rueful grin. "I'm also tired of listening to me bitching about being tired of everything." He made a face at his brother as Thian held the door for him, as if he couldn't do it himself. "I don't know how you can stand me," he continued, as they approached the locker room, "right now, I can hardly stand me."

"Well," Thian said, in mock seriousness, turning toward Kerin who had followed him into the locker room, dodging the swinging door as it quickly closed. Kerin slumped onto the bench, glancing at the locker which had his name on it. "Well," Thian continued, as he stripped and began pulling on his practice uniform. "I stand you, 'cause you're cute," Thian began, counting on his fingers. Kerin snorted. "You're fun to be around, most of the time. When I take things too seriously, you make me laugh," Thian continued, "you're lots of fun in bed, and you're a Class-A kisser."

Thian straddled the bench and scooted close enough for him to be knee-to-knee with his twin. "Relax K. I know you're all antsy about not being able to practice, but you'll be well soon. The guys aren't treating you like an invalid, they're just wanting to tell you to keep your spirits up and hurry up and get well. We all miss you. You keep us on our toes, y'know?"

"Really?" Kerin asked. "I make you laugh? You don't mind that I'm such a clown?"

Thian took his brother's hand. "Listen to me, K. I love you, no matter what. You know that being a gymnast involves injuries. Both of us have had them. We moan and groan, but we get well, then we're back to practicing. You know that. Why are you acting like this is the first time you've been hurt? This isn't nearly as bad as a couple of other times, like back when we were in high school and we were both out for six months." Kerin grimaced, recalling their stormy convalescence.

"Thanks T," Kerin murmured. "For being so good to me." He smiled at his brother, who leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

"If you were aiming for the mouth, you missed."

"Ha, ha, ha."

Ben, Randy's friend, looked up from his laptop computer as Randy silently closed the apartment door. He'd offered Randy a place to stay while things were, "set straight." "How'd it go?" he asked, as he closed the laptop screen, and watched as Randy slowly crossed the living room and sat in a dining room chair, facing him.

"Not well," Randy sighed. "In fact, miserably. I should never have agreed to go on a date. I'm not ready for that, yet! That poor guy's probably wondering what's wrong with him. He was nice, Ben. He tried so hard to be nice, it was almost painful." Randy took a shuddering breath, "but when he touched me, I reacted," Randy bowed his head, "badly. I tried to tell him that there's nothing wrong with him, it's all up here," he pointed to his head."

"You're making progress, though," Ben hazarded.

Randy snorted. "Yeah, how? Do you consider me traumatizing some poor guy, progress?" He snorted. "Yeah, Randy . . . foist your problems off on someone else." He shook his head.

"In a way, yes, you are making progress. You're able to leave the apartment. That's progress. You've gained some of your weight back."

"I guess not vomiting a dozen times a day might be considered progress," Randy murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. "But, Ben, will I ever be able to let a man touch me, or will I spend the rest of my life freezing, or snarling at anyone who tries? I swear, Ben, I came this close," he held a thumb and forefinger close together, "to decking the poor guy tonight, all because he friggin' touched me! Can you imagine how far I have to go before I'm ready to have sex? Hell, I haven't cum since all this started, and I don't want to! I'd have to think erotic thoughts, and the thought of being naked . . . with another man . . . sickens me."

"Maybe all you need is to find the right man," Ben offered, in an attempt to soothe his roommate.

Randy huffed a skeptical laugh, then heaved himself out of the chair. "Yeah, right."

Dani turned away from the person staffing the reception desk of the university's athletics practice facility. He'd explained, at length, why he, a non-athlete, wanted access to someone from the gymnastics team. She'd seemed genuinely sorry that she couldn't allow him past the lobby, but she did say that she knew of a gymnast who, if he was free, might be willing to give him an interview. He'd smiled his thanks, and turned away, studying the very . . . fit . . . looking people who were moving through the lobby, while the attendant paged the person she'd mentioned.

A few minutes later, he noticed a nice looking guy cross the lobby. The woman behind the desk gestured toward Dani, and the guy headed in his direction, wearing a warm smile.

'Damn, but he's nice looking,' Dani thought, pleased that, at last, he once again could appreciate a good looking man. After Denis died, he'd not even thought about anyone, much less about having sex. He'd had sexual encounters with guys other than his brother, but not many. Denis was the person he loved. Denis was the person he still loved. It was comforting, though, for him to know that he wasn't dead from the waist down.

"Hi. I'm Kerin Johnston," the wonderful looking person said, wrapping Dani's hand in a warm . . . embrace. "I understand you'd like to talk to a gymnast," the sandy blond said, as he finally released Dani's hand. Closer, he was even more stunning. He seemed so . . . alive. His smile was dazzling, his eyes danced, his voice was a soft tenor, Randy Dani thought, which seemed to wrap around him, feeling embarrassingly like a tender caress. Like most gymnasts Dani had seen on television, Kerin was of medium height, and moved with an overwhelming sense of self-confidence. Dani took his hand, pleased with both the strength and warmth of the handshake. The guy seemed uncomfortably aware that his heavily taped left hand spoiled the impression of a perfect appearance.

"Um," Dani cleared his throat. "I'm Dani Aarons. I . . . I was hoping that you might have a few minutes, and would be willing for me to interview you for a paper I'm doing for a class of mine. My assignment was to interview a gymnast, and," he nodded toward the woman behind the reception counter, "she thought you might be willing to talk to me for a few minutes. I don't want to take you away from anything important, though. I could meet with you any time that's convenient."

Kerin laughed. "Now's fine. Cindy," he nodded toward the woman behind the reception desk, "knows I love talking, so," he grinned, "she's inflicting me on you. Right now, she's probably watching us and smiling to herself, wondering how long it'll be before you get bored to tears by my ramblings." Kerin laughed. "That means I'd love to visit with you. He held up his taped hand, the first admission of the injury. "The guys are practicing. If I hadn't hurt myself, I'd be in the gym with them. So," he grinned, "I've got plenty of time." The hand he placed on Dani's back, as they walked past the receptionist, and he said blithely, "he's with me, Cindy," felt like it would burn a hole in Dani's shirt.

"Damn," Dani thought. "He even smells great."

Kerin guided him toward a largely abandoned lounge, and gestured to a table. "Would this be okay?" Dani numbly nodded, pulling out a chair opposite Kerin and sinking into the soft cushions. "This time of day there usually aren't very many people in here." Kerin paused, studying him, wearing a slightly crooked smile. "You're acting like I'm the first guy you've ever seen," he teased. "Or," he held up his injured hand, "are you wondering how I came to be injured?"

"Um," Dani cleared his throat. "I don't really know what I'm thinking. I'm sorta feeling like the ninety-five pound weakling." Kerin threw back his head and laughed. It was a wonderful carefree sort of laugh, just like Denis'. Dani squeezed a hand into a fist and tried to not think about his brother.

"What a wonderful compliment!" Kerin smiled, "but, let me assure you, you are definitely not a ninety-five pound weakling. It's really not fair, you know, for guys to compare themselves with a gymnast. I've worked, with single-minded dedication, for around fifteen years to look like this, and the only reason I've done it is because I want to be the best gymnast I can possibly be. If I didn't do gymnastics, I would be more than pleased to have a body like yours. When the time comes that I don't, or can't, do gymnastics any longer, I hope I look as good as you."

"Really?" Dani's voice squeaked upward. "I mean, thanks." He smiled, suddenly feeling comfortable with the friendly person across the table. "I don't believe you'll ever be just a normal looking guy, though." Kerin just smiled.

An hour later, Kerin was still talking. Dani felt as if he knew the person he thought of as a friend, inside-out. One of the things which made him feel a . . . kinship with Kerin was how often he spoke of his brother.

"He's more important to me than anything, or anyone," Kerin said, then paused. His light touch, when he reached across the table, caused Dani to jump. "I'm sorry. I thought you probably had heard that Thian and I . . ." Before he could finish the sentence, someone called his name.

Dani looked up as Kerin twisted in his seat and gestured towards the approaching person. He gasped for breath, as Kerin turned toward him, his smile fading to a look of worry. 'I can't breathe,' Dani thought. He felt cold, then, a moment later, hot. He gulped, hoping to control the stomach churning nausea which threatened to overwhelm him. Heading toward him and Kerin was the one thing he dreaded coming across, a person's twin.

"Oh, shit," he groaned, as he leaned forward and rested his head on his folded arms, his emotions a seething chaos. These men had the same sort of relationship he'd had with Denis! That's what Kerin had been about to say before his brother called his name. 'It's not fair,' he thought, as he sobbed, dimly aware that someone had scooted a chair close to his, and had laid a comforting arm across his shoulders. "It's not fair," he sobbed.

He heard Kerin, or was it his brother, tell someone who sounded concerned, that everything was under control. The person's footsteps faded into the general background noise of the nearby lobby.

'Things are not under control,' he thought. 'They are totally and irrevocably out of control.' He took a deep shuddering breath, the unseen presence of his brother standing at his side. 'Denis would have been teasing me, trying to make me laugh. Denis could always make me feel better.' But, Denis was gone, and there was no one to help take away the pain.

"Dani?" Kerin asked, in a voice filled with concern, as he slowly rubbed his hand over Dani's back. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, as Dani sat up and tried to regain control of his breathing, swiping the water from hie eyes with his hand. "Here." Kerin handed him a box of tissues, while continuing to gently rub his back. "First, blow your nose." Dani felt like a small child, being told what to do. "Now," Kerin said, accepting a washcloth from someone standing behind Dani. "Now, wipe your face. It's cold," he warned, as he handed the wet washcloth to Dani.

"Good man," he murmured, with an understanding smile. "Now, since you're following every order I've given you so far, have a drink," he grinned, scooting a cup of cold water closer. Dani downed the entire cup and tried to smile, once again feeling like a small child.

"Thanks, Kerin," he hiccoughed. "You're a twin?"

Kerin nodded once, glancing over Dani's shoulder. "I told you I had a brother. I guess I never mentioned that we we're twins." He smiled. "It's not something I even think about. To me, he's just . . . Thian."

Dani steeled himself and looked over his shoulder to the concerned person standing nearby. "I'm sorry to be behaving so badly," he managed. He held out an unsteady hand. "I'm Dani." He tried to grin as Thian moved to stand opposite his brother, and shook his hand. "If I haven't embarrassed you both . . ." He heaved a ragged sigh. "If I haven't embarrassed you, would you mind having a seat and I . . . I'll try and explain." He tried to grin, as Thian sat next to his brother.

'At least they're not dressed alike,' Dani thought, as he bit his lip. "I . . . I was a twin, too," he said, unable to say more, as his throat tightened.

"Was?" Thian murmured.

Dani nodded once. "Denis . . . my brother . . . he died." Dani squeezed his eyes tightly closed, willing the image of his brother not to appear in his mind, cursing the single tear which escaped to roll over his cheek. "Six months ago." He took a jagged breath. "He left me alone."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask.