By Josh Aterovis

Acknowledgements:

I’d like to thank Luke, without whom I would have never begun to write, Jon for being my constant source of strength, encouragement and love, Auntie Black Sheep (us Black Sheep have to stick together!) for all her support and acceptance, and last but not least, everyone who has read Bleeding Hearts as a work in progress and encouraged me to continue writing, offered critiques or provided me with assistance. This has been a labor of love and you have all made it possible. Thank you.

This book is dedicated to...

...my little brother, Luke.

...the love of my life, Jon.

...Auntie Black Sheep.

...all the lost boys.

There is a flower native to North America called Bleeding Heart. It's a delicate looking plant with long arching branches that, when it blooms, are covered with tiny heart-shaped blossoms. Each blossom has what looks like a drop of blood coming out of the bottom of it — hence the name. It likes shade and doesn't much care for wind. Unfortunately, we were getting a lot of wind that day.

I was sitting at the window overlooking the garden watching the wind blow furiously through the brightly colored flowers. Many of the plants had already lost their petals, but so far the bleeding hearts were holding their own. Which is more than I could say for myself. I was feeling more and more lost by the second.

Suddenly, it seemed that I had to do something for the plants. I couldn’t do much for myself, but maybe I could save them. I stood up and went outside into the storm; no one said anything to me and I wasn't surprised. Once I was outside, the wind buffeted my body and the driving rain almost instantly soaked me, my tears mixing with the raindrops. I didn't care. I was half hoping the raging storm would blow me away — or at least blow away the storm raging inside me.

But wait, I should back up. I've probably lost you already. I'm not even sure where to start, but I’m pretty sure the middle isn’t the best place. I was never very good at language arts; my teacher said I lacked imagination. But I guess maybe like Lewis Carroll said in Alice in Wonderland, "Start at the beginning and when you come to end...stop."

My name is Killian — Killian Travers Kendall. I'm sixteen years old and a junior in high school. It's only two weeks into the school year, but I've already learned a lot, mostly about myself. I'm not the same person I was on the first day of school. But we'll get to that.

My father is the District Attorney for the county we live in on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The Eastern Shore is a peninsula bordered by the Chesapeake Bay on one side and the Atlantic Ocean on the other. It’s mostly a rural area, filled with sprawling flat farms with small towns interspersed at random. My family lives in an old-fashioned town and my father is an old-fashioned kind of man. Over all I would say I've been a disappointment to him. He was the star of his football team, had every girl in the school drooling over him, handsome, charismatic: he had everything going for him. I, on the other hand, couldn't catch a ball if you held a gun to my head, have never dated a girl, and I'm very shy. I took after him in looks though, that's something at least. I have the same piercing blue eyes (which I hide behind glasses), wavy blonde hair and strong, even features. I weigh in at about 135 lbs and 5'7". My father's been trying to get me to try contacts for years, but the idea of sticking my finger in my eye is repulsive to me so I've stuck with my wire frames.

I guess I get my shyness from my mother. We're a lot alike in personality. She has a way of melting into the background, almost chameleon-like. No one ever remembers meeting her. The only time she ever seems animated is when my father is around. It's almost like she worships the ground he walks on. And that's where the similarity between us ends.

I don't have any real close friends, but I hang out with Asher Davis, Jesse O'Donnell and Zachary Phillips. We are the same age, but that's about all we have in common. They all three play soccer like it's the way to salvation, so they are all in shape and very built. Asher has curly dark brown hair, light gray eyes that seem almost silver at times, eternally rosy cheeks, and is a few inches taller than me. Jesse is a little over six feet tall, but thin, with reddish-blonde hair, freckles, and bright green eyes. Zachary, or Zack, has brown hair, bluish-gray eyes, and is about the same size as Asher.

I'm usually the odd man out since I don't play sports and I'm smaller than the rest of them. I'm the last one to get called when someone wants to do something, almost like an afterthought. I don't even remember how I ended up in their little group, we’d grown up in the same neighborhood and our parents knew each other. Everyone just always assumed we were friends and it had just always have been easier to go along with it than make an effort to find someone that I'd have more in common with. Making new friends was a terrifying concept to someone as shy as I was.

But this is all just background. The story really starts with the first day back to school. I wasn't looking forward to it. I do well enough in school, but even with my very popular friends I don't fit in and I know it. The only thing I like about school is theater. There I excel. There I can lose myself in a part. There I am actually looked up to. And that is where everything changed.

Theater was my last class of the day. My first day back had been fairly uneventful up to this point and I didn't really expect this period to be any different. The drama teacher, Mrs. Tatum, gave us her usual speech about this being a "play" class but not to expect any playing. "This is a serious class," she intoned imperiously.

Just then the door opened and a head popped in.

"Yes?" Mrs. Tatum asked.

The rest of the body came into view. And a nice body it was. I'd never seen him before so he must have been new. He stood about my height, maybe a little taller and slightly more built. He had red-gold hair that seemed to stick up in every direction and elfin features. In fact, he looked amazingly like an elf. Even to his incredibly green eyes. I wondered if they were colored contacts. Then I wondered why I cared. Why was I so intrigued by this guy?

"My name is Seth," he said, "Seth Connelly. I'm transferring into this class. Here's the paperwork."

He handed her some papers and looked around the room. He carried himself with an air of confidence. Not arrogance exactly, but not far from it. After Mrs. Tatum had looked over the paperwork she looked up at him, staring for a second.

"Looks like it’s all in order. Why don't you find a seat, Mr. Connelly, and we can continue with the class," she said finally.

He looked around the room again and locked eyes with me. I hadn't looked away since he'd walked in. Maybe he'd sensed me staring. I quickly looked away. Next thing I knew, he was sitting down right beside me.

"Hi," he said extending his hand, "I'm Seth."

"Killian," I said shaking his hand. He held on a second longer than seemed necessary then smiled at me before turning back toward Mrs. Tatum. My head seemed to be swimming and I felt warm. I wondered if I was coming down with something. I mean I couldn't be attracted to Seth. He was a guy! But I'd never felt like this before.

I tore my eyes away from him and tried to pay attention to Mrs. Tatum, but my eyes seemed to have developed a mind of their own. They kept finding their way back to Seth. I hoped like crazy that no one in the class noticed my sudden obsession.

Finally the bell rang. I scooped up my books and headed for the door with my head down.

"Killian! Wait!" I heard Seth call.

I stopped just outside the door and waited for him to catch up, but didn't turn around.

"Hey," he said when he came alongside me.

"Hey," I said back as I started walking again. What can I say? I'm a brilliant conversationalist.

"I'm new here," he said, pointing out the obvious, "I'm still getting lost. Think you could show me how to find my locker?"

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, still not looking at him, "Where is it?"

He told me and we went on in silence. I felt Seth studying me as we walked. Finally he spoke up again,

"Killian, that's a different name. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"It's Irish I think," I explained. "My grandfather was from Ireland. He named me."

"Are you close to your grandfather?" he asked. There was a strange note to his voice that made me look up at him for the first time since we had left the classroom. There was look of sadness in his eyes that made me wonder where the question came from.

"No," I answered, "He died when I was 4. I don't really remember him."

I saw disappointment in his eyes. He had very expressive eyes, like you were looking into his soul.

"Why? Why did you ask if we were close?" I asked him.

"No reason. Just wondering," he said, his eyes shifting away. Then he looked back at me again. "I'm not close to either of my grandfathers. They disowned me."

I looked at him curiously, but I had been brought up with too many manners to ask why they had disowned him. He read the question in my eyes anyway and answered.

"Killian," he said softly, "I'm gay."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"I think I can find it from here," Seth said after an awkward pause, "Thanks, man. See ya around." And he was gone.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, maybe just a few seconds, maybe minutes. I was lost in thought and I didn't care. The stream of people flowed around me and I didn't notice any of them.

Suddenly someone grabbed me around the neck and got me in a headlock.

"What are you doing, Space Boy?" they yelled, "Waiting for your people to come back and get you?" It was Asher.

"Get off me, Asher," I said sharply.

"Whoa, dude," he said letting go, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just gotta get home."

"Well, if you're in such a rush why were you just standing there?"

"It's nothing. I've got to go."

I started off quickly down the hall and Asher rushed to keep up with me. "Dude, Kill, man, what’s up?" he asked again. When I didn't answer he said, "The gangs getting together tonight to hang out, maybe catch a movie. You wanna go?"

"No thanks," I said. By now we were at the door to the student parking lot. My dad had given me a car for my 16th birthday, one of the new Volkswagen Bugs. Maybe he thought it would make me popular. If so, he was destined to be disappointed yet again. I headed for my car with Asher still on my heels. Just then, Zachary intercepted us.

"Hey Zack," Asher called out.

"Hey Asher. Hey Killian," Zack said as I started to unlock my car. "Didn't I see you with that new kid right after the bell?"

I looked up, dropping my keys in the process. As I bent down to pick them up I answered, "Yeah, his name's Seth."

"I know," Zack said, "He's in my second-period class. We all had to share 5 things about ourselves. You know what his were?"

I had the door open by now, but I didn't get in. I felt frozen where I stood.

"What?" Asher asked.

"#1, he just moved here from Baltimore. #2, he swam on a team at the school he came from #3, he likes acting. #4, he lives with just his dad #5," Zack paused dramatically, "#5...he's a faggot."

"WHAT?" Asher yelled, "He said that?"

"Yeah, man. A real live fairy," Zack laughed, "Well, he said gay, but you know."

"Who's a fairy?" Jesse asked as he walked up to us. "Killian?"

Everybody laughed, except me, then Zack said, "No, at least I don't think so. You're being awful quiet there, man."

I shrugged and started getting in my car.

"So who's a fairy?" Jesse asked again.

"That new kid, Seth," Zack told him.

"No way! How do you know? Did he hit on you?"

"No! He better not, unless he wants to end up a dead fairy," Zack said and they all laughed again.

"He seemed nice to me," I said before I had time to think.

As one they all turned to stare at me.

"Man," Asher said, "Don't tell us you're a fag too, Killian."

"I didn't say I was gay," I said quietly but firmly, "I just said that I thought he seemed nice. Why does that make me gay?"

"Because he is, Kill," Zack said, "You don't hang out with fags unless you are a fag."

"Bullshit," I said angrily. "Hanging out with you guys doesn't make me an idiot." I slammed the door, started the car and drove off, leaving them staring after me with their mouths gaping. I have no clue where that came from. I never ever reacted like that.

I thought about it all the way home. Thoughts were flying through my mind like bullets and they seemed just as hard to grasp. When I came to my house, at the last minute I decided to keep driving. I wasn't ready to face any one at home. I was still tense and confused from the strange scene in the parking lot. I decided to drive to the beach.

We were having unseasonably cool weather for September in Maryland so I didn't expect too many people to be there and I was right. I parked the car, fed the meter, and started out on the beach.

I had been walking for about 15 or so minutes when I was surprised to hear someone call my name. I turned and caught my breath. It was Seth and he was jogging towards me. He had changed out of the jeans and polo shirt he'd worn to school and now he wore Adidas jogging pants and a T-shirt.

"Hi, Killian," he said when he got to me, only slightly out of breath.

"Hi," I said looking at my feet.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I just needed to get out so I decided to take a walk. The beach always calms me." I told him.

"I live here," he told me as if I'd asked, "I like to jog on the beach. Like you said, it calms me, too."

When I didn't say anything he continued, "Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I'll understand. I mean I know I probably freaked you out when I said I was gay, but I hate lying. I did that long enough. It's better to get things out in the open right away. That's why I told you." Still I didn't say anything and he seemed to have a real need to fill in the silence so he continued on. "I mean I'm used to everybody hating me. My own family hates me so why shouldn't you —"

"I don't hate you," I interrupted.

He stood looking at me with surprise for a few seconds.

"You don't?"

"No," I said, "I don't even know you, why would I hate you?"

"Because I'm gay."

"That's not a reason to hate somebody."

"Everyone else seems to think so."

"I've never been one to go with the crowd," I said a little bitterly.

"I sensed that about you. That's why I sat next to you." We stood there for a minute not talking, then he said, "Want to go grab a bite to eat and we can talk?"

I thought for a few seconds then shrugged, "Sure, why not?" I said.

We headed up to the boardwalk and found a pizza joint, placed our order and sat down at a table to wait for our number to be called.

We talked until the pizza was ready, telling each other general information about ourselves. The kind of stuff you tell people when you're just getting to know them. When we had finished eating I asked the question that had been plaguing me from the beginning. "So how long have you known you were gay and how did you know?"

He paused for a moment, looking me in the eyes for so long that I had to look away. "I guess I knew for a long time before I admitted it to myself. But I've known for sure for about a year," he began, "I lived with my mom since my parents split when I was eight. I never really knew what happened until I was 15. I just knew I hardly ever saw my dad. But when I was 15, I realized I was gay and decided to come out to my mom. She hit the roof. Then she hit me. I hit the floor. Long story short, my dad was gay and that's why they split up. So she kicked me out and I moved in with my dad."

I sat staring at him with my chin, I'm sure, somewhere around my ankles. I'd never realized how sheltered I was in my little Eastern Shore town.

"So anyway," he went on, "How did I know? Hmmmm. I just knew. I can't explain it really. I mean, beyond the obvious, my attraction to guys over girls. I can tell with other people too, you know. It’s called gay-dar." A big grin started spreading across his face.

"Oh really?" I asked, suddenly feeling a little nervous. I wasn't sure why. I mean I wasn't gay, so what did I have to worry about? Sure, I'd never dated girls, never even been interested in them if I was honest with myself, but I'd never been interested in guys either. Had I? Doesn't everybody take peeks in the locker room? And all I felt towards Asher, Jesse, and Zack was friendship. Right? Thoughts of wrestling with Asher flashed through my mind. Enjoying the closeness of his body, trying to hide a hard-on. I shook my head to clear the images and hoped I wasn't blushing.

He was still smiling.

"Why are you smiling?" I asked testily.

Seth laughed. "I dunno. It’s better than crying."

I glanced down at my watch and gasped. "Whoa, I'm late. I gotta go or I'm gonna be dog meat." I pulled out my wallet and threw some money on the table, enough to cover my part of the bill. "Bye, dude. See ya in school tomorrow."

"Okay," he called after me, "See ya, Killer!"

I stopped in the doorway and smiled back at him. Killer...I liked it!

I drove home as quickly as I dared without risking a speeding ticket. That was the last thing I needed at this point.

As soon as I walked through the door, Dad was waiting.

"Thanks for the call," he said tightly, "Always nice to know to where my only son is."

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said quickly, "It was stupid of me. I had a fight with Asher, Jesse, and Zack, and I needed some time by myself so I went to the beach. I lost track of time."

"Your mother was worried," he said in that same carefully controlled voice. My father almost never raised his voice.

I looked over at her; she didn't look all that worried. The only thing that ever worries her is when Dad is late for dinner.

"Well, don't just stand there, hurry up and wash up for dinner. It's going to get cold," he snapped.

I rushed upstairs and threw my backpack on the bed, then hurriedly washed my hands before rushing back down. My parents were already at the table. Dinner conversation was strained as it was more often than not. But if I thought it was bad before, it was about to get worse.

"Buck Phillips called me this afternoon," he started. Buck was Zack's father. That caught my attention. I looked up from my spaghetti. "He said there's a homosexual at your school now." He pronounced it Ho Mo Sex You Al, over enunciating each syllable.

Mom's eyes flickered over to me for a second before fixing back on her object of worship. I wondered what that meant.

"You know anything about it, son?" he continued.

"I met him, if that's what you're asking," I said softly.

"You met it?" he seemed almost incredulous, as if I had said I ate lunch with the Pope.

"No, I met him. He's a human being. His name is Seth," I said fighting hard to maintain my temper. It wouldn't be good to lose my temper at the dinner table. Then again, it was never good to lose my temper with my father.

"He's not a human being," he sneered, "It's unnatural. Don't you even tell me you're a fairy lover, boy. You stay away from him."

I stared hard at my spaghetti, "Yes, sir."

I managed to gag down the rest of my dinner somehow, although it was almost more than I could take even to sit at the same table with him, I was so angry. He continued to expand on his theory that gays and lesbians were the downfall of modern society. As soon as I had eaten enough to politely be excused I headed straight for my room. I had my own phone line and I immediately called Asher. I hoped they hadn't left yet. Even though I wasn't real close to any of the guys, I was closest to Asher and I needed to talk to someone.

"Hello?" he answered on the third ring.

"Asher," I started, "I'm sorry about today in the parking lot."

"Man, what happened?" he said.

"I don't know. I just get so tired of hearing that kind of crap from my dad...I just didn't want to hear it from you guys, I guess."

"But dude, he's gay."

"So what? Why does that make him a lesser human being?" I was starting get angry again.

"Whoa, man, calm down. I dunno. I'm not saying he's like a lesser human being or anything. I just don't want him to make any moves on me, you know? Or you either. I gotta protect my buds, you know."

"I spent all afternoon with him and he didn't make any moves on me," I said surprising myself. I hadn't planned to tell him.

"You what?" Asher yelled.

"Shhh," I hissed, "I said I spent all afternoon with him."

"Is that why you didn't want to go with the guys?"

"No, I didn't plan it. I was upset after the scene in the parking lot and I just needed some time alone so I went to the beach. I ran into Seth there. We started talking and we ended up getting some pizza."

"Whoa. You went a on date with him."

"I DID NOT GO ON A DATE WITH HIM," I screeched.

"Shhhh," it was his turn to warn me, "Sorry, dude. I was kidding. So what's he like? Is he, like, all feminine?"

"No, not at all. He's really nice. I actually had fun."

"Man, I wouldn't talk about this in front of Zack or Jesse. You know how they are."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I wasn't even gonna tell you. It just kinda slipped out."

"Well, make sure it don't slip out in front of the wrong people," he warned me.

"Yeah, I know."

"So did he say why he decided to be gay?" he asked.

"It's not like that, Ash. You don't decide to be gay, either you are or you aren't. Trust me, after hearing what all he's been through I definitely don't think he chose it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't want to talk about stuff he told me, you know?"

"Oh yeah, that's cool."

"It was just some really bad stuff that happened to him because he came out."

"Came out? Now you're starting to sound like 'em," he chuckled. I laughed too. "Look, man, I'm still not comfortable with this by a long shot, but whatever you do, don't hang out with him at school too much. I know you like to be different and challenge the status quo, but this could get you hurt."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, Zack just pulled up so I gotta go. We'll talk about this later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Great, see ya later," and he was gone.

I lay back on the bed, more confused than ever. Everybody seemed to think that I should avoid Seth. I thought about how I felt, always getting left out, always being ignored. That was bad enough. How would it feel to actively discriminated against? I didn't even want to think about it. I made up my mind to be friendly towards Seth, but not too friendly.

* * *

The rest of the week was pretty much an average first week back to school — assessing the new teachers to see how much we could get away with, figuring out homework loads, etc. I talked to Seth in class even though almost no one else did. By now, the word was all over the school that Seth was gay. People gave me funny looks, but for the most part no one said anything. I didn't go out of my way to talk to him outside of class, but I didn't avoid him either. It seemed like with each day that went by, Seth got a little lower, a little less animated.

The weekend passed, or maybe I should say it passed away. It was a slow, boring death and I was actually glad to see Monday roll around. I wondered if Zack, Jesse and Asher were avoiding me. They didn't call me the whole weekend.

It was raining hard when school let out on Tuesday. I waited for a while by the door until it became obvious that it wasn't going to let up, then I made a dash for my car. I jumped in, turned up the defrost and put the windshield wipers on high. I’d had to stay after to talk to one of my teachers about a project that was due Friday (geez, the second week of school and I had projects due already), so I was one of the last people to leave.

As I was leaving there was one car ahead of me. While I was pulling out I noticed someone walking on the side of the road. The car ahead of me swerved suddenly towards the person. I yelled but they swerved back away, splashing the person in the process, which was probably their goal all along, I realized belatedly. I stopped next to the now thoroughly soaked person, then saw it was Seth.

"Seth," I yelled, "Are you ok?"

He turned towards my car and nodded, "Hey Killian. Yeah I think so. A little wet, but I'm ok"

"A little wet?" I laughed, "Why are you walking?"

"My Dad forgot to pick me up," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Well hop in, I'll drive you home."

He grinned at me, then ran around to the other door and jumped in.

"You'll have to tell me how to get there, dude," I said once he was settled and we'd started up again. "All I know is that you live by the beach."

He gave me directions and then we talked while I drove.

When I pulled up to his apartment building he said, "My dad isn't home. His car's gone. You wanna come up for a few minutes?"

I thought for a minute then turned the car off. I looked over at him and smiled. "Sure!"

We ran into the house and Seth slammed the door then slumped against it. I looked over at him and couldn't help but laugh. He was completely soaked from head to toe. Water dripped off of him, forming a puddle around his feet. His hair was slicked down and his clothes drooped, soggy with the rain.

"What's so funny?" he asked me.

"You look like a drowned rat," I said in between laughing.

"What exactly does a drowned rat look like anyway?"

"I dunno," I gasped, "But you sure look like one."

"Very funny," he said even though he was smiling too, "I wonder where my dad is?"

He went off down the hall, leaving a trail of water on the hardwood floor for me to follow — which I did, feeling a bit like Hansel and Gretel — into the kitchen. Seth was reading a note and dripping all over the table and floor.

"He got an emergency call from Steve, that's his friend. He said he'll call later tonight, but he probably won't get home till tomorrow."

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a couple root beers, the kind that comes in the brown glass bottles. "You like root beer?" he asked me.

"I love it," I said.

"Well, here ya go," he handed me a bottle and started for the door. He called over his shoulder, "The living room is across the hall, dude, make yourself at home. I'm gonna go change and be right back down."

I went into the living room. It was furnished with worn, but comfortable looking furniture, a nice entertainment system, and pictures of Seth everywhere. Books were strewn about liberally. It was a very comfortable room.

I walked around the room looking at the pictures and Seth seemed to grow up before my eyes. There was a woman in some of them, I assumed his mother, and a man in other, his father. I went over to the entertainment center and looked over their video selection — Sleepless in Seattle, Armageddon, Ghost, Air Force One, The Object of My Affection, Beaches, You've Got Mail, all the Naked Gun movies. I liked their taste.

"See anything you wanna watch?" Seth said suddenly, making me jump. He started laughing.

"Geez, sneak up on me why don't you?" I laughed too. He had changed into black running shorts and a plain white T-shirt. He'd dried his hair but he apparently hadn't brushed it. It was standing up in every direction, as it usually did.

"Sorry, I didn't put my wet shoes back on so I guess you didn't hear me coming in just my socks."

"Obviously, I don't usually jump and breathe heavy just because you enter the room," I joked.

"My loss," he said with a shy grin.

I blinked in surprise for a minute, not sure what to say. Was he hitting on me?

"Killian, I was kidding," he said after an awkward pause.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, "Maybe I better go."

"No, please stay for awhile. We can play a game or something. I have N64. Do you like Zelda?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. I thought for a few seconds while Seth stood there looking miserable.

"Ok," I said finally, "But let me call my parents so they won't freak out."

I crossed my fingers and dialed, then waited while holding my breath. Thankfully mom answered. She accepted the fact that I wouldn't be home till later without any questions. They would come later from dad, but I would think of something before then.

"It’s cool," I told him.

"YES!" he shouted, "Killer's the man!"

We played Zelda and talked about nothing for a few hours. Then suddenly Seth announced that he was hungry so we ended up back in the kitchen. He made us both lunchmeat sandwiches and we sat at the table while we ate.

"Well I don't seem to have made many friends in my first week of school," he said as I took a huge bite.

We sat in silence while I chewed, which gave me a chance to think of what to say.

"No, not many," I said, "but you made one at least — me."

He smiled and almost looked like he was going to cry for a few seconds. I hoped like crazy he wouldn't. I hate it when people cry. It always makes me want to cry too. My dad always yells at me for being a sissy and crying too much.

"Thanks, Killian," he said with a slightly husky voice, "That means a lot. Probably more than you know."

"I think I have an idea."

We ate the rest of our sandwiches in silence.

"I don't get it," he said suddenly.

"Get what?"

"I don't get why you grew up in the same town as all these other kids but you're the only one who doesn't treat me like some kind of pariah."

I shrugged. I didn't understand it myself. I was risking a lot just by being Seth's friend. For some reason, the risk seemed worth it to me.

"Do you know what your name means?" he asked me out of nowhere.

"No, I think it's the name of a beer, but I don't what it means. Why?"

"Cuz I do," he said.

"What? What does it mean? And how do you know?" I asked. This was taking a very weird turn.

"I looked it up, there’s a site on the Internet where you can look up names and find out what they mean. Killian means 'blind'."

"Blind? What kind of a name is that?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Travers, but I still don't get blind." I was struck by the utter weirdness of having a name that means "blind".

"Maybe it's symbolic," he said softly.

"Symbolic? Symbolic of what? My glasses?" I scoffed.

"No, of your inability to see yourself."

Whoa, now we had gone from weird to bizarre. If I wasn’t careful, before long he'd be calling me Grasshopper and telling me I need to have patience.

"You're weirding me out, dude," I said, "I can see myself just fine, thank you."

"Not really," he said, "Not the way I see you."

"What do you mean?"

"I see you differently than I think you see yourself. Look, I haven't known you for that long, but I can tell that you don't think very much of yourself; and yet you're smart, funny, kind, and not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. But you hide behind those glasses and your friends, and no one ever gets to know you. And besides all that, you don't even let yourself see the real you. You've buried it beneath so many layers you've forgotten it’s there."

My head was reeling. I think I was on overload. My mind had heard everything but certain phrases kept echoing through my brain. Drop-dead gorgeous. Me? Ha! Hide behind your friends. How do I hide? You don't even let yourself see the real you. What the hell was that supposed to mean? I latched onto the last one.

"What the hell do you mean by I don't let myself see the real me?" I demanded, "If I don't see the real me, then who does? You?"

"Maybe."

"Then why don't you introduce me? I'd like to meet myself."

"Ok, I will," he said in a strange voice. It was kind of sad, but almost like he had known what would happen. "Killian Travers Kendall," he started, "I'd like you to meet yourself."

Then he stood up, came around the table, leaned over me, and quickly pressed his lips against mine. For a second I was so shocked I didn't move, then suddenly my reflexes kicked in and I shoved back so violently that my chair flipped over backwards and I sprawled across the floor.

"What the hell was that?" I yelled.

Seth looked like he was about to cry again but I didn't care anymore.

"I thought you were gay, Killian," he said so quietly that I barely heard him. In fact, maybe I didn't hear him right.

"What did you say?" I asked him in a deadly calm voice. I had learned that from my father.

"I said, I thought maybe you were gay," tears started rolling down his cheeks, "I'm sorry, Killian, I was wrong. I'm so sorry. Please don't hate me. You're my only friend." With that he sank down to the floor and began to sob.

I sat across the kitchen from him and just watched him cry. I felt like I should do something but I had no clue as to what. It felt like my mind had shut down. Everything just went blank. I couldn't even think clearly enough to leave, so I just sat there. Occasionally, Seth would choke out another "I'm sorry," in between sobs. After a few minutes I reached up to wipe my face and I was surprised to find it was wet. I was crying too.

Slowly my mind began to wake up. The first question that went through my mind was, "Am I gay?" I wasn't so sure anymore. I really hadn't minded the kiss so much; it was just the shock of it that I reacted to. Even in my addled state I knew that much. I thought about the way I had been almost obsessed with Seth from day one. Asher suddenly popped into my mind and that really shook me up. I needed to get out of here. I needed to think.

I struggled to my feet and started out of the kitchen. I paused at the door long enough to mumble, "I don't hate you. I need to think," and then I was gone, leaving him crumpled in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Luckily, Dad was at a meeting when I got home and I was able to go right to my room, calling out to Mom that I was going to do my homework and I'd already eaten.

I fell backwards onto my bed and began to cry all over again. I was so confused. Had I been blind to the real me all this time? Was that why I always felt so empty, so incomplete? I sat up and looked in the mirror. My face was a little blotchy from all the crying and my eyes were red, but other than that, I knew I wasn't bad looking. There had been lots of girls who had asked me out persistently over the years, but I'd never been interested. Why? Every time I wrestled with Asher I got aroused. Why? The one and only erotic dream I'd ever had had featured none other than Asher. The clues were pretty obvious all of a sudden.

I had been blind.

I was gay.

The realization was almost overwhelming.

I was gay.

I kept repeating it over and over to myself. It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. I couldn't be gay. And yet, now that I'd faced it and said it to myself, I knew I was.

I was gay.

But I didn't want to be gay. My parents would hate me. My friends would hate me. I mean, look how everyone's treated Seth. Oh my God! What would Zack, Jesse, and Asher say? Or more importantly, what would they do?

I was gay.

Did that mean I would be kicked out of my church? Only my mom and I ever went. Dad said church was for women, and that's half the reason I continued to go week after week. It was one of the few things that Mom did without Dad's approval. For some reason I always felt a sense of peace there. Did God hate me? I was fuzzy on the whole religion thing. I guess I hadn't paid enough attention.

I was...

The phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. It was Asher.

"Hey, Killian, dude," he started as soon as I said hello, "I called you earlier and you weren't there? Where were you?"

"I was at Seth's house," I said. My voice was still somewhat shaky.

"You were where? Are you ok? You sound funny."

"I was at Seth's house and I'm..." my voice trailed off. I was going to say I was fine but suddenly it seemed pointless to lie.

"You're what, dude?" Asher asked me, "You want me to come over?"

I couldn't face that right now. I looked like a mess and I didn't know how well I would be able to lie my way through it. Why was Asher showing such an interest in me anyway, especially now of all times? He'd never really shown that much interest in me before these last few days.

"I don't think so, Ash," I said quickly.

"No, man, you're upset, I can tell. I'll be right over." And with that he hung up.

Great, just what I needed. Since when did Asher become a nurturer? I rubbed my face to try to get rid of the tear tracks. There wasn't much I could do about the red eyes. I turned off the overhead lights and turned on my computer. Maybe if the lights were dim he wouldn't notice, and the computer would give me something to do so I wouldn't have to look him in the face.

Asher only lives a few houses down from mine so he was at my house in a very short time. My mom let him in and he was at my door before I was even signed on to the Internet. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and his curly hair had been carefully brushed, as always. It struck me how different he was from Seth; then I wondered why I was comparing them. Asher had a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, Killian," he said, "Why's it so dark in here?" And he flipped on the light. So much for my dim lighting plan.

"Hey, Ash," I said. I was glad I had control of my voice again, "You didn't have to come over. As you can see I'm fine." I was hoping he'd take the hint and leave. Not Asher.

"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to. You're my bud." He came closer to me and peered intently at me. I looked away, but not quick enough. "You've been crying," he accused me.

"No I haven't," I lied, "I think I have allergies."

"I've known you forever, Kill, you don't have any allergies." Asher shot back. I'm very bad at lying.

"Look, Asher, I'm fine."

"What did he do to you?" Asher's voice had changed, taken on a harder tone.

"Who?" I stalled; he was making me even more nervous than I already was.

"Kermit the Frog. Who do you think? What did Seth do to you?"

"Seth didn't do anything to me," I said. My eyes shifted away. I hated lying more than anything in the world. That's why I was so bad at it. I had been known to get myself in trouble simply because I wouldn't lie.

"Did he hurt you?" Asher said as he took a step closer to me. His voice was as hard as steel now. I could feel his tension. I looked up at him, surprised by his reaction. "If he hurt you, I'll kill him." At that moment I believed him.

I couldn't take any more confusion today. It took all the self-control I could find just to keep from bursting into tears again. I took a deep breath, then another. Finally I was ready to speak. I made my voice go steely to match his.

"First of all, Seth did not hurt me. Second, why would it matter so much to you if he did? You've never paid any attention to me before. Why start now?"

Asher blinked at me, his mouth slightly open in surprise. "You're my friend, Killian. You've always been there. Whenever I've needed to talk, I always knew I could talk to you. I could never talk to Zack and Jesse like I talk to you. I know I haven't been the best friend in the world. I guess I kinda took you for granted. You were just always there. But now, Seth comes along and you're suddenly hanging out with him. And he's gay. I don't get it. I...I guess I'm kinda jealous."

Now it was my turn to stare open mouthed. "Jealous? Of what?"

"I don't want to lose you as a friend. Especially not to —"

"Don't say it," I interrupted, an unspoken warning clear in my voice.

We stood there staring at each other for a minute. We both jumped when a loud, deep voice shattered the silence. "Welcome." I had made it online. Almost immediately the Instant Messenger chime sounded. I glanced at the screen. The IM was from SethCon123 and the message read 'this is seth...please talk to me."

I quickly turned back to Asher, "Look, you're not losing me as a friend. Why I can't I just be friends with both of you? Why does it have to be one or the other?" Then before he could answer I rushed on, "Ash, I need some time alone right now. I'll call you later, ok?"

Asher nodded and left without saying anything else. I quickly turned back to the computer.

'how did u find me?' I typed.

'membership directory search,' he answered. 'look, i'm really sorry...i can't believe I was that stupid'

'WHAT?'

'you were right...i think i'm gay' There was no response for several seconds, so I typed some more, 'i'm still trying to figure everything out...i'm very confused'

'can i help?'

'i don't think so...it's something I have to figure out for myself'

'can we get together to talk later this week? i'll give u some time to think first...how about friday?'

'i dunno'

'look killian, u need to talk to somebody...if not me then find someone else.'

'ok, i'll think about it...i'm gonna go now'

'ok...bye Killer'

I signed off and shut down the computer, but stayed in front of my computer for several minutes just staring at my reflection on the blank screen.

I, Killian Travers Kendall, was gay. I was a homosexual. I was attracted to my own sex. The more I said it the easier it became. But I couldn't tell anyone. I knew Seth wouldn't tell anybody; besides, whom would he tell? I was his only friend. And even if he did tell, no one would take his word over mine. He was too new to the town; I'd lived here all my life. I was starting to feel a little calmer about the whole thing.

I heard Dad come in downstairs and all the fear from earlier came flooding back. What if he took one look at me and knew? Seth had known. Could other people tell?

I scrambled for my book bag and dumped out the contents all over the bed. I grabbed a book at random (I think it was my history book) and opened it, pretending to read. At that moment, there was a knock at my door and it swung open. It was Dad. The knock was simply a formality and we both knew it.

"Doing your homework?" he said.

"Yup," I answered, looking up from my book.

"Good. Get it finished before you go to sleep." And he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

He hadn't noticed. He hadn't suddenly screamed at me and ordered me out of the house. I let out a shaky breath that I didn't even realize I'd been holding. What was I going to do? I felt like I had narrowly escaped this time, but what about next time? What about my friends? What was I going to do about Seth? A feeling of despair and confusion suddenly overwhelmed me. I realized how emotionally drained I was. I pushed everything off the bed and onto the floor and lay down without even taking my clothes off. I was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, I slept very well. The next day, however, went by in a blur. I couldn't tell you one thing that happened in school, except that I spent most of the day dodging Seth and Asher in the halls. I didn't have any classes with Asher, so he wasn't too hard, but I had theater with Seth. We spent the whole period trying hard not to look at each other. The word "torture" springs to mind.

I took off as soon as the last bell rang. I had my destination in mind. I drove straight to our church. There was one car in the parking lot, but I had no idea whose it was. I parked next to it and knocked on the office door. Pastor Mike opened it. Mike, as he liked to be called, was the associate pastor, but more importantly, he was also the youth pastor. I was relieved that it was Mike since he was pretty young, I think only in his mid-20's. He had curly brown hair and friendly brown eyes and was even shorter than me. He always reminded me of an overgrown kid. He looked at me for a minute as if trying to remember my name.

"Killian? Right?" he said. I nodded and he continued, "What can I do for you?"

"Can I talk to you?" I asked him somewhat timidly. I don't think I had ever even spoken to him before. I was surprised he even knew my name.

"Sure," he said warmly, "Come on in."

I followed him into his office and he pointed me to a couch. He took the chair next it.

"I need to talk to you about some stuff," I started. He nodded as if to say 'go on', "But if I do, do you promise not to tell anybody? I mean can I trust you?"

"Well, look Killian, it's like this. If you trust me enough to tell me, then you have to trust me enough to do what's best with what you tell me. What I mean is, if you tell me you are really depressed and you're going to kill yourself, then I'd have to tell someone to protect you. But if you just need some advice or clarification on something, then I think we should be able to keep it confidential."

I sat and looked at him for a minute, weighing my options. If I talked to him, he might go to my parents. I really needed to talk to someone, though, and I felt like I could trust him. He sat across from me now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, waiting to see what I decided.

Finally I made up my mind, "Well, maybe you can answer some questions first," I started.

"I don't pretend to know all the answers, but I'll do the best I can," he said very seriously.

I nodded, "Does God hate gay people?"

Mike sat back in his chair and let out a little breath, not a gasp, almost like a hiss. "Yowzers," he said, "You sure like to start with the touchy issues, don't you?"

I tried to smile but couldn't quite pull it off. He saw this and quickly moved on.

"Actually, the topic is touchy, but the answer to that one is quite simple. No. God loves gay people just as much as He loves the pastor or Mother Theresa or anybody else. But I have a feeling that's not really what you're here to ask."

"What if...what if someone in the church was gay? Would they be kicked out?"

"No, I don't know of anyone ever getting kicked out of our church. You come fairly often, Killian, think about what you see when you are here on Sunday mornings. We have a very open church. Everyone is welcome. It doesn't matter what color your skin is or what color your hair is or what you are wearing."

He was right; we had inter-racial couples, people with more metal pierced through their skin than a Volvo, people with bright fire engine-red hair — and they were all accepted.

He continued, "We believe that God's love is for everyone, not just a select few. And you don't have to be "good enough" to meet His standards. He meets you where you are. Am I making any sense here?"

"I think so," I said, "so does that mean its ok to be gay? Doesn't the Bible say its wrong?"

"Killian, that's a question I don't think I can answer for you. I’ve not studied it. As far as I know, yes, the Bible lists it as a sin. Jesus himself never actually mentioned it, but Paul does a couple times. But then again Paul also said women shouldn't speak in church and should never cut their hair and never wear jewelry." He shrugged, "We seem to have decided that those don't count. Who gets to decide? I don't know anymore. I'm not speaking for the church as a whole at this point, but personally I think that we need to focus more on sharing God's love than condemning people. You talk to God about that one, see what He tells you."

I sat for a minute thinking about all that had been said.

"Killian?" Mike said, interrupting my thoughts, "Do you think you might be gay?"

For a minute I froze, then slowly I nodded my head, my eyes never leaving his face. I didn't want to miss his reaction. His eyes never changed, never wavered as he looked back at me. He nodded once, then reached out a hand and rested it on my knee.

"If you ever need to talk to someone, you can come to me. And you don't have to worry, I'll keep this confidential until you are ready to tell people yourself."

I felt my whole body relax. He didn't hate me. He wasn't going to tell my parents. He wasn't going to announce it to the whole church and have me kicked out. He was going to be my friend. And that's what I really needed right now. I hadn't realized how tense I had been until it was all over.

Mike patted my knee and then sat back. "Do you have any other questions for me? I don't know, something easy maybe, like why do bad things happen to good people?" Then he grinned to let me know he was kidding.

I grinned back and shook my head. "I think I have enough to think about for now, but if I think of something else, its okay if I come back?" I asked.

"Of course its okay," he said, "In fact, I really hope you do. You're a good kid, Killian. I'm glad you felt like you talk to me."

We both stood up and he walked me to the door. He waved as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Well that was one set of questions settled in my mind. Now I only had a million more to take care of.

* * *

I e-mailed Seth later that night asking him if I could talk to him sometime in private. I had decided that he would probably be able to answer some of my questions and it would help to talk to someone else who was gay. Mike had been a big help on the religious issue, but he wouldn't be able to shed much light on what it was actually like to be a gay teenager.

Seth had answered when I checked my account in the morning. He again suggested that we meet Friday evening at the park by the pond around 7:00. I replied saying that was fine with me and I would see him there. Now I only had to make it till Friday.

The week seemed to drag by. I was so distracted. I knew my grades were probably plummeting. Oh well, it was still only the second week. I would catch up.

Finally Friday arrived, but by the time the day was over I wished it never had. It was bad day from the beginning, when my alarm clock failed to go off and I had to run around like a chicken with its head cut off to avoid being late. Then all the teachers seemed to be in a bad mood, and I got yelled at several times for not paying attention. Geez, were they just noticing now? I mean, I hadn't been paying attention all week. Why was today so important?

A girl who had been after me since last year cornered me in the hall and demanded to know why I wouldn't go out with her. I came so close to telling her it was because she didn't have the right equipment. Instead, I bit my tongue and managed to slip away when a friend of hers who was running down the hall calling her name distracted her.

And then, as if my day hadn't already been crappy enough, I got into a huge fight with Zack, Asher, and Jesse, once again in the parking lot. This time they were waiting by my car when I came out. I eyed them suspiciously as I approached. This didn't look like it would be something I would enjoy. I was starting to dread getting my car from the lot. Maybe I would start riding the bus.

"What's with the welcome wagon?" I asked when I got close enough, "Did our dear old school elect you guys to the parking lot hospitality committee?"

"Funny, Killian," Zack said, "We need to talk to you."

"About what?" I asked.

"About Seth," Zack answered.

My eyes immediately went to Asher and he looked away, obviously uncomfortable.

"What about Seth?" I asked warily.

"We think you are spending too much time with him."

"Too much time? I haven't spent any time with him."

"Asher told us about the other day." Jesse threw in smugly, as if that proved my guiltiness of some gross crime.

"Oh, did he?" I once again looked at Asher and he still wasn't looking at me. He seemed to have suddenly found his Airwalks quite fascinating.

"Yeah, he did," Zack confirmed, "And we're worried that Seth is messing with your mind, turning you against us. You've not done anything with us since school started and you met this fag."

"Seth is turning me against you?" I repeated. I could feel my blood pressure rising, "You don't need Seth to turn me against you. You guys are doing a damn good job for yourselves!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Asher spoke up for the first time.

"It's supposed to mean that I'm always the tag-along. Nobody ever calls me unless nobody else is available. It means that I'm not really a part of your little group, and I'm being constantly reminded of that fact. It means that nobody ever cared what I was doing or how I was doing until it started looking like I might have my own mind. It means that if I don't do exactly as you say and perform exactly as you expect me to perform, I get check-ups and lectures. I'm not your friend. I'm your mascot. At least Seth treats me like a person."

"You're a fag too, aren't you?" Zack said in the sudden silence left after my heated outburst.

"Go to hell, Zack!" I said between clenched teeth. "And get away from my car while you're at it or I'll run over you!"

"You're gonna be sorry, Killian," Zack warned as he, Asher, and Jesse started walking away. "You and your boyfriend."

* * *

That threat echoed through my head all the way home. What did that mean, and how much did they know? I sure hoped Seth would be a good friend, because I had just alienated the only three friends I'd ever had.

I went home and did all my homework for the weekend, and it was still only 4:30. I still had two and a half hours to wait before I went to meet Seth at the park. Calling Asher was out. I never called Zack or Jesse anyway. And I didn't have any other friends. So I signed onto the net.

None of my net friends were on. I usually talked to them later at night, so I decided to look up some articles on being gay. I went to my favorite search engine and typed in "gay". I was shocked when it came back with thousands and thousands of hits. Then I realized that 99% of them were porno sites. I was very curious, but I decided not to check them out. Well, maybe just one. I clicked on a link and waited. I almost fell off my chair when the site finally finished loading. I had never seen anything even close to this. I was hard in seconds; I didn't even know you could get hard that fast. My eyes almost popped out of my head, and this was just the title page. After I caught my breath again I tried clicking on the enter button. A form came up asking me to join, so I exited the whole site. No way were they getting my name, and besides, I didn't have a credit card. I sat in front of my computer with an aching hard-on trying to decide if I should try another site. I finally decided against it. I could see how that could get addicting and I didn't want to tempt fate.

I signed off, stood up, and was immediately reminded of my state of arousal. Well, I thought. I guess this settles the whole gay thing. I snickered at the tent in my pants and decided to do something about it. After checking to make sure my door was locked, I stripped, lay down on my bed, and jerked off. This wasn't the first time I'd ever done it by a long shot, but it was the first time I'd ever allowed myself to think of guys while I did. Not that my mind hadn't tried to go there before, but I'd always felt guilty and made myself think of girls from school. Talk about frustrating! I now found my mind wandering from the guys on the porno site, to Seth, and to my surprise, Asher. I quickly pushed Asher out of my thoughts since he hated me now and definitely wasn't gay anyway.

I finished and got cleaned up just as Mom called me down to dinner. I was surprised to find that it was just Mom when I got downstairs.

"Where's Dad?" I asked.

"He called and said he had a meeting, so it's just us," she said and smiled. My mom was very pretty in a held-back kind of way. She had me when she young, only 18, so that made her 34 now. I looked at her closely as if seeing her for the first time. She wore her straight blonde hair shoulder length and tucked behind her ears. She didn't have any wrinkles yet. Her soft blue eyes were very seldom enhanced by make-up, but they were pretty even without any. In fact, she hardly ever wore make-up at all. Suddenly, I wondered why. Dad was always asking her to. The way she did everything else he wanted. The fact that she didn't do this small thing suddenly took me by surprise. Then I thought about the whole church thing. That was another place she stood up to my father. Maybe I had been underestimating her all this time.

"Why don't you wear make-up?" I asked her.

She looked at me in surprise, "What an odd question!"

"Not really. Dad is always asking you to."

She smiled a funny little smile, "Then maybe that's why."

"What?" I was suddenly very confused. Could the chief priest at the shrine of my father really not be as devoted as she seemed?

Her smile broadened. "You've never expressed much interest in my personal appearance before. What brought this on?"

I shook my head silently and she laughed. She blessed the food and we began to eat and make small talk, but my mind was busy trying to find other instances of my mother's rebellion. They were there. I'd just never noticed them before. I think they call it passive-aggressive behavior. I suddenly had a new respect for my mother.

"You don't like him very much, do you," I interrupted her in mid-sentence. I hadn't been paying attention, but I think she was talking about church.

"Pastor Mason?" she asked in a shocked voice.

"No, Dad."

"Oh," she said simply and sat there for a few seconds, fork still suspended half way between her plate and her mouth. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, so that I had to almost strain to hear her. "Your father is a very difficult man, Killian. So was his father. I've never told you this, but I think you are old enough to handle it. We weren't married when I became pregnant with you. I wouldn't even consider an abortion, so his father, your grandfather, practically forced us to get married."

She let the fork slowly drop to her plate and folded her hands in her lap before continuing. "You're right. I don't like him very much. My mother told me I'd grow to love him," she paused and I could see the pain in her eyes, "but it hasn't happened yet. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t regret having you. You’re the best thing that in my life. I see the way he treats you, and it makes my heart ache. I've always tried to make sure you've had everything you needed, everything you wanted; the car, the computer." She shook her head as if to say it wasn't enough.

"Then why don't you leave him?" I asked equally quietly.

"It doesn't work that way, Killian baby," she said, "Your father's a very powerful man in this area. He'd take you away, and I'd never be able to get a job. I never finished college because I was pregnant, and your father never let me go back, so I have no marketable skills. I'm stuck. And I'm afraid that means you are, too, at least for a few more years. Maybe once you're in college, I'll have the nerve to make a break for it, but I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire. It would be ugly, trust me."

"I do," I told her sincerely.

She nodded and we went back to eating. The rest of the meal was somewhat solemn. I had a new image of my mother now and my respect for her had gone up considerably. All these years she had stayed in an unhappy relationship because she didn't want to lose me. I was almost in tears. When she stood up to clear the table, I gave her a hug and insisted she let me do it.

By the time I got the dishes finished it was almost time to meet Seth at the park. I figured that by the time I walked there, it would be just about right. I could have driven, but I didn't want to get there too early and have to sit around waiting. It was almost dusk, and it was a little creepy by the pond at night.

I told Mom that I was going for a walk and left. I had plenty of time on the 15-minute walk to think about things. And I had a lot to think about. So much had happened in the last two weeks. I'd realized I was gay and admitted it to myself. I'd come out to one of the pastors at my church and a new friend who was also gay. Then I'd alienated all my old friends, maybe for good. I had been kissed for the first time, and it was by a guy. (I wondered briefly if it counted if you hit them afterwards, but decided it did.) Then to top it all off, I'd found out that my mother was a real person after all. And I liked her.

I wondered what Seth would add to my list tonight. Would he kiss me again? I wondered if I wanted him to. I wasn't sure. Part of me did, but part of me was scared too. I finally decided that if he did, I wouldn't stop him this time.

I was so lost in thought that I almost walked past the trail to the pond. The pond was a man-made pond that sat back in a copse of trees. The forest was small but thick with lots of undergrowth and high weeds on either side of the narrow trail that circled around the pond. The pond itself was a green, nasty looking thing that was fed by drainage ditches. They had built cutesy little arched bridges over the ditches, but it still all looked kind of seedy and creepy, even in the middle of the day. At night, it was downright scary.

It was just at the edge of dusk, the time when it's hardest to see because everything is like an old black-and-white movie with bad contrast. I couldn't see anybody around the pond, but I couldn't be sure, so I started to walk around it. Maybe I'd gotten here before Seth.

Then I thought I saw some movement on the far side of the pond. I started towards it at a faster pace as I called out in a hushed voice, "Seth?" If it was Seth, I thought, he would never recognize my voice. I wasn't sure why I wasn't louder, but I was feeling very terrified all of a sudden. I had goose bumps all over my arms and the hairs were standing up on the back of my neck. I almost turned and ran, but I told myself I was being stupid and kept walking toward the area where I'd last seen the movement. "Seth?" I called again in my new raspy voice.

Still no one had answered me, so I wasn't sure if I'd even seen anything. When I got closer to the spot where I thought I had seen the motion, I saw something lying on the ground, so I headed in that direction. Before I could get close enough to see what it was, something suddenly flew out of the undergrowth at me with a fierce howl.

Before I could even scream, it slammed into me, and the impact sent us both rolling across the ground. It was a person, I was sure of that much as I grappled tried to get away. I thought maybe it was Seth playing a sick joke, but I couldn't get turned around to see, since my attacker now had me from behind in a tight grip.

One hand abruptly let go, but before I could take advantage of that, the person raised an arm and quickly brought it down. In that spilt second of motion, I saw a flash in the moonlight. It was a knife! Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I felt the impact of the knife in my stomach, and the air rushed out of me with an audible 'oof'. Almost instantly, searing pain spread through my entire body as I felt my own warm blood gush out.

I'd been stabbed.

The person let go of me with the other arm and yanked the knife out. I fell back onto the ground as my attacker sat up over me. I tried to get a look at my assailant, but the pain had blinded me. I couldn’t make out any facial features. The arm raised again, but then stopped. I lay there looking helplessly up at the faceless monster above me, but I couldn't do anything but whimper.

"Shit," the person hissed, then lurched up and took off running.

I didn't move for a few seconds. The pain was all I could think about, and I seemed to be having difficulty breathing. Each breath felt like a whole new stab. I struggled to sit up, but the pain flashed through my body again, and I felt myself blacking out. "I don't want to die," I thought, as the darkness surrounded me. I fought back and managed to get myself onto my hands and knees. I put pressure on the stab wound with one hand and tried to stand up, but my head was spinning too much.

I wanted to scream, but still couldn't seem to get enough air. I was also afraid that the person with the knife would come back and finish me if he realized I was still alive. I looked around for help, but I couldn't see over the weeds. I could see the lights of nearby houses faintly through the trees, but I knew my chances of getting through the underbrush in my condition were next to none. I had better chances of getting found here on the trail. Sometimes, people walked their dogs out here. Then I saw the figure lying on the ground again. I realized it was a person. Maybe I had interrupted a mugging and the victim was just unconscious. Maybe I could wake the person up to get help.

I painfully crawled over to the still figure, every movement bringing a wave of intense agony. I felt like I was going to get sick. As long as I didn't pass out, I didn't care. My shirt was soaked with my blood by this time. I knew I was losing a lot and that was why I was getting so light headed.

Finally, I reached the figure’s side; it was lying on its side facing away from me, so I grabbed its shoulder and rolled it towards me. As soon as the body fell flat on its back, I knew I wouldn’t be waking it up. Its throat had been slashed open, the gash angry and raw. Its amazing the little things you notice in a moment like that. I saw the leaves and small pebbles stuck in the drying blood around the wound, and I wanted to brush them off. It looked unspeakably obscene, as if the gaping slit wasn't obscene enough.

I felt the blackness swirling around me again and I didn't think I'd fight it this time. In the last second before I allowed the darkness to overwhelm me I looked at the face. My last thought before succumbing to the void was, "Oh God, not Seth."

It felt as if I were floating. That's the first thing I remember. Then I became aware of a bright white light that I could see through my closed eyelids. The events leading up to my blackout flooded back into my consciousness and I found myself wishing for the bliss of the darkness again. Then I realized I wasn't in pain. Was I in heaven? I forced my eyes open, but shut them again quickly. The light was blinding. I tried again, a little more cautiously this time.

Well, I wasn't in heaven, not unless they hooked you up to machines and painted their rooms a nasty puke green. When would hospitals ever learn?

Just then, a nurse walked into my field of vision. She was wearing the typical nurses uniform of a brightly colored top over white pants and white shoes. She looked like she was maybe in her 60s, with close-cropped gray hair and a don't-mess-with-me look in her eyes.

"Ah, I see you're back with us again," she said, "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure yet. How long was I out? Was I in a coma?" I asked. My voice sounded scratchy and harsh. The pain was starting to come back now, a little more with each breath.

"No, no comas," she told me as she started checking machines and making little notes on her clipboard. "You were unconscious when they found you, and then they doped you up for the surgery. You're just now coming around. Starting to feel some pain?"

I nodded. I liked her. She was very straightforward.

"Alrighty then, we'll take care of that," she made some adjustments to the keypad on the IV stand and changed the bag at the top. "There, that should help soon."

"What happened?" I asked her. "Am I OK?"

"You're going to be fine, but the doctor will be in shortly to tell you more. If you need anything from me, like more of the good stuff to knock you out or something to drink, whatever, just push this little red button here." She showed me a small tube-shaped thingy with a wire that ran out of the bottom of it to the wall behind me. A red button was on one end of it. "This will page us at the nurses’ station. Someone will come and check on you, although it might not always be me. Ok?" I nodded again.

She bustled about busily for a few more minutes, then breezed out, waggling her fingers at me as she went.

The medicine started kicking in soon after, and I was about to go back to sleep when a tall black man with a thin mustache, wearing a white doctor's coat and a stethoscope around his neck, walked into the room. I assumed he was the doctor.

"Hello there, Killian," he said. He pulled up one of the chairs in the room (they were a lovely shade of orange, to go with the puke green walls, I can only assume) and sat down so he was more or less on an eye level with me. "My name is Dr. Murray. I'm your doctor. It's good to see you awake. You're looking a lot better than the first time I saw you. You've been through a lot in the last 24 hours."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, do you remember what happened?" he asked.

I nodded, "Aren't the police going to ask me questions now that I'm awake?"

The doctor laughed, "You've watched too many cops shows on TV. No, they aren't going to need to ask you any questions. They're saying you interrupted a mugging, classic case of wrong place at the wrong time. They haven't caught the guy yet, but they are looking. Now, as for you, this guy did a number on you. You're going to be just fine, but it's going to take a while, several weeks at least. The knife entered at a perfect angle considering he missed all the important stuff, but he did puncture your lung. We've stitched up what needed stitching. Now you just need rest to finish up the job. It's not going to be real fast, and it's going to hurt like hell, but that's why God invented drugs. I'll be keeping an eye on you, and I'm sure someone showed you how to contact the nurses if you need anything."

He stood up as if to leave, but I noticed he'd left out some important information. I struggled to stay awake as the medicine was really kicking in about now. "Wait, what about Seth?" I said. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe it wasn't really Seth, or maybe they had been able to save him too.

"That was the other young man?" Dr. Murray asked me. His slightly joking manner was gone now, and I knew the news wasn't good.

I nodded.

"Did you know him?" he asked.

Past tense. Definitely not good. I nodded again.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, "He was dead when the police got there."

I felt a tear roll down my cheek. The doctor looked at me sympathetically and patted me awkwardly on the hand. "Try to get some rest," he said, "That's what's going to help you heal."

I wondered if he meant physically or emotionally. I suspected I would heal much faster from my stab wound.

* * *

The next time I awoke, my parents were in the room with me. As soon as my eyes were open, Mom was at the side of the bed.

"Are you ok?" she asked me.

"I'm not sure," I told her truthfully. The meds had me pretty groggy.

"Of course he's ok," Dad barked from his chair across the room. "Don't baby him. He's 16 for God's sake."

Mom looked into my eyes, and our new bond let me know that she was still concerned for me. In the interest of domestic peace, however, she moved away from the bed and sat back down.

"What I want to know is what you were doing with that fag anyway," Dad went on as if we were in the middle of a conversation. "Your mother said you went out for a walk. You weren't meeting him were you?"

I closed my eyes and hoped he'd get the hint. I didn't feel like dealing with him right now. I hadn't even taken in the fact that Seth was dead, and I had come too close to dying myself. I was still in the freaking, hospital for God's sake, and all he could do was start interrogating me.

"Killian," he went on when I didn't answer, "If somebody hadn't seen that guy run out of the woods, then you would be dead. I want some answers."

Join the club, I thought. I fumbled around for the call button with my eyes still closed, found it and pushed the button.

"Were you meeting him there in the woods?" He was relentless. I mean I was in a hospital bed, with a stab wound, and he was grilling me like a defense witness at one of his trials.

"Gary," Mom interrupted, "He's tired, he's hurt, why don't we just let him be for now? You can ask him all these questions later."

"Did I ask you?" he said to her in his I'm-so-calm-it-hurts voice.

I was about to page the nurse again when I heard someone come into the room.

"Did someone need me?" she asked in a chipper voice, "Oh, I bet I know who it is!" Oh great, a perky nurse. Just what I always wanted.

I opened one eye and couldn't help but open the other one too. She looked amazingly like Britney Spears in a nurse's uniform. I wondered if the meds they were giving me were causing me to have hallucinations. If so, I think I'd rather deal with the pain.

"Are you hurting again?" she asked me. If she only knew how much, I thought. Then she went on before I could even answer, "Well, we just gave you some pain medication not that long ago, so I can't give you anymore right now. I think you just need some rest." She turned towards my parents and smiled brightly at them. "He really needs his sleep, maybe you could come back later and visit with him." I liked her better already.

Dad glared at her for a second, then stood up and motioned for Mom to come with him. She started after him but paused by my bed for a second, rested her hand on my arm, then followed him out of the room.

Nurse Britney turned her thousand-watt smile on me once they were gone. "Is that what you wanted maybe?" she asked.

I managed a chuckle but immediately winced. "You're good," I told her.

"Thanks, but you'd be surprised how many kids use that thing to get rid of their parents." she laughed and started back out the door, "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to page me."

And I was alone with my thoughts finally. I was still a bit groggy from the pain medication, but I needed to think. Seth was dead. Someone had killed him and come very close to killing me as well. From what Dr. Murray had said, the police had pretty much closed the case; saying that I had interrupted a mugging. Somehow that didn't make sense to me. I thought about how the killer had frozen when he saw me clearly for the first time. It was right after that when he ran away, almost like he knew me. He'd even cursed. I racked my brain trying to see if I could recognize the voice, but I had been too scared and the voice had just been a whisper.

Then my mind turned to the unthinkable. Why would someone want to kill Seth? Maybe it was just a random killing. It was easier to think about that than think he had been killed for personal reasons. Again I asked myself, "Why would anyone want to kill Seth?" In my heart, I knew the answer. I could hear it in Seth's own words, "I mean, I'm used to everybody hating me. My own family hates me, so why shouldn't you..."

"Why would I hate you?" I had asked him.

"Because I'm gay," he had answered, simply and honestly. And now he was dead. What if he had been killed because he was gay? That thought was especially scary since I was still dealing with my own homosexuality. I knew it happened all the time, though. I remembered Matthew Shepard from all the news coverage, and I knew there were many others who didn’t get national new exposure, that were simply swept under the rug.

Suddenly I found myself crying, softly at first and then harder, until my entire body was trembling from the sobs. They seemed to start from somewhere deep within me, somewhere I had never tapped before. I was weeping for Seth. I was weeping for Matthew Shepard. I was weeping for all those who were killed, or killed themselves, because of something they had no control over. In my mind, they were both the same. Society had killed the suicide victims just as surely as they had killed Matthew Shepard, and now, I knew in my heart, Seth.

But most of all, I think I was weeping for myself. I felt deep sense of loss for what had happened in the park. Not even so much for Seth — I really barely knew him, even though I had liked him and thought we would have been good friends, if not more. I wept for what it represented. Eventually, I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

When I awoke again, Nurse Britney was gently sliding my arm into a blood pressure cuff.

"Sorry to wake you up, Sport," she said, "But I have to take your blood pressure. Someone was here earlier to visit you, but only family can see you just yet, so they had to leave."

"Who was it?" I asked her, still not quite awake.

"Cute kid about your age, I think his name was Ashley, or no wait..."

"Asher?" I asked.

"Yes, that’s it Asher."

Asher had come to see me? Why? After the way things had ended after school the day before, he was the last person I would have expected to come see me.

* * *

They kept me in the hospital for a few days, and then I was sent home to complete my recovery. Thank goodness Dad hadn't come after me again, but I knew it was just a matter of time. He hadn't been home much, but that was too good to last. Asher hadn't come around anymore either. I was pretty much bed ridden most of the time, so I had lots of time to think about what had happened.

I had come to a few conclusions. They were fairly simple, at least in my mind. Number one, whoever had killed Seth couldn't be allowed to get away with it. If the police weren't going to find him, and it didn't seem to me like they were trying all that hard, then I would.

Number two, it was fairly obvious, to me at least, that Seth had been killed because he was gay. I didn't buy into the mysterious mugger theory. It was just too coincidental.

My last conclusion was that the killer had to have known me judging by his reaction when he saw me. It was this last conclusion that scared me the most. It meant that someone I knew, maybe knew very well, was a cold-blooded murderer.

I had been having nightmares almost every night since I had come home. They were almost always the same: I was at the park again, by the pond. The shadows were dark and almost seemed to be alive. I was so scared. And then, there was Seth. He was standing on the bridge and he kept asking me, "Why Killian? Why me?" I would try to answer him, but no words would come out of my mouth no matter how hard I tried. And then I would feel someone come up behind me. I would awake, wet with cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest, unable to get back to sleep.

Between my dark thoughts, the nightmares, and the accompanying lack of sleep, I found myself slipping deeper and deeper into depression. After what had happened to Seth, I knew I could never come out myself. I felt trapped by things I knew I had no control over. I wanted out, but I was too much of a coward to do anything about it but hate myself.

About a week after the murder and my stabbing, there was a knock at our door. Mom left to answer it. I could hear the conversation from my post in the living room. I could tell it was a man, but I didn't recognize the voice. Then he introduced himself.

"I'm Adam Connelly," I heard him say, "Seth's father. I'd like to see Killian if he's up to it."

My mother was silent for a moment, then she spoke softy, "I'll check."

As soon as she appeared in the door, I nodded. She turned and motioned to Mr. Connelly. When he came into the room, I almost gasped. He looked like an older version of Seth, except tired and worn out. I wondered if he had looked that way before Seth's murder or if it was a by-product of that horrible event.

"Hello, Killian," he said, extending his hand for me to shake.

"Hi, Mr. Connelly," I said.

"Please, call me Adam," he told me. "Seth spoke so much of you, I feel like I know you. You were his only friend..." He choked up and had to stop speaking. My eyes shifted to Mom. She was staring at me with a funny look on her face that I couldn't quite interpret.

"I'll be in the kitchen," she said and walked away. I forced my mind back to Adam. I turned to him just as he was sitting down in the chair closest to my makeshift bed on the sofa.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling horribly inadequate, "I'm sorry for what happened..."

He waved his hand to stop me and I faded out. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. You're maybe the only person I know in this pathetic town who doesn't have anything to be sorry for." He shook his head as if to clear it, "I'm sorry. I'm still dealing with a lot of anger, but finger pointing doesn't accomplish anything. You're probably wondering why I'm here."

I couldn't argue with that, so I simply nodded.

"I have something for you, Killian," he said, pulling an envelope out of his pocket, "I found it as I was cleaning out Seth's room. It's a letter that he wrote to you. I hope you don't mind that I read it. I thought he'd like for you to have it."

He handed me the letter, and I looked at it for a moment.

"Please, open it and read it while I'm here," he asked me. I could hear the pain in his voice. How could I say no? So I opened it with trembling hands and pulled out a single sheet of lined notebook paper. I unfolded the letter and looked at the date on the top. It had been written the day he kissed me. I forced my eyes down the page and began to read.

"Hey Killer," it began. "I'm really sorry about what happened today. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe that's the whole problem. I wasn't thinking. I wanted so badly for you to be gay, that I guess I imposed it on you. I get so lonely here in this town. I wanted to find someone I could love and who could love me. I guess I was expecting too much. I know I've probably ruined everything by now, but if not, if you can forgive me, I'd still like to be your friend. If you don't hate me that is."

The letter stopped here and then picked up again in different color ink.

"Wow. I just got off the internet after talking to you. I can't believe I was right! You are gay! But I'm not getting my hopes up or anything. I'm just glad you don't hate me and you still want to be my friend.

"After you signed off I looked up your middle names. I think it’s very interesting what it meant. Maybe you will, too. Travers means ‘the crossing.’ Do you see it? I think it means that you are at a crossroads right now. You know you're gay, but you don't know what to do about it. There are several paths you can take, but only you can decide what path is right for you. And there really is only one path that's right for you.

"I hope you find it and I hope that maybe I can help you along that path."

It was signed, "Your friend, Seth."

By the time I reached the signature, tears were streaming freely down my face. I looked up to see that Adam was crying as well. I cleared my throat, "Why didn't he give it to me?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said simply, "but I think he'd like for you to have it now." Then he stood up. "That's all really. I wanted to give you the letter. Thank you for being a friend to my son. I can let myself out."

He started out of the room, then stopped in the doorway. He stood there for a few moments and then turned. "He's right, you know. You are at a crossroads. What path you choose now will have an impact on the rest of your life in a way that you can't even begin to fathom now. Choose carefully." And he was gone.

Mom came back into the room a few minutes later. She took in my tear-stained face and the letter in my hands and then sat down in the chair Adam had just vacated. She sat for a few moments in silence.

"Killian," she said finally, "are you gay?"

I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I sat like this for what seemed like an eternity before I finally pulled myself together enough to shut my mouth. I nodded instead.

She sat there for a few more minutes without saying a word. Just when I thought the silence would deafen me, she simply stood up and walked out of the room. I felt as if my heart had been ripped out. I know that sounds like a cliché, but that's exactly what it felt like, as if suddenly there was a gaping hole where my heart had been.

I began to cry, and then once again I was racked by sobs. I don't know how long I cried, but suddenly I became aware that a storm had come up. I could hear the rain beating against the house and slight rumbles of thunder in the distance coming closer with each crash.

I struggled up from the sofa, ignoring the physical pain. The emotional pain had taken precedence for the moment. I opened the shades at the window and stared out at the storm and thought about how it reflected the storm I was feeling inside, slowly building up to the point where it was a force that couldn't be stopped.

I was at a crossroads. What path should I take?

I was sitting at the window overlooking the garden, watching the wind blow furiously through the brightly colored flowers. Many of the plants had already lost their petals, but so far the bleeding hearts were holding their own, which is more than I could say for myself. I was feeling more and more lost every second.

I stood up and went outside into the storm. No one said anything to me, and I wasn't surprised. Once outside, the wind buffeted my body and the driving rain almost instantly soaked me, my tears mixing with the raindrops. I didn't care. I was half hoping the raging storm would blow me away — or at least blow away the storm raging inside me.

I fell to my knees in the middle of the yard. I had never felt so alone. In the course of the last two weeks I had lost everyone I cared about. I had alienated my best friends. Seth had been murdered. And now my mother knew that I was gay, something I'd only figured out a few days ago. There was no one I could turn to, no one to talk to. I found myself wishing that the guy who had killed Seth had finished me off too. I wanted to die.

I had never had thoughts like this before. I'd never understood how anyone could even consider hurting themselves, let alone killing themselves. And here I was trying to think of the best way. I knew where Dad kept a gun in his bedroom. He’d made me learn how to shoot and I was good, but I didn’t like guns. There was no way I could follow through with that. I could swallow some pills, but I didn't know what kind or how many or even if we had anything that would work. I didn't want to get halfway done and have it not work. I didn't think I was strong enough to slit my wrists. Maybe I could just lie out here and hope I would die of exposure. The temperature had dropped quickly, and even though it was only the middle of September, it was only in the upper 40s. I was shivering violently as I knelt in the middle of my back yard in the pouring rain with lightning flashing and thunder crashing all around me.

I don't know how long I had been sitting there when a voice penetrated my dark reverie. "Killian!" I got the impression it wasn't the first time it had called my name. Before I could even raise my head, someone was at my side. I looked up through the rain pouring down my face and couldn't believe my eyes. It was Asher!

"What are you doing here?" I asked. My voice was thick from crying.

"I came to see how you were doing, but I can see for myself. Obviously, not well. Come on. You have to come inside. It's freezing out here, and you're soaked." When I didn't move he picked me up and carried me inside. I let him. I was past putting up a fight.

We came back in through the sliding glass doors just as Mom came into the room.

"Oh my God," she gasped when she saw us, "What happened?"

I guess we did look pretty bad. I was soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour, and Asher had gotten pretty wet, too, even in just the few minutes that he was out there. At least Asher was wearing a jacket, although I was pretty sure the black suede would be ruined. He came the rest of the way in and lowered me to the couch before turning back to my mother.

"He's ok physically, but he's really upset. I found him in the backyard," he said. "He needs to get into some dry clothes, though."

My mom stood, staring at me with one hand over her mouth. After what seemed like forever she still hadn't responded, so Asher said, "Mrs. Kendall?"

She looked at him as if she'd just noticed him for the first time, "Oh, Asher, could you leave us alone for just a minute. Don't leave; I think I'll need your help. I just need a few minutes alone..."

"Ok, I'll go get some towels," he said after she had faded out, and he left the room.

Mom walked slowly to my side and knelt on the floor. She reached out a trembling hand and smoothed back the wet hair that was plastered to my forehead.

"Baby, what were you doing out there?" she said, almost in a whisper.

I turned my head so I didn't have to look into her eyes. "I wanted to die," I whispered back.

Her hand on my arm began to tremble and she began to cry softly.

"Oh, God! Killian, I'm so sorry," she cried. She reached up and turned my face towards her. "Baby, I don't care if you are gay or...or...whatever. I love you with all my heart and that will never change. I think I've always known you were different. And that's not a bad thing, it's just...it's going to take some adjustment on my part. I don't know anything about being gay, but I'll learn. I love you."

We were both crying by now, and I rolled onto my side and hugged her tightly, ignoring the pain that I still felt in my stomach. My adventure outside didn't seem to have helped much.

"I love you, too," I told her through my tears. I think this was the first time we'd ever said those words to each other.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes," she said, pulling away. I was reluctant to let go. "Asher?" she called out.

He was there in a moment so he must have been waiting around the corner so as not to disturb us. He had taken off his jacket, and his long-sleeved shirt underneath was still dry, so that meant that only his pants were still damp. He looked as if he'd dried off a bit already himself. His curly hair, even darker when wet, was standing out in tufts.

Mom took the towels and handed them to me. "Can you help Killian upstairs to his room so he can change?" she asked Asher.

"Of course, Mrs. Kendall," he said. They both helped me up and Asher put his arm around me for me to lean on and we started out towards the stairs.

"And Asher?" Mom called. We stopped at the bottom step, "Thank you."

"For what?" Asher called back.

"For finding Killian and being such a good friend."

We stood there for a second before Asher nudged me into moving again. The climb up the stairs, which was slow and rather difficult, was taken one step at a time and mostly in silence. Finally we made it to my room and Asher helped me to my bed, then turned around. I thought he was leaving, but instead he shut the door and came back over to me.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Your mom's wrong, you know," he said quietly, "I've not been a very good friend."

"You're friends with Zack and Jesse," I said, "They obviously come first. Like I said, I'm the back-up plan. Or I used to be. I'm nothing anymore. Why are you here?"

He ignored my question and started rummaging through my drawers, pulling out dry clothes. I winced when he opened my underwear drawer, but he just pulled out a pair of boxers and tossed them onto the bed.

"His getting killed really upset you, huh?" he asked me, still digging through my dresser.

"Geez, Asher, what do you think? I found him. And whoever killed him tried to kill me too. No, I'm not upset, I'm just flippin' fine and dandy here." Then to my great embarrassment I burst into tears.

"Dammit," he said rushing over to me, "Killian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so dumb sometimes. It's just...I didn't realize you were so close to him and all."

"We weren't that close," I sniffled. I was really getting tired of crying.

Asher picked up one of the towels and gently wiped off my face and then started drying my hair. I felt like a little kid again. "What are you doing?" I asked him again.

"I guess this is my way of saying I'm sorry for being such a jerk," he said, then he continued, "I had a big fight with Zack and Jesse. Earlier this week. I haven't talked to them since."

"You did? Why? What in the world happened?"

"I wanted to come see you after...well, you know, but they didn't think I should."

"Shouldn't hang around with fags, huh?" I said bitterly.

Asher froze. We sat there for a few seconds, neither of us speaking or moving. Then Asher got up and picked up the shirt and sweat pants that he'd dropped when I had started crying. He brought them over and set them on the bed. He stood there for a second, as if trying to decide what to do. Suddenly he reached down, took off my glasses, and began pulling up my shirt.

"Hey!" I yelped.

"I'm just helping you with your shirt, dude," he laughed.

"I don't need help, I can do it," I insisted.

"Oh, you can, huh? You can pull this wet shirt over your head without an extreme amount of pain?" he said in a teasing voice. "Just let me help. It's ok. I'm not gonna rape you or anything."

He had a point. I gave him a dirty look then allowed him to help me untangle my arms from the wet material and pull it over my head. The maneuver still caused quite a bit of discomfort, and I knew he could tell. Once my shirt was off and all I was wearing were some wet bandages and soaked shorts, I suddenly became very self-conscious. I wasn't unattractive or anything, but I also knew I wasn't anywhere near as built as Asher was.

"Help me get my shirt on," I mumbled reaching for the dry one.

"You need to change those bandages first, Kill," Asher said.

I sighed. He was right again, of course. "The stuff is in a basket by the couch downstairs," I told him and he was gone in a flash. I decided to change my pants while he was gone, since it was much easier pulling on pants then pulling on a shirt, but I only got as far as my dry boxers before he was back. It didn't seem like he could have had time to even get downstairs, and here he was back with the basket with me sitting in my boxers.

"Your mom was bringing it up. I told her I would help you this time," he explained.

"You don't have to," I said quickly.

"I know I don't have to, I want to. Will you just stop fighting me and let me help you?" He was starting to sound exasperated, so once again I gave in.

He gently unwound the wet wrappings and applied fresh salve to the wound, which was not healing quite as quickly as the doctors had hoped. They said my lungs were doing great, however.

"Arms up," he said, and began to wrap the new bandages around me. He sat to one side of me, which meant he had to wrap his arms around me each time around. He seemed to be going much slower than was absolutely necessary. I tried not enjoy the closeness of his body too much. After all, he was still strictly off limits.

"You shouldn't be so nervous about your body, Kill," he said softly into my ear making me jump.

"Wh-wh-what?" I stuttered.

"I could tell you felt weird about me seeing you without a shirt," he said, "It's no big deal. I've seen you before like when we go swimming and stuff."

"I'm not nervous," I argued, then after a few seconds, "Its just that you're so much more built than I am."

"So? Who cares? You're fine. There, all finished." He stepped back to admire his handiwork, then grabbed my shirt and helped me into it. After handing me back my glasses, he picked up the sweats. He stood there with them for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. He looked so awkward; it was all I could do not to start laughing.

"I think I can manage those on my own," I told him, trying not to smile, "But thanks for all the help, Ash."

"You're welcome, Killian." He paused for a second, "I have to go now, but I want you to know that I'm really sorry I haven't been a better friend. I promise I'm gonna do better from now on." Then he totally shocked me by leaning in and kissing me on the cheek.

I was speechless, which Asher used to his advantage to quickly slip out of my room. He paused in the doorway on his way out and called over his shoulder, "I'll be back tomorrow."

I didn't know what to think about Asher's sudden about-face. It seemed like he was honestly making an effort to be a real friend, but I was a little skeptical. He said he'd had a big fight with Zack and Jesse, over me no less, but what if he was really just spying on me? I wouldn't put it past them. Kind of a "lets see what Killian-the-fag is up to." But it felt like Asher was sincere to me. And what was up with that kiss? He wouldn't have thrown that in just to be convincing, would he? I wouldn't even allow myself to think that he might be gay.

Thinking about being gay reminded me about Mom. Now she knew that I was gay, too, and she still loved me anyway. I felt so good knowing that. The earlier thoughts of killing myself seemed so far away. But what about Dad? He couldn't find out.

Suddenly I was tired. All this conjecture, combined with my very emotional roller-coaster ride of a day, had worn me out. I didn't have enough energy to tackle the stairs again, so I crawled up on my bed. "I'll just take a short nap," I thought.

I had a vague impression that someone looked in on me at some point, but the next time I awoke, the sun was streaming brightly through the windows in my room. I had slept all night and it seemed the storm had passed. I looked at the clock and gasped. It was almost 11 AM. I must have been more worn out than I had thought.

I sat up and winced at the pain. I fought my way to my feet and almost fell back onto my bed. Asher was sitting on my floor, reading a book. He was wearing jeans and a white Billabong sweatshirt that made him look paler than usual. His curly dark brown hair shone in the sunlight that fell across him like a spotlight. He looked like an angel sitting there. He looked up at me and smiled.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said.

"How'd you get in here?" I asked him.

"Your mom let me in. I've been sitting here for about an hour. By the way, she had to leave to do some chores. She asked me to keep an eye on you, so I did." He grinned up at me. Gosh, he was cute when he grinned. "You need some help getting into the bathroom?"

"I dunno," I said, "I think I can handle it. I can walk, you know."

He still hadn't stopped grinning. "Barely. How about that?" he asked me, pointing to my crotch. "Think you can handle that?"

I almost died. There, in all its glory, not hidden at all by my boxers, was my morning wood. I tried to pull my T-shirt down over it, but to my further embarrassment it was still fairly obvious. I glared at Asher and walked off to the bathroom, trying to spare some dignity while he rolled on the floor laughing.

Thanks to my extreme mortification, it didn't take long for Mr. Woody to go away. I decided while I was in the bathroom to go ahead and take my bath. Besides, it would make Asher wait that much longer. Maybe he'd go home before I got out. I stripped down and carefully took off the bandages while the water ran. I usually was a shower person, but showers were a little more than I could handle right then. I had to wash carefully around the wound and especially had to keep soap away from it or it stung like crazy, but it was looking much better this morning. I might be able to get the stitches out soon.

When I came out of the bathroom in just a towel, I was surprised to see Asher reclining on my bed, still reading.

"Thanks, I will," he grinned. Man, that grin got to me. "By the way, nice towel."

I stuck my tongue out at him and went to get clothes out of my dresser.

"You really shouldn't be worried about your body, Kill," Asher said coming up behind me, "You have a natural definition like your dad. You don't even need to work out."

I blushed. "Um...thanks, Ash," I mumbled.

He examined my wound. "It looks a lot better this morning." he said, running his fingers lightly around it, "Must be my magic touch. Sit down and I'll put the bandages back on it for you."

"Oh crap, I left the bandage in the bathroom," I told him. His closeness was starting to get to me. I still didn't know what to make of his sudden interest.

While Asher was getting the bandage from the bathroom, I quickly pulled on my boxers and a pair of jeans.

"Ok," he said in a bad Dr. Ruth imitation as he came back in, "Have a seat, the doctor will see you now."

I chuckled as I perched on the edge of the bed. I had to admit, I liked having him around. I hadn't felt this good since before...I felt my face fall with the thought of Seth. How could I be laughing and having fun when Seth had been murdered?

"You're thinking about Seth, aren't you?" Asher asked me, suddenly serious.

I nodded. Asher pulled the tube of salve out of the basket and squeezed some on to the stitches. "You know," he said as he worked, "You have to move on eventually. You can't help it that he was killed, but you don't have to go around sad all the time either."

"I know. And I'm not sad all the time," I argued, "but it just doesn't seem right that he could be murdered like that in cold blood and no one is trying harder to catch the killer. I could have been killed too."

Asher looked up at me from where he had knelt on the floor. "I know," he said almost under his breath. Then he went on, louder now, "It was just a mugger, Killian. They'll catch him eventually."

"Maybe not just a mugger."

Asher looked at me intently, "What do you mean?"

"What if it wasn't just a mugger? What if he was murdered on purpose?"

"Why would anyone kill Seth?"

"Because he was gay."

"Then why would they stab you?"

I paused for a second, then rushed on, hoping he wouldn't catch the pause, "Maybe because I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They stopped when they saw who I was, you know. They were gonna kill me too, but when they sat up and saw me more clearly, they said 'Shit', jumped up and ran. They recognized me."

Asher sat back onto the floor. "You're kidding," he whispered.

I shook my head. "I wish I was," I said.

"That's scary, Kill, but that doesn't mean he was killed because he was gay. Maybe the mugger knew you."

"I've been thinking a lot about this, Asher, and I don't think it was just a mugger. I was there, remember? Call it intuition, call it a hunch…I don’t know what it is exactly, I just know in my heart that it wasn’t a random mugging."

Asher sat in silence for a minute, then got back up on his knees and reached for the bandage. "If you've thought so much about it, who do you think it was?"

"I don't know," I told him, "I hadn't really thought about that part of it yet."

"Well, arms up then," he said, and as soon as I'd complied he started wrapping me up again.

While he wrapped I thought about his question. Who could it have been? I was surprised I hadn't thought about this before. I felt kind of dumb actually. Isn't that the obvious first question? But as I began to think about it I realized that maybe I just hadn't wanted to think about it. The first person that popped into my mind was Zack. I thought about his threat earlier that same day. He had said that I'd be sorry; me and my boyfriend, and we all knew he meant Seth. Then I thought of Asher and his words that day last week in this same room, "If he hurt you, I'll kill him." Immediately, my body stiffened involuntarily.

Asher noticed right away, "What? Did I hurt you?" he asked me.

"No, its nothing," I said, then, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Kill, you know you can ask me anything."

"Asher, why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

He didn't answer at first. He just finished up the bandaging job and then sat back on his heels, leaving his hands still resting lightly on my sides, his eyes turned down, not looking at me.

"I told you before," he said.

"Tell me again," I insisted.

He took a deep breath. "When I thought I was losing you as a friend to Seth, I realized how much you meant to me. When you started acting so different, I wasn't sure what was going on. You were always snapping at people and getting mad and yelling. It wasn't like you, so I got worried." He looked up to see if I was listening, then, quickly looking away again, he continued. "I didn't really like what Zack and Jesse were saying and all, but it was just easier to go along with them. But then when you got hurt, almost killed, it really scared me. I realized that I had almost lost you...er...lost the chance to tell you...I mean..."

"Tell me what?" I asked softly.

He sat there for a second then looked back up at me. Our eyes locked.

"Did you love Seth?" he asked me.

"What?" I gasped.

Then he leaned forward onto his knees again and kissed me softly on the lips.

Time seemed to slow down when Asher kissed me. In the few seconds that our lips were pressed together I had a whole conversation in my head.

"Does this mean that Asher is gay? Well, duh! Straight guys do not generally kiss their friends on the lips like this. Not unless they are in the Mafia and I'm pretty sure Asher isn't — his dad maybe, but not Asher. But then why didn't he ever tell me? Maybe for the same reason I didn't. But then again, I didn't know until last week really. Oh, who am I kidding? I've always known in my heart. Nothing has ever felt more right than Asher kissing me. Wait a minute! Asher is kissing me!"

With that last thought, I jerked back and stared at Asher wide-eyed. He slowly sat back on his heels and looked up at me. I could read in his eyes the fear of rejection and the depth of his feelings. For a long time neither of us spoke. Finally I pulled myself together.

"Why did you kiss me?" I asked. My voice came out shaky and a little hoarse, as if I'd just woke up, which is kind of how I felt, too.

"I...I...I'm sorry," he said shakily, "I shouldn't have. It's just...I found that letter that you left on the couch last night when I was looking for you, the one from Seth. I know I shouldn't have read it, but I did."

I had completely forgotten about the letter. What if Dad had found it? I was very glad that Asher had found it instead. Especially considering what had just happened.

He continued, "When I read that you were gay..." he stopped again and seemed to search for words, "Killian, I've had a crush on you for years. I've always known I was gay, but who was I going to tell? Zack? Jesse? No way! I finally got up enough nerve to come see you and I found that letter. When I read that you were gay, I had to find you. And then when I saw you outside in the rain like that, my heart broke for you. And for me too, maybe, cuz I thought that you must have been in love with Seth to be so upset. I was so jealous of him, Kill. I was afraid that he would steal you away from me. I want to be with you, Killian Travers Kendall. Seth said that you were at a crossroads. Last night you almost went down the wrong path. Let me help you, please. I want to walk with you down whatever path you choose."

He seemed to run out of words and so he just sat there staring at me expectantly. I wasn't sure what he expected, however. I wasn't sure what I felt. I needed time to think.

"Ash," I began, speaking slowly and deliberately, "I need some time to figure stuff out. All I can tell you right now is that yes, I am gay. No, I didn't love Seth. Not in that way at least. I didn't even really know him, although I wanted to know him better."

"So you don't want me?" Asher whispered.

"Ash, I didn't say that. I just meant..." I stopped as a large tear slipped out of the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. I followed its shiny path all the way to his chin, mesmerized by that small drop of saline.

"It's ok, Killian. I understand. Why would you want me? I'm just a dumb jock who treated you like dirt." With that, he began to cry in earnest, not great body-shuddering sobs, just quiet acceptance. In a way, it was worse. I slowly slipped off the bed until I was sitting next to him on the floor. I reached out to him and drew him to me and let him cry quietly on my shoulder for a minute. Then I cupped my hand under his chin and lifted his face until he was looking me in the eye. I kissed him softly on the lips, just for a few seconds before breaking away.

"Asher, right now I don't know what I want. I like you. I do. It's not that at all, it's just...I don't know how to explain it to you. I need more time. I mean, there's a lot going on right now. Seth hasn't even been buried yet."

Asher nodded and sat up, pulling gently away from me.

"His memorial service is this afternoon you know," he told me, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. "He was buried already back up around Baltimore somewhere, but his dad wanted to have a service down here too." He looked at his watch. "Actually, it’s in like one hour."

"I didn't know," I said softly, "I want to go. Can you take me?"

"I dunno, Killian. Maybe that's not such a good idea. I mean, everyone's talking already cuz you were with him in the park and all."

"Please?" I begged him. "It would mean a lot to me. Kind of like a chance to say good-bye."

He stared at me, then nodded. "Yeah, I'll take you. And I'll stay with you too so I can bring you home afterwards. We'll leave a note for your mom. Let's get you changed. You can't go dressed like that."

The next 45 minutes were spent with the two of us changing my clothes (it was a two-person job) and then swinging by Asher's house while he changed his clothes. I sat in the car while he ran in, giving me a few precious minutes to think, the first I'd had since Asher's big revelation.

I still wasn't sure how I felt about Asher. I knew I liked him, but did I trust him enough to give him a chance? My heart screamed yes, but my head was still having doubts. Especially troubling was the idea that maybe Asher was the attacker. He'd admitted that he was jealous of Seth and he felt as if Seth was taking me away from him. And his words that day in my room kept echoing through my head over and over, "If he hurt you, I'll kill him." Somehow I just couldn't believe that about him, but it still kept me from jumping in the way I wanted to.

And what about what he’d said earlier, that everyone was talking about me? That meant that they suspected I was gay. I was still coming to terms with it myself; I wasn't ready to deal with everyone else. Why did life have to be so confusing?

Finally Asher came back out dressed almost identically to me, all in black. He looked a whole lot sexier, however, at least in my opinion. The black silk shirt clung to his chest in a way that almost made me dizzy.

"What?" he asked me.

I tore my gaze away from him and tried to remember why we dressed like this. I felt guilty for finding myself so attracted to one friend on my way to the funeral of another. "Nothing." I mumbled.

"No, tell me. Should I go change? Do I look stupid?"

"Definitely not." I told him. "Let's go, we're gonna be late."

The memorial service was being held at the park, of all places. I was scared about going back, but I tried to tell myself that it was broad daylight and Asher would be with me. I'd never even been to a memorial service before, or a funeral either. I wasn't sure what to expect.

We drove in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to say. When we arrived at the park, there were hardly any other cars. As we approached the pavilion where the service was taking place, I could just about count on one hand the number of people who had showed up to remember Seth. I recognized Adam Connelly, Seth's dad, standing next to a handsome man of about the same age. He was talking to a man wearing a black suit and a clerical collar who I assumed must be the minister or priest or whatever. I didn't know the other several people there.

Adam noticed us as we approached, and he broke away from the man in black and walked towards us. The other man with him followed a few steps behind.

"Killian, thank you for coming," he said simply and embraced me gently, watching out for my injury. "You should be at home recuperating, but I appreciate your being here. I'm glad there will be at least one person here that cared about Seth beside Steve and I." He turned to the man who had followed him over and motioned him forward.

"Killian, this is Steve Redden, my very good friend. Steve, this is Killian Kendall, he was Seth's friend."

I shook Steve's hand and exchanged nice-to-meet-you's.

"This is my friend, Asher Davis." I said.

After another round of hand shaking, Adam turned to Steve. "Killian was attacked that night as well, but thank goodness he survived."

I shuddered at the implication; that Seth hadn't been so fortunate. It was a grim reminder of why we were standing here now.

"Come on," Adam said, taking my shudder for a sign of my physical weakness, "you need to have a seat."

With Adam on one side, Asher on the other, and Steve trailing behind, I felt a little like royalty as we approached the pavilion. I scanned the group that had gathered. It had grown to maybe 15 people while we were talking; I suspected that some of them were police and others reporters. All in all, it was a sad testament to sad, broken life. It seemed so unfair that such a good person had been struck down so young. And I was convinced that it was over something so incredibly stupid. In fact, his killer could be here today, pretending to mourn for the very life he took.

Then I noticed a particular face and stopped cold. Steve almost ran into me from behind. What was my father doing here? Political posturing most likely, it was after all an election year. I didn't think he had noticed me yet, but then he slowly turned and stared right at me. His eyes were intense and I knew the fight I had been avoiding since the hospital wouldn't be put off much longer.

I looked away and decided that I wouldn't let him distract me from the reason I was there. Adam insisted we sit on the front row with him and Steve. I felt very conspicuous and I could tell Asher felt uncomfortable as well, but I couldn't say no.

As soon as we were seated, the priest stepped forward to the podium. I noticed the table set off to one side for the first time. It had pictures set up all over it; all of them had Seth in them somewhere. Many of them were the ones I had seen at his house, but there were some new ones, too.

"We are here today for a very solemn purpose," the priest began, "to remember the life of a young man cut off before his time. Seth David Connelly's life was ended much too soon in a senseless and tragic act of violence. Perhaps we will never understand what provoked such a horrible event, but we can rest assured that Seth is no longer in a world filled with hate and prejudice. I am going to keep my comments very brief today to allow you time to remember Seth in your own very special ways. But first Seth's father, Adam, has some words he'd like to share with you." I got the impression that the priest really didn't know Seth at all.

Adam stood up and walked to the podium. He stood for a minute without saying a word; just stood there, gripping the podium as if it was all that was holding him up. I thought he was going to break down, but he fought for control and won.

"My son was taken from me last week. He was taken from me by an act of violence so horrible that it physically sickens me every time I think about it. Most of you here didn't even know him; you're only here because your editor or superior sent you. You're just doing your job. Well, let me introduce him to you. Seth David Connelly was a beautiful, brilliant, clever, and kindhearted 16-year-old. He enjoyed running on the beach. He liked reading mysteries. He did well in all his classes, but theater was his favorite. He loved acting. He wanted to be an actor, but now he'll never get that opportunity."

He choked up and dropped his head. When he looked up again his eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he was once again in control. I admired him for his strength.

"There is so much more I could tell you about my son. He was the greatest joy of my life. Nothing will ever be able to fill the void that his death has left in my life. But I haven't told you something very important about my son. He was gay. And he wasn't afraid or ashamed of it either, even though he had suffered so much in his young life because of it. He was a hero to me. He should have been a hero to all of us. He had the courage to accept himself in a society where he was told that what he was is wrong, that it's dirty and perverted. But he knew differently. He saw things with his poet's heart. To him the world was always beautiful and exciting. He trusted inherently. We moved to this town in the hopes of finding a safe place to live — it’s ironic isn't it? It's even more ironic that this town that prides itself on being welcoming so totally rejected my son. In fact, there was only one person at his whole school who would even speak to him without calling him names and insulting him. To me, he is also a hero." He looked at me and smiled a sad, teary-eyed smile. "Thank you, Killian.

"I want to leave you with this thought. The police and our state's attorney have been quick to tell us that Seth's death was a random mugging. Why do they believe that when there is so little evidence? All his money was still in his wallet. I believe that this was a hate crime, pure and simple. I told the police investigating about the threatening notes that we found and they wrote them off as childish pranks. I don't think having your throat slit is childish." Several people gasped and Adam seemed to be struggling for control again. "His killer may never be brought to justice, but I take comfort in the fact that one day he will have to stand before the Great Judge. Goodbye, Seth. I love you!"

Adam stepped down from the podium, took his seat and began to weep softly. Steve pulled him into himself and allowed him to cry on his shoulder. No one moved for what seemed like an eternity, then the priest slowly walked back up to the podium. "Does anyone have anything they would like to say in memory of Seth?" He almost sounded as if he hoped not. Again, another eternity seemed to pass. No one dared even move. It was almost like they were holding their collective breath. Just as the priest cleared his throat to give some final words, I stood up.

Every eye was fastened on me, including the furious glare of my father. I looked him straight in the eye before turning to Adam.

"I am truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Connelly...Adam," I began, "It's not just your loss, though. It was a loss to every person who never got the chance to know him. I didn't know Seth that long, only two weeks really, but he was my friend. He was a truly good person and that's something we don't have enough of in this world. He helped me through what could have been one of the hardest things I've ever been through. I'll miss him.&q