W.A.R. 4-4 Think or Feel

W.A.R. Part Four - Rehabilitation

(2nd edition)

Chapter Four - Think or Feel

by Jeff Wilson

Dustin and I became quite skilled at the art of avoiding each the rest of the week. I wondered if he was going to stay mad at me the entire time I was staying at Brett's house. That was fine with me. I was still angry with him for being such a jerk anyway.

Most of our teachers had nothing for us to do during the week. I had managed to easily ace all of my tests, and there was really no point in being there. Seriously, I wondered why I was even in school. I already knew everything they were teaching me and everybody hated me there.

I didn't have time to worry about Dustin. I was having so much fun at Brett's house! As he had promised, Brett took care of me. He helped me get dressed in the morning and carried my books for me. He even helped me to eat sometimes.

"I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you for everything you've done for me," I said as he helped me get my shirt on.

"I'm sure you'll make it up to me some day," he told me. His smile was more than enough to cheer me up when I was feeling depressed about everything that had happened. I was still really down because of the whole situation. My poor dad was in a coma, my mom was having to care for yet another family member who had a stroke, and I'd done nobody any favors by smashing my hand to pieces being an idiot. I didn't like to be alone because that was when the bad thoughts would creep in. Some nights I just lay on the bed and think for hours. I'd always had trouble sleeping before, now there were nights when I barely got a couple hours of sleep. What sleep I did have was almost always filled with terrifying nightmares. The dream I'd had about Dustin raping me was nothing compared to the ones I was having at Brett's house. The worst one was the one where I stabbed Brett and his mom to death and burned their house down. I woke up in a cold sweat and couldn't go back to sleep after that one.

But at least I quickly learned the art of opposite-hand masturbation. Yeah... That whole worrying about how I was going to be able to do it with the wrong hand lasted like five minutes. It wasn't as good, but it got the job done.

Mom called every day to let me know how things were going. Dad was recovering, but he still had a lot of problems so she was going to spend another week in Pittsburgh. I was torn between feeling bad about what happened to him and missing him, and still feeling upset by the way he'd treated me before everything had happened. I just wanted to talk to him and sort everything out like we'd always done before. Not being able to fix things between us was really bothering me.

Another thing that was bothering me was the fact that Dr. Reilly was constantly there. Any other time, she was always at work and Brett was on his own or at my house. But the entire time I was at their house she never left. She must have been going to work when we went to school and coming home before we got there. And she was always hovering around us. It was nice that she was around and everything, but it was getting kind of annoying. Brett and I had hardly even had a moment alone to sneak in a kiss when she would be right there. I was beginning to think she was spying on me. But then, I was beginning to think that everyone was out to get me. Maybe they were?

I wondered if she was observing me because of what Dustin had told her about what happened in that restroom. Maybe she thought I would throw a toaster in the bathtub with myself or something? Like I'd really want to be found dead and naked in the bathroom. One of my worst fears was dying alone and naked. Whatever the reason, she was also keeping me from having some real fun with Brett. While I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with him, I was sure it was more than the nothing I'd done with him the whole week I was at his house. I couldn't even touch him without his mom popping up and asking if I needed anything! I was beginning to get a little desperate about the situation. I had to touch him sometime! I had to feel his touch soon, or I was going to go insane! She even had me sleep in their spare bedroom! So I couldn't even sneak a feel at night time.

The closeness of our situation, complicated by the constant supervision and separation, was driving us to the point of desperation! It didn't help that Brett liked to hang out in his boxers and nothing else when he was at home. I felt like the minute she left the house I was going to rip Brett's boxers off and bang the hell out of him! The urgency of my teenage yearning had been pushed to the boiling point. I was beyond wanting to be with him. I wanted him more than anything I'd ever wanted before. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that we were going to have sex the first chance we got. We both wanted it. We both needed it. It was only a matter of time until we did it.

Did Brett know what he was doing to me? Did he realize that when he sat just the right way in those boxers I could see his balls if I tilted my head just the right way? Did he know that I was memorizing every little inch of his half-naked body when we hung out together? Did he realize I was recording every sweet sound that came from his lips when he spoke? Did he know how in awe I was of him as he played his guitar and sang silly made-up songs? Did he know how hypnotized I was by the way he played the piano in their living room? I sat enraptured for hours as he enchanted me with every note and melody. He didn't even have music in front of him as he played song after song. It was a side of him I'd never seen before, and I'd seen about as much of him as there was to see! Music unleashed a part of him that was too often kept hidden from the world. Everyone deserved to be blessed by his talents!

"How did you learn to play so well?" I asked after he had finished playing a song on his guitar and singing as we were sitting in his room.

"What do you think I do when I get bored?" he replied. "If I'm really into something I can do it for hours and it seems like minutes. I've always been into music, so I never get bored and I can always try new things with it. It takes me away from this crappy little town for a while."

"Why don't you play in the band?" I asked him. "You're really good."

"Because it wouldn't be fun," Brett explained. "It's too structured. I can't play like that. This is what I do to escape for a while. I need to be free to play my own way. Besides, in band you have to behave yourself and do what the director says. You know that's not me. When I play guitar or piano or the organ, it takes me away from all the bullshit. Music is honest."

"Can you read music, or do you just play by ear?"

"I can do either. It's more fun to figure out a song on your own though."

"So being dyslexic doesn't mess up the way you read music?"

Brett said, "Surprisingly not. I don't understand it either. Maybe I am reading it all screwy and just don't realize it, but I can read music just fine. Maybe because it's all symbols? You know, I don't reverse whole words, I just mix up letters. I don't stay up all night wondering if there's a dog. I worry if there's a gob. I can see the word is god, but my brain won't let me say it right. With music, it doesn't matter. If something's wrong you don't just hear it, you can feel it inside. You just know when you've hit the right note, you don't even have to think about it. It's one of the few things in my life that makes sense."

"I couldn't play like you," I gushed.

"You know why you can't?" he asked. "It's because you're too afraid to let go and just live in a moment. You think too much. It's like, you can't hear a piece of music and just enjoy it. You have to break it down and figure it out mathematically. What key is it in? What's the time signature? You can't enjoy something unless you tear it to pieces and try understand it. You analyze everything, and that's good in a lot of ways, but not in others. That's why you can't just have fun and enjoy yourself. You're always thinking."

"I don't mean to be like that," I said.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," Brett said. "It's just the way your brain works. It's why you do so well at school and I don't. You're a thinker. It's why you can look at a field and pick out a four-leaf clover. You analyze it all without even trying. I'm not a thinker at all, obviously. I'm more of a feeler. I look at the field and see all the fun stuff you can do in it. But when we're together, we show each other the things we'd miss on our own. That's why we make such a good couple."

"I never thought of it that way," I replied. "See, you are pretty smart!"

"There's different ways of being smart."

"Okay, if you're so smart what am I thinking now?" I asked.

"You're wondering when my mom is finally going to leave us alone so we can finally get laid," he said.

"Wow. You are good!" I laughed.

"I didn't have to think too hard to figure that one out. I see the way you've been looking at me lately. You're going to strain your neck trying to look up my shorts. I could take up residence in the tent you've had in your pants this week. If I was as naked in real life as I am in your mind I'd never have clothes on! Of course, I have to admit I've been doing the same thing to you. Every day I discover something new about you. But you're really not that hard to read, Billy. You're one of the most honest people I've ever known. You're a terrible liar. But that's a really good thing! That's one of the things I've always liked about you. But then, most people are easy to figure out. The only person I really can never figure out is Dustin. He's like the opposite of you."

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's like he's purposely deceptive, always hiding everything. I think that's why I've never liked him because I can't get a read on him. You're easy to read. You don't hide your feelings. If something's bothering you everybody knows it. But Dustin... He always seems like he's putting on an act. He's never himself. His mind is always working. Like, he'll smile but you can tell he's not happy. Or how he acts like he's dumb but he's actually really smart. I mean, if he worked at it he'd be as good in school as you are, but he doesn't. It's like he's playing a game. Obviously he's smart because he's in all the same smart classes as you are and not the dummy classes with me. It's not natural, it's a big put-on. It's like he's always hiding something... Like the way he never swears. Everybody swears once in a while. If he swore, it'd probably be the real him sneaking through. It's like he's always wearing a mask and you never meet the real kid underneath it. I don't think anyone's ever met the real Dustin. He's afraid to let people see him for what he really is."

"And what is he?"

"I don't know. Something's definitely off about him though. He's not as tough as he pretends to be. He's scared of something, maybe everything. I think he's had the mask on for so long that that's who he thinks he really is. But you can't wear a mask forever. He's going to break sometime, and it's not going to be pretty. He's going to hurt somebody someday. That's why I've always been nervous about you hanging out with him. I really don't care who you hang out with. I wish you had lots more friends, honestly. It's just, he already pushed you into a wall. I'm afraid if he snaps you're going to get hurt."

"Don't we all kind of hide and protect ourselves though?" I asked.

"Not like him," Brett replied. "He's super manipulative. I've thought about him a lot. He's pretty fascinating actually because he's so broken. It's like he lies so much he believes the lies are the truth, so you can't get a read on whether he's lying or not because it's all the same to him. I think there's something really bad going on with him, even worse than the stuff we already know about, and he's afraid to let anyone get too close to him. He doesn't want anyone to figure him out."

"Well, I guess he has to get used to hiding who he is if he's gay," I suggested.

"That's just the thing. I don't even think he's gay, not really. He might be doing that Mike guy, but that doesn't mean he's gay. I think he's using Mike to escape whatever it is that's really wrong with him. And yeah, I know his parents are shitheads. But I think he's gotten himself into something that's really bad. I think something much worse is going on with him, and that whole thing with Mike is just a game to him. I can't put my finger on what his real deal is, besides his parents abusing him. Whatever it is, it's really bad. He kind of scares me. I don't hide who I am. I don't care who knows I'm in love with you."

"If I weren't afraid we'd get our asses kicked I wouldn't care either," I replied.

"You don't hide as much as you think you do, Billy, not really. If you did I wouldn't love you like I do. I can't stand phony assholes. I think that's why I was attracted to you even before we kissed. Your words said "I'm not gay" but your actions were all like, "I'm so fucking gay it's killing me not to say anything." You might think you're in the closet, but it's a glass closet. You're such a terrible liar because you over-think things. Like, you rehearse it in your head before you say it so it always sounds off. I don't know, maybe it's just because I've known you for so long, but I can always tell when you're lying. I'll bet you'll be surprised to know how many people already know about us."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. My mom probably knows, at least she knows about me. We've never really had the talk, but if she doesn't know I'm gay then she's an idiot. I just think she doesn't know how to talk to me about it so she doesn't say anything at all, and that's cool with me. I think she's still trying to figure you out. She knows you, but not all that well. I think she saw this week as a chance to get to know you better. Miss Winston knows about you. That's why she's taken you under her wing. I haven't had her for any classes because she only teaches smart kids. I don't even think she knows my name. Joey McKenzie seems to know because he won't shut up about it. Every time we hang out he thinks he has to tell me that you're gay. If I have to hear one more time about that bitch he's fucking I'm going to scream."

"Yeah, I don't know why you still hang out with a jerk like him."

"Well, our parents are old college friends. His dad helped my mom find this place."

"Okay, so who else knows about us?"

"Emily definitely knows. She doesn't flat out say it, but she hints around enough that I think she's got us figured out. See that's the thing, no one's honest about this stuff, everybody just hints around and nobody ever just asks. It's like they're afraid to hurt our little feelings by asking. I'd be thrilled if someone just said, `so are you guys fucking each other?' Oh, I think your dad knows."

"No he doesn't! He'd have said something!" I protested.

"I'll bet when we stop sneaking around nobody's even going to care. They're all going to say they already knew, and I think that's cool because we're not being phony assholes. We're only playing it safe because you're a pussy, not because you're ashamed or anything. I'd tell people now if you wanted."

"You know I want to, but I like living at home. Hell, I like living, period. If my mom found out, she'd kick me out. And we haven't even done anything really. I'll bet a lot of guys have played around with each other's thing or sucked each other off and not been gay. I think we should at least have had sex before we throw ourselves to the wolves. Let's get some fun out of our lives before they get ruined."

"So are you saying you want to have sex with me?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious by now. I mean, I did leave you hanging for a year after we kissed."

"Oh, I wasn't ready for sex back then either. I'm glad we waited. I needed some time to grow up. Maybe I still do. I don't know."

"Yeah, me too. I think I'm ready now though."

Just as Brett was getting ready to say something, his mom peeked into his room. "Billy, you have a phone call," she said, smiling.

She handed me her cell phone and I expected to hear mom's voice on the line. So I was shocked when I heard...

"Hey boy."

"Dad?" I asked, my voice trembling. Brett perked up and smiled when he understood what had happened. Dr. Reilly led him out of the room and closed the door to give me some privacy.

"You have a minute to talk boy?" he asked. His voice was so week I practically had to jam the phone into my eardrum to hear him.

"Yeah dad," I replied.

"I'm sorry, Billy," he said. "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

"You don't have to..."

"No, Billy. Listen to me. I'm sorry about what happened between us that night. I never should have hit you, or said the things I said to you. I've felt sick about it. I know how you must feel."

"It's okay, dad," I said, my voice breaking and my eyes burning.

"I know, boy. I just don't want us to end up like my dad and I did."

"We won't dad! I'm sorry about what I did, too!"

"I know you are, boy. But I was wrong to get into that argument with you in the first place. When I was young, I swore that I would never hurt my kids the way my father hurt me. He had done it so often and I hated him for it. My body may have healed but my heart never did. When I slapped you, I became my father. I hated myself. And then when I realized that I could die..."

"You're not going to die, dad!" I said automatically.

"When I realized that I could die, Billy, and the last thing you would hear me say was that I didn't want to even look at you... I needed to tell you how sorry I am. I had to tell you. I had to fix it because there's no way that my boy's going to hate me the way I hated my father."

"I don't hate you dad! I love you!" I choked up as tears rolled down my face.

"I love you too, boy."

I couldn't even speak anymore. I just sat on the bed and cried like a dweeb with all Brett's animals watching me. I wasn't even embarrassed about it. My dad and I had been through hell. But we'd somehow survived. Sure we were both wounded by our battle, but our wounds would heal. I had been so caught up in my own anger about being hurt that I hadn't realized just how hurt dad was too. He'd been so traumatized by what his dad did to him that he'd left home and never went back. His dad never told him he loved him. He'd made a promise to me before I was even born that things were going to be different. And they were! We'd withstood the fire and would come out stronger. We would respect each other a lot more because of it.

"Okay, I'd better get off of here. Your mom's coming back soon. You behave yourself. Take good care of Brett and listen to Jenny. Okay boy?"

"Okay," I barely whispered. "I love you dad."

"I love you, boy," dad replied. "And I always will."

I sat on the bed for a good five minutes after I hung up the phone. It felt good to cry. I felt better than I'd felt in a month. After a while, Brett peeked in the door.

"Are you decent?"

"Yeah," I replied. I wiped my eyes and tried to look busy.

"Darn," he joked, then he saw that I was crying. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked. "Did something happen with your dad? Is he alright?"

"Nothing's wrong. Things have never been better," I said as my eyes welled up yet again. "We had a really good talk."

"Oh, so they're happy tears. That's awesome, dude! You want some company?" Brett asked.

"Yeah..." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and smiled. Brett sat next to me and put his arm around me. I leaned into his chest and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "Hey Brett, thanks."

"Thanks for what?" he asked.

"Thanks for everything, I guess. I don't think I could have made it through all this without you. My dad, the deal with my hand, Dustin... You've been here for me through all of it, trying to make me feel better, making me laugh when I needed it. You're the best boyfriend a guy could ever have."

Brett leaned his head onto mine. "I know," he said. Though I couldn't see his face I could tell he was smiling. "You're really lucky to have me."

We both laughed. It felt good to laugh again. "I want you to do something for me, Brett."

"Anything you want, I'll do it."

"I want you to..."

Just then the door opened and Dr. Reilly peeked in. Damn damn damn!!! We quickly separated ourselves and tried to look natural.

"So, did everything turn out okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I think things are going to be better between us now."

"It feels good doesn't it?" she said winking at me.

"I haven't been this happy in a long time," I said.

"Billy, you are a wonderful boy. Goodnight boys."

"Goodnight, mom," Brett replied.

With that, she closed the door and left us alone.

"So, what was it you wanted me to do?" Brett asked.

"This..." I said. Then I kissed him. It felt so perfect. My whole body felt like electricity. That was all I needed from him that night. That overwhelming urge that I felt to just have sex for the sake of having sex went away, at least for the moment. I knew it would be back, and that was okay. We were going to do it eventually. But what I needed more than anything from him was love. I slept in his room with him that night. We didn't do anything sexual, all we did was snuggle close. As he held me close to him as we slept, I felt more loved and more happy than I had felt in a year.

Every once in a while I have to give the poor boys a bit of happiness.

So what did you think? I'd love to hear!

Next few chapters are going to be epic, so this one was kind of quiet. But look out next time, because a certain redhead is coming back in a very big way. At long last, Brett and Dustin together in one room. What's going to happen when the gloves come off?

If you'd like to comment, you can reach me at: jkwsquirrel@yahoo.com I hope you will!

Next time: Dustin Loses the War