One Little Thing

From your Author:

I would like to shout out to my renegades who emailed me about the loss of my older brother I’d mentioned in, ‘The Boy with The Club Foot’. Us, we, as writers, have our circle of guys, readers who have been in for the long haul.

It’s readers like this that keep us going and I spilled out ten thousand words on, ‘R&R and The Renegade’s’. Most of these loyalists have been with me from, ‘The Start’, And ‘Robby and Ryan’.

As they would tell you; every comment and vote counts. If it’s not for me then another Author who needs the support, other writers who have put themselves out there for the first time and don’t really know how many of you are reading.

Example:1000 readers read a story; that’s a lot for most of us. Less than one-tenth of one present comment, maybe a few more votes, and a story read has an 8.8 rating. That is discouraging to a new writer, a guy who showed his ass to what he thought was the GD, Family. Take from that what you will. RJC

Fuckin hindsight. I knew what I was hiding from him and I’d been excepted at MIT. It’s not like he was dumb and was expected to thrive at The University of Washington.

Would you say we’ve been together for eight years??? It would be five days driving cross country; four, with those nasty Red Bulls.

It was the last thing I wanted to do; leave him. We spent the last two days together not admitting what we couldn’t hide. Before I left; eight fuckin years; we’d never kissed or told each other what we had known for a long time. ‘One Little Thing.’

We never sucked each other off, never went past our explosive jack-off sessions but I remember the first time I tasted his cum. I did it on the sly one night and licked it off my hand when his eyes were closed. And I was hooked.

I caught him doing the same thing one night and he seemed to like it as much as I did but we didn’t openly do it in front of the other but I wanted it from the tap. I wanted it hot straight into my mouth.

It was a long four-day drive. I saw in his face what I’m sure was in mine as I missed his smile more after every mile and him as I drove. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t he? All it would have taken was one move when we’d look into the other's eyes when we woke up like we did.

Just, ‘One Little Thing’. I could have and should have done what I’d wanted for three years; kiss him. He could sing and play anything with strings and act like he wasn’t doing it for me. He never sang for anyone else.

He was blind if he thought I wasn’t proud of him, the ability’s he had and what he couldn’t hide in his eyes singing to me. When I left he was 6’3, around 250 pounds of muscle. I was an inch shorter and twenty-pound lighter; you’d have never realized what almost five hundred pounds of boys could make happen.

The first two weeks of settling in wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined; my roommate. He was cool, neat, and was all about studies. He saw it on me cuming in from class, “Dude?”

I was numb, had gotten a call from his mom, I couldn’t believe it. I mean we’d smoked our share of weed; never anything stronger. Kyle was arrested trying to buy drugs we never did. Weeks later his mom told me he got three years in The Reformatory.

I didn’t go to class for a week and my roommate covered for me. He talked to my professors, brought me food and sometimes fed it to me, and even helped in the shower.

It was the call from my mom, “You got a letter from, Kyle today.” That pulled me out of it.

“Put it in a box, Mom. I’ll read it when I cum home.” And I started classes again.

I was focused on my studies; that’s all I did. I didn’t go home for three years. My roommate and I were geared for this, both of us took 18 credits a semester and summer classes. We graduated, a four-year degree in three; with honors, from MIT.

I won’t say it was easy, I thought about him every night and he was still there during the light. I studied my fuckin ass with Cole every day, and he talked with me through the tuff nights. Nothing ever happened between us and he never asked if I was gay and that question never crossed my lips.

Before Graduation, in June I accepted a position with Amazon. I would start in two weeks, 250K, and a signing bonus. I drove home after an emotional goodbye with Cole. My mom called me every week for three years telling me I had another letter from Kyle.

“Put it in a box mom; I’ll read it when I get home,” Same thing every fuckin week.

His Mom would call me weekly, her visiting him every weekend. “It would mean so much to him if you answered one of his letters, Carl.” That’s what I thought about driving the five days’ home. The letters I’d never read.

I called my Mom two days after getting home. “When you gonna be home, Honey?” She asked.

“About that, Mom. I rented an apartment but I could cum by for dinner tonight.” There was a long pause.

“Fine. But there are a couple of things you need to know, Youngman.” I swear I saw her head rocking.

“Look, Mom. If I haven’t learned it in the last three years; don’t think you could teach me.” Did that just cum out of my fuckin mouth???

“Dinners at six.” And my phone said, call ended.

I went to walk in expecting to eat crow for a while but the door was locked; I rang the bell for the first time. The look I saw on Mom's face when she opened it was one I hadn’t seen in years: I waited. She never stepped aside; instead, my mother shoved a box at my chest then slamming the door in my face. A shoebox full of letters.

Mom’s can be real bitches sometimes. I went back to my bare apartment and didn’t open the box. I sat on the floor most of the night then called a furniture company the next morning. After a visit to the store, my apartment was furnished, and I still hadn’t read any of his letters.

I listened to music remembering every day we shared, the mud, me sharing my sandwich with him, and the other stuff we did. I wish I’d have kissed him, wished I’d sucked him, One little thing. We both could have gone to UW.

I bought a ticket for The Evergreen State Fair; I mean I’m not into rides but there is a lot of cool shit to see. I bought a drink, popcorn, walked up the stairs, and damn near fell over. I could hear the Banjo, it couldn’t be anyone else, and I reached the top of the stairs.

Fuckin, Kyle. He wasn’t a hundred feet away.

“Would you go with me? If we rode down streets of fire, C”

I could hear it in his voice, had heard it before, he turned so everybody didn’t see. What a question to ask me?

“Would you hold on to me tighter, as the summer sun got higher, if we rolled from town to town; and never shut it down, C?”

He had no idea I’d be there; sang to me like I was. Of Corse, I would do that.

“Would you go with me if we were lost in fields of clover? Would we walk even closer, C? Until the trip was over, C? And would it be ok, if I didn’t know the way?”

I dropped my shit in the can never taking a seat and cried in my car before leaving. I watched the video all night then called his mom. I told her I’d seen him and she said she never saw me. “Tell him my number is the same.”

“I did, Honey.” She told me.

“Would you ask him to please call me?” And I started reading his letters.

Some were a single page, ‘please write.’ Some were much longer; he’d go on about how sure he was I was doing well. He wrote about when we were kids, how he was lonely when I wasn’t next to him in bed, he alluded to but never came out and said it.

He assured me he was ok, his cords and voice had him in the band and that saved his ass. If you’re in one of the bands people left your shit alone.

My phone rang; unknown; I answered. “K?”

It was a long pause. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear your voice again.” I started to cry.

“I am so…” And he stopped me.

“Don’t.”

“But I am. I’m so… fuckin sorry.”

“You say that again; I’ll hang up.” He finally said. I knew he was lying.

“Wanna cum over,” I asked? “I’m not talking about sharing the linen, but you might stay the night.” And I waited.

“I don’t have a car and have no fuckin idea where you are?”

“Are you at Moms?” I asked meaning his. He said he was on the corner wanting a little privacy.

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Carl?” He didn’t call me that very often.

“Kyle. I’m getting in the car as we speak.”

From your Author:

And here we are again, but now at 3500 words. I find value in the little things, shit that makes you want more, and satisfies me as a writer. My last installment, ‘The Boy with The Club Foot,’ gleaned over a thousand readers and the question I asked was, ‘Should I back up a paragraph’, and continue? The votes were in the toilet. I thought it was something I’d done well?

As our Host says about comments and votes, show the luv. My words, not his. I read comments and not one person replied to my question; some emailed me. I appreciate what you say privately but what you refuse to say in the comments, so I think I will pull out a couple thousand more words; maybe many chapters. But this one needs to go night-night. RJC.

To say I was nervous is an understatement. I mean seeing him yesterday, longer blond hair, a, before I shaved a day ago shadow, he had changed. I’m not saying in a bad way, but. He turned looking at the car driving up.

I was all of a sudden ashamed of what I had. It was a Lease they delivered yesterday. A brand new fuckin Tesla. He shook his head before getting in; didn’t say a fuckin word to me as he looked at the screen; then, “Good on you, C. Good on you.”

“Do you want to stop for something? I don’t have shit to eat.” I asked not wanting to look at him full on.

“Sure. Let’s pick up enough for tonight and tomorrow morning. I got money.”

“I got this. Trust me.” I said pulling up to Jack in the Box.

We ordered Ultimate’s, curly rings, tacos, and Breakfast Burritos. I pulled up in the underground garage. “Really?” He asked.

I wasn’t trying to rub it in his face but this is where I needed to park if I didn’t want to do it on the street. He walked into the twelve-story apartment complex I now called home; I wasn’t showing off.

We ate, it was kind of silent, and I set the box in his lap. I had read a year’s worth of his letters; he read them to me. Took all night. I never stopped him once. Well, yes I did.

“Tell me, Kyle. Tell me.” I needed to know.

“You tell me, C?” And I saw some resentment.

“I should have never left. I should have kissed you like I’ve wanted to for years, and not in a gay way, just so you know.”

“What other way is there? Two guys kissing is totally gay.” And he smiled.

 From your Author, Again:

For those of you who read, you see me all over the place. I think I have seven different projects going on at once. I mention them and our Host is kind enough to hi-lite other things I’ve written. Thank You.

First I want to thank Big D, for his last installment of Tyler. I have thanked him publicly and privately for the inspiration he and others have given me. I think that’s important for up and cuming Authors to acknowledge.

As I look back, what caused me to start writing, I think I have shown appreciation. I did reference Big D, others, with our Host and readers. RJC.