Random Stories

Story 1: Denaosu (出直す)

Note: Love between two guys

Packing all of my things, I looked back and did a once-over look on the place that I've known as my home.

Reminiscing those moments brought back happy and painful memories.

Sighing halfheartedly, I stuffed my things inside the back trunk of my car and slammed it shut.

There it goes again. My temper.

I'm usually not a hot-tempered guy. I've had my moments, but it wasn't extreme if compared as to now.

But still, my parents were pretty lenient on me even though I sometimes deserve getting reprimanded for being a complete ass.

An only child surely has its perks.

The temper might have been due to the fact that I'm leaving my sanctuary, hoping to start anew, and trying to move on. Move on from all of these negativity suffocating me. Forget all of the things that kept me bound.

Or, I just want to forget... him.

My stepbrother.

~*~

So, I'm wrong with the fact that I am an only child.

It turned out that dad 'unintentionally' (you bet) impregnate a girl he met on a bar, and tada! Cameron the stepbrother appears.

Cameron's mother died of cancer, and her last dying wish was to entrust Cameron to my dad. At least, that was what the nurses who tendered her say.

The nurse on duty narrated that she kept on murmuring Dad's name, before she died. Dad surely felt guilty for putting the woman in a precadiment. But for the sake of Cameron, he intended to make that wish true.

However, mom wasn't too keen on the idea, even though she wasn't the person who bears a lifetime grudge. So she forgave dad for not telling her ahead of time. But still, she argued that looking after another child surely is expensive, and the house wasn't spacious enough to fit a family of 3, let alone, another addition.

Dad argued that he wasn't even aware that he had an illegitimate son, and wanted to make peace with Cameron's mom by letting him stay. Both of them stayed firm on their decision. Hence, they started the 7-day silent treatment.

Cameron was only a year older than me at that time. Yet, he was the only one who I've really had as a close friend and a brother.

We did things together. Played pranks on unsuspecting victims, had our first fight (which only lasted for like, 10 seconds, before we both burst out laughing for being goons) and both had a girlfriend at the same day.

But, I never thought that I would also feel something for him, something stronger than a friendly relationship, definitely older and more mystical than those ancient Mayan ruins.

Love.

That feeling started on my junior year, on a Friday night. I was seventeen at that time, Cameron's a year older. Mom and Dad were out doing God knows what, and I just came home straight after the school bell rang, rejecting my friend's invitation to a weekend party, which was also known as one of the biggest slugfest of strip poker and spin the bottle. I just didn't feel like spending my time with nondescript girls who only wants a cheap and meaningless one night stand. My nagging mind was arguing that it might have been due to the fact that I've been questioning my sexuality, kept looking at Cameron weirdly, and kept on contemplating whether to tell him what I feel or just ignore it, hoping that it'll fade.

I thought that they have brought Cameron along with them when I didn't see his sneakers on the shoe rack, so I didn't bother calling out on him and headed towards the stairs, and was on the way to my sanctuary.

A loud moan suddenly emitted from Cameron's room, suddenly rooted me into place. What the hell? Gripping the stair handrails tightly, I sneakily climbed up the stairs, ignoring my pounding heart, crept towards Cameron's door, and dared to peek inside, even though I've had a pretty good idea of what they're doing.

I wished I hadn't.

And keeping it PG-13, let's just say that I wasn't a happy camper for a week. I refused to talk to anyone, especially to Cameron. He tried opening up some of our typical time-consuming conversations, but I studiously ignored him, and kept myself busy with my Calculus homework. Even though I haven't noticed that I was writing some gibberish crap.

He picked up the sign, and instead went towards the popular table.

We started to drift apart after that incident. I regretted myself for letting the situation drag along, which took me almost a month contemplating and mustering up my courage, and tried to find an excuse to talk to him. But he didn't even acknowledge my existence, and acted like I was a stray grass blocking his way. He might have thought back then that I completely hate him for an unknown reason, and decided that I needed some space or other things than that crap. At least, that's how I see it.

But I could never get angry at him without feeling an inner guilt. He somewhat wormed himself into my life, and lived there.

I hated him for confusing me like this. Hated, but then again, loved him at the same time. I feel pathetic.

But how couldn't someone like, or let alone, love him?

He's the most gorgeous man that I've met in my entire seventeen years, and I kind of despised and mentally prodded myself for falling in love with him.

He has an almond-shaped eyes, shade's bluer than the Caribbean sea, chiseled cheekbones and jaws, cute nose, sandy-blond hair, porcelain doll-skin and a very pleasing personality that the cheerleaders and caked-up Barbie dolls loved.

Generally, he's the most popular guy on the block.

I'm not half bad, if I do say so myself. While he got mostly of dad's look, I inherited mom's features. Chestnut brown hair that often tends to go unruly when not fixed, a slender frame and piercing green eyes.

But still, that doesn't change the reality that I'm somewhat free from him, and stopped chasing after him.

That statement might've been a dream coming true...

If he wasn't in the same college and dorm with me.

Fantastic.