I tried to force myself not to be obsessed with Patrick; he was just supposed to be my friend. Our friendship has lasted for nearly ten years, since we were both eight, and as the days and years passed I've watched as Patrick has grown and evolved. I realized how much I wanted to be more than just his friend. Not only is Patrick impossibly beautiful: six-four, jet black hair, stunning light brown-colored eyes, and an amazingly muscular, well-endowed body (I've seen him naked once and that wonderful image has remained in my memory in vivid detail since), but he had like a cool personality--laidback, honest, funny. He had basically all the things I would want in a boyfriend.
But, I understand now, after everything that has happened, that if you don't want your secrets revealed, then it's not the best thing to write them in a journal, because there's always the probable chance (and in my case, definite chance) that somebody would get a hold of it and read it--especially if that someone is the one person you don't want to read it...in my case Patrick.
More than three fourths of my journal is dedicated to my obsession with Patrick, how fuckin sexy he is, how I wanna suck his nine inch dick--and then ride it, how I think about him everyday, how I wish his bitch-ass girlfriend Rose, would fall down a spiral staircase and break her neck--or at least her leg--and stuff related to that. I really wish I didn't like Patrick the way I did, mostly because I knew that the feelings I had for him--both sexual and emotional--wouldn't be returned. There was nothing about Patrick, well at least to me, that indicated that he might be into dudes. I mean he was just one of the most jockiest jocks I ever saw in my life. And he and Rose always found ways to kiss and feel each other up in public or around me. I hated watching Patrick and Rose kiss, because he kissed her the way I wanted someone--Patrick in particular--to kiss me: slowly, eyes closed, forgetting about the whole world as though there was nobody left except for us two and that moment.
I've never met a dude that I had a greater or at least equal attraction as I did with Patrick. Nobody in my high school is as attractive or has any of the great personality features as Patrick. Well that's not completely true. There are a lot of good-looking boys at my school. I mean, I've fucked with a few dudes here and there, but it really didn't mean anything to me or the people I messed with. I was tired of wasting myself on people who didn't matter, and I was also tired of waiting for Patrick to see me the way I saw him. It just wasn't going to happen. I would write, over and over in my journal: Get over it, Sean, PK (Patrick Knight) will never like you the way you like him. Either find someone else to obsess over...or just be lonely. But I really didn't want to do either.
When I got to school, on a overcast Tuesday morning, I headed directly for my locker, and started to stash all the heavy textbooks in my backpack inside. including my journal, when a hard hand slapped my back. I turned around to see Patrick standing behind me, brown eyes flashing, giving me one of his brilliant, sexy, smiles. "Yo, Sean. What's up?"
Taking out my Chemistry textbook, I said, "Nothin special." It was always a real challenge to act cool in front of Patrick, to pretend as though he had no affect on me. Everyday it got harder to pretend. Patrick's locker was directly next to mine I watched, kinda discreetly, as he unpacked his bookbag and stashed them into his locker. Patrick dropped something, bent down to pick it up. The tail of his shirt came up and I saw that he was wearing a pair of tight ass white Calvin Kleins to cover his tight ass. "Did you do the homework for math last night?" Patrick asked.
"No. I was hopin you did it so I could copy off yours," I said.
Patrick saw my picture of a shirtless male model taped to the inside of my locker door and said, "What's up with that?"
"Inspiration for the one day of the week I choose to go to the gym."
Patrick smiled again and playfully punched me in the chest--kinda hard, but I didn't wince, I just smiled back. "You got Chem right now, don't you?" he asked.
"Yeah. I gotta hurry up and get there `fore I'm late."
Closing his locker, Patrick said, "I'll walk with you. My history class is right next door."
It was difficult to hide my excitement, but I managed. "Cool." I said without much vigor. I closed my locker door, but I didn't remember to clear the combination lock. Just as we were about to walk off to class, Patrick's strikingly gorgeous and cold-hearted girlfriend, Rose White, came walking toward us, very gracefully, almost like a model striding down a runway. It was obvious why Patrick was physically attracted to Rose: she had a good height, maybe five-seven or five-eight, she had incredible raven-colored hair that reached down to her back, mesmerizing dark eyes, and an astounding body. It was her personality that really made me wonder how Patrick could be so attracted to Rose. She was rude and cruel to just about all people, and she really didn't respect Patrick all that well either. Rose made it clear many times that Patrick wasn't all that important to him, and that perhaps the only reason she was with him in the first place, was because he was one of the most popular and good-looking dudes in school. None of the other aspects of Patrick appealed to her. But Patrick continued to be drawn to her, as though she were some witch casting a spell over him. There's not that many things I don't like about Patrick, but one of them is that sometimes he doesn't see what's right in front of them--he doesn't see people for the way they really are. Rose came walking up to us. She saw me standing next to Patrick, but she completely disregarded me as though I wasn't there. It surprised me that even though she didn't really really like Patrick, she was jealous of Patrick and I's friendship. Rose had no real friends herself. Her relationship with Patrick was her only connection to people.
"Where were last night, Patrick? Called you like a thousand times," Rose said sharply.
Patrick shrugged like a little boy who had been caught doing something bad by his mother. "I was out with my boys. Just hangin around."
"Next time I call it would be nice if you answered," Rose said in the same tone. "I don't like wasting minutes on my cell phone to leave messages that don't get returned Patrick. So unless you wanna pay for the phone bill, pick up the goddamn phone."
"Don't get all stressed out, Rose," Patrick said lightly. "Makes you get those wrinkles on your forehead."
Rose rolled her eyes. She wrapped her long thin arms around Patrick's slightly thick neck, brought his head down to hers, and kissed him deeply, shoving him against the row of lockers. People around us watched and giggled, making those little "ooohh" sounds. I wanted to throw up. When they finally stopped kissing, which seemed to be ten years later, Rose looked at me. It was a cold look, it was a look that said, 'I have what you want and you'll never be able to have it." I felt the anger rising up inside of me, but of course I wouldn't show it. "Walk me to my Calculus class," Rose said to Patrick.
"I was gonna walk with Sean. His class is right next to mine."
"Walk me to class, Patrick," Rose said very emphatically. "I don't want to go by myself. I might get harrassed by some ugly freshman."
Patrick looked defeated. He turned to me and said, "Alright, Sean. I'll see you later." There was a little bit of disappointment on his gorgeous face.
"See you later," I replied back. I watched as they walked off together, with their arms around each others' waists. Patrick turned around once to look at me again. Our eyes met for a few seconds and then he turned back around and disappeared around a corner. I could feel my heartbeat slowing and slowing almost to the point where I thought it had stopped beating altogether. The bell rang and I ran to class as fast as possible.
* * *
"What are you thinkin about?" Danny asked me. We were sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria during lunch period. The room was filled with students and their incredibly loud talking and laughing.
I was staring down at the cold plate of french fries, but when I heard Danny talk, I looked up. "What did you say?"
"You've been looking at those fries for like ten minutes now. They must be hard as bricks by now." Danny bit into his hamburger and made the most horrible grimace. He spit it out and yelled, "This tastes like dog shit with ketchup on it." He pushed his plate aside. "So, really Sean. What are you thinking about?"
"Huh? What? Oh...nobody."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Can you ever have one moment in life when you're not thinkin about that boy?"
I picked up one of the cold fries and ate it. It actually tasted good to me. "I don't think about Patrick all the time. Just most of the time."
"Well," Danny said, "there's other people in the world to think about besides him."
"I don't want to think about anyone else."
"You're deranged," Danny told me.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
"Yeah. It really is. Especially when the person you're obsessed over probably isn't even into boys."
"He doesn't have to be into 'boys'. He just has to be into 'me'."
"Sean, he won't like you the way you like him," Danny told me firmly. "You need to just get over it and find somebody new."
"I wrote that exact thing in my journal last night," I said. "But I don't want to get over Patrick. There's nobody else that intrigues me the way that he does."
"Nobody?" Danny stared at me hard with his dark green eyes. I had known Danny for three years and I never noticed that his eyes were green. For some reason, I always thought they were brown. Danny was very cute, obviously not as good-looking as Patrick, but definitely cute; he had nice short black hair that flipped up in front, serious eyes that made him look very mature, a nice mouth with full lips. Danny had a nice body shape; his arms weren't too thin but they weren't big either. He had a really nice, round bubble-shaped ass, and really nice, hairless legs. I knew that Danny was attracted to me, that he liked me, but...I don't know... I didn't feel the same way about him. I knew my talking about Patrick so much annoyed Danny. I know it would annoy the fuck out of me if the person I had a crush on was going on and on about some other dude.
"Well maybe not 'nobody', but it would have to be a pretty special person I guess."
Danny smiled. He was satisfied with my response. "What are you doin after school?" he asked.
"Nothin. Homework. Masturbation. Boring shit like that."
"How fun. Is it okay if I come over to your house?" Danny questioned. "I really don't wanna see my mom and dad for a very long while." Danny's father had found a gay magazine while going through his drawers a week ago, and both of his parents had been screaming and cursing at him, calling him all kind of unnecessary names. Danny had come over to my house the previous Tuesday, crying, which was weird because in the years I had known Danny, I had never seen him cry before. He slept over a few nights, and when he returned home, he told me things were slightly better with his parents, not a significant, big change, but they were not treating him as harshly as they were before. But I could still tell that Danny felt alone and melancholy. I tried to be as sympathetic as possible.
"Yeah, sure. You can come over," I told him. In my head I thought: But don't expect nothing to happen.
Danny's face lit up. Once again I had never realized how good-looking Danny looked when he smiled, the way his eyes sparkled. He had really nice teeth and his smile was so nice to look at. If only I could make myself be more attracted to him. But I was hopelessly devoted to Patrick. And just as I thought of Patrick, he walked into the cafeteria with a few other basketball players. I felt my heart start to flutter and my knees wobbled beneath the table. It was almost sinful how beautiful Patrick was. Patrick saw me from across the cafeteria. Our eyes locked and I saw him smile at me. His smile was so much more captivating than Danny's, and I almost forgot that Danny was sitting across from me. Danny saw that my attention had been sparked, and he turned around and saw Patrick. He turned back to me and rolled his eyes. "Of course," Danny muttered. He stood up, leaving his tray of cold french fries and a half eaten hamburger laying on his tray. "See you later, Sean." But I was still looking in Patrick's direction. It took me a few minutes before I realized that Danny was sitting across from me, and that I was at the table alone.
* * *
In my bedroom, I lay stretched across my bed, writing in my journal, when there was a knock on my door. "Come in," I said.
The door opened and Danny walked inside. "Hope you wasn't jackin off or nothin," he joked.
Closing my journal, I placed it under my pillow and cross-legged on the bed. "I only jack off before goin to sleep," I responded back. Danny closed the door behind him and walked over to my bed.
"Do I even have to ask who you was writin about?" Danny asked.
"No." I responded.
Danny sat on the edge of my bed. I laid flat on my back, with my head my pillow looking at him.
"Do you ever write about me in that journal of yours?"
"No," I said. "You're not important."
I think Danny took what I said seriously because he got this really grave expression on his face. "Don't get all mad," I told him, nudging him with my naked foot, "I was just fuckin with you."
"Maybe..." Danny said, "and maybe you're bein serious too." One of the annoying things about Danny is that sometimes he lacked a sense of humor and took things way too personally. Patrick never did that. I could say anything to Patrick without worrying about his feelings being hurt and Patrick could do the same with me. It's kinda bad to say, but I wish Patrick was in my room at that moment while Danny was at home.
"You know I like you, Danny. Stop being all stupid." I kicked him playfully on the back. Danny grabbed my foot and didn't let go.
"I know you think of me as a friend," Danny whispered. "I just wish..." He started to rub my foot gently. I should've told him to stop but I didn't. "I wish you thought of me the way you think about him." Danny never referred to Patrick by his name, always only by 'him'. I saw the sadness in Danny's face and it hurt me that I was the cause of it. He let go of my foot, stood and faced me. Hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt, Danny proceeded to pull his shirt off slowly. He had a really nice chest, with slightly bulging pecs, and a flat abdomen.
"Danny, what are you doin?" I asked. But my dick was starting to get hard in my shorts.
Unbuckling his jeans, Danny pulled his jeans down, revealing his extra tight jockey shorts which showed off the incredible bulge of his cock. Danny had a really nice, big dick. I would've never guessed. He stood before me, dressed only in his underwear, looking basically like a model. Against my will, my own dick started to get hard and pitch a tent in my shorts. Danny saw this, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He hooked his fingers inside the waistband of his underwear, and in one easy motion, pulled them down to his feet. His big dick jutted out toward me, and it was incredible large and pretty-looking. I didn't know how to respond. Danny climbed on top of me, grabbed my shorts, and pulled them down below my knees. My dick popped out and stood up straight in the air. "I've always wanted to do this," Danny whispered to me. I really don't know why I wasn't telling him to stop. Maybe it was because I hadn't fucked anyone in like a month; maybe because Danny was really cute; maybe because I was beginning to believe Danny when he said that Patrick would never be interested in me in the same way that I was interested in him.
Danny put a hand around my dick and it squeezed it tightly. I lifted my hips upward and groaned in response. "Sean, your dick looks so good," Danny said. I wished he hadn't have said that. He lowered his face to my cock, rubbed his smooth chin around the head of my dick. My heart quickened as Danny's lips grazed the tip of my dick. He parted his lips and slipped the head of my dick inside of his soft, wet, hot mouth. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to have a warm mouth surrounding my dick. My toes popped and my ass clenched. My nipples hardened and I started to pant heavily. Danny continued, slipping his warm mouth over my dick, deep throating me, causing my nerves to electrify. For a while I got lost in the moment and just relaxed. Minutes later, as I was about to cum, I tore my dick out of Danny's hot mouth and I shot a fat load that landed on my stomach and on Danny's face. Licking the remaining strings of my cum off his face, Danny said, "I wanted to swallow all of it."
I pulled my shorts back on. "Put your clothes on Danny."
Danny looked confused. "Why? I thought we were going to..."
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
Danny scowled and got off of me. I watched as he angrily put on his underwear and pants. "You're a goddamn asshole, Sean." There was so much hatred to his voice that it was almost scary.
"Why am I an asshole?"
"You know why!"
"Just because I don't have the same feelings for you that have for me, doesn't make me an asshole."
Danny tossed on his shirt. "Fine. Fuck it. I don't care anymore. Go daydream about your little straight friend like you always fuckin do."
"Don't be like that, Danny. It's not that important."
"Yeah, Sean, it is to me. But you've made it really clear that I'm not important to you at all. There's no fucking point for me to be around you, because being with you is basically like being myself anyway. And I hope when Patrick finds out that you like him...I hope he beats the shit out of you."
"He won't know." I said confidently.
Danny smiled at me, not a happy smile, but a smile made out of malicious intentions. "You better hope not." And after saying that, Danny left my room, slamming the door shut behind him.
I was nervous for the whole time after Danny left. It was pretty obvious to me that he was planning on telling Patrick that I loved him. I couldn't have that happen. The only way I could stop it was if I....but I didn't want to. No, Danny wasn't going to tell Patrick. He was just mad. He would get over it by tomorrow morning and we would be laughing and talking to each other as usual. But what if we didn't? What if Danny hated me now? What if he really told Patrick. I couldn't bear if Patrick knew about how I felt about him. I couldn't bear it if he hated me afterward.
I pulled my journal from beneath my pillow. I opened it up, and I flipped through the pages, all of them mostly focused on my obsession with Patrick. Obsessions. Those are bad right? I just couldn't allow him to know how I felt, and the only way was to-- I began ripping all of the pages in my journal to pieces, all of them. It took ten minutes, but when I finished my bed was covered with paper fragments the size of confetti. I collected it all and threw it in the trash. Now the only evidence of my love for Patrick was in the trash. It made me feel depressed, but at the same time I felt relieved. Danny wasn't going to tell Patrick. Patrick wasn't going to find out. He could never know. He could never know.