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Life is only what you wonder.

Friday, November 05, 2004

A Five Minute Story*

Visions In Morning Light

Warren was my best friend and had been since kindergarten, and the time this story takes place we were both fifteen. We were all the time sleeping over at each others houses, and you seldom saw one of us without the other.
Warren was a little shorter than me, with a lean tight body. His eyes were bright blue, his skin pale, his hair was a dark sandy blond color that defied categorization. His lips were full and very red. It all became a beautiful combination when he smiled.

I loved him like a brother. The only thing was that lately I was starting to love him in quite another way.

Warren was straight. He was all the time talking about girls and what he wanted to do with them. The liar that I was, I would agree that so-and-so chick was hot, when I really felt no desire at all toward them.
Spending the night at his house or him camping out at mine had lately held both joy and terror. We both had single beds and since before we had even learned to read we had slept in the same bed together.
A single bed is quite a cramped place to sleep for two teenage boys, even if they're like brothers --especially if one has a major lust for the other one.

I remember waking up with Warren asleep right beside me. I was on the right side of the bed facing left and Warren was on the left, also facing left. If our bodies were any closer, we would have been spooning. The morning sun was shining through his bedroom window behind us bathing us both in golden light.
Warren's hair glowed in the light like a halo, and all I kept thinking of was what it would be like to run my fingers through it. To kiss his smooth neck, the small of his back, to wrap my arms around him and pull him close to me.

If I did, would he reject me? (Call me a faggot, queer, cocksucker? Our freindship would go up in smoke as though it never existed.)
Or maybe he would pull me toward him, wrap his arms around me, look deeply into my eyes.
Kiss me on my lips, my neck, my chest like I had been fantasizing he would.

Maybe he feels like I do and is afraid to tell me. (Me! As if he couldn't tell me anything -- absoloutely anything.)

As I was lost in these thoughts, his alarm clock rang and, big fat liar that I am, I quickly closed my eyes. Warren slapped the snooze button, rolled over and shook my shoulder.
"Hey, are you awake?"
"I am now." I answered, yawning and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. (As though I hadn't been awake for at least an hour or more thinking those thoughts and drinking in the vision of him bathed in morning sunlight.)
"Well, get up, then! We gotta get ready for school," Warren said, always full of energy in the mornings. "And you just know my Mom is in the kitchen making us pancakes." he added as he swung his legs over the bed and walked to the bathroom.

*This is intended as a work of fiction.
It may (yet may not) be based on actual events.
Do not assume anything.