Pale Rider

Find Your Way Home

One: First Kiss

My first kiss began the greatest part of my life.

Not everyone can say that, you know. For most people, the first kiss is just another first, like the first time you rode a bike without training wheels, or the first time you got drunk. It's memorable for being the first, but not for anything more.

For me, though, my first kiss opened a door to something wonderful, something I never could have dreamed of before I pressed my lips to another person's for the first time. You see, I'm one of the lucky people, one of the few lucky people, who found his soulmate early.

I've had the joy, and the privilege, of sharing almost my whole life with the most wonderful person on the world. All because of my first kiss.

So I'll tell you how it happened. I grew up in the small town of Challenge, which back then had a population of about 3000 people. It was the seat of Jefferson County, and had a reasonable main street to go with the prestige. These days, with the new car plant, we have more than three times as many people, and they've changed the town name, but you can still see the old one in places – like my oldest brother's old-fashioned drug store, Challenge Pharmacy.

My father owned Challenge Pharmacy originally. He'd saved up a lot of money in a few years working as a pharmacist in a big-city hospital, and decided to head out to the rural area and start his own business. So he packed up my brothers and my pregnant mother, and headed out to Challenge. Mother gave birth to me two weeks after the shop opened, and my father turned a profit ever after. She named me David Apollo Smith, hoping that by invoking a biblical hero and a Greek god, she'd ensure the family some luck no matter which group had gotten it right.

Growing up in Challenge was a little strange for me. Despite being rural, the people there were pretty progressive. Everyone went to the same Methodist church, but nobody batted an eye at the gay couple who sang in the choir. As outsiders, my family was greeted with a little suspicion at first. Nonetheless, nobody ever seemed to notice or care that we were black.

Being tolerant doesn't mean being diverse, though. Challenge had no other black families, and as a toddler I was keenly aware of the fact that I was different from the other kids in Sunday school. I felt strange, almost freakish, and those kind of thoughts can really trouble a little kid.

Then, a sort of good fortune struck. Old Ida, the county clerk, died of a stroke, and they had to hire someone new. My mother considered applying, but decided I was still a bit too young. My father's business was doing well, and living in Challenge cost almost nothing, so it wasn't like she had to work.

I'm lucky she didn't. A Chinese woman from New York got the job, and for a week, Challenge was buzzing with rumors and speculation. I half expected her to have three heads and green skin by the time the old ladies were through gossiping with my mother. When she finally arrived, she brought a surprise. It turned out that she had married one of Challenge's native sons, Bill Yarborough, up in New York, and they'd decided to move to Challenge and bring their son.

Aaron Lee Yarborough was the only other non-white kid my age in town, and we quickly bonded. He was about a month younger than me, and far more exotic, with his golden skin and strangely-shaped eyes. We weren't really alike, but had in common our difference from everyone else, and our dark brown eyes. I befriended him quickly and introduced him around. Becoming best friends took a little under a week.

We stayed best friends throughout childhood, though we looked increasingly odd together. My father was a mountain of a man, and I showed signs from an early age that I would inherit his physique. By the time I was ten, I had already grown too big to play in most youth football leagues, and I even outsized most seventh graders. I exercised often, taught by my brothers and father, and I participated in almost all organized sports. My older brothers never picked on me, even though Daniel was three years older than me and Robert was six years my senior. They were both afraid of getting beaten up.

Aaron, on the other hand, stayed small and delicate. Plenty of second-graders at the elementary school could have beaten him up when he was ten. A good diet and gym classes kept him in nice shape, but his family didn't have the money to enroll him in organized sports, and after the accident he didn't have the time.

I still remember the funeral service – a gray, cloudy day. They left the coffin closed, because when the car had caught fire Aaron's mom had almost burned up. Aaron's dad looked lost, hopeless, and Aaron looked terrified. Nobody seemed to be comforting him, least of all his father. So I went over and hugged him as they lowered the coffin. Aaron clung to me like I was the only piece of driftwood in a stormy sea, and sobbed against my chest until he fainted.

We were seven then, and Aaron had taken his mother's place in many ways since then. His father never touched him, I'm sure, but I'm not just talking about 'bad touching'. Aaron's dad became very distant, going to his crap job out on one of the farms around town, and leaving Aaron to take care of their house – the cleaning, the cooking, and the maintenance. He would come back from the farm, eat the dinners Aaron cooked, never complimenting his son for taking on such a huge responsibility, and then he'd go out and get himself drunk. On weekends, he'd leave whenever the bars opened and come home whenever they closed. He barely acknowledged Aaron's existence, and never, to my knowledge, showed him any affection.

My mother took over the job of county clerk, increasing our family income even more. She told me a few years back, that she used to give Aaron little envelopes with some twenties inside every month to supplement the meager income his father provided. I never knew Aaron to spend any of it on himself, though. He always shopped from the thrift bin at Lacy's Family Clothing, clipped coupons from the weekly circulars, and took care of his cold bastard of a father without complaint.

I guess you can tell I didn't think much of Aaron's father. Kids need to feel loved, to have their parents hug and kiss them. That need and responsibility is even more profound when one parent has died, but Bill Yarborough didn't seem to care about his responsibilities. Aaron loved him anyway, though. I suppose you always have a soft spot for family, especially when they're all you have.

Aaron, you may have figured out by now, was a dream kid. Always polite, never causing trouble, conscientious, and perfect in school. I mean perfect – he almost never missed a single question on a test. Most people in his position would have just become sullen, troubled kids. He became perfect. Strangely enough, he credits me with helping him avoid the downward path. I credit him with keeping my focus on school. He set an impossible standard, but I felt I had to match him. So I always placed my academics first. The choice served me well, eventually.

Aaron lived two blocks away from Highway 37, which at the time was the only two-lane road Challenge really had. He could easily walk from his home to the Foodway and back, pulling a little wagon that had been a toy in happier times so that he could get all the groceries home.

Right next to the Foodway stood an old building from back in the fifties, the Challenge Cinemas. It's torn down, now, replaced by a multiplex outside of town, but back then its three screens were the best to be found in Jefferson County. Of course, the floors were sticky, the seats released huge puffs of dust when you sat on them, and the sound system tended to get overloaded by the newer movies. Still, the tickets were cheap and old Mr. Garrett who ran the place could always pick out the good movies, even if they did arrive in Challenge a month after they opened everywhere else. Challenge Cinemas was always a good time.

So one pleasant Saturday in March when I was ten, I stopped at Aaron's house on my way to the movies. I had carefully saved up three weeks worth of allowance for this, and I definitely wanted Aaron along – indeed, that was the whole point. The electronic doorbell had died a year earlier, but Aaron had rigged a little bell you could ring by pulling a string. I did so, grinning manically.

Aaron answered the door in an old apron that had probably belonged to his mother, judging from the fact that he'd had to pin it up to keep it from tripping him. He was holding a duster, and from the look of things had been busy in the living room of his house. This was only to say that it looked slightly neater than its usual, incredibly neat state.

"I'm goin' to the movies," I said. "Wanna come with me?"

Aaron looked down at his feet rather sheepishly. "I… I really can't afford it," he replied. That was Aaron for you. Both of us knew that there was a mason jar full of money hidden in the kitchen, but Aaron would never dip into the grocery money for his own entertainment. Never mind that his father dipped in all the time to buy himself booze. Fortunately, I'd planned for this.

"I've got enough extra to buy you a ticket, if you want."

"Really?" Aaron asked eagerly, then blushed and looked back down at his shoes. "Are you sure?" he added quietly.

"Of course!" I replied. "Now take off that apron and get out here, or we're gonna miss it!"

Aaron smiled brightly, quickly untying the overly-large apron before carefully draping it on the arm of his ratty old couch. I smiled, too. Aaron might have tolerated his situation without complaint, but that didn't mean he didn't want something better. I wanted to give him a little release from his daily life, and a movie was always better with a friend anyway. He closed and locked the door behind him, and we set off for the center of town.

As it turned out, we were in luck. I knew the boy in the booth as one of Robert's friends. He sold us tickets to a PG-13 film – some cheesy spy movie. In retrospect, it hardly seems worth noting, but at the time it seemed awfully devious. I was trembling with excitement as I led Aaron into the theater and took a seat at the back, to avoid being seen by anyone who might throw us out. In truth, there was about as much chance of that as the moon falling on the earth, but when you're ten almost anything can seem dangerous and exciting.

The movie itself wasn't much to remark on. It was your typical spy thriller – a campy plot mixed with nifty special effects and a peppering of ludicrous names. It was entertaining nonetheless, and Aaron and I both loved it. We kept talking about the movie all the way back to his house, running over our favorite scenes again and again.

As children often will, we decided to act out some of the scenes ourselves. Our mutual favorite was the climactic scene where the hero kills the bad guy and saves his partner from 'certain death'. Of course, we had the inevitable argument.

"I don't wanna be the bad guy," Aaron said, frowning, "and you can't be the bad guy because you're so big and strong compared to me."

"Well, what're we gonna do?"

Aaron smiled. "Hold on," he said, walking over to a small closet and opening it. He reached in and dragged an old wicker hat rack out of it. "This is the bad guy," he said, positioning it next to the couch. He pointed to the oval rug in front of the sofa and said, "That's the piranha pool."

I nodded, and we quickly agreed that I should be the hero, and Aaron should play the role of my imperiled partner. For some reason, it didn't bother either of us that the character had been a woman in the movie. We started acting out the scene, Aaron tottering helplessly along a gangplank (the couch) towards the pool, prodded on by the hat rack.

Fortunately, before Aaron could get eaten by ravenous fish, I arrived and knocked the enemy into his own piranha-filled pond using my super kung-fu moves. Then, just as Aaron was about to fall, I pulled him back from the brink.

I suppose most kids would have ended the act there, but for some reason I decided to play out the whole scene. In the movie, the hero had entered a minute-long liplock with his partner. In real life, I pulled Aaron close and pressed my lips firmly against his, carefully mimicking the movie hero.

Aaron stiffened at first, but then responded by wrapping his arms against me and gently pressing back. It was the most incredible sensation of my young life. Aaron's lips were soft and moist, and his body warm and pliant. I felt soothed and excited all at the same time, holding him tightly as I stroked my fingers through his hair.

We held the kiss as long as we could, but neither of us had much experience with kissing, so we had to break for air. Aaron let his head drop to my shoulder as he got his breath back. I found myself watching him closely, almost as if seeing him for the first time. His lips, just the lightest shade of red, were parted slightly, and I could catch a glimpse of the white teeth behind them. The smooth, copper-toned skin of his angular face practically glowed in the yellow light from the ceiling fan, and provided a sharp contrast to his straight, black, bowl-cut hair. His eyes were closed, and his thick lashes trembled with each heaving breath he took. I had a fleeting thought that he was prettier than the woman in the movie, and that inspired me to start in on another scene.

"Hm," I said, mimicking the movie hero, "For your health, I suppose I should get you into bed as soon as possible."

Aaron caught on immediately, replying, "Well, I hate to sleep alone," just like the movie lady.

"I think I can arrange a companion," I answered as per the script, and stood up from the couch. I wasn't yet strong enough to carry Aaron all the way to his bedroom, but I made a valiant effort, and it didn't seem to bother him that he had to walk partway. He leaned against my arm, eyes still closed, as I led him to his room.

Like the rest of the house, Aaron's room was impeccably clean. Of course, he didn't have many toys to clean up, and his furniture was sparse. He had an old painted bookshelf, a wooden desk and chair, and a rickety twin bed with Mickey Mouse sheets. He had no chest of drawers – old milk crates in his closet held his neatly-folded socks and underwear, and all the shirts and pants were up on hangers.

I know what you think might have happened, but you have to keep in mind that Challenge was rural, and that despite its progressive attitudes we children were still pretty sheltered. The movie itself had been PG-13, after all, and that meant only the guy got to show off a bare chest. So once I got to Aaron's room, I decided we would take our shirts, shorts, and shoes off and get into the bed. It never occurred to me that someone might get into bed naked.

Then again, Aaron might as well have been naked. His white underpants were halfway between 'a little too small' and 'way too small', and when we stripped down to our undies and socks they left no illusion as to the precise shape of his butt. We quickly ducked under the covers, where we hugged. I kissed him again, feeling something warm growing inside my chest.

At this point, I'd pretty much exhausted my ideas of where this stuff went. I had the impression that people did something more in bed together than hug and kiss, but what that something could be, and why you had to be in your underwear, wasn't very clear to me. After a moment enjoying the sensation of Aaron's lips and the feel of his soft skin under my hands, I decided that it involved rubbing each other in some way.

So that's what we did, running our hands along each other's bodies, exploring each other in a way that was erotic, yet at the same time totally innocent. I discovered that Aaron loved for me to touch him behind the ears, sighing with pleasure each time I brushed my fingers there. I also learned that I really liked for him to rub his hand on my belly. Like kissing him, it relaxed me while giving me a little thrill at the same time.

After a while, I decided to try one more thing I'd seen in the movie. Wrapping my arms around Aaron, I rolled over on top of him, keeping most of my weight on my elbows. I kissed him, then got up my courage and poked my tongue into his mouth.

To my surprise, he let me do it. His body went completely limp, except for his arms, which wrapped around my head and pulled my lips hard against his. Then he explored outward with his own tongue, tasting my mouth while I tasted his. We kept at it until our jaws got tired, and then I pulled back, staring into his deep mahogany eyes.

We didn't say anything, just lay there in each others' arms basking in this new sensation we'd found with each other. I felt warmer, and happier than ever before in my life, and I knew it had a lot to do with my best friend. Aaron, for his part, collapsed against me, wrapping himself firmly around me and pillowing his head on my chest after I rolled off of him. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, murmuring my name as his embrace rhythmically tightened and relaxed.

Eventually I saw it getting dark outside, and fully woke Aaron by ruffling his hair. He blushed, slightly embarrassed to have been caught using me as a pillow, but it hadn't bothered me. I practically felt honored. We dressed again and he followed me to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I replied. My mama never let me miss church. Aaron's dad never showed up, but Aaron attended, well, religiously.

"G'night," Aaron said, then stood on his toes to give me a quick peck on the cheek.

"G'night," I replied, feeling my face grow warmer. That's right, black people blush too. We've just got better camouflage.

I grabbed my bike from where I'd left it next to his porch, and walked it to the road, turning when I reached the asphalt to wave goodbye. He still stood in the open door, hands clasped in front of him as he watched me leave. He returned my wave, and I hopped on my bike.

As I rode home, I wore the biggest smile you can imagine. At the time, it seemed like I'd just had a really good time at Aaron's house. Little did I know how much that afternoon would ultimately change my life.

Two: V is for…

For a while, it seemed like my first kiss would not be significant in the grand scheme of my life. After that March afternoon, Aaron and I grew even closer than we had been before. I spent almost as much time studying or playing at his house as I did at my own, and only my obligations to sports teams kept me from spending every afternoon with him. I hugged him frequently, contact he welcomed because of his own isolation from his father. Nonetheless, we didn't return to the erotic heights of that first kiss. It had developed out of a game that had started when we watched a particular movie together, and outside the framework of that game, I didn't really know how to bring it up.

Summer passed, and then came sixth grade. Jefferson county had a small population, but we still had two separate Junior High schools. Children from the eastern half of the county went to Challenge Middle School, and those from the western half went to West Jefferson Junior High. Aaron and I, of course, went to CMS, and we both met a number of new people. The most interesting, at least in my view, were the Barrows twins.

I'd heard about the Barrows since I was a kid. They were neo-hippies who tried to live the granola lifestyle. They owned an organic farm outside of town, where they reportedly grew strange herbs that scared away flies, grasshoppers, and (to hear the old ladies tell it) God, baby Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Aaron's dad sometimes did manual labor for them, I guess planting those magical herbs.

Mr. and Mrs. Barrows had two twin daughters who were nothing alike. Virgo was much like her parents, with long, unruly golden hair that she held in place with a cloth headband. Her skin was tanned from running around outdoors (rumor had it she skinny-dipped in her farm's lake).

She always wore strange, bright clothing, and played football with the boys. Eridani (we all called her Eri), on the other hand, had short, straight black hair and a pale complexion. She always wore the latest fashions, though she refused to pay the full price for them. Instead, she always bought the fabric to make the clothes herself, figuring out how to sew them by carefully inspecting the fashion magazines. Both girls were very smart, and neither would touch makeup with a stick, though Eridani occasionally wore lip gloss.

Yes, the Barrows picked their daughters' names at random out of a stargazing book. I suspect they were fried at the time, but I can't prove anything.

Towards the latter half of sixth grade we all took our first sex-ed classes, which ended up being a blessing and a curse. I connected the lessons with what Aaron and I had done a few months back, seeing the obvious direction our activities were taking. It made me feel a little strange, and somewhat uncomfortable. After all, the teacher only talked about boys and girls doing sex stuff. Nobody talked about two boys – or two girls, for that matter – doing it, and I didn't know if what we had done was wrong or just unique. So just as I learned the vocabulary to effectively ask Aaron to play like we had that March afternoon, I began to feel awkward about doing so.

The Barrows twins began joining Aaron and myself for study sessions and games, and in their presence I felt a little self-conscious about expressing my affection for Aaron. When I was alone with him, I'd gladly cuddle, and sometimes when we watched TV with the twins he'd end up sitting in or pillowing his head on my lap. Overall, however, we hugged less.

At the same time, I started learning more about my body. Quite by accident, I masturbated myself to orgasm for the first time just after school let out from sixth grade. Thanks to the sex-ed class, I understood what had happened, but I quickly came to realize that much had been left out of my education. The teacher never told us what to do with our come afterwards! At a loss, I ate mine, deciding the taste was tolerable, but nothing special.

I masturbated occasionally all through the summer, though I didn't get very adventurous with it. I'd just pull down my PJ's while in bed at night, jerking off without any particular image in mind. I was aware that I often felt inspired to have one of these sessions after an spending an afternoon with Aaron, but for some reason it didn't strike me as significant. I only let myself think of Aaron as a really close friend.

Much of seventh grade passed without change. Virgo and Eridani, along with the rest of the girls in my grade, suddenly got a lot taller, and Eridani grew even taller than her sister. In fact, I was the only boy in the seventh grade taller than her.

My size really started to become an advantage that year. Tall and strong, I was immediately asked to join the school's football team. That's American Football to everyone who isn't American. Oddly, there are only two or three guys on any team whose feet ever actually touch the ball, which makes the name a little strange. Anyway, I signed on initially planning to be a running back, as I had been in the PeeWee league, but I quickly discovered I had a better time playing defense. I took the middle linebacker position, stuffing runs and punishing everyone who caught a short pass.

Eri hated football – she called it 'violent organized chest-thumping' – but Aaron and Virgo came to all the games the seventh-grade team played. Virgo admitted that she didn't understand the sport and was mostly interested in looking at guys wearing tight pants, but she and Aaron cheered loudly all the same. They even made little signs with my name and number that they'd wave around every time I stepped on the field. It's nice to have your own cheering section.

I found out over that winter break that Aaron's dad abused him. Aaron came over the day after New Year's day, just to watch some TV, as theirs had died a month earlier. He seemed to have trouble getting comfortable on the sofa. Unsure of what was bothering him, I patted him on the shoulder, only to get a strangled yelp of pain in response.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Aaron only stared down at his shoes. He was still tiny, and when he sat on the couch his feet just barely reached the floor. "Come on," I cajoled him, "you can trust me."

"Promise not to tell?" he asked.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I replied.

He nodded and pulled off his threadbare sweater, then the thin button-down shirt beneath. I shuddered as I saw bruises all over his torso, then felt a blinding anger take hold of me. Somebody had beaten up my best friend. "Who did this?" I asked.

He put his shirt on and tucked it in before replying, "Daddy did it." My jaw dropped as he pulled his sweater back on. "You can't tell anyone," he repeated. "Daddy didn't mean it, I know he didn't. He just got confused… he thought I was somebody else."

"Aaron, you should really tell a grown-up," I said, remembering what the Sheriff had said last time he visited the school.

"Don't, please…" Aaron asked, pleading in his deep brown eyes. Reluctantly, I acquiesced. Maybe I did the right thing – I never saw any evidence afterwards to contradict Aaron's story that it was a one-time thing. As far as I'm concerned, though, one time is too many. Aaron deserved a better father than that icy bastard.

With January came yet another new experience – the school dance. CMS had one dance every year, that the seventh and eighth graders got to attend. When Principal Thorpe reminded everyone about it on the first day back from winter break, I could see a wave of fear passing through all the guys in my class. A dance meant they would have to ask somebody out.

The next few weeks provided plenty of grist for the pre-teen gossip mill. I immediately asked Eri to come to the dance with me, and she accepted. Virgo decided to go with some boy named Ed. Aaron, despite my constant encouragement, didn't ask anyone. He started to get annoyed every time I mentioned the dance, either ignoring me or immediately changing the subject. As the big day got closer, he grew more and more irritable. Mystified, I decided to just leave it alone.

The dance itself occurred on the last Saturday of January, and all day long I felt nervous. I really liked Eri, though I wasn't sure how deep that feeling went. I certainly didn't want to disappoint her at the social event of the year. I went over to Aaron's house early in the afternoon to play and hopefully blow off some steam, but when he met me at the door he said he wasn't feeling very well. He looked fine, but I let it slide.

Finally, after mom made me eat some dinner, Mr. Barrows drove up in his little electric car he'd had imported from Japan. I got into the front seat, since Eri, Virgo, and Ed were already in the back. Ed still hadn't started his growth spurt, and he looked almost like a gnome scrunched in between the twins. Fortunately for him, the ride to the dance didn't take long.

The school dance took place in the school gymnasium, which had been decorated with black sheets and glitter for the occasion. Teachers with flashlights patrolled the few dancing couples, making sure that any kisses were appropriately brief, and that no hands strayed into hitherto unexplored territory. Mrs. Dembski, who taught eighth-grade English, carried a ruler for her chaperoning duties, and left a string of boys with stinging hands in her wake. You could hear her coming from the smack of wood on flesh.

I kept my hands in an appropriate position – awkwardly draped around Eri's waist. We sort of swung arrhythmically to the slow songs, trying to look like the other kids around us. Fortunately, this being a junior high dance, the slow songs were few and far between. When the faster songs came on, and we didn't have to hang on to each other, Eri and I danced much better, and had more fun.

I actually enjoyed the evening with Eri, and waved goodbye politely when her father picked her and Virgo up. I loosened my tie and started to walk home.

On the way, I passed Aaron's house. The light in his room was on, causing me to have more suspicions about his earlier claim to be sick. I wondered what he was doing, but shook it off and started home again.

Strangely, though, I couldn't stop thinking about Aaron. I remembered how uncomfortable it had been holding Eri at the dance, and how pleasant it felt to hug Aaron. The possibility of kissing Eri had entered my mind while we were in the darkened gymnasium, but it had made me so nervous and uncomfortable I had discarded the idea immediately. Kissing Aaron, however, was something I increasingly had to keep myself from trying to do.

I got even more confused when I started trying to remind myself of the things I liked about Eri. Everything that came to mind – her intelligence, her sense of humor, her short black hair, delicate features, and naturally thick eyelashes – was a characteristic she had in common with Aaron. And as I thought about it, I realized that everything I didn't like about her – her height, her pale skin, her icy blue eyes – were things that made her different from Aaron.

All this jostled around in my brain as I let myself into my house, greeting my mother and father, who were watching television. They asked if I'd had fun, and I nodded, retreating quickly to my room. I tried to puzzle out the way I felt as I undressed, absently hanging my slacks and blazer back up in my closet. Changing into my PJs, I slipped into bed and turned out the light.

Naturally, I couldn't get to sleep – my dilemma kept dominating my thoughts. Everything I had ever learned told me that I should be attracted to Eri, and think of Aaron as my friend. Yet the more I considered the situation, the more it seemed that exactly the opposite was true. I finally decided to jack off while thinking about Eri. Hopefully, that would prove that she turned me on, and at the very least I could hope to pass out after my orgasm.

So I pulled down my pajama pants and grabbed my dick, imagining how Eri would look naked. I had seen enough in the biology textbooks (not to mention my brothers' porn collections) to know what she would look like underneath her clothes, and I pictured her splayed out on a bed with satiny sheets.

I got nothing. Not even a twitch. My cock stayed only semi-hard as I desperately tried to turn myself on thinking about her. But even as I started imagining her in different poses, her breasts got smaller, her skin got darker, and she got shorter. The harder I got, the more Eri began to look like Aaron.

Finally, the part of my brain that had some common sense decided it was through with the charade. My vision of Eri disappeared, to be replaced by a very intense memory of how Aaron had looked just moments after we had ended our French kiss. I relived the view of his swollen, moist lips and the way his pink tongue ran along them to catch the last taste of me. I felt the heat of his body and the smooth texture of his skin. Only the memory had changed slightly – now we were both naked, and Aaron's hard penis rubbed lightly against my belly in time with his deep breaths and sighs.

I came so hard I almost screamed. My whole body convulsed, and it felt like I had liquid fire erupting from my dick. Waves of pleasure rolled over me as my load spilled down over my hand into my thin nest of pubes. Overwhelmed by the pleasure, I barely managed to pull my sheets back up before I dropped into a deep sleep.

The next morning at church I had a harder time than usual focusing on the sermon. I kept stealing surreptitious glances at Aaron, imagining how he would look naked. His undersize clothes made it easy to imagine. I felt a guilty little thrill when I watched him walking down to take communion, his pants only accentuating his shapely butt. I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the service, and I kept losing my place in the hymns. Afterwards, I avoided Aaron as best I could, worried that I'd do something in my lust that would frighten him.

I spent that afternoon mentally kicking myself as more facts about my relationship with Aaron became obvious to me. Foremost among these was that he liked me as much as I liked him. It should have been clear to me from the way he always sought out physical contact, but for some reason I'd just never figured it out. Seeing me go to the dance with Eri must have really upset him, which explained his recent behavior. My increasing distance over the past few months must have also been painful for him. After beating myself up for a while, I decided on a plan to put things right. However, I'd definitely need some help, and that meant doing something most boys my age found very embarrassing.

After dinner that night, I asked Mama and Dad to come up to my room for a minute. They did, and I sat nervously on my bed for a moment. "Why did you want to talk to us, David?" Mama finally asked.

"'Cause I like somebody," I said, "and I want to do somethin' special for Valentine's day."

"So you really like Eri?" Dad asked.

I shook my head, glad they couldn't see me blushing. "She's my friend," I said, "and I like her. But I don't… y'know… like her."

"I see," Dad said. "So who is it, then? Virgo? That red-headed girl in your class?"

I shook my head again, staring down at my knees. My heart was pounding – knowing I was in love with a boy and admitting it to my parents were two different things. Finally, I took a deep breath and quietly said, "It's Aaron."

For a moment, you could have heard a mouse sneeze. Then my Mama asked, "Are you sure, David?"

I nodded slowly.

"Does he like you, too?" Dad asked me.

I nodded again. "He likes for me to hug him… and kiss him," I volunteered, still gazing at my knees.

Plenty of other kids like me had their lives fall apart after an admission like that. You've read about that kind of coming-out experience online, I'm sure, even if you haven't heard about one from your friends. In a way, I can understand how parents would be angry – not really with their children, but with the way the world had messed with their personal dreams. Admitting your orientation is risky business, even if you're twelve.

It turns out, as it so often did, that I was lucky – I had the best parents in the world. Mama and Dad sat down on the bed with me, one on either side, and put their arms around me. My heart rate slowed, and I leaned against my Mama, sighing with relief.

"I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell us about this, David,"

Dad said, squeezing my shoulder. "Not everybody thinks it's okay for two boys to love each other."

Feeling a twinge of nervousness again, I turned to Dad and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think that love is a gift that comes from God, and God only. If you love Aaron, then it must be because God wants you to love him. I don't know how that could be a bad thing."

I smiled and hugged my Dad, then leaned back against Mama. We all sat like that for a moment before Mama asked, "So how do you want us to help you?"

"Well," I asked, "what do you get somebody as a Valentine's day present? I mean, when he's really special?"

Mama smiled. Then she and Dad told me exactly what to do.

The next Monday at school I sat next to Eri during lunch. I usually ate with the twins, because Aaron had lunch at a different time from me.

After wolfing down my two sandwiches, apple, banana, pear, pudding, and cookie, I tugged on her sleeve. "I have to tell you something," I said.

"What?" she asked, "That you liked the dance, but you really want to go out with Aaron?"

My jaw dropped open. "You… you know?" I asked.

Eri shook her head. "Guys are so obvious," she replied. "You two are always sneaking glances at each other, and snuggling when you think we aren't looking. If you weren't male, you would have figured it out months ago."

"So… you're not mad?"

"God, no!" Eri said. "No offense, David, but slow-dancing with you was about the most awkward thing I've ever done."

"It wasn't any picnic for me, either," I shot back.

"So," Eri asked after a moment, "how are you going to tell him?"

"Well, that's where I'd like your help…"

Two weeks later, the big day finally arrived. Valentine's Day that year was on a Friday, and for most people in my class, it passed without much notice or interest. Seventh grade is stuck between the years when you give everybody in your class cheap little Valentine's cards, and the years when you spend Valentine's Day trying to get into your significant others' underpants. The high school kids would go out on dates at night, and the elementary school kids were eating little candy hearts. In Junior High, though, all we could do was bask in the pre-teen angst.

As usual, I started walking home with Aaron. He'd been acting strange since the dance – he'd always been a little subdued, but in the past few weeks he'd seemed almost melancholy. He also seemed reluctant to hug me since the dance, and of course I understood why. He'd seen the event as proof I thought of him as nothing more than a friend, and each step I took made me happier that I was about to prove him wrong.

Eri stopped us almost before we got off the school grounds. "Wait up, guys!" she called, chasing after us from the school building. Coming to a breathless halt in front of us, she said, "Gosh, I'm glad I caught up with you. I have to write a history essay about the Battle of Gettysburg this weekend, and I totally don't understand what was going on. Can either of you stay a little while and help me?"

Aaron naturally looked at me initially, thinking Eri was just after an excuse to spend time with me. When I shrugged, Aaron said, "I can do it."

Eri swept him into a bear hug, saying, "Oh, thanks so much Aaron! I really don't want to fail this."

I should point out that Eri had been fascinated with the Civil War since she was five, to the point where she'd even sewn herself a 'drummer boy' uniform and participated in several re-enactments. She probably knew more about the Battle of Gettysburg than the guy that wrote our history textbook. Fortunately, neither Aaron nor I knew this at the time, or Aaron would have been immediately suspicious, and I would have burst out laughing at the lame excuse.

As it was, I quickly thanked God that Aaron had fallen for the bait, and took off for my home at a run. I had put all the important materials for the afternoon in a paper bag in my room, and I quickly scampered up there, tossing my backpack carelessly into a corner. I changed into a nicer shirt, grabbed my supplies, then made my way over to Aaron's house at a slow jog, pausing on my way out to grab the spare key to his house that he'd given our family.

After I let myself into Aaron's house, I checked the clock. Three-forty-five. Eri had instructions to keep Aaron until four-fifteen, which left me plenty of time to set up. I opened up my bag of goodies and started to work.

By four-twenty, I was waiting nervously in the chair at Aaron's desk. The worst part of any scheme is the time after you're done setting up and before your plan goes into action. I found myself second-guessing every detail, worrying that somehow I would upset Aaron – or worse, that I'd misread him entirely.

It was a bit of relief to hear him at the kitchen door, knowing that he'd seen the small, thornless rose I'd wound around the doorknob. I heard the thump as he dropped his briefcase – too poor to afford a new backpack, he used his mother's old office things – on the kitchen floor. He had to have seen the big brown teddy bear I'd left for him on the table. I heard him shuffling around in the kitchen for a minute or so, and I moved to stand in front of his closed bedroom door.

I heard his footsteps as he walked down the hall of his ranch-style home, towards his room. I smiled when the soft sound of tape giving way told me he'd seen the card I'd adhered to his bedroom door. A rustle of paper told me he'd opened it, and I waited patiently for the little gasp that told me he'd read it.

My heart pounding, I opened his door. Aaron stood there staring at the card, his eyes wide. It's hard to forget how he looked – he had a threadbare red sweater on, with a white Oxford shirt. New bargain-brand jeans that were slightly too big were cinched to his narrow waist with a thin black belt, and obscured the plain white socks that I knew separated his feet from his little red Keds. One arm was wrapped around his new bear, which was also the momentary custodian of his rose. Aaron's big, brown eyes were watery as he turned away from the card to face me.

Who needs to speak at a moment like that? I stepped forward, cupping his face in my hands, and kissed him gently on the lips. He gasped alittle, then sighed as I dropped my hands down to the small of his back, pulling him against me. We held the kiss for a long moment before I pulled back. "I love you, Aaron," I said quietly.

"David," he whispered, then smiled happily and burst into tears in the same moment. His knees started to wobble, but I saved the day by picking him up and carrying him over to the desk chair, where I sat and settled him in my lap. He curled up against my chest, sniffling happily as I kissed his forehead and cheeks. After a moment, I tilted his head up and kissed him on the lips again. As before, they were soft and warm, and yielded easily when I slid my tongue between them.

We spent several minutes getting reacquainted with the insides of each others' mouths before I pulled away. Aaron, obviously a little dazed by the situation, leaned his head up against my shoulder, still clutching the teddy bear with one arm. After a moment he whispered, "I have something for you, too. I was gonna take it to your house…" Setting the bear on his desk, he opened its top drawer and pulled out a large red card. It was heavier than it looked, which I quickly saw was due to the paint on it. Turns out Aaron made it himself out of paperboard from cereal boxes, using some spare paint he found in his garage for the decoration.

The front of the card was red, with a white heart painted in the center, and the interior was white, with a message written out neatly in red ink:

David,
You always make me happy.
When I am sad,
you make me smile.
When I am glad,
you fill me with so much joy
that I want to sing.
You are the most wonderful person ever.
I love you.
Aaron

I glanced from the card to Aaron, whose expression showed some anxiety. He squeaked as I hugged him tightly. "I love it," I said, rocking him back and forth a little on my lap. He sighed happily and all but melted in my arms, relaxing completely as I began lightly massaging his back. Our lips met again and melded together.

We almost made love that day. I knew enough about sex to at least attempt it, and for a moment as I held his body against mine I seriously considered taking him over to his bed and slowly loving him. Yet something about that possibility didn't feel right – I didn't feel ready to take that step. Besides, we were still children, and we had different priorities. For the moment, kissing was enough.

We spent well over an hour in that chair before I pulled back and told Aaron I wanted him to come with me for dinner. He blushed and nodded his agreement, so I headed out the door. I waited for him out back, where dusk had already progressed significantly, while he left a note for his father with instructions on reheating the leftovers. Then he was outside with me.

I put my arm around him and started walking slowly towards my house, glancing down to see that he had brought the teddy bear with him. He clutched it against his chest with both arms, smiling like he'd just won the election. And as I hefted the precious card he'd given me, I realized I was wearing the same smile.

That image makes me glad I decided not to act on my baser instincts that afternoon. Aaron was a child still, and so was I. The innocence that showed through in the way he carried the bear, and the strength that had borne him through all his troubles while maintaining that innocence, were two of the principal reasons I loved him. Letting our love grow on its own without forcing sex into it at the start made our eventual sexual experiences more rewarding, I think.

I still have the card Aaron gave me in my desk, and I pull it out at times to remind myself of how good it felt to read those words, to hold him in my lap and give him back a taste of the happiness he had almost forgotten existed. In many ways, my life truly began that day, for it is while I am with him that I feel most alive. At that time, I still had no grasp of the magnitude of the turn my life had taken, but I would grow into the awareness.

And the Barrows twins would help me take the first steps…

The End