Three Tears
by David Heulfryn

 

Chapter Thirteen

Martin could not understand why he felt sick. He had run for a few minutes and then stopped. Looking behind him, he couldn’t see Phil and assumed he wasn’t following him. He couldn’t see Phil frantically running down the small streets and alleyways, trying to find him, hoping he was alright and wanting to help him.

Martin’s mind had gone into a state of confusion, and he didn’t know why. As soon as he saw Phil and his brother naked together, he half-remembered the story his brother had told him, the mutual masturbation. Why did he feel so betrayed, and who did he feel had betrayed him, Phil or his brother? Putting his hands on either side of his head, he pressed hard, expecting the pressure and pain to make him reach a conclusion. When this didn’t work he began rubbing, pulling and contorting his skin so that his face was unrecognisable.

Feeling his phone vibrate against his leg, he picked it up and saw it was Phil. Without hesitation, he rejected the call. Phil tried four more times to speak to Martin, but the call was rejected each time. His fifth attempt was just a text message and a few short words, ‘Call me, I need to know ur okay’. Martin read the message and ignored it, trying to hold back the tears of fear and anger in his eyes.

Wandering around aimlessly, Martin spent the rest of the afternoon trying to think but not coming to any conclusions. He found a park on his travels and sat on a swing, gently rocking himself backwards and forwards. When he arrived at the park, no one was around, but later, a couple of young boys turned up. Seeing Martin and the morose look on his face, they left after only half an hour.

The afternoon drew to a close, and the evening broke through, its cooler air and stillness not registering with Martin. He had remained on the swing for hours, rocking himself, alternating his anger with confusion, then tears. Darkness slowly crept over but only registered as the day just became overcast.

 

As the clock passed eight o’clock, his mother was getting worried. Tony was with her and his father in the front room while James listened to music in the bedroom. There had been no contact with Martin since he told his mother he was going out this morning. Querying his whereabouts with Tony just met with a dismissive shrug. The question had disturbed him watching the programme.

Not content, she called up to James. He, too, had heard nothing from him.

“Would you mind giving him a ring, make sure everything’s alright? I don’t want to look like I’m interfering.” She politely asked James.

Returning to his room, he turned the music down and rang Martin’s mobile.

His first attempt was rejected, much like Martin had done with Phil. But his second attempt was answered, and he heard a very sharp ‘yes’ from Martin.

“I was just wondering if you’re alright and if everything went okay today.”

“Sure.” Martin gave a sharp response.

“Where are you?”

“Just out.”

“Are you okay? You sound funny?”

“No.” Martin struggled and only just managed to stifle a sob.

“Look, Mum’s getting worried. When are you going to get back?” James now sounded concerned.

Martin was silent, wondering if he could cope with seeing anybody and the questions he would face.

“Look, I’m getting worried too.” James pleaded.

Again, Martin stifled a sob. “Tell Mum I’ll be home in about an hour.”

Martin ended the call, and James looked at the screen in confusion. Something was blatantly wrong; he considered ringing again but decided against it. He would ring again if he had not appeared within the hour.

Going downstairs for a moment, he told his mother that Martin would be home by nine o’clock and, not voicing his concerns, lied to her, saying everything was okay. He kept his music low in his room, listening for the front door to open. Until Martin was home and found out he was alright, he knew he would not be able to relax.

 

Martin slowly walked between the park and his home, trying to compose himself. He had worked himself up into a state of anger so that he wouldn’t break down when he spoke to anybody.

The house seemed calm and normal when he arrived. Tony and his parents were leisurely slouching in the front room, watching television, blissfully unaware of how Martin was feeling. Now that he was home, his mother was happier and could stop keeping an ear out for the front door.

Passing the usual pleasantries, Martin soon excused himself and went to his room, where he knew James would be.

After shutting the door, Martin went to sit on his bed and looked over at James, who was lying down, his music still low.

“You alright, Martin?”

Martin stayed silent for a moment, trying to control his words. “Tell me what happened with that other boy when you were filming that thing Tony had to watch at school a few weeks ago.” He said deliberately.

“What.” James was unsure why it suddenly seemed so important to Martin.

“What happened?” Martin sounded stern.

“I told you the other day; we just occasionally tossed each other off in the shower.”

Martin examined James’ face, who wouldn’t keep eye contact. He sensed there was more. He sensed he was lying.

“I want the truth. I need to know the truth.” He almost pleaded and fixed James with a steely stare.

Despite protesting that it was years ago and didn’t matter, Martin was adamant he needed to know and would not let James get away with some watered-down version.

Beginning to get defensive, James was not accustomed to his brother so forcefully intruding in his private life. He tried to keep fobbing Martin off with the quick toss in the shower story, but the more he protested, the more Martin knew there was something else. And the more forceful and insistent Martin became.

James was scared of voicing the truth; mutual masturbation was one thing and could be easily dismissed as a normal youthful curiosity. But telling Martin what actually happened would feel like he was openly telling Martin he was gay. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell his brother yet, and when he did, he never wanted it to be like this. They had always had a very close relationship and felt they could tell each other anything. However, both boys were reticent about telling each other something this huge. Despite their open relationship, they both held back this one secret. At the time, it didn’t feel like they were hiding anything. They just needed the time and space to come to terms with it and wrestle with the idea of it only being a phase before realising they had always had these feelings for other boys, and a phase never lasted that long.

“It was over two years ago,” James began, and Martin listened intently. “We had become friends, not good friends, but we always hung out together. He was a good laugh.”

Slowly, James told Martin about what happened when they got together in the showers, how Phil would get on his knees and blow him, and how he would then blow Phil. How they would swallow each other’s cum, and he told of the long lingering kisses they gave each and the fondling to make each other hard again, tasting the cum in the other’s mouth. James spoke of how, towards the end of their time together, Phil would get more adventurous and finger James’s arsehole as he sucked on his dick. He had liked that. He had loved that, it made his dick harder, and when he came in Phil’s mouth, he came harder and stronger while his arse clamped down on his finger.

As James recounted the story, his mind went back to that day, and he seemed to relive the moments he and Phil met in the showers to pleasure each other. He described it as a romantic encounter, two lonely people meeting in a strange country and finding each other.

James saw tears in Martin’s eyes.

“I had only just turned fourteen,” James explained. “It was my first and, so far, only time.”

“Did he take advantage of you?”

“No.” He said in reflex. “I don’t know. I did nothing I didn’t want to do; he never forced me, but he did initiate it.”

“All the time?”

“No, not all the time. He did it for the first few nights, but then I was really into it and wanted it as much as he did. So I would come on to him some evening.”

James explained that they were never lovers. They just fooled around with each other in the showers, and outside, they just behaved like friends. James never wanted it to be anything more than it was, nor did Phil.

“Does it bother you? Does it really hurt you that much?” James asked.

“Yes,” Martin said, holding back tears.

James began to feel the rejection from his brother, and tears began to form in his eyes; he tried to blink them back. “I was going to tell you when I knew for sure myself.” James could no longer prevent his tears from rolling down his face. “I wasn’t sure at the time I was gay. I’m still not sure, but I think I am.”

They both cried, not looking at each other.

“Please don’t hate me, Martin. Please.” James pleaded.

“I don’t.”

“Then why? Why did you drag this out of me? I would have told you when I was ready.”

“I needed to know.”

“Why!” James was exasperated.

“Because Phil is my boyfriend.” Martin almost shouted.

Holding his breath for a second, James looked at Martin, whose eyes were still downcast.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” James said.

“What the fuck have you got to be sorry about?” Martin was angry.

“Nothing.” James looked away.

“We were getting on so well, then I found out he did the film with you. I knew something had gone off, but he never told me. In all the time we spent together, he never told me. I wish he told me.” Martin was almost speaking only to himself.

James came over to comfort Martin; he sat beside him and put an arm around him. It had all happened so long ago, and he couldn’t understand why he was so upset. When he asked Martin why, he couldn’t answer either. Martin and Phil’s relationship was still young, and they had so much to learn about each other that he was sure he would have told him eventually. As James rationalised the situation for him, he slowly realised that it didn’t matter. It was in Phil’s past and was before they had met. But Martin wondered if he could trust Phil. He’d been playing around with his brother when he was only sixteen or seventeen and James was fourteen. In the back of Martin’s mind, he wondered how many others there had been. Was that why he was so tactile with him? Did he only want Martin for sex?

“You’re being ludicrous.” James challenged him. He felt sure it was Phil’s first experience, and it only happened when they both felt free and away from their families. James wasn’t sure, but he wanted to make Martin feel better.

“Talk to him, let him know how you’re feeling. Since you’ve met him, you’ve been so much happier. Talk to him, get his side and let him explain. Then it’ll make better sense. You can trust him. I just know you can.”

Martin turned to James and flung his arms around him. They hugged tightly, their tears dripping down each other’s back.

“You’re right.” Martin sniffed. “I’ll talk to him. Tomorrow.”

They held each other for some time. It made both of them feel better. James felt lighter, having relieved himself of the burden of telling Martin he thought he might be gay and was pleased that Martin had at last found some happiness, and he so desperately wanted him to keep hold of that happiness. James almost chuckled to himself as the absurdity of the two brothers coming out to each other had been turned into a soap opera, but he was pleased everything was now in the open.

Still hugging James, Martin thought back at his past conversations with Phil. He had mentioned one boyfriend, but not anymore. He never really mentioned sex, either. Only Martin’s fragile emotions thought Phil could have laid himself open to Martin in their short time.

“I think I’m falling in love with him,” Martin confessed.

James squeezed Martin tighter. “You deserve it. He’s a lovely lad.”

“I just hope he understands and let’s me explain. I just ran out on him. He must think I’m awful and don’t care about or am ashamed of him.” Martin’s tears streamed again.

“He’ll understand, just be honest. He’ll love you even more for it.”

James released Martin. “Let him know you’re alright. If you ran away, he would be worried sick.”

Martin fumbled with his mobile phone and wrote Phil a text. “I’m okay, sorry about earlier. I will talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.”

After sending the text message, he put his mobile on his bedside table and collapsed on his bed, exhausted. A short time later, his mobile buzzed. Martin picked it up and read the reply. “Glad ur okay. I was worried. U can talk 2 me anytime.”

Clutching the phone like he used to cuddle his teddy when he was younger for comfort, he turned on his side and closed his eyes.

James went to the bathroom to wash his face. Looking in the mirror, he was shocked to see his eyes so red and puffy. James bathed them in cool water and dabbed his face with a towel. ‘There’, he thought, ‘I look quite normal again’.

Everyone downstairs was oblivious to the saga that had unfurled upstairs. James got himself a drink and went into the front room. As nonchalantly as possible, he told his parents that Martin was alright and a bit tired after a long day. Excusing himself, he said he would get an early night and went back upstairs to see Martin.

In their bedroom, James found Martin in bed; he had undressed and was now under his duvet. He faced the wall and couldn’t see his face. Martin was no longer as upset and had surrendered to his exhaustion. He was asleep within minutes of getting beneath his quilt.

James quietly undressed, turned off the light and went to bed.

 

James’ Diary
Today has been a fantastic day with Tom. I feel great. We got talking properly this time, not just the usual bullshit when two mates get together. We had a proper talk, and I still can’t believe it. We talked about girlfriends, and I confessed I’d never had one. Then he said he hadn’t either. But he went further, saying he wasn’t interested in girls that way; he liked them as friends but not ‘that way’. At first, I didn’t press him further and just left it. We were both in his bedroom, and his parents were downstairs pottering around, so I didn’t want it to turn into one big scene that embarrassed both of us. Anyway, later, after I’d plucked up the courage, I asked him what he meant. He just said that they didn’t turn him on. He would have left it there, but my guts were aching, and I wanted to know more. I also said that girls don’t turn me on, and then I asked him what does. I could tell he was thinking about it, deciding what to tell me. Then he just came out with it. He said, “You.” I nearly fainted but noticed he was now looking at me funny. It must have been the look on my face. He looked afraid, and I felt sorry for him. He shouldn’t be afraid. So I just went over to him and kissed him on the lips. Then, it was his turn to nearly faint. We only ever had that one kiss. I told him how I felt, how I liked him, and I liked him as more than a friend, but I still think he was scared. Not of me this time, but of himself. Now, he had said what he wanted to me; he couldn’t take it back and could no longer deny it to himself.

After we both basically said we fancied each other, we talked for hours about where to go from there. I didn’t want to cajole him, so I left it to him. He wanted to leave things as they were and stay very good friends for the moment. I think he knew I wanted to take things to the next step. Not full-on snogging and shagging (which I think he thought was the only next step there was, but I did mention alternatives, such as steady dating), but just try a few dates and the occasional kiss. Anyway, it’s up to him now, but I hope he decides to go further. If he doesn’t, he may regret it later.

I’ve just been disturbed by Mum. She is worried that Martin is not back yet. I’ve rang him, and he’ll be home soon. But he does sound a bit odd. I hope he’s really alright.

*Saturday Addition
I did not get a good night’s sleep last night. Martin came home angry with me. He was anxious about the little escapade I had with Phil while filming the sex ed video. The night’s events have left me feeling a little raw, and I don’t feel like going into them again this morning. The upshot was that I confessed I might be gay, and he said that Phil was his boyfriend. I had not seen Phil since the filming over two years ago, but it must have felt like it happened last week to Martin.

Martin is still in bed, and I can see him sleeping peacefully. He’s got a hard day in front of him, talking to Phil; I don’t envy him. I hope they can work it out.

 

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