Chapter 14

Mike was captain of both the school football and the basketball team. Blessed with a muscular built, limber form and the surefootedness of a mountain goat, he rarely stumbled. It had to be today of all days that Mike managed to trip, and over his own feet no less.

He ducked as Sammy turned, looking over his shoulder a few times before turning back on himself to inspect the bushes.

"Erm... why are you following me?" Sammy asked.

"I was just..." Mike tried to dream up an excuse but drew a blank.

"Please stop following me," Sammy said before spinning on his heels and rushing off.

"Wait," Mike called. He fished himself from the brambles and underbrush, wiping away the 'sticky willy' seeds as he pursued his target.

He caught up to the smaller boy with ease.

"What?" Sammy cried, stopping dead. "What do you want?"

"Did you think about it? Being friends, I mean," Mike asked.

Sammy sighed and shook his head, loping off in the direction of his flat. It was one of the smaller council flat blocks, situated outside of the main estate; a newish build with the same look as the plain redbrick houses surrounding it.

'His family must be poor,' Mike realized, a thought that doubled his guilt and self-loathing. For some reason, he'd always pictured Sammy with the perfect well-to-do family. The lad gave off the aura of a rich person—if such a thing existed.

"Do you wanna hang out?" Mike persisted.

Sammy didn't reply, didn't even move.

"Go home," Sammy demanded once they reached the front door of his building.

"Can I at least come on and get a plaster?" Mike asked, pointing at the cut below his knee. "Please?"

The door creaked as Sammy yanked it open, indicating for Mike to enter.

"Thank you."

As he watched Sammy's slim fingers fiddling with the key in the lock, Mike felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of being alone with him. He followed as the lad walked through the small flat, switching on the storage heaters as he went.

They finished up in the kitchen, where he pulled down a white box from above the fridge and threw a box of plasters at Mike.

"Okay, bye," he said, turning to rush to his bedroom.

Mike used his superior speed and strength to catch his up and grab him by his jumper.

"Just, will you just talk to me, please?" he asked.

He noted the way Sammy's shoulders slumped and knew he was wearing him down. Again, he held the door open, letting Mike enter his space.

The way he sat, crossing his arms and legs in gave him an effeminate yet defensive vibe. Mike chose to kneel on the floor by his feet, hoping the submissive pose would put the other boy at ease. It was appropriate, considering he was willing and fully prepared to beg.

"Look, I know you said you wouldn't forgive me, and I'm not asking you to," Mike started.

"You aren't?" Sammy interrupted.

"No. All I want is an opportunity to try and make it up to you. If you still hate me after, I promise I'll leave you alone. Just give me one chance."

"Why do you care so much?" Sammy asked.

It was a good question. One he wasn't entirely sure how to answer because he wasn't entirely sure himself. Was it guilt?

Not exactly.

'You love him,' the voice in his head chimed up. 'Or you're attracted to him at the very least.'

"I feel so terrible about how I treated you," Mike half lied. As a standalone point, it was true. As an answer to the question, however, it was only half the story.

"Please? Give me a chance?" Mike pleaded, making puppy dog eyes.

"Tell me why you apologized, and I'll think about it," Sammy said. "And I mean the real reason. What did Caine say to get you so scared?"

It was a fair question, though not one he wished to answer. Still, there was no avoiding it. Maybe if Sammy knew the truth, he would come closer to understanding why Mike acted the way he did.

"He threatened to tell everyone I'm gay," Mike said quietly, barely above a whisper. It was as though he thought someone might overhear, despite knowing for a fact the boys were alone in the house.

Sammy made a scoffing sound. "You're not gay... are you?"

Mike simply nodded.

"I... I didn't know that," Sammy said.

"That's a first. I thought everyone knew. My brothers knew it before I did apparently," Mike said.

"Yeah." Sammy laughed softly. "Same with my family."

The boy's face transformed when he smiled. His eyes lit up, and his cheeks dimpled in the most adorable way. Mike stared up at him, awestruck that he'd never noticed these cute little dimples in the past.

'It's because you've never made him smile before.'

The guilt of that thought turned his stomach. He wanted to be sick.

"I know you said you wouldn't forgive me, but please, please give me a second chance," Mike begged, pressing his palms together for effect.

"I said I'll think about it and I will," Sammy assured him.

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for just a moment before Sammy began to look uncomfortable.

"So, what are you doing now?" he asked.

"I was just going to watch a series," Sammy said. When he saw the hopeful look Mike was giving him, he added, "I don't think you will like it."

"Try me," Mike said.

Shrugging, Sammy tabbed into his Netflix account and jumped up on the bed. His show turned out to be a Japanese cartoon about basketball—probably the farthest thing from what he'd expected.

"You like basketball?" Mike asked. As captain of the school basketball team, he'd never once seen Sammy play.

"No way." Sammy scoffed. "This show is about basketball but it’s also not about basketball. You'll see."

As he became immersed in the narrative, it became clear that Sammy was right. The show was about teamwork, relationships, and overcoming obstacles. He also picked on homoerotic undertones that could have been the result of his overactive imagination.

"You don't have to kneel on the floor like a slave, you know?" Sammy said, patting the quilt beside him. "Sit on the bed like a normal human."

"Yes, Master," he joked, positioning himself on the bed. He wanted to sit close, but not so close it would be weird or awkward.

'What's the smallest acceptable gap between two people?' he wondered. As his brain tortured him, Sammy shifted close enough that his hand was touching the other boy's leg. Suddenly, it was like every part of his brain was focused on the nerve endings in that hand. He focused too hard on not moving it that his hand twitched, stroking the fabric of Sammy's school trousers.

Eventually, his nervous twitch mellowed out and he was able to watch the show. It was addictive. They managed to watch six or seven episodes in what felt like minutes but had to be hours. They talked about the show, laughing as the characters made silly mistakes and faux pars as well as making light conversation. There was so much Mike wanted to ask and know, but he would keep the heavy topics for another day.

'If he gives me another day.'

The longer they sat, the more Mike noticed. Little nuances he'd never picked on in the past, like the way Sammy smelt like a mixture of coconut and lynx, how he always rubbed his button-shaped nose after he laughed and the oddly vampirish shape of his teeth.

He realized his attention had drifted from the show and was focused solely on the boy sitting next to him. The warmth of him. The shape of his body. The way his ruffled hair fell into his face as he leaned against the bedpost.

'I'll die if I never get to kiss him.' Mike realized. 'I'll just die.'

"You should probably go," Sammy said, getting up to turn off the show. "I have a few bits of homework to do before bed."

Mike nodded.

He wanted to ask if Sammy had thought about it yet. If he would consider giving him another chance. The urge to fall at his feet and beg forgiveness swelled up in his throat but quickly passed. It wasn't the right time to pressure him. After a pleasant evening, all he could hope was that Sammy enjoyed being in his company.

As he rose from the bed and walked toward the door Sammy gave him a little wave. He waved back, wishing he had the nerve to kiss him. That was a long way off if it was even on the cards.

As soon as he was out of the front door, the dark and morbid feelings of guilt and loss began to creep back. He grabbed his temples, grunting in frustration.

"When is this feeling going to stop?"