There was an awkward silence as the teenagers entered the room and sat next to each other o­n the couch. Graeme did the introductions and once he was finished, slung his arm around Tommy and pulled him into an embrace. Tommy felt like he had no more energy to even protest. It wasn't an extraordinary gesture or statement coming from Graeme. Their default position when sitting together on that couch was to curl up together. It had become comforting and familiar, but they usually didn't have an audience apart from their parents and Graeme's brother, Guy. That audience was used to their closeness. The remainder of Graeme's brothers were not. Tommy mistakenly thought that Graeme had considered this when he'd pulled him into the embrace.

He had not. Graeme, as usual, was operating on autopilot without thought for what anybody else might think. It took Tommy a full five minutes as he sat there with his eyes closed and his head resting on Graeme's chest, to figure out that everybody in the room had stopped speaking and was staring at them. Feeling self-conscious, Tommy righted himself and straightened his shirt out.

"I'm okay," he whispered at Graeme. "Thanks."

"No problem, Slugger," Graeme replied, and ruffled his hair. Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at the familiar gesture and ridiculous pet name, and the smile that had been gone from his face had returned.

"Can I get you a soda or something?" Graeme asked.

Tommy nodded and Graeme departed for the kitchen only to return a few moments later with two colas in hand to find his eldest brother, Gary, and Tommy glaring at each other while the rest of the group was ignoring them and engaged in their own activities. Geoff was busy with his girlfriend, and Guy was staring at the ceiling along with Gordon.

"What's going on?" He asked as he sat down, setting the cans on the coffee table as he did.

"Nothing," Tommy grumbled without turning his head from Gary. "Your brother seems to have some sort of problem with me though."

"Oh, no." Graeme grabbed Tommy's shoulders in an effort to calm him, but Tommy only shrugged him off.

"What are you staring at?" He addressed Gary directly after a moment, his lips arched in a challenging scowl.

"I'm looking at you, boy," Gary replied in his loudest drill-instructor voice.

"Well, get your fill now, sweetheart, because you aren't getting any of this later," Tommy announced facetiously and blew him a kiss.

Guy suddenly wasn't so interested in the ceiling, and Geoff had turned away from his girlfriend's breasts long enough to gauge Gary's reaction. Graeme just burst into laughter, because he'd never seen Gary as flustered as he did in that moment. His mouth was flapping up and down like a fish out of water before he stood up and finally spoke.

"So now you're hanging out with fags then?" It was directed at Graeme, and not at Tommy.

"Excuse me! Hello?" Tommy stood up with his hands o­n his hips. "If you are going to be calling me names, you might as while do it to my face while I'm standing right here. I mean, it's more convenient for the both of us, wouldn't you agree? You can get it off your chest, and I don't have to find out about it later. This way I can take offense in person."

"Ok, fine, fag." Gary glared at him.

"Right then," Tommy said. "Now that we've cleared that all up, I think I'll be going. I'm not going to waste my breath o­n a miserable tosspot like you. Obviously, you have some issues to be discussed. If you're ever in London, I know someone who could point you to a good a therapist." He tossed Gary a wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've had enough bollocking for one day. Thank you."

Gary seemed to have been driven mad by Tommy's banter and was standing there turning several shades of red as he screamed epithets straight into the boy's face. The only response he received in return was a yawn before Tommy turned away and departed the room, proclaiming that Gary's nonsense was boring and that he had much better things to do with his time. Guy, and Graeme followed quickly behind. Gary had to be subdued by his police officer brother, Geoff, who would have had no problem slapping the cuffs o­n his own brother if he'd have succeeded in breaking the choke hold that bound him to go after the trio.

Tommy paused at the door momentarily. He could have left right then, but he didn't really know where he would go. The Alexander's home was usually a safe haven from his problems. Home wasn't an option, and he didn't want to go to work feeling as badly as he did. He passed up the exit door and headed into Romey's sun room at the front of the house. It was a small room and filled with curios full of china dolls. He sat o­n the flower printed box seats, which were covered in plastic. They matched the antique looking plastic covered couch as well as the soft pink carpet. It was certainly a grandma room. He leaned his head against the window pane and stared out at the barren Nevada landscape. It was so brown and so dead. He missed London. There were no tumbleweeds in London.

"Would it do me any good to apologize for my brother?" Guy entered the room followed closely by Graeme, who shut the sliding wood doors behind him.

"No," Tommy muttered, and didn't bother to comment further as he curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

Guy sat next to him o­n the box seat while Graeme took a tentative seat o­n the couch.

Guy commented anyway. "Gary was out of line. That was totally inappropriate, and I really do apologize."

"You don't get it," Tommy said. His hands were o­nce again nervously wrapped up inside his long sleeves.

"What do you mean?" Guy said. "I thought you handled the situation alright. You made him look like a complete ass. Not that that's hard to do, since he is a complete ass."

"That's just it," Tommy said. "There shouldn't be a situation, ok? That's the problem. That's the crux of the issue."

They paused to consider that for a moment before Tommy continued.

"I'm not going to get o­n my soapbox here," he said. "I know you two, and it would be like preaching to the choir. Let's just say I've been shouted at before, and laughed at behind my back. I've learned to cope. It still shouldn't happen, and it kills me a little every time it does. I just want to be myself. Why is that so hard for people to understand? I should go."

"Where you going to go?" Graeme asked.

"I don't know." Tommy stood up and paced listlessly. "I'm sure I can find some place."

With that he had decided to depart. The two youngest brothers saw him off before returning to the day's decidedly un-festive, festivities. Later that night as most had retreated to the living room, Graeme was helping his mother clean the dishes.

"Where's your friend?" She asked absentmindedly. She was unaware of what had happened earlier and had been informed that Tommy was going to stay for dinner. She was surprised when he hadn't shown up.

"He had to go," Graeme said.

"Home?" She asked. "I told you, Tommy is always welcome here, dear."

"I know." Graeme sighed. "He just... He needed to be alone today."

"But it's Thanksgiving," she said. "It's a time for family, and..."

Graeme held up a hand, and dropped the easiest excuse he could think of on her. "He doesn't celebrate it, Mom. Remember? He's English. He had a charity gig at the Square Box tonight besides. He had to go anyway."

His mother eyed him. "That's a bad place you know."

"Yeah?" Graeme rolled his eyes. "Because people go out and drink? Or because they have a good time?"

"There's the drugs at that place. Don't think I don't know it." She voiced her worry.

"So, who cares?" He grumbled.

"I care," she replied, "because I care about you, and maybe Tommy's mother should care more about what he's doing too."

"What do you know about their relationship?" He muttered, suddenly feeling rather angry with her for sticking her nose in and talking about someone behind their back.

"Oh, Graeme," she said.

"She does know, and he makes good money doing it," Graeme replied, feeling irritable. "And she trusts him. He doesn't have to be home by eight o'clock."

Romey shut off the faucets. "You want me to trust you? How can I do that when you come home completely wasted at God o­nly knows what time o­n a school night, Graeme! I think you need to show more responsibility before you can be trusted."

"Mom!" Graeme finished loading the dish washer. "That was o­nce. One time!"

"And o­ne time leads to two times," she replied, "and before you know it, you're homeless and out of a job."

"But I wouldn't be like that!" He leaned up against the counter. "I'm a good guitar player. I'd get in a band, and live off my girlfriend."

She smiled at his odd sense of humor. It was o­ne of his most endearing qualities, and she could always tell when he was joking. It was what he did when things got too serious. Besides that, he was showing her his big sweet grin, and she found it impossible to stay angry with him when his smile was lighting up the entire room.

"You're still grounded," she said as she removed an entire pumpkin pie from the fridge. "I saved you some." She sat the tin next to him and handed him a fork.

"Mom." He sighed as he poked listlessly at the pastry. It was just another reminder of Gary. He always made sure to demolish an entire pie before Graeme could get to it just because he knew it was the boy's favorite. He knew that was why his mother had saved him o­ne.

"Why does Gary hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you," Romey said. She was a mother after all, and she always turned a blind eye to the truth when it came to that aspect of her son's relationship with each other.

"Right." Graeme snorted in disbelief. "I'm serious. I get the distinct feeling that Gary would like to go all 'Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat' o­n me and sell me into slavery."

"Don't say that," Romey gasped.

"But it's true." He insisted. "And I want to know why, and I want to know why nobody will tell me what the hell is wrong with everybody in this family. I know I was an accident, but I mean...It's fine when he takes it out o­n me, but he took it out o­n Tom today. I didn't want to tell you. That's why he left. Gary was really mean to him. It's my fault really, we were sitting on the couch like we always do. I didn't realize it was a problem. I wasn't thinking, and Tom wouldn't want me to tell you this, but it really hurt his feelings. I can handle Gary's shit, but Tom ca...doesn't deserve that!"

Romey was taken aback. "Why didn't you tell me! Graeme, I would have done something."

"You wouldn't have sent Gary away," Graeme muttered. "He's your kid. I get it. You have to love him.

"Graeme," She said, her tone serious. "I will not have a guest be insulted in this house. You should have told me. Your father and I will discuss this with your brother. I promise. I don't know where he learned to be like that."

"It was my fault," he said. "But whatever. Screw it. Geoff's new girlfriend gets to be all over him without being called a slut. I should be allowed to hug my best friend when he's feeling crappy."

"Yes," Romey agreed. "Watch your language please."

Graeme nodded at her and sighed. "He wouldn't have said anything if he didn't want to get under my skin though. Why is he like that? What did I do to him that was so bad? He's basically a stranger to me. Do you know how weird it is to have a stranger hate you for no reason?"

"Look." Romey placed an arm around her son and sat him down on a bar stool at the kitchen island. "I never wanted to tell you this," she said. "But at my age, I was an extremely high risk pregnancy, especial since I was completely unprepared for something like that. I'd already had five mostly adult children."

"You mean four, you cant possibly count Gary in the adult category," Graeme mumbled.

She reached across the table and brushed his long hair out of his eyes.

"Everybody advised against me going through with it," she whispered. "It was a very rough time. There was a lot of shouting, and your father and your brothers wanted me to save myself, because there was a very real chance that we both would have ended up dead. You obviously know what I decided to do, but you were very, very sick when you were born premature. That's why nobody took pictures or anything when you were a baby, they were all afraid that you would die and they didn't want anything to remind me if I pulled through at all."

"You almost died?" Graeme replied hollowly. "Because of me?"

"No," she said as a tear rolled down her face. "I lived because of you, and look at you. You grew up big and strong and healthy, and I'm so proud of you. I just want you to be safe and take care of yourself."

"But what about Gary?" Graeme asked. "Why does he care so much now? I haven't done anything to him. I don't even know him."

"I don't know, Graeme," she sighed. "Maybe he was just scared."

"Maybe he's just an asshole." Graeme shoved the pie back across the table. "If it's all right, I'd like to save that for when I've got more of an appetite."

She felt bad for him as he shuffled out of the kitchen. All her other sons had known what they wanted. They had all been average, yet they had known all along exactly what they wanted out of life, but Graeme was special. She knew he had talent, and she wished that he would see it and stop feeling so lost. She only wished that she could be the o­ne to show him the way.

****

Graeme trudged dejectedly into the midst of the gathering in the living room. He only wanted to join his family. All he ever wanted was to feel like he belonged there. As all the adults suddenly grew silent, and after what his mother had revealed, he knew that wasn't the case. He realized he wasn't a real person to them. He was just a topic of conversation.

"Well, if it isn't the Nancy boy come to join us," Gary commented and Graeme wanted to hide in his room and never come out again.

"Look, Gary." He forced the words out even though, after the way Tommy had been treated, he felt nothing but contempt for his older brother. "I'm sorry, ok? For the pain my conception seems to have caused to this family. Especially you."

"So she told you?" Gary stood up and faced the teenager. "I see."

"Yeah." Graeme confirmed, not pausing to note the silence that permeated the room. "But, I mean, everything's all right now, huh? Nobody died and everybody else seems to have forgiven me for being, so why can't you? You don't have to fucking chase my friends away."

All eyes were o­n him. It was his show all of a sudden and he wished with all his might that he could turn the brother that he hated and feared most into a wriggling mass of impotent rage as Tommy had done earlier. He couldn't though. There was o­nly enough self confidence left in him to stand there and apologize for something that wasn't even his fault.

"You're pathetic, boy," Gary spouted. "You may think it's easy to forget, but you didn't see what that woman went through, and for what? I don't know what she told you about it, but I'm sure the sugar coating tasted sweet, didn't it? The last thing a fifty-year old grandmother needed was another kid to raise, especially after you almost killed her. She never wanted You, Graeme. All these outside people filled her head with non-sense."

"It's not my fault," Graeme finally screamed at him. "How can you stand there and blame me? What have I done to you?"

Gary just looked condescendingly down upon him as if he were searching for the words that would hurt the most, and he was good at it. He'd been doing it for years.

"Did she tell you," he said. "That she made it all the way to the clinic before she turned back?"

Graeme stood there. He knew he should have been numb to Gary's words by that point, but he wasn't. It was a blow to find out that he had been moments away from not existing. Despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he had cried, he could feel his bottom lip start to tremble. It was a bad sign. He knew it wasn't going to be mere tears. It was going to be a maelstrom.

Look," Gary said. "I think the poor baby is going to cry."

He hated his brother in that moment and probably for the rest of his life. Gary took delight in tormenting the youngest everyone knew that, but there had always been a line, albeit a thin o­ne. It was apparent that it had just been crossed. The father commanded Gary to sit down. Graeme was struggling to keep control of himself in front of the group, but wasn't quite succeeding as choked sobs began to rack his entire body. The father crossed the living room carpet and slid his arm around his son's shoulder. Before he knew it, Graeme was led outside and spent a good half hour bawling o­n his father's shoulder and spewing out every curse word he knew aimed at an absent Gary. He usually would have gotten severely punished for using such language, but for that moment he was off the hook.

When he was done, he leaned back o­n the porch swing where they sat and stared out at the darkening Nevada sky.

"I don't know what his problem is," Michael Alexander admitted. "We've tried talking to him, but he won't explain. He won't listen, and what can we do? He's a grown man."

"That's debatable, Dad," Graeme croaked. He wanted to go to sleep and not discuss it either. His head was pounding. His nose was stuffed up and his hair was hanging limply, obscuring his red and puffy eyes.

"But what I don't think you understand is that your mother always wanted you. She was just reviewing her options. It was a hard time, a lot of hard decisions were made, and we wanted to spare you that. She never, ever really considered abortion. We're really lucky everything worked out the way it did. You're honestly a miracle, Graeme. You're mother and I love you."

Graeme wasn't used to hearing such language from his father so he didn't know how to respond. Michael had been such a non-entity in his life that he never spent time considering how the man felt about him. The o­nly thing he knew was that Michael wanted him desperately to join the family business. He said to save Graeme from himself, but Graeme didn't understand what that meant.

"I know you do," he finally replied. They sat in awkward silence. Graeme wasn't sure if he should stay or go, and he had an odd feeling his father had something else o­n his mind.

"I'm really tired," Graeme said, sneaking a glance over at the man.

"Graeme?" Michael looked at his son and inquired, "Are you and that boy..."

He left the words unsaid, but the question was asked just the same.

"That's nice, Dad," Graeme muttered as he stood up. "You know Gary is a liar, yet you believe that?" Graeme said, knowing full well that the notion would have never crossed the old man's mind had Gary not put it there.

"Would it matter to you if I was?" Graeme asked, and by not getting an answer an answer was had.

"I see," Graeme said as his father tried to protest the meaning of his silence.

He thought about what Tommy had said earlier about how there shouldn't be situations like the o­ne he was in at all, and he knew that his friend was right. For a moment Graeme felt a little resentment towards Tommy for bringing up his family issues just by showing up. It wasn't his fault though, Graeme knew, so he was quick absolve Tommy of any blame. He hadn't wanted anything but someone to go to when he was having a bad day, and Graeme was just glad that the person was him.

"Don't worry, Father," Graeme mumbled as he turned away. "I'm not gay."

*****

It was dimly lit at the Spiral Stairs. His eyes had grown accustom to the lighting though, and it matched perfectly the feelings that were dragging down his heart. It was getting harder and harder to pretend anything at all was okay. Even the safe haven of the Alexander's had been torn away from him. Things might have changed in London, but it couldn't possibly be worse than it was in Mesquite at that moment.

The bar stool beside him moved, jogging him out of his homesick thoughts. He could instantly tell by the posture of the man and the fact that he had chosen the adjacent stool rather than the many empty chairs and empty tables that peppered the entire club, that he was about to be chatted up.

It had been hours since the Shaina Spyder Band had played and her main corp of fans had long since vacated the area for greener pastures. The only ones left had been the sad and lonely that had nowhere else to go and nothing to do aside from sitting at a bar playing video poker.

Tommy felt like he fit right in.

The Stranger mustered up the courage to speak approximately two beers later.

"I saw you play earlier," he said. "You're pretty good."

"Thanks," Tommy muttered. He shifted nervously in his seat. It wasn't that flirting made him uncomfortable, it was only that a man had never done it at the Spiral Stairs. It didn't seem to attract the right kind of clientele for it.

Perhaps, he considered, the man was just being nice. He decided to test the waters.

"Really though, Shaina doesn't have any really difficult arrangements. I think I could play her songs in my sleep. You don't really seem like a Shaina Spyder Fan."

He laughed. "I'm not. I just had to get away from my family for a little while. I'm sure you know how that is."

Tommy nodded.

"Yeah, and this was the first place I saw that was open."

"Yeah? Cool. Cool," Tommy said. "Buy you a drink?"

He laughed again; a nervous laugh.

"You can't be old enough to drink," he said. "You don't look...err...as big as you do on stage."

"Yeah. Standing above people with a guitar does make you seem a bit larger than life," Tommy replied. He smiled, reached out, and lightly grasped the stranger's shoulder.

The man stiffened nervously under the touch. His smile faltered.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough," Tommy said. He ran his hand up and down the man's arm. "Why don't we get out of here?"

"I don't know your name," he murmured.

"You don't need to know my name," Tommy said.

He nodded.

"Alright!" Tommy jumped out of his seat. "Let's go then. You got a car?"

"Yeah."

Tommy marched away towards the exit then and the stranger followed along without any further prompting.

****

He didn't arrive home until nearly four o'clock in the morning. His father was waiting for him.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Steven asked.

"I've been out." Tommy grimaced. He felt like shit. He knew he'd made a mistake. He hadn't even made it to morning, so to speak, and he was filled with regret. On top of that, he was sore, wanted to take a shower and didn't want to have to deal with his father.

"Out where?" Steven growled.

"Where do you think I've been?" Tommy said, the challenge clear in his voice.

"I don't know," Steven said. "I don't know what you people do."

"You people?" Tommy arched an eyebrow. "Well first I went to Graeme's house and got called a fag by his brother, among other things, so I didn't stay there for too long. We people don't generally like that. So I went to work at the Stairs, had a gig with Shaina, got a bit pissed and let some guy screw me in the passenger seat of his car. It was a tight fit, and I don't mean the car seat."

"Go to your room," Steven growled. "You are not to come out until I've spoken to your mother."

"I'm not a child," Tommy calmly replied. "I can make my own decisions. I've been making them since you decided not to be a part of our lives, and I'm not going let you control my life just because you convinced my mother that she's better off with you. I've done fine without you for sixteen years. We both have in fact."

"You are under my roof, and you will do as I say," Steven roared. "You are to abide by the rules we have set for you and there isn't going to be a discussion about it. You're curfew is at two, Tom."

"No," Tommy stated. "I'm sorry I like music. I'm sorry I don't like the right kind of football. I'm sorry you don't approve. Oh, wait...no I'm not. Fuck you, DAD. I'm not going to lie for you because that's lying to myself. I love sex, okay? On the bed, up against a wall, going' down, comin' up, girls, boys, inside outside, hanging from the rafters. I'll try anything o­nce and I'm not going to stop now that I've started. I guess that does make me a slut then, huh?" He shrugged. "So you can take your rules and shove them up your arse. I promise it doesn't feel as bad as you might think."

"Room Now," Steven yelled and pointed the way up the stairs while fighting the urge to smack his teenage son.

Tommy shrugged again. "Okay, but if I"m gone in the morning. You can look for me o­n a street corner in Vegas."

*****

"You said what?" Graeme gasped at his friend as they sat under a tree during lunch time at school after the Thanksgiving holiday had run its course.

Tommy scowled and poked at his tuna salad. "I told him I was going to sell my body in Vegas."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Graeme shook his head.

"Uh, yeah." Tommy laughed. "I don't want to do that! I wouldn't. I'll keep what little self respect I have left intact; thank you very much. I mean, I can't believe I said that shit. I told him I was a nympho-slut in no uncertain terms, and I'm not. I don't even know what came over me. I'm certainly not going to win any favor by telling him how much I like to have sex hanging from the ceiling."

"Oh, really?" Graeme's eyed him. "Wouldn't that require some kind of...apparatus?"

Tommy giggled. "Come on. I'm not that adventurous. It was like I couldn't exaggerate big enough."

"You wanted to shock him, and I'm guessing you were a little mashed," Graeme said. "You're probably the least slutty person in school."

"I don't know about that, but I can count the number o­n o­ne hand." Tommy held up four fingers. "Two of each, aren't I all about equal opportunity? That bloke last night, though..." he shuddered. "The bloke. I don't even know his name. I told him we didn't need names. What the fuck kind of person goes out into the desert with a stranger without even asking his name?"

"What did he look like?" Graeme asked. "Was he old?"

"Old enough," Tommy admitted. "Honestly Graeme, he was at least twenty-one, but if I'd have to wager a guess he was probably in his mid twenties, nine or ten years older than me. Don't get me wrong, it's what I wanted. He didn't do anything I didn't ask him to. I mean, I chatted him up. I led him to believe I was older than I am. I thought it would make me feel better to reassert my sexuality through, well, sex. It didn't. It just made me feel like a whore, a two bit fuckin' whore. It was alright, but it was just sex. I'm pretty sure this poor sod had about as much experience with one night stands as I do. I mean we met at the Spiral Stairs. It's not some kind of gay mecca by any means, and I came on really strong."

"Man," Graeme said. "Your boyfriend is going to be pissed. Why didn't you go to his house? Doesn't he put out?"

"He..." Tommy trailed off. He had forgotten all about Mark and that, in two months time, Graeme still hadn't managed to figured it out. He sighed and hugged his knees to his chest. If Graeme wanted to stumble around in willful oblivion then that was fine with Tommy. He wasn't even going to defend his own honor. There was no honor in what he had done and he cringed whenever he thought of the drunken nonsense he had spewed at his father the night before. He didn't care whether or not Graeme thought he was a cheater because, even though he was beholden to no one, he still felt like one.

"Right." Graeme noted Tommy's sudden silence. "I thought four was a bit of a conservative estimate, but you don't want to talk about it?"

"How do you even know we've fooled around?" He murmured automatically.

"I didn't for sure, but I do know." Graeme laughed. "Come on, you guys have been dating forever in teenager years. Why didn't you tell me in the first place? Details, man. I'm your best friend."

"I didn't think you'd want them."

"Oh, I want them alright." Graeme nodded affirmation which caused Tommy to laugh.

"Great. Look Graeme. He's having a hard enough time with this as it is. Let's just keep our mouths shut and not discuss it anymore. You're really the only one who knows we dated, so let's keep it at that, shall we? Can't we talk about anything else?"

"Can we talk about 'That Guy'?" Graeme asked. "I mean, was he..." He cast his eyes downwards then back up at Tommy with a smirk.

"Oh, christ." Tommy giggled. "All the details, huh?"

Graeme nodded.

"I love you; you know that right?" Tommy grinned at him. "None of my other straight friends would ever..."

"I'm not everybody else, man." Graeme laughed.

"That's for sure," Tommy said.

The conversation stalled and Tommy took the moment to lie down on the grass. He rested his head on Graeme's thigh and Graeme unconsciously began to play with his blond locks.

"I can't believe you told your dad you were a slut," Graeme chuckled after a moment. "How long are you under house arrest for that outburst?"

"He's never going to let me go to California with Shaina this summer now," Tommy said. "I'll have to run away from home for real, because that's a fantastic opportunity."

"You can take me with you," Graeme sighed wistfully. "My family certainly doesn't want me around."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh." Graeme frowned, his mood becoming sober. "Nothing. Just..."

"Come on." Tommy nudged him. "All the details? It goes both ways, you know."

"Like you?"

"Hah, Hah. Come on." Tommy avoided Graeme's deflection tactic and locked his eyes on him.

"Nothing, just... My mom was like, two seconds from terminating her pregnancy of me because of complications. Whatever that means. I guess I could have killed her or something. I was sick when I was born. She was old. It was really hard for her. I'm just feeling a little unwanted right now."

"Hey," Tommy murmured. "I want you."

"You wish." Graeme laughed and tugged lightly on Tommy's hair.

"Oww!" Tommy laughed with him until it was once again silent.

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?" Tommy said after a while.

"Yeah," Graeme agreed. "But at least we've got each other."

It was an odd situation. The whole week had been an odd situation. Graeme was once again back o­n ambivalent terms with his father. Tommy wasn't his usual self. He'd become withdrawn, and o­nly spent the bare minimum of time necessary with Shaina's band. He wrote things down in a journal and didn't see much of Graeme either. It was almost as if they were avoiding each other, but even friends needed space sometimes. It wasn't the thing that was the most odd, Graeme thought as he stood next to his old car in the parking lot of the little indie record store that he frequented. The most odd thing was that Kathy had accosted him and was holding quite a civil conversation. She'd asked him how his Thanksgiving had been and he told her that it had been great. Then she told him how awful hers had been at her Grandmother's house. It was almost like old times. He lied, and she over-exaggerated. He couldn't help but feel a little bit for her. After all, o­nce upon a time she had been the most important thing to him in his life. It might not have been love, but it was something.

He walked into the store after saying goodbye to Kathy. Her civility had almost put him in a decent mood, and he was feeling like indulging in a bit of a guilty pleasure. He walked over to the "M" section and began browsing as he sang softly along to the song that was playing through the store's stereo system.

"So, if it isn't karaoke boy," a feminine voice spoke from behind him. "Do you sing everywhere?"

He jumped away from the rack and spun around o­nly to come face to face with the o­ne and o­nly Shaina Spyder.

"You're Tommy's friend," she said.

"Yeah." He gave her his biggest grin. He had to admit that he thought she was pretty and he did have a bit of a crush. He was impressed that she had remembered him after having spent time together only once.

"The o­ne that puked!" She smiled back and he blushed.

"Yeah, but my friends call me Graeme." He quickly regained composure and offered his hand.

"Hi, Graeme." She brushed her hair back and took his handshake.

"I'm Shaina," she said. "So what's your pleasure today?" She shifted her blue eyes to the CD rack he'd been sifting through. "Moby, Monster Magnet, Mobile Phone Unit?"

"Um, Melodie Monzel," he replied sheepishly.

"Ooo, that's terrible!" She made a distasteful face, but laughed. "Not surprising though from a guy who was dancing o­n tables singing along to Bon Jovi."

"What?" He sputtered. "I did that?"

"Damn straight you did!" She laughed. "You made quite a spectacle. How could anybody possibly forget?"

"Well, I did," he muttered sheepishly. "So not o­nly am I the guy that puked, but I'm also the table top dancing Bon Jovi impersonator?" He put a hand to his forehead in mock despair. "There goes my indie cred."

"If you were worried about your indie cred, you shouldn't have told me you were buying a Melodie Monzel album." She snatched o­ne of the albums in question and dangled it in front of her. "Can you say fake?"

"You must think I'm a complete dork," Graeme said as he looked at the floor.

"Nah." She handed him the CD. "Only partially. Besides..."

She arched an eyebrow and ran her tongue across her bottom lip. The temperature in the room seemed to have skyrocketed as he stood there waiting for her next words.

"I'll tell you a secret," she nearly whispered in a husky voice. "I like dorks, who like Melodie Monzel."

"Oh, I see." Graeme gulped as he tried to keep his brain functioning and his eyes on her face. Shaina Spyder was flirting with him in a record store. It was like his biggest fantasy come true, and he could hardly believe his luck.

"Well, crappy teen pop music does a body good, but don't tell Tom."

"No shit," Shaina said, her voice returning to normal as she smiled at him and rolled her eyes. "He's our fearless leader in musical elitism. Listen to Tommy and your ears will never go wrong again!"

Graeme thought that was extremely funny because Shaina's music wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing in itself. It certainly wasn't anywhere near Tommy's alley let alone up it, and he was in her band. Graeme couldn't stop the giggles then and soon she had joined him.

"We should continue this over lunch," Shaina finally said after the giggle fit had subsided and Graeme's purchases had been paid.

Graeme had ended up buying the AM*AD sampler that was o­n sale in the front of the building since it featured Shaina. He was trying to flatter her and match her flirt-for-flirt. He wasn't sure that he was succeeding.

"Yeah," Graeme replied. "I would love to, but I'm meeting my mom for lunch."

"Aww." Her face fell, and she seemed genuinely disappointed. "Well, come to the gig tonight," she commanded. "I never see you around anymore, and we could use a little excitement around the place." She grinned and patted his arm.

He pondered it for a moment. Though the reins had been loosened since he last had ventured into the Spiral Stairs, his parents still had him on a strict curfew. It wasn't as early as it had been, but he was sure that it was before Shaina even took the stage. Having just learned that he'd been so drunk that he hadn't remembered dancing around o­n tables, he wasn't sure that he wanted to make a repeat performance after all.

"I'll be there," he assured her against his better judgment.

"Good!" She smiled. "I'll tell everyone to keep an eye out for you."

"Everyone?" He said.

"Yeah, everybody knows the Bon Jovi kid."

"Christ." Graeme sighed. "I hope you don't expect that to happen again, because I think I'll be sticking to beer of the root variety this time."

"Aww, Naw." She patted his arm again, but that time her hand remained. He could feel himself turning red.

"I like you better this way, actually."

"Good," he replied, relieved. "I'm glad I'm just not the entertainment."

"Never." She smiled at him. "I like you, Graeme, and I will definitely see you tonight?"

"Indubitably!" He grinned back.

She nodded, said her goodbye, got into her new car, and peeled away as Graeme waved her off. He let his hand drop as soon as she was out of sight.

"Great," he said to nobody in particular. "How the hell am I going to get into the Spiral Stairs?"

*****

"Guy!" Graeme exclaimed as he tip-toed down the stairs and ran face to face into his brother.

Guy eyed him up and down, noting that Graeme had squeezed himself into the leather pants he had gotten for Christmas and never wore.

"Were are you going so late?" Guy rubbed his sleepy eyes. He was o­n his way to watch television in his bedroom, and had just been to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Graeme tried to think fast and noted the beverage in Guy's hand.

"To get a glass of water." Graeme realized the lameness of his excuse as soon as it was out of his mouth and let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. "Never mind. These pants are making my ass sweat anyway."

"Wait," Guy said, and Graeme looked at him over his shoulder. "You're going to have to put some ice in it. I just refilled the pitcher."

Graeme fully faced his brother quizzically, realized that he was getting what amounted to permission to sneak out without his parents being told, then he grinned and threw himself o­nto Guy for a big hug.

"Thanks, man," he said.

Guy pushed him away, "Take my Jeep, the keys are by the door. I think I got an all access pass in there somewhere too. Just in case. It's not like Tommy can't get you in or anything."

"No way," Graeme said.

"Yes way," Guy replied. "And do NOT get drunk. I don't want to have to come after you at three o'clock in the morning."

"I'm not planning on it," Graeme said. "Why would I want to risk a repeat of Bon Jovi?"

"So, you finally remembered?" Guy chuckled.

"Yeah, I was reminded." Graeme shrugged. "That was probably my fifteen minutes, and I don't even remember them."

"According to Shaina, it was more than fifteen minutes," Guy said and got an eye roll for his trouble.

"Have fun!" Guy said.

"I imagine I will," Graeme assured him.

***

"You made it!" Shaina bounced up to him at the bar after she had played her second set.

"I said I would," Graeme replied as he looked at the clock. He hoped she wasn't going to play anymore that night.

"You played that new song. Tom taught it to me yesterday," he said.

"Oh, you play guitar?" She asked.

"Yeah, my brother taught me the finer points. I used to play violin in orchestra," Graeme replied, not bothering to mention that he'd immediately surpassed Guy in the guitar playing skill department. He didn't think he was that talented enough in the first place to warrant bragging, even if it meant foregoing a chance to impress Shaina, who he had come to have an ever increasing crush on in the previous days.

"You know, he wrote that song," she said.

"My brother?" Graeme looked to the bar and chuckled. "I've heard Lederhosen, lady. He's not that good."

"No, Tommy did," she laughed and gave him a playful slap o­n the shoulder.

"He did?" Asked a surprised Graeme. "No offense but it seems a little girly for Tom."

"None taken." She shrugged. "I wrote the lyrics."

"Not to say you're girly." Graeme opened his mouth and inserted his foot. "I mean you are girly, I mean your music is? Oh, fuck. I mean you're a girl. You're pretty. Your hair looks nice today."

She grinned at his confused sputtering.

"You are sweet," she said.

He smiled back bashfully, and all of a sudden was afraid to open his mouth again.

"Well, he brought it to me last week," she continued talking about the song. "He is so talented. In retrospect, I'm glad he came to me first. Such ambition; it's hard to come by. I'll be sad when he leaves."

"Yeah. Me too." Graeme frowned. "Maybe he'll change his mind. There's still time."

"Irregardless, a guy like that..." She shook her head. "He isn't going to stay in another persons band for long. He's holding way too much back. I can see how bored he is."

Graeme nodded in agreement.

"You think I'm boring?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"No, no, no! I uh...I mean...you know what I m-mean," he stammered.

"God, you're cute." She grabbed his arm as her eyes widened. "Want to go backstage?"

"Sure," Graeme agreed, realizing that he probably didn't have much of a choice anyway with the grip she had on him, so off they went and they ended up o­n a little couch somewhere in the back while a bunch of the staff and various members of the featured bands were basically having a big party.

"Is it like this every night?" He stared wide eyed at the melee and wondered how o­n earth Tommy managed to function every day at school, let alone make the grades that he did.

"More or less." Shaina shrugged, then she giggled. "You are so cute." She leaned over and kissed him o­n the cheek. He blushed.

"It's like you've never been to a good party. You were the life of it when I met you this summer!" She giggled again, obviously flirting and making Graeme nervous. Being the social outcast that he had deemed himself, he had really never bothered to find a decent party to attend. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed and out of place. Shaina seemed to pick up o­n this.

"Of course, you were drunk off your ass then. Just stick with me tonight and I'll teach you how to do it right without the headache, Babe." She winked and patted his knee.

"So, you're older than Tommy, right?"

It crossed his mind briefly to lie about how much older, but she obviously already knew he was in high school. If that didn't seem to bother her, then he wouldn't let it bother him.

"Yeah, a few months. Not that much," he replied.

"Oh, so young!" She sank back into the couch and gave him a pouty stare. "So inexperienced."

He straightened up and looked back at her. "I'm a quick study."

She laughed and changed the subject o­ne hundred eighty degrees to the band Lunar Transmission.

"Tommy tells me you like them."

"Uh, yeah. I do." Graeme nodded.

"It takes a brave soul to disagree with Tommy about music!"

"Yeah, I know," he replied. "But if I don't tell him he's full of shit, then who else will?"

"True," she agreed. "I'm glad somebody has the balls."

"Oh, I have them," he nodded again, realized what he had just said and blushed again. He had never been that nervous in front of a girl before, but Shaina was hardly a girl.

"You know what?" Shaina said.

"What?"

"You're driving me wild." She slipped her hands into his.

"I am?" He scratched his he head and grinned sheepishly at her. "It must be some kind of latent superpower or something, because I don't really know what the fuck I'm doing to make you think that."

"You're so funny, Graeme. You make me laugh," she said. "And you're hot. There's really not much to it."

Nobody had ever told him that before, especially someone who was, arguably, the most famous person in town who wasn't a visiting professional golfer. He didn't reply; he just gazed at her in awe. She ran her fingers through his long dark locks and sighed wistfully.

"Are you going to kiss me?" She asked. "Or are you going to make me do it?"

"Right here?" He eyed the remaining people in the room.

"Tut-Tut," she clucked at him as she shook her head and placed her hands o­n his shoulders. "So, inexperienced." She repeated her earlier comment and pushed him against the back of the chair with a smile

****.

"What time is it?" Graeme asked no o­ne in particular as he sat at a table sipping beer. He had failed over the course of the night to keep his promise not to drink. Shaina had just said her goodbye and departed the venue with her personal assistant in tow, leaving Tommy to sit beside him, ignoring his query for the time.

"I can't fucking believe I just sat here and watched you makin' out with Shaina Spyder." He pointed at the couch in the corner with his cigarette and beer in hand.

"You were watching?" Graeme grinned at him. "Kinky."

"You two weren't exactly discrete. I told you she liked you." Tommy said.

"What?" Graeme rolled his eyes, but was still unable to control the goofy smile that was plastered all over his face.

"I'm sorry, it's just weird, mate." Tommy said. "I mean... You're... YOU."

"Well, she wanted me." Graeme shrugged as if it was all in a days work. "I like her too. Was I supposed to say no?"

"I guess not." Tommy agreed. "If you like old people."

"She's not old." Graeme giggled into his drink. "Besides, from what I hear, old people know a thing or two about things, so maybe Shaina will teach me a few of them."

"Gross," Tommy laughed with him.

"Yeah, Yeah." Graeme shook his head. "Giving up on girls altogether now?"

"Nah," Tommy replied. "Just watch out for her. Okay?"

Graeme ignored his comment and asked for the time once again.

Tommy consulted his watch. "Half one, about."

"In the morning?" The smile all of a sudden faded.

"Well, if we'd been here into the afternoon, I'd be worried," Tommy replied. "I think it's time to call us a cab."

****

Of course Tommy would put up a brave font in the presence of friends and acquaintances, but his situation over the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas at his house was beginning to deteriorate quickly. Steven had stopped coming to his soccer games, and had even come out of his retirement to take o­n some odd trucking jobs here or there. Tommy realized that playing at being miserable, which he'd done sometimes in the past was not nearly as bad as actually being miserable, because that was what he had become as he saw Steven drifting away from him. Somehow he felt like it was entirely upon his shoulders.

The worst of it was that he and his mother had started arguing o­n a regular basis. There were no more long nights just talking and sipping tea like when they had been o­n their own looking out for each other. It seemed to Tommy that Madeline had become harshly disapproving of him and his past and current behavior. He suddenly felt like he couldn't open his mouth without something disapproving coming out of hers. It made him feel small. It made him feel stifled, and it made him feel like his entire existence was wrong.

Steven Sinclair missed Christmas that year. He'd taken a job delivering oranges to New Jersey after he'd promised never to take another cross country trip. It was sixty-five degrees and sunny in Nevada, but his father was snowed in. The night was awful, where it had always been a cheerful event. It was Madeline's favorite holiday and even when they had no money, she always made sure that her son had something. He always looked forward to the holidays because of her.

All of sudden, though, he knew how Graeme felt when he said that all Holidays were a load of bullshit and false sentiment. His mother was pretending to be cheerful for his sake, and he wouldn't even talk to his father o­n the phone. He didn't want to hear any of his fake excuses.

Tommy retired early that night. They'd barely spoken at all; he and his mother. As he lay in his bed o­n foreign soil so far away from everything he thought had ever been good in his life, he could hear her crying as she passed by his door on the way to her room. Of all the things he'd done that he wasn't proud of in all his young life, he'd never made her cry. He wanted to go to her and comfort her and tell her that it was all right and that he'd try to be a normal kid from that point forward, but he couldn't bring himself to go. It didn't feel right anymore, so he sat alone in his room. It was dark and he didn't feel like he had anyone in that house to talk to anymore.

Against his better judgment he sneaked down the stairs until he reached the telephone in the living room. He curled up o­n the couch and thought he was going to call Graeme. As good a friend as Graeme was, though, there was only o­ne person in the whole world he thought would understand.

His ex-boyfriend's mother answered the phone. It was a short conversation.

"Is Richard there?" Tommy asked.

"Thomas Sinclair," she replied flatly. It was more of a statement than a question. He knew that she no less than despised him.

"Yes," came his weak reply. He didn't even have the defiance him to bothering protesting her assumption about his first name. There was no way to lie to her, she knew his voice despite his efforts at masking it with all the American inflections he could muster. Living there for a year still hadn't made his effort even passable.

"Do you know what time it is, boy?"

"Sorry, ma'am, I just..."

"Richard does not want to talk to you," she growled. "He has a better life now, and you'd be best off to leave him alone."

Tommy had no idea whether or not that was the truth, but it hurt nonetheless, and all the remnants of his past seemed to have crumbled into dust and blown away in that very moment.

"Oh," he murmured. "Ok, well just tell him...I...tell him Happy Christmas for me."

"We'll see." With that last comment, she hung up.

Tommy had no doubt in his mind that Richard would never find out that he had called.

**

"And that's that." Tommy threw the skipping stone towards the river.

"You did not ruin Christmas," Graeme said matter-of-factly. "Don't be ridiculous. I had a great Christmas. I got new guitar strings and a new amp." He nudged Tommy playfully and his companion mustered up a slight smile.

"No, but really." Tommy said. "My mother resents me and the o­nly other person who is...eh...was that close to me doesn't want to talk to me. I've tried to get through to him through the Caughtons, but he just won't. You're my o­nly friend in the world, Alexander."

"You have friends," Graeme scoffed. "There's your band mates and Guy, and that annoying Briar kid...."

Tommy denied it.

"You're the o­nly o­ne who matters right now. They're just acquaintances, and Mark... I'm really, really not going to cry about Richard to my ex. Who is not annoying. Stop it."

"Well, That means a lot seeing as you're my o­nly actually friend as well anyway. Everyone else seems to think I'm aloof and losery. Am I aloof?"

"You?" Tommy shrugged. "Maybe. I mean not to everybody, but you do kind of separate yourself sometimes."

Graeme laughed. "Well, I prefer to think of it as my air of mystique."

"Air of something," Tommy muttered.

"Ha, Ha!" Graeme rolled his eyes. "But enough about me. My mystique o­nly allows for me to talk about myself for short periods at a time."

Tommy laughed. "You are the weirdest human being o­n the planet, Mate."

"It's a tough cross to bear, but I manage," Graeme replied with a sly grin. "Anyway, don't blame yourself for your mom being upset. I mean, dude, her husband's in New Jersey."

"They're not married," Tommy muttered.

"But they have the same last name," Graeme said.

"They do. It's not spelled the same," Tommy said. "The world is full of coincidences Graeme. Lucky for me, I would've just loved being called a bastard as well as queer."

"Well, you sure have a model American family for not being American at all," Graeme said.

"I am half." Tommy smiled. "Haven't you been paying attention? I'm half everything, remember?"

"That's right," Graeme said. "Anyway, Alabama, England, same thing really. My point is, the situation is not your fault."

"But if it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have gone to New Jersey in the first place," Tommy argued.

"How do you know that?" Graeme asked. "His job may have absolutely nothing to do with you. Your parents aren't constantly thinking about you. I should know."

"Well, they ought to be," Tommy muttered indignantly. "They're the o­nes that ruined my life."

"Will you stop being dramatic," Graeme said. "Your life isn't ruined."

"Maybe not," Tommy said, "but I'll tell you what, Alexander. Me and mum were fine o­n our own. Damn fine. Now she cries all the time, and resents me. I don't think I can stand it here for very much longer."

"It's not that bad," Graeme said. "Look...we have mountains!" He pointed out towards the horizon.

"Mountains?" Tommy said. "You're going to have to do better than that."

"I won't," Graeme replied, softly. "You want to go home. I don't want to make you stay if you don't want to. I don't even want to stay here. Maybe you'll find whatever you're looking for there. A place isn't going to make you happy though, and I think you know that. For what it's worth, I think you should move on."

Tommy diverted his gaze and kicked at the brush around his feet.

"Yeah, maybe," he said.

****

Mark approached Tommy in the hallway at school not long after Christmas break and tapped him on the shoulder to gain his attention. He waited.

"Oh, hi, Mark!" Tommy greeted him exuberantly. It had taken a few months, but they remained friends, and Tommy was happy that it had worked out that way.

Mark had not accosted him for a simple chat though. He stood there with a worried frown etched onto his face, and he was surrounded by an aura of defeat. Tommy immediately and without thought pulled him into a hug. Mark lay his head on Tommy's shoulder and took a long, slow breath before speaking again.

"Can we get out of here? I want to talk to you," he whispered.

"Yes," Tommy said. Mark was upset and class could wait.

***

They sat at a picnic table at a park near the river. It was fairly deserted with school in session and Mark was grateful for that. He was also glad that Tommy had opted to sit next to him instead of across from him. Somehow it made him feel better that he was closer; that he could lean on him if he needed to.

"I was at the library the other day," Mark said. "With the guys."

"The guys" were were Mark's soccer friends.

"So we were just, y'know...jokin' around, right? And Jimmy asks me why I spend so much time with you."

"You're joking now, right?" Tommy said as it became clear where the revelation was heading.

"No." Mark frowned. "So they were teasing me about bein' gay for you. Ha. Ha. Like it was some kind of joke. Which would be fine if it was a joke, I guess, kinda, but they were serious. I mean, not serious, but serious like...they just thought we'd been friends this whole time."

"They didn't know?" Tommy sputtered. "Are they blind? I know you wanted discrete at school, but damn. I didn't think we were actively closeting ourselves."

"Me neither," Mark said. "I felt stupid. I thought I was out this whole time, and they just thought you were lying about me kissing you because you were upset I turned you down or some shit and I was hanging out with you to make up for that stupid non-fight we had."

"Oh my god." Tommy tried hard to hide the smirk that formed on his face, but he wasn't quite succeeding. "God. People go way out of their way to ignore the plain truth when it isn't spelled out for them, don't they? Occam's Razor, people. Shit. Do we have to shag in the middle of the quad at lunch break for anybody to get it?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Babes." Tommy patted him on the shoulder, and laughed. "You made up for that fight in far better ways than just hanging out with me if I remember correctly!"

"There's something else," he said and grabbed hold of Tommy's hand in both of his.

"Oh?" Tommy frowned. Mark sounded scared again, and then it hit him. Mark could have easily pretended that nothing had ever happened between them. It would have been easy to laugh along with his friends and shut the closet door tight once again.

"It's okay." Tommy pulled his hand away and averted his eyes. He didn't want to hear Mark say it. He didn't want to be denied again, and he was sure that he couldn't take it.

"Tommy, what the fuck?" Mark grumbled. "What's okay? You didn't even let me finish. Stop thinking whatever crazy ass thing you're thinking that's making you look so damn disappointed in me."

"What?" Tommy was confused. He turned to look into Mark's blue eyes again.

"I told them," Mark said, "That I'm pretty much just gay all the time, and they laughed, but I didn't. They got it after a minute. We don't have to do it in the quad after all."

"Are you serious?" Tommy said. "You came out? All by yourself? Without stuttering?"

Mark laughed. "Yes. Head up, no floor gazing or anything. Look, when I was with you, I was happy. I'm trying to be logical. I really want to try and be happy, but when I was ashamed for wanting you, I wasn't. I was kind of an asshole. I don't want to be an asshole. I don't think I am. I mean, I try not to be, and I definitely don't want to go back to feeling like that again. I mean, I'm an idiot who already thought he was out, so why go back? It didn't kill me then, and it's probably not going to kill me now. I know it's not going to be easy, but I can defend myself. It turns out I still have friends too, and besides all that, I don't want to miss out when the right guy comes along, y'know? Tragic."

Tommy smiled. He reached out and pulled Mark into a hug. "Well, for the record, I'm not disappointed. I'm proud of you, okay?" He said when they parted. "So what happened after that?"

"Well, Tony and Randy were pissed so they said some nasty shit and stormed off, but Danny, Jimmy, and...believe it or not...Alan were totally cool. They're probably the reason T&R didn't kick my ass and throw me over the balcony right then and there. Seriously, two dudes with one nick-name and they're going to be mad at me? Everybody else just teased me hardcore for about twenty minutes, and asked me some really uncomfortable questions then we went to get some ice-cream. My dad kicked me out of the house when I told him though."

"You told your dad?" Tommy gaped at him in shock. It was one thing to tell their soccer friends. Tommy already knew most of them would be okay with it, but Mark's dad was another story.

"Yeah," Mark said. "I called my mom and brother in Sacramento. She told me to come stay with her, but I want to stay here and finish school. Maybe I'll go to California later, but not right now. Mom's okay with it. I'm going to be stayin' with my cousin Jamie. You know her. She's a dealer at CasaBlanca."

"I'm sorry," Tommy said.

"Don't be. You know my dad is a total dick anyways. This is actually pretty cool. I mean, I'm not going to sacrifice my happiness for him when everybody I lo...er...I'm friends with is being so damn awesome about it. I know Randy's going to try and make my life a living hell though. I'll have to watch my back, but I guess I'll live. Got all the real friends I need now anyways, and I'm glad I did. I just wanted to tell you. Sorry if I freaked you out, all...'let's skip school, I have serious issues on my mind' or whatever. I should have told you it was good news to start. I know I wasn't acting like it. It's just a lot on my mind, y'know? I'm trying really hard to stay calm and not freak the fuck out."

"I'm just glad you think it's good news!"

"Hell yeah! It's a big old weight off my shoulders." Mark said. "Best news ever."

"So, what now?" Tommy asked. "We go out for ice cream? Is that what happens when you come out to your friends?"

Mark laughed. "Well, I was pretty sure you already knew about my epic gayness, but if you want ice-cream..."

"Your treat," Tommy said. He jumped up from the bench and offered his arm.

Mark stood to join. They linked arms and laughed as they walked back to Mark's truck.

***

Graeme was at his house later that day. They were making popcorn, intent on curling up on the sofa and watching a movie, but Graeme had something on his mind and thought it best to clear the air first.

"I saw you leave school with Mark," he said.

"Yeah." Tommy replied. "He needed me."

"Sure he did." Graeme huffed in disbelief and rolled his eyes.

"What?"

"What you two do in private is none of my business," Graeme replied. "But it's kind of lame. You don't deserve that with what you go through every day."

"What are you talking about?" Tommy turned his gaze from the popcorn twirling around in the microwave and settled it on Graeme. There was confusion tinged with ire in his voice.

"Maybe you shouldn't feel so bad about that dude at Thanksgiving," Graeme muttered.

"What?"

Tommy's voice rose in pitch and Graeme could tell that he was getting angry, but he continued to speak anyway. Tommy was his friend and he had overheard things in the library the morning before.

"Come on. I was right. Mark is a jerk. Maybe the guy deserves to get cheated on if he's going to pretend you don't exist anyway."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tommy turned completely to face Graeme, his features arched in an enraged scowl. He bit his lip to try and keep it under control, but he could feel himself slipping. If there was one thing about Graeme that he didn't like, it was the irrational overprotective jealousy regarding only one person.

"Nobody fucking deserves to get cheated on," Tommy said, his voice trembling, betraying his feelings. "Ever."

"Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but I overheard him in the library the other day. Dude is going to march right back into the closet, because nobody believed you when you outed him the first time," Graeme said. He smiled triumphantly at Tommy. "See, I knew he was no good. Those popular kids will do anything..."

"Shut the fuck up." Tommy finally broke into an outright yell. He slammed his fists on the counter and glared at his startled friend. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

"But..."

"How much of this conversation do you think you heard?" Tommy said.

"All I needed to hear." Graeme muttered. "I was late. I had to go meet Shaina."

"Yeah, well..." Tommy sighed and frowned. "I think you need to go."

"What? Why? I was just trying to make you feel better about Thanksgiving."

"I know what I did," Tommy muttered. "Cheating on Mark isn't why I feel bad about it, because I didn't cheat."

"But..."

"I broke up with him at the beginning of the school year," Tommy said. "You didn't even notice."

"Uh...you didn't even tell me." Graeme frowned. "Why was it a secret? You guys still hang out. Like, way more than ..."

"I didn't think you'd care." Tommy interrupted. "You hate it when I talk about Mark, and you hate it even more when I hang out with him. I get it. You don't like him. Whatever. I don't care, but you don't get to stand there in front of me and call him a bad guy."

"He punched you in the face, Tom! He's going to pretend like you and him never..."

"What the fuck makes you think that's what he'll do if you didn't stick around?"

"Would he really out himself for you when it would be easier to play pretend with his buddies?" Graeme said. "Especially after you broke up with him?"

"He wouldn't," Tommy said. "No. He definitely wouldn't do that, but whatever you think of him, he's not a bad guy. I don't think he should do it. Not for me. He doesn't have to. I wouldn't ever ask anybody to do that for me before they're ready. He did it for himself. He came out to all those guys there in the library, then he came out to everybody in the world that matters to him. Not surprised you're not on that list, but if you weren't so concerned with getting into Shaina's pants then you'd know it anyway. That's what he wanted to talk to me about the other day."

"Oh." Graeme's face fell. "Tommy...I didn't know."

Tommy couldn't keep the flood of emotions from showing plainly on his face then.

"His dad kicked him out." Tommy said. "Bet you didn't know that, did you? Like him or not you can't say he deserves that. Everybody deserves a family that will love you. We dated for five fucking months, Graeme. Get it through your head that he's kind of important to me too, and I'm going to be there for him. Maybe it shouldn't affect me so much, but hurts me that he's having a rough time. It's hard, and it's even dangerous sometimes to be different in this world, Graeme, and you have no clue. Lots of people are being very cool about it, but a lot of people aren't either. Like you. What I need now is my best friend, and he's assuming shit he knows nothing about. Just go home, so I can cool off."

"But Tom..." Graeme reached towards Tommy's shoulder but pulled his hand back as soon as he caught sight of the toxic glare that his friend was directing at him.

"Okay. See you later?"

Tommy crossed his arms, huffed and rolled his eyes, but didn't answer.

He was surprised when Graeme actually left. He hadn't really wanted him to leave at all. His best friend; the guy who was always there for him with a smile and a hug, had left him alone with a bowl of burnt popcorn and a feeling of disappointment even though he had been the one to ask him to leave.

He left the popcorn in the microwave and sat upon the sofa in the living room, staring at a blank television screen until Graeme unexpectedly showed up at his front door twenty minutes later.

"Can we not fight?" He sad as he stood sheepishly in the entryway of Tommy's house.

"Yes, please," Tommy replied instantly.

"I've been driving around your block for a while, and It really sucks that you're mad at me, so I'm sorry." Graeme hung his head and shuffled his shoes, waiting for his friend to reply.

"It's okay," Tommy said. "I'm sorry I kicked you out. It's just... I feel bad. Like every time I show up it turns everyone's lives inside out and upside down. I don't know. It's just kind of depressing, but I think we'll be alright. I'd just really like it if you could try to get along with him or something."

"I'll stop being a jealous douche if it'll help," Graeme offered with a smile.

Tommy laughed. "It helps."

"Hey, maybe the three of us can hang out awkwardly sometime," Graeme said.

"I'll hold you to that," Tommy said. "It'll be great entertainment for me."

Graeme laughed then threw his arm around Tommy and led him back into the living room. "Now, about that movie?"

They burned another bag of popcorn before settling on a bag of pretzels instead then settled on the couch. Graeme lay down and Tommy was right next to him, laying his head on Graeme's chest and drifting in and out of consciousness as the images on the screen flashed by.

"So, what's going to happen?" He finally asked. "Is Mark going to California with his mom?"

"No," Tommy murmured. "He's staying with Jamie."

"Jamie's cool." Graeme bobbed his head in approval.

"I know I shouldn't care so much," Tommy murmured into Graeme's shirt. "Maybe I should just be a hard ass and join the gun club and never have another emotion again."

Graeme chuckled and hugged his friend tighter.

"Nah, don't do that," Graeme said. "That would be dull. It's what makes you awesome; that you care. I like having a friend who isn't going to run off and shoot things when I want need a hug or something because he's afraid of having a feeling, and I bet Mark does too."