The Boy Next Door

• • • • • • • ATTENTION * * * * * * *

This story contains underage males in a consensual, romantic, and/or sexual relationship with one another. If such material offends you, please do not read any further. If such material is deemed illegal in your locality, please do not read any further. By continuing to read further, you, the reader, assume all consequences, civil and legal.

This story is fictional and does not aim to represent any person/persons living or dead. If any likeness to a real person, living or dead, is depicted within this story, it is purely coincidental and unintentional. This story is the property of me, the author, and is posted on the Archive with my permission. If you wish to use part/all of this story for any reason, please contact me.

As always, I look forward to your comments and suggestions. Thank you for choosing to read my story and I hope you enjoy! You may contact me at niftistoriboi@yahoo.com * * * * * * * YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED * * * * * * *

• • • • • MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR * * * * *

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"The Boy Next Door, Part II: Coming Clean" by Nifti Stori Boi

I began stripping off my pajamas in preparation for my morning shower. There seemed to be nothing better than to both start and end a day with a nice, hot, relaxing shower. Besides, if I was to have my heart-to-heart with Mark, I wanted to be at my best. I looked over my pudgy frame in the mirror while I still had on my glasses. My shaggy, bed-tossed brown hair; my blue eyes staring out from behind the lenses; my slight man-boobs and pot belly; my thick curls of brown pubes that formed the base of a trail of hair that led to my bellybutton; my average, flaccid penis and balls (I suppose they were average, I did not attempt to check other guys' equipment for fear of being exposed; at fourteen, being a "fag" is one of the worst things that can happen to a guy in a small, religious town); all of it was reflected back to me in the mirror.

"It does not matter what is on the outside," I told my reflection, "it only matters what is inside." Still, the words felt somewhat hollow leaving my lips. I still felt a sense of less worth because I was not "hot" like Mark.

Mark Johnson was by all accounts hot with a capital H-O-T. He was virtually the same height as me (six-feet, one-inch) with short blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and the body of a young athlete. Even fully dressed, his muscles were quite clear and outlined under the fabric. He was my Narcissus. The only thing that made the whole package better was his personality.

Mark was genuinely kind. His habit of being kind and without guile, I found out, was something he inherited from his mother; his looks were from his father. His twin sister Rachael, on the other hand, inherited their father's cocky stubbornness and their mother's physical beauty. The youngest, Luke, inherited a mixture in both appearance and personality. Still, with all of that said, Mark was still my favorite of the lot (of any lot).

I went over to the shower and began to get the temperature of the water just right. At the same time, in my mind, I was going over all of the possible ways in which I could approach the subject of me loving Mark. Also, I was attempting to prepare myself for his reaction. After all, he did not know that I was attracted to boys rather than girls. I had never been able to bring myself to mention it; there never seemed to be an opportune time to casually slip in, "Oh yeah, I like guys."

As I stepped into the jets of warm water shooting from the showerhead, my mind began to drift back to another "coming out" moment. Except, this moment was not a moment of me coming out. It was a moment of one of my brothers coming out. The timing was not of his choosing. It was something I happened to stumble upon quite accidentally.

"Well, I'm sorry. I forgot!"

"You managed to remember to get everything else," I retorted sarcastically.

Jason stopped putting the groceries away long enough to look at me and roll his eyes. "Fine," he said as he reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. "Fine, here's a ten. If a pack of Sprite is that important to you, go on and get it."

"You want me to go by myself?"

"Yes," Jason droned as he continued to put things away, "by yourself."

"Why do you not drive me there? Better yet, why do you not just go back," I asked.

Jason stopped again and turned to face me directly. "Because, if I leave now that both Chris and Adam are not here, your heathen brothers will have this place burnt down to kindling before I get back."

I gave a small laugh at his over exaggeration. "You would only be gone for five minutes."

"That's all it would take. You know that Michael is a firebug. Danny likes things that go boom in the night. And don't get me started on Jon and Ron." He continued staring at me. The look he gave told me that it was pointless to continue.

"Alright," I said defeated. "I will walk down to the store," I added under my breath, "even though it will take at least twice as long."

I left the house, walked up the short driveway, and onto the road. It was around a twenty-minute walk to get to the center of town where the nearest grocery was located. It was mostly a routine, boring exercise. There was little traffic to worry about; most people were out and about in the larger towns and cities in the region. Overall, it was a typical Saturday evening in St. Claire as I had come to know it.

As I got to the storefront, I spotted something that was quite surprising to me. Across the street there was a public parking area for people to park while they went to the various small-town stores (a grocery store, a small two-screen movie theater, a pharmacy, et cetera). The parking lot was mostly deserted save for a few locals' vehicles. One of the vehicles belonged to a local that I was quite familiar with - my brother Adam. The surprising thing was not to see Adam by his truck, the surprise was seeing Adam wrapped around another boy, apparently making out passionately.

I stood still, staring at the pair for I do not know how long. Finally, I came to my senses. I quickly entered the store and made my purchase, all the while trying to process what I had just seen. I seemed to be on autopilot. When I came out, Adam and his unknown friend where standing by his truck talking.

I decided to investigate. I quickly crossed the street and came up to the two. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible as I approached them. "What are you doing standing around in a parking lot," I asked in what I hoped to be a casual way.

"Oh, hey Matt," Adam said as he noticed my presence, "You know, just standing around shooting the shit with a friend. This is Jordan, by the way."

Jordan and I exchanged the usual pleasantries of "nice to meet you" and so forth. Afterwards, the three of us stood around in the awkward silence that typically follows interrupting private conversations.

After a few moments, Adam spoke up, "You need a ride home?"

"If you are going that way," I replied.

"Sure, get in." Adam turned to Jordan, "I'll see you later," he said as casually as if it were a fellow classmate rather than the person whose throat had just had his tongue down it.

Adam and I got into his truck. He started it up and we drove off. I sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, I had to say something. "Could we drive around for a little while," I asked in an attempted little- brother-wanting-to-spend-time-with-his-big-brother way.

"For a little bit," Adam responded. I could have almost bet that he would have agreed. Chris had only recently been able to get a truck for Adam. Adam, as with any person who first gets an automobile, had been looking for any reason to drive as much as possible.

I sat quietly for a while as we drove out of town. I was thinking over how best to ask Adam about what I had witnessed. I knew that I had to be tactful or risk getting him angry with me. After all, big brothers HATE little brothers sticking their noses where they do not belong. Finally, I had an idea of how to go about it.

"Pull over somewhere," I told Adam.

"Why," he asked.

"I want to talk to you about something," I said as calmly as possible so as not to make him concerned. After a few minutes, he found a wide spot on the side of the road that he could pull over onto safely. When we came to a stop, I began.

"Why were you making out with Jordan?" I, at the age of twelve, had not yet fully developed the filter between reasoned control and impulse control. Regretfully, the impulse side won out and I blurted out what I wanted to know rather than skillfully approach the subject.

Adam stared out of the driver's side window for a few moments before answering, "That's what boyfriends do."

"Boyfriends, what do you mean? Are you dating Jordan?"

"Yeah, that's what gay guys do - they see each other." He continued staring out of his window.

"Gay," I inquired.

"Yes, gay. You do know what that means?"

"Yes," I said emphatically. All little brothers hate it when their older brothers ask some form of, "Do you know what that is?" "Yes, I know what it means. Are you and Jordan like that?"

"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly.

We sat in silence for what seemed to be hours, in reality it was mere minutes. "Is he a good boyfriend," I finally asked.

Adam turned and faced me for the first time. I expected to see anger, anger at the fact that he had to explain his private life to his little brother. Instead, what I saw was surprise. He bore a look that seemed to express the feeling I had when I saw him with Jordan.

"What do you mean?"

"Does he treat you well? Can you trust him? You know, is he a good boyfriend?"

He continued to look at me. His expression changed from surprise to something I could not quite tell. "Yes, they both are," he finally said.

"Both?" Now it was my turn to be surprised by the conversation.

"Yeah, both. I am seeing two guys, Jordan and Brandon. They are seeing each other as well. We have this sorta threesome thing going on." He continued to look at me. I could tell that now he was waiting to for my reaction.

"That is good, that they are both good to you, I mean."

Adam slightly smiled at me. "You don't think I'm some kinda pervert?"

"No," I said while shaking my head, "I do not think that at all."

"Are you going to tell everyone?"

"Not if you do not want me to," I replied.

Adam's slight smile turned into a full, teeth-baring smile. "Good," he said, "that's good to hear."

"If you do not want people to know," I asked, "why were the two of you kissing in such a public place?"

Adam started to laugh. "That was my fault." He continued to smile, "We had not been around each other for a couple of weeks and I couldn't help myself. I had to have my boy!"

I laughed a little. It was still very weird to hear Adam talk like that, especially about another boy, two other boys, actually. We sat there talking for more than an hour. I say we, when in reality it was Adam doing most of the talking. He told me nearly everything about his relationship with Brandon and Jordan.

Adam had met Jordan, who was twenty-one, while at the college's library looking up information for a school report. They immediately hit it off. Brandon, on the other hand, was the same age, and in the same grade, as Adam, though at the high school in neighboring Unionville. They first met when Adam was at Unionville High playing a basketball game. Adam eventually brought them together and the three of them decided to be more than friends.

We got back to the house after dark. I had called Jason before we left the parking lot in town to inform him of me going with Adam so that he would not be worried. We both went into the kitchen while I put away my precious Sprite. Jason followed us in, talking to Adam about the football game he had been watching. Afterwards, he turned his attention to me.

"I see the trip was productive," he said while nodding towards the empty store bag on the counter. Adam, who was standing slightly in front of Jason, gave me a subtle smile and wink. It was a moment of secret understanding between two brothers - a feeling impossible to describe.

"Very productive," I said.

I stood drying off. I had taken an entire shower in a fog of memories. In the year and a half since seeing Adam with Jordan, we had become extremely close. All of the private talks that we had had encouraged me to come clean with Mark. He was my best friend and I thought he deserved to know. I hoped beyond hope that my conversation with him would be as positive as the one with Adam several months earlier.