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Sapphire3619

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  1. Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it! I do have a *vague* idea for continuing this. Like I said, very angsty - but it might depend more on what kind of self-discipline I can rustle up to write it!
  2. Soooo...how's everyone's pandemic going? I genuinely hope you're all well and safe. I'm fine, even though I've been terrible about writing. Clearly not one of those people who uses isolation to be creative! But here's a story I threw together. I love YA novels, so I tried to make this reflect that style - very *angsty* 😊 Thanks for reading! *** “El, what time do you want to leave? Or do you just want to corral us whenever you’re ready?” Ellie glanced at the dashboard clock. It wasn’t yet 8 PM – fairly early for arriving at a college party. She pursed her lips, thinking. “Maybe 1:30 at the latest? I have to work tomorrow, but not too early.” “Your wish is our command, Miss Daisy!” cried Jamie, the second of the two boys in the backseat. Ellie had picked up he and his roommate Gael on her way to the frat party on the edge of town. “Miss…” Gael stared at his roommate in confusion, but was interrupted by a deep voice from the front seat. “Miss Daisy was the passenger, dumbass.” Jamie laughed easily – it was the end of the semester, and the mood was light – but Ellie shot a sideways glare at her third passenger. As if he sensed Ellie’s ire, Rider Pierce broke into a dazzling grin. “The driver was Morgan Freeman’s character,” he continued, as if his initial statement hadn’t been stark and humorless, “but no one ever remembers the driver’s name!” Jamie grinned. “Dude, no one our age has even seen that movie!” “Axiom still stands,” Rider said confidently, taking a sip out of his flask. “Name one famous movie about a chauffeur where you remember the driver’s name.” Gael looked skeptical. “Didn’t that movie with Viggo Mortenson driving Mahershala Ali win an Oscar?” “So did Driving Miss Daisy,” countered Rider, “and you still didn’t tell me the character’s name.” Ellie pulled onto the grass of the expansive frat house lawn, adding to the already-long line of parked cars. “Happy Hogan.” Rider looked amused but unsurprised, and, not for the first time, Ellie was irritated at his ability to be so effortlessly charming. “Dubious,” Rider proclaimed. “Happy was obviously promoted to Tony’s head of security and was in a half-dozen movies. Familiarity is a given.” “So Joseph from Princess Diaries is out, too?” Ellie shot back. “Not unless you want me to let you win.” Rider gave her another smile that, to another girl, would have been disarming. Ellie was both too experienced and too annoyed for it to work on her. Unaware of Ellie’s irritation or unwilling to stick around any longer, Gael and Jamie were already heading up the driveway. “Just come get us if you’re ready to leave before 1:30,” Jamie called over his shoulder. “You don’t have to admit defeat.” Rider smirked and took another swig from his flask. “I’m secure enough in my own rightness to survive without your validation.” “Too bad that security doesn’t extend to surviving in a given situation without booze.” If Rider was as stunned as Ellie by her own vehemence, he didn’t show it. “Drinking at a frat party,” he gushed dramatically. “Whoever heard of such a thing? What a hopeless delinquent am I!” “As if you only get drunk at parties,” Ellie snapped. Walking up a frat house driveway wasn’t the place for this conversation, but Rider’s grating nonchalance smashed through Ellie’s hesitance. “You haven’t been willingly sober this whole semester.” This accusation at least earned Ellie a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were such a prohibitionist, Els.” His tone was light, but Ellie knew him well enough to hear a slight tension in his voice. “But as I am a fully legal adult, I’m really not sure why you’re so worried about me.” “You can drink yourself stupid, for all I care.” The words tumbled out of Ellie’s mouth. “I just don’t want you dragging my brother down with you.” Rider stopped abruptly and turned to face Ellie. His eyes glittered like shards of ice, sharp and hard, in his now-stony face. “If literally anyone other than Brett’s sister had said that, I’d’ve punched them.” Ellie didn’t twitch. It’s not that she didn’t believe Rider, but that she’d known him almost her entire life. And in that time, she’d never once back down from a fight with him. “Where’s the lie?” she asked coolly. “You drink yourself into oblivion on a daily basis, and you don’t think your roommate and best friend is gonna be affected?” Rider’s chest swelled with a deep inhale. “Call me a drunk all you want, but you don’t get to imply that I’d hurt your brother. Ever.” Ellie glared back, but at that moment, another car pulled in, blaring music. It was enough to crack the tension and remind them both that they were standing in the middle of a driveway, presumably on their way to enjoy the last party before spring break. As usual, Rider recovered first. He tipped back his flask, finishing whatever he had inside. “You know how much I enjoy our verbal skirmishes, Ellearia, but I promised Jesse a round of beer pong.” He bounced his eyebrows for flourish and turned away. In an instant, Ellie’s flaming indignation fizzled into resignation. What had she been thinking? It’s not like Rider didn’t know about her concerns. And it’s not like she’d made any headway before. “Els!” Straightening her shoulders as if to physically shed the failed argument, Ellie pivoted toward the sound of her name. Yung Min, a girl from her ultimate team, was climbing out of the car that had just parked. Ellie pasted on a smile and joined the group, heading up to the house. A lifelong connoisseur of people-watching, Ellie found that pre-spring break parties were second only to end-of-year parties in the college calendar for sheer joy. Everyone was celebrating getting through midterms or excited for impending beach vacations, lending a distinct air of glee to the gathering. The frat house was huge, and Ellie was sure there were over 300 people in attendance. She wandered through the house, nabbing a soda and greeting friends – both hers and her brother’s. *** Brett, Ellie’s one-year-older brother, was in D.C. for a grad school interview, but it wasn’t wholly unusual for Ellie to be spending time with Rider on her own. Brett and Rider had met in preschool and had been best friends ever since. By virtue of Ellie’s own close relationship with Brett, Rider had become practically a second brother. She certainly fought with Rider more than she did with Brett – Brett was easygoing and nonconfrontational by nature – but she never doubted their loyalty to each other. Despite their closeness, Ellie hadn’t really planned on attending the same university as her brother, but it had the one of the best pre-law programs in the country, so she swallowed the inevitable “little sister tagging along” stereotype. Other than the obvious benefits of sharing rides home for break, Ellie found she liked being close to Brett and Rider. It gave her a built-in but not exclusive social group, and it had been an easy choice to move off-campus to the same apartment complex. Currently, Ellie and her roommate lived across the hall from Brett and Rider. Ellie loved getting to watch her brother and his best friend grow into young men. She relished the rare privilege of having such close relationships for such a long time. But her junior year had taken a turn. It’s not that Rider (or any of them, to be honest) had been a teetotaler before turning 21, but his drinking had skyrocketed his senior year. It wasn’t just drinking more heavily at parties, it was the near-constant presence and use of his flask, bottles of beer, and even water bottles that definitely didn’t contain water in class. When asked – because obviously neither Brett nor Ellie were gonna let such a behavioral change pass without comment – Rider would laugh, insisting that he was fine, that he just wanted to enjoy his senior year. He was comparatively careful; he didn’t make a fool of himself, and he certainly never drove drunk. In fact, most people who interacted with Rider had no idea that he’d rarely been fully sober since summer. The whole situation baffled Ellie. She’d known Rider practically her whole life, and she didn’t believe him for a second when he claimed that his drinking was nothing more than a harmless joyride through his last year of college. But he wasn’t deviating from his party line, and Ellie had grown increasingly frustrated with feeling like she barely knew him anymore. *** A burst of laughter shook Ellie from her thoughts, and she pulled out her phone to check the time. With a slight cringe, she realized that she’d been ruminating for nearly a half hour, barely paying attention to her friends. She was standing in a cluster on the back patio with a few of her ultimate teammates. There were two pong tables set up, and at least two cornhole sets within view. There was a roar from one of the pong tables, and Ellie glanced over to see Rider with his arms raised in victory. She watched as he grabbed a full Solo cup and downed it in one. The crowd cheered in approval. Ellie was still staring when Rider slammed the cup down on the table and looked up. He caught her eye and paused, a flicker disrupting the triumphant look on his face. It was so quick, Ellie thought she must have imagined it though, because by the time she blinked, Rider had broken eye contact and was seemingly searching for a refill. Repeatedly irritated with herself, Ellie decided she needed more deliberate distraction. The Alpha Rho parties were renowned for their variety of activities, so she knew if she searched the house, she’d find something distracting. It took a few minutes, but she found a boisterous room of board games upstairs, and she quickly joined a burgeoning round of Settlers of Catan. The plan worked, and the next few hours flew by. Ellie enjoyed the strategic competition, and there was a convenient cooler in the room to replenish her soda. After a couple of rounds of Catan, a short-rules game of Trivial Pursuit, and a side-splitting session of Cards Against Humanity, Ellie found herself yawning. She checked her phone and saw that it was after 1 AM. Grinning at how much she’d enjoyed herself, Ellie stretched her arms wide and pushed herself to her feet. Swallowing the last of her latest drink, she bid goodbye to her fellow gamers and started to search for her passengers. Gael was easy enough to find on the dance floor, and he led her to Jamie in the kitchen, deep in some discussion about the trade deadline. Neither of them seemed upset by leaving – they were both too intoxicated to drive and were grateful for the free ride home. Finding Rider didn’t take too much longer, given the still-crowded party. He was lounging in a chair on the patio, loosely holding a half-empty bottle. His eyes were noticeably bleary when he looked up, but he smiled easily. “My coachwoman awaits!” he announced to the group. “Looks like my time here is up.” Ellie considered rolling her eyes, but opted for benevolence instead. “Just sharing the facts, my liege,” she said silkily. “I’m leaving now. You’re welcome to take an Uber or something.” “Never,” Rider proclaimed dramatically, pushing himself to his feet. “Your wish is my command, good lady. Just let me…” He trailed off and raised his bottle to his lips, finishing the contents in seconds. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gave an exaggerated bow to the other partygoers, stumbling slightly. This time, Ellie did roll her eyes, heading back through the house. She didn’t bother slowing down to stay in step with Gael and Jamie. Breathing deeply, she tried to tamp down the rising rage, disappointment, and fear. Seeing Rider so obviously drunk, even though she knew he drank almost constantly, brought back every ounce of ire she’d felt when they arrived. She was sick of Rider’s drinking, and she was sick of not being able to help. She heard quick footsteps behind her, but didn’t turn as Rider jogged to her side and draped his arm over her shoulder. “El-bell, don’t-“ “Stop it,” Ellie hissed, shaking his arm off. “Don’t say anything. You sound gross, slurring your words like that.” Rider drew back, and for a second, he almost looked hurt, but that could’ve just been his face transitioning from a grin to a sneer. “Easy there, Carrie Nation. You don’t want to make a scene.” “Right, like I’m the one looking like an idiot here. Ellie knew she was being mean. She knew it was futile, and she knew it was fair to Gael and Jamie, who were both quiet as they all reached her car. Ellie didn’t say anything else as she walked around to the driver’s side. She unlocked the doors, miles more tired than she’d been ten minutes ago, but just as she sat down, she heard a yelp from Gael. “I don’t have my phone!” He was still standing next to the car, patting his pockets. “Can I run back inside and look for it? I think I know where it is!” Ellie nodded and tried to smile. “Of course. We’ll just wait here.” Gael practically sprinted back toward the house, and Ellie smiled for real at his consideration. Mildly placated, she turned on the radio to cover the would-be awkward silence. Playing along – or just totally unconcerned – Rider asked Jamie his plans for spring break. Ellie could tell he was making an effort not to slur his speech as much, and she was both impressed and disgusted at how well he could play…well, if not sober, then at least not wasted. Naturally gregarious, Rider kept the conversation flowing easily for ten minutes until Gael returned. “Sorry!” Gael panted, sliding into the car. “I thought I’d left it on a window sill by the dance floor, but someone had already moved it to the lost and found, did you know they eve have an official ‘party lost and found’, this place is great!” Ellie had the car in reverse before Gael finished rambling. He and Jamie lived fairly close to the frat house, but she and Rider lived on the other side of town. It wasn’t a huge town, of course, but she was already dreading the 15 minutes she’d have to spend in the car alone with Rider. Gael’s praise set off enough of a discussion of the merits of Alpha parties to fill the brief drive to the first apartment. Ellie pulled up to the boys’ building, and both Jamie and Gael thanked her profusely, wishing them both a wonderful and relaxing spring break. Practically before the back doors even shut, Rider had pulled out his flask. “Christ,” Ellie muttered. “You’re at the point where you can’t go 15 minutes without having a drink?” “Maybe I need a psychoactive substance to get through a ride with you,” Rider shot back, but his voice no longer held any light or teasing tone. “Oh, yeah, a car ride across town with your best friend’s sister, a 50-minute class, watching a college basketball game…your life is just filled with so many difficult events that require alcoholic mollification!” Ellie was baiting him, and she wasn’t at all surprised when he refused to rise to her goading. “Leave it alone, Ellie,” Rider growled and shifted, as if he was trying to move as far away from her as possible. “My body, my choice, right?” Ellie huffed, but didn’t respond. Technically, Rider’s argument was currently correct – he wasn’t hurting anyone else with his drinking. He wasn’t violent, he wasn’t getting arrested, he wasn’t behind on his payments or anything. They sat without speaking for several minutes, but as Ellie pulled onto Main Street, her patience evaporated once more. “No, we’re doing this,” she demanded. “I’ve known you my whole damn life, and you know I’ve never wanted to control you or some bullshit like that.” She glanced over at Rider, but he only shifted again, deliberately looking away from her. “This isn’t…God, Rider, I don’t care if you want to ‘enjoy your senior year’ or whatever, but you’re literally…like, this is alcoholism! Like, you’re entirely dependent on alcohol, and that’s not OK!” She looked over again, and though Rider’s posture definitely signaled discomfort, he still didn’t say anything. “God damnit, Rider.” Ellie squeezed the steering wheel, knuckles white with frustration. “Why don’t you care? How do you not see how unhealthy this is?” Still nothing. Ellie’s voice practically squeaked with vexation. “Rider! I mean it! How-“ “Let me out.” Rider’s voice was low, but absolutely serious, and Ellie had to fight to keep her eyes on the road rather than staring at him incredulously. “What?” “Let me out of the car, Ellie.” Rider was angry, urgent, and Ellie nearly screamed. “Are you out of your mind? We’re in the middle of Main Street! I can’t just pull up to the sidewalk, and I’m not gonna let you-“ But apparently, a stop sign was more than enough for Rider, because he’d unbuckled his seatbelt and leapt from the car as soon as Ellie slowed down. “Rider!” she shrieked, staring after him, then looking around frantically to see where she could pull over. It was almost 1:30 in the morning, and really, no one else was around, so she made a quick right and pulled into the empty bank parking lot, ranting before she even put the car in park. “What the actual fuck, Rider? You can’t just jump out of a moving car because you don’t like the conversation, you dumb, selfish-“ Ellie cut herself off again as she rounded the corner and saw Rider standing stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk, an obvious patch of darkness spreading down the front of his pants. “What are you…” Ellie’s rant energy forced the words out of her mouth before she could stop them, even though she knew exactly what was happening. The old-fashioned street lamps were dim, but more than illuminated the wetness. After a few seconds, a trickling sound pattered on the quiet street. The sound seemed to go on for far too long, amplified by the otherwise complete silence. Rider stood bent slightly at the waist, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Ellie didn’t know how long they both stood there, her staring at him and him staring at the ground, before she finally spoke. “Why didn’t you say something?” “I did say something,” he mumbled. “I told you to let me out.” “In the middle of an argument!” Ellie exclaimed. “You didn’t say you had to pee!” Rider twitched. “Sorry I didn’t broadcast my every thought. Didn’t feel like giving you more ammo for your anti-alcohol crusade.” The illogic of that statement didn’t need a response, so Ellie just stared at him, perplexed as to how she’d gone from enjoying Cards Against Humanity an hour ago to standing in the middle of downtown, fighting with a 22-year-old man who had just wet himself on the sidewalk. “I’ll walk home.” Such a ridiculous claim was enough to jar Ellie from her dismay. “Cool. I’m coming with you.” Ellie expected at least irritation in response to her answer, but when Rider met her gaze, he just looked tired. “Els, don’t be stup-“ “You know what would be stupid?” Ellie interrupted. “Letting my brother’s best friend, who is quantifiably and admittedly drunk, walk two and a half miles home after midnight.” She stopped herself from adding “in wet pants.” “And what do you care?” Rider snarled, his eyes flashing. “It’s not like there’s anyone around for me to drag down with me.” Ellie flinched at his sudden vehemence, but then clenched her jaw. “For fuck’s sake, Rider, don’t be petulant,” she snapped. “You know I didn’t mean that, but I’ll say it for you anyway. Of course I fucking care about you. I care about your drinking because you’re my brother’s best friend and you’re like a fucking brother to me, and I’m so indescribably sick of watching you hurt yourself!” “I’m not hurting myself,” Rider grumbled. “Right, sure,” Ellie scoffed. “There’s totally nothing wrong with pissing yourself in the middle of Main Street. You’re totally fine with that.” “It doesn’t hurt,” Rider said, but his near-whining voice did nothing to bolster his claim. Ellie raised her eyebrows. “Might not now, but it will if you walk home. That’ll chafe like a bitch after 2 blocks.” Rider didn’t say anything right away, but he also didn’t immediately start walking away, which Ellie took as a promising sign. “Come on, man,” she said in a slightly gentler tone. “It’s a ten-minute drive.” There was another pause, and Rider looked down. “I’m not getting in your car like this.” “Ri, she’s a 2003 Camry. She’s seen worse,” Ellie insisted wryly. “You know she’s seen worse.” Ellie could see Rider’s chest rise and fall as he seemed to consider his options. “Look, I’m sure I’ve got some old grocery bags or an Amazon box or something that you can sit on.” She watched Rider’s eyebrows draw in, a sure-fire signal of his stubbornness, but his reply was quiet. “Fine.” Internally, she nearly melted with relief, but physically, Ellie just nodded and turned back to the car, letting Rider follow her. True to her word, she reached in the backseat and pulled some random plastic bags from the floor to put in the passenger seat. Rider dipped his head as he sat down, his shoulders visibly tense. Ellie silently thanked God that the radio was still on when she started the car, because she knew there would be no more talking. The rest of the drive passed quickly, and their apartment building was quiet when they got back. Rider walked slightly ahead of Ellie up the stairs, then paused at his door. “You’re gonna tell Brett?” He wasn’t facing her, but he hadn’t opened the door. “Yes.” Ellie saw no point in lying. Rider just nodded, and Ellie saw a flash of the boy she grew up with, the one who would joke around in class, but never argue when given detention. Rider, more than anyone, had taught Ellie to own up to her mistakes and accept the consequences. “Do you want me to clean your car?” Rider stayed half-facing his own door, but at least he wasn’t snapping anymore. “It’s fine.” Ellie shrugged. “I mean, you can Febreze it if you really want to, but it’s really fine.” Rider nodded again. He opened the door and flipped on the light. Ellie stared, unsure of what to do next. “You’ll…” she said suddenly, before he could close the door. “You’ll get Brett from the airport tomorrow? Because I’ll be at work.” This time, Rider turned around, the corner of his mouth lifted into the barest of smiles. “I know,” he promised. “I’ve got his flight information.” Feeling oddly relieved, Ellie opened her own door. “OK. Just checking. Night.” Rider looked at her tenderly as he closed the door. “Night, Els.”
  3. Yes!! I'm so sorry - I completely neglected to specify that this is a fictional telling of the story of the ball boy wetting himself at the 2010 Australian Open. I tried to include as many of the details from the news stories as possible. This is NOT a scenario I came up with on my own. Thank you! Thanks, Pilly!
  4. This was a long, long ago request from @diaperwetboy101, which I finally promised to fulfill by the end of January (made it!). Of course, @Piddly did a delightful version (here), but I wanted to keep my promise. Enjoy! *** Devin Arthur bounced his leg rapidly, willing the tram to move faster. It was the second day of the qualifying rounds for the Australian Open, and Devin was excited to get back to work as a ball boy. The tryouts had been more brutal than Devin had anticipated. Tennis matches were notorious for their length, and even the young ball boys and girls had to prove they had the agility, focus, and stamina to quickly retrieve and distribute dead balls throughout the entire match. He’d gone to tryouts with several of his mates from school, but only he and Veronica, a girl from his year at school, had been chosen. At 15, Devin was on the older end of the age spectrum for ball kids, but then again, he wasn’t quite as into tennis as many of the younger hires. Devin played on his school team, and, like most Australians, he was a fan of Lleyton Hewitt, but he wasn’t looking to use this opportunity to “get close” to some of the big players, get some tips, and/or catch the eye of major coaches. He was just in it for the experience. And because it made his schoolmates jealous. The first day had gone well, Devin thought. He’d been assigned to Court 11 and had gotten to see 5 different qualifying matches, both men’s and women’s. The weather had been beautiful, and even those low-level matches had been well-attended. Devin admired the intensity with which each player approached their game, no matter how unlikely their odds to advance. Today’s matches, presumably, would be even better, with many of the highest-ranked players scheduled. Of course, there was no guarantee that Devin would be assigned to those matches – they weren’t given their courts until they got to the park. The weather was meant to get quite warm, so today’s events were scheduled to start fairly early: 8 AM. And so Devin was on the tram, headed to Melbourne Park on his own. They’d been told to arrive by 7:30 at the latest to get their assignments and get into position. With up to 13 active games at any one time, even sharing the schedule with the dozens of ball kids was a process. The tram pulled to a stop, and Devin slid out the doors, making his way through the milling crowds. The early start time definitely kept some people away, so the stands wouldn’t be full (or however full they were going to get) for at least another few hours. Still, there were plenty of people around, and Devin could feel the palpable excitement and anticipation, even for the day’s qualifying matches. Holding onto his water bottle, Devin joined the cluster of ball kids standing around Antony, the 20-something guy in charge of the ball kids. Devin grinned to himself; Antony looked just as bitter and frustrated as he had yesterday. Devin got the impression that being in charge of the ball kids wasn’t seen as quite as prestigious as being a ball kid. Or maybe Antony just didn’t like kids. Whatever the reason, Antony was sneering at the youths surrounding him as if each and every one of them smelled strongly of sulfur. The kids were all chattering with each other, oblivious to their leader’s disdain. At 7:30 on the dot, Antony began loudly reading court assignments without so much as a “Good morning” preface. The group was mostly the same as yesterday, but, for whatever reason, they weren’t placed on the same courts. Devin wondered if they’d been observed yesterday, and these new assignments were somehow based on their performance. Before he had enough time to fully work out his performance-based assignment hypothesis, Devin heard “Arthur – Court 10! Base!” Devin nodded, but Antony wasn’t even looking at him. He glanced around and saw that kids seemed to be moving as soon as their names were called. Apparently, no one needed any extra instruction today. Devin half-shrugged and turned toward his assigned court. Court 10 was smack in the middle of the cluster of smaller, non-practice courts, so he had to weave past the crowds filing into other spaces. As a base, Devin would be positioned at the corner of the court, ready to collect balls from the “nets” positioned at the sides of the court and then toss them back to the players. Being a base usually didn’t involve as much running as being a net, but you had to be quick and pay constant, close attention to the players, some of whom had very little patience for poorly-tossed balls. The day was clear and Devin could already feel the air warming up. He took a swig from his water bottle, making a mental note of where the drinking fountains were. The breaks between matches weren’t long, but he’d have enough time to run and refill. The qualifying matches were on a tight schedule, so the first players were already warming up on the court. Devin straightened his shoulders and took his place at the corner of the bright blue court. The first match – a women’s match – finished in two sets, as many of the qualifying matches did. Despite being brief, the action was still rigorous, and Devin had to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead. He didn’t bother listening to the names of the next players; he just wanted to get a quick drink and prepare for the next round. The next match was more competitive and took a bit longer. The sun rose higher, heating the park, and Devin managed a few more quick gulps of water between points. When the match finished, he was bit surprised to find his water bottle empty. He glanced up, and, seeing that the previous players were still packing up, decided he had enough time to run to get a refill. Devin was quick (one of the reasons he’d been selected as a ball boy), so it took him less than 90 seconds to run to the nearest restrooms, fill his bottle at one of the drinking fountains, and run back to Court 10. He grinned at his own speed, taking another sip of water as he rounded the stands to take his place at the back of the court. “What are you doing?!?” Devin choked on his water and started to cough violently. He looked up to see Antony glaring at him, clutching his clipboard as if it were made of solid gold. “I…” Devin sputtered, trying to bring his cough under control. He frowned, caught off guard by Antony’s intensity. “I went to get more water.” Sure enough, Antony glared. “You do not leave until your designated break!” he snapped, looking for all the world like Devin was a soldier who’d abandoned his post and endangered his battalion. “This open does not have time to wait for the whims of ball boys!” Devin nearly laughed at Antony’s dramatic phrasing, but stopped himself when he saw the manager’s complete lack of irony. “Alright, mate, no worries,” he said, moving to step around Antony. “I’ll stick around until my relief comes.” Antony’s glare intensified. “See that you do.” Devin turned back to the court, shaking his head a bit in bemusement. He definitely hadn’t missed anything – the next players were just arriving – so he didn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. Still, he thought, taking one last gulp of water before the match began, it was Antony’s job to keep all the ball kids organized. It was probably pretty frustrating when people didn’t stick to the schedule. The befuddlement passed quickly enough, though. Devin wasn’t usually one to dwell on frustration, and the next match was about to start, drawing his focus to the court. It was another brief outing, the higher-ranked player greatly outmatching her opponent. For the second game, the winner was on the opposite side of the court, meaning that Devin had to chase down quite a few balls that snuck past her opponent. By the end of the game, Devin was breathing hard and grateful for the break. He took a deliberately smaller-than-usual sip of water between games. His first break was schedule at noon, and it was just past 10:30 now. The replacement would show up right on time, even if it wasn’t between games; they’d just have to maintain focus and make a smooth swap. Then, Devin would get a half hour break to get lunch and get more to drink. And, he realized, go to the toilet. Devin shifted a bit in his crouch. Thinking about his break made him realize that his bladder was feeling pretty full. He hadn’t gone to the toilet before the first game, and he’d downed well over a full Nalgene’s worth of water so far. The next match was about to start, and Devin marveled a bit at how quickly the games were moving. It wasn’t uncommon for qualifying matches to be fairly lopsided, but even the points seemed to be coming quickly so far. Not that it mattered – Devin’s access to a bathroom didn’t depend on how quickly games finished. He was stuck at the court until his replacement came. The first serve was sent, and Devin locked onto the game. He chased down the balls flawlessly, sweating in the late-morning heat. He knew he probably shouldn’t drink more, but he could feel the skin of his face heating up. He gulped down more water, almost on instinct. By the time the match ended, his water bottle was empty once again, and his bladder was dangerously full. Devin’s eyes darted around the court, watching the players shake hands. He knew the closest restroom was roughly two court lengths away – he could definitely make it there and back before the next match started. He only had about a half hour before his scheduled break, but since finishing his water, he was quite desperate. He was unconsciously jiggling his left leg, and he didn’t want to be distracted for the next game. Making up his mind, Devin turned to leave the court…only to stop abruptly under Antony’s pinched glare. “Can I help you?” Antony sneered. “I…” The shock of running into his boss had distracted Devin’s hold, and he very nearly lost a leak into his pants. Unnerved, he decided getting to a toilet was more important than pleasing Antony at the moment. “I really need to go to the Gents,” he said, nearly begging. “I’ll be quick.” Antony gave an aggrieved sigh, curling his lip in disgust. “You most certainly won’t!” he snapped. “The next match is going to start, and it’s an important one. Donald Young. Promising American. The stands are full!” Eyes wide, Devin took in Antony’s insistent monologue. “But…” “Go!” Antony all but shouted, making Devin jump. He turned back to the court, heart pounding. He’d very nearly leaked at Antony’s outburst, and now he was seriously questioning his ability to hold it until his replacement came. Devin narrowed his eyes and took his place in the corner. By the time the match started, he’d realistically only have about 20 minutes to work, and then he could take a break. And he could definitely make it for 20 minutes. Only his bladder didn’t agree. His need felt disproportionately more urgent than it did 5 minutes ago. Standing up straight, Devin tried to press his legs together surreptitiously. He was definitely past the point of needed external support to help him hold, but the 2,000 or so fans didn’t exactly make for a private scene. As the players took their places, Devin tried to convince himself that no one was really paying attention to him, anyway. He tried to pretend that his shifting, wiggling movements were either completely unnoticed or, if noticed, were written off as regular, non-desperate movements. Nothing to see here. Unfortunately, the game play seemed pretty equal, so it wasn’t even like Devin got a break by having most of the balls on the other half of the court. Seemingly every other play had him either running after a ball himself or waiting for a return from one of the nets. Devin felt his first real leak about five minutes into the match, and he nearly cried out in fear. His focus on regaining control nearly made him miss a ball one of the nets rolled in his direction. The bobble earned him a look of disgust from the player – Donald Young, Antony had said – while he waited for it to be tossed back to him. It was as if he was out of sync with the whole world around him. Devin could see all the action happening, but he couldn’t connect to it. Only his bladder – his swollen, tortured bladder – existed now, and he was on the very edge of losing all control. The next serve was sent, and Devin was being taunted by the wet fabric pressing against his skin. He couldn’t help but glance to the side, hopelessly looking to see if his replacement was somehow early. Of course, no replacement was in sight, and Devin’s lower lip started to tremble. He looked back at the court to see his counterpart toss the ball to Rochus, Young’s opponent, for his next serve. Rochus tossed the ball in the air and slammed it forward with a grunt. And at that exact moment, Devin’s shaky hold became a nonexistent one, and urine started actively, consistently trickling into his pants. The standard noises of racket hits, player grunts, and wordless crowd reactions faded into the background as hot piss streamed its way down Devin’s leg. He simply stood there, legs together, as he slowly wet himself. Tears filled his eyes as he realized that his accident was creating a puddle, one that was now creeping toward the borders of the court. With a vicious backhand, Young broke Rochus’ serve, and the crowd applauded in appreciation. Before the applause had even died down, though, Devin heard gasps and murmurs that very clearly indicated growing awareness of his accident. He stood utterly still as an auditory rush of disbelief filled the stands, still peeing through his shorts. His eyes shone, the surface tension holding back both the tears and a total emotional breakdown. He heard the ref call for time, and that sound – an official time out called on account of his accident, not for any game-related reason – was the last straw. Devin ran. He ran from the court, past the stunned spectators, his last sight the image of his disgustingly large puddle, standing out like an oil slick on the blue court. There was a crowd around the bathrooms, and Devin didn’t even think before turning away, running all the way past the show court to the Function Centre. The doors were open, but the crowds were sparse, so he was able to run into the meeting room where they’d had their ball kid orientation just a week ago. The door swung shut behind him, and Devin stopped, breathing hard. His shorts were soaked and heavy, and he had no earthly idea what to do now. He was too stunned even to cry. After a minute or so of panting and panicking, Devin heard quick, angry steps approaching the meeting room. Seconds later, the door was batted open, and Antony stormed in, looking positively apoplectic. Antony sputtered for a few moments, before finally forming words. “What…how could…are you…” But he was cut off as an authoritative-looking woman with a walkie-talkie clipped to her belt walked into the room. Antony stopped talking immediately as the woman quickly took in the scene in front of her. “Parker,” she snapped at Antony. “Outside. Now.” Cowed, Antony followed the woman back out into the hall. Devin sniffed, his lower lip still trembling. They apparently didn’t walk far, because Devin could clearly hear the voices of the woman and Antony through the meeting room door. “Are you mad?” the woman sounded furious. “Can you please tell me why I have a delay caused by a puddle on Court 10 and a ball boy standing in my conference room in wet pants??” “I…he…” Antony stammered. “There are toilets less than a hundred meters away! Why wasn’t he given a break?” Devin heard Antony snort indignantly. “His break was at noon.” “That’s his full meal break!” the woman was nearly shouting. “Why did he not run to the toilet between games?” There was a pause, and Devin felt an odd mix of guilt and validation So he was meant to be allowed to leave between games. Which meant that he didn’t have to… “I was trying to keep things on schedule,” Antony finally answered, his voice reedy. There was another pause before the woman spoke again, her voice fierce. “If you are telling me that you actively denied this child a chance to use the toilet, you are absolutely finished here. Strike that. You’re finished anyway. Give me your clipboard. You’re done.” A shudder passed through Devin, a physical manifestation of his adrenaline crash. His heartbeat felt irregular, and he couldn’t even sort out his breath, much less his emotions. The door opened and the woman stepped back into the room, her gentle face belying the ferocity Devin had heard just moments ago. “Devin Arthur?” She took a step towards him, but not too close. “I’m Mary. I’m one of the event managers for the Open.” Devin knew he should at least say hi, but he couldn’t speak. “I’m so sorry, Devin,” Mary continued, and she sounded sincere. “This never should have happened.” Devin kept his head down, but a tear dripped off his nose and onto the carpet. “It won’t happen again,” Mary insisted. “I promise.” Devin hunched his shoulders. He couldn’t even think about the possibility of stepping onto a court again. He just wanted to hide. “Do you have someone here with you, Devin?” Mary asked, not put off by Devin’s silence. “Or someone you can call? Your mum?” Devin’s voice was shaking when he finally answered. “She’s at work,” he mumbled. “I…I took the tram.” His voice squeaked on the last word. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility of having to get back on the tram and ride all the way home in wet pants, in front of everyone. “Alright, okay,” Mary soothed. “We can mange this. Don’t cry, now.” Almost frantically, Devin wiped at his eyes. He didn’t want to be any more trouble. “Stay here,” Mary ordered gently. “I’ll be back in a moment.” So Devin stood, still unable to move and unsure of what he was going to do. The confirmation that yes, he should have been allowed a visit to the toilet, did him no good now. He’d completely pissed himself in front of thousands of people and possibly ruined a match in the largest sporting even in the Southern hemisphere. After a few minutes, Mary returned. “Here,” she said simply, and Devin finally looked up from the floor. Mary was holding a pair of shorts, likely from the gift shop. “They didn’t have any underwear,” Mary explained, “but these will at least get you home.” “Thank you,” Devin whispered, taking the shorts, trying not to focus on the humiliation of needing to accept a gift from a complete stranger after peeing on himself at age 15. “I’m so sorry, Devin,” Mary said softly. “What was done to you was very wrong, and I feel awful about it.” Mary’s walkie-talkie crackled, and she turned toward the door. “Don’t worry about anything,” she insisted as she walked out. “We’ve got today covered, everything’s fine. We’ll have someone call later to make sure you got home okay.” And then she was gone, off to take care of real issues, not teenage ball boys who pissed themselves in the middle of a match. Devin sniffed again and peeked out the door to make sure no one was in the hallway to the toilet. He dashed in to change, fighting the urge to just chuck his gross, soiled shorts and underwear into the bin. Dry, but definitely not feeling clean, Devin made his way out to the tram stop, avoiding all eye contact. He heard some clapping coming from one of the distant courts. The Open would go on. But Devin knew he could never bear to be a part of it again.
  5. Thank you so much! That was pretty much my only hesitation in writing this - that Garrett would come across as too unrealistically weak and indecisive in the face of desperation! Happy holidays, bazinga! Same, same, same - the angst is my favorite part. You (and others) on this site have been so kind and supportive, it makes me want to keep writing as long as I have time and ideas! Thank *you* for reading and for providing such sweet comments, Pilly! Merry Christmas to you, too! Thank you! That's so kind, and I'm so glad you like them!
  6. This has nothing to do with Christmas 😕 I've been writing here for five years (yikes), so I thought I'd commemorate my very first story, which was posted on December 7th, 2014. I clearly missed that 5-year mark by quite a bit, but here is a 5,000-word follow-up on Garrett and Abby. Thank you all for your incredibly kind comments and support over the past five years! ❤️ Sapphire *** Garrett pulled out his phone and flipped it out of airplane mode as the plane pulled up to the gate. He rolled his neck back and forth, tense from the long day of travel and delays. He also pressed his thighs together, but he didn’t want to think about that. His phone vibrated as the messages and notifications from during the flight came through. Garrett tapped on a text from his sister, Abby. Got here early! I’m waiting for you by luggage claim. Can’t wait to see you! Garrett couldn’t help but smile. It’d been nearly 10 months since he’d last seen Abby over Christmas. A year ago, she’d taken a new cardiology position in Maine, all the way across the country. Now a junior at UCLA, Garrett had eagerly accepted his sister’s invitation to visit New England with his sister over fall break. They made a plan for him to fly into Boston, where he and Abby would stay for a couple of days before driving up to Augusta. The initial flight from Los Angeles to Chicago had been delayed on the tarmac, leaving Garrett little time to sprint between gates at O’Hare for his connecting flight to Boston. He was grateful to finally be back on solid ground, able to stretch his long legs (as soon as the passengers in front of his disembarked). He looked down again at Abby’s message. He knew should stop before heading down to baggage claim – he’d definitely planned on stopping – but he didn’t want to make Abby wait. It would be fine. He made his way through the terminal, his long stride projecting more confidence he felt navigating the confusing halls of Logan Airport. He wove his way through the thousands of other passengers, none of whom seemed to notice the slight hitch in his step as he passed the restrooms. At the bottom of the escalator, Garrett had barely begun to scan the signs to determine which luggage carousel to go to when he heard a familiar shriek of joy. He turned just in time to catch Abby in a hug as she threw her arms around his shoulders, He squeezed her back, easily picking her up off the ground. “Hey!” Abby squealed, hugging him tightly. “It’s so good to see you! How was the flight? Your luggage is probably already out – the belt started moving before you even came down. Do you want anything to eat? Are you hungry? We can just order something back at the hotel, too. I’m parked in short-term in the garage, so it’s super close.” She said all of this before Garrett even put her down, and he beamed at his sister’s familiar chatter. He followed her to the designated carousel, doing his best to remember all her questions. “The delay sucked,” he explained, “but the flights themselves were fine. It’s not even 6 back home, so I’m not too hungry. We can wait til we get to the hotel.” Garrett was assuming that the hotel was fairly close and had decided that, at this point, he’d rather just go back and rest. It was already dark on the East coast, which, combined with his long day of travel, was making him feel more tired than he would otherwise. “Good call,” Abby agreed. “We can just eat at the hotel bar, or we can order something in. There are plenty of options around here.” Validated by his sister’s agreement, Garrett tried to relax. He definitely had to go to the bathroom, but all they had to do was get to the hotel, which wouldn’t take long at all. He scanned the curved conveyer belt and eased his way through the crowd to grab his suitcase. Abby waited for him to get back to her side, then turned and headed toward the parking garage. Garrett followed unquestioningly, and, sure enough, Abby’s car was in a close space. Garrett placed his suitcase in the trunk and climbed into the front seat. Sitting in a car was infinitely more comfortable than sitting on a plane, and sitting gave him a little more latitude to keep his legs together. “So how are you?” Abby asked eagerly, just as excited to see her brother as he was to see her. “How’s junior year going?” Smiling tiredly, Garrett shook his head as the car pulled out of the parking lot. “No, no, I’m too tired and jet-lagged to tell stories. You start. Tell me about the land of Stephen King.” Abby reached over and tousled his hair affectionately. She’d thought long and hard before taking a job so far away from her family; despite their ten-year age difference, she and Garrett were very close. He’d assured her that 3,000 miles and a 3-hour time difference were no big deal, that she should take the job. She had, obviously, but she missed spending time with her little brother and was thrilled to have a whole week to catch up with him. So she started talking, giving him all of the information that she hadn’t fully been able to convey over text. Garrett smiled and settled back into his seat, realizing just how much he’d missed hearing the sound of his sister’s voice in person. Garrett was so pleased that it took him ten minutes to realize how slowly the car was moving. He looked out the window and was greeted with rows of tail lights in the dark – not stopped, but definitely moving well below the speed limit. He sat up a bit and looked out the window. Having never been to Boston before, he had no concept of whether there was always this much traffic, whether this was just a late rush hour, or how long it might take them to get to their hotel (not that he even knew how far away the hotel way in the first place). Abby was still talking, seemingly unperturbed by the traffic, so Garrett sat back, but he was only half-listening now. Garrett really disliked the feeling of needing the bathroom. He positively hated the feeling of needing the bathroom without having a bathroom immediately available. And sitting in a strange car in a strange city in traffic of unknown origin heading toward a destination an unknow distance away definitely qualified as not having a bathroom immediately available. He took a deep breath, tightening his pelvic muscles a bit more. He wasn’t desperate, but he was getting there. He was still sure he’d make it to the hotel, though. In another fifteen minutes, the traffic abated or they took a route that avoided the traffic…Garrett wasn’t sure and he didn’t care. The feeling of moving at a faster pace was indescribably comforting. He must have sighed audibly, because Abby stopped talking and smiled in his direction. “You OK there, kid?” Embarrassed to be called out, even in such a gentle manner, Garrett hoped that the darkness in the car would hide any blush in his cheeks. “Just tired. That’s the longest I’ve ever been on a plane in one day.” Abby nodded empathetically. “It’s a damn big country to fly across,” she agreed, “but we’re almost to the hotel. We can just chill the rest of the night, and you can sleep in tomorrow.” Garrett’s heart skipped a beat at Abby’s geographic estimate. All he wanted was to use the bathroom. It had been years since he’d been in a position where he’d held it for this long, and he didn’t like it one bit. Abby’s prediction turned out to be right, and within five minutes, they were pulling up to the hotel entrance. Abby found a space in the parking lot, and Garrett retrieved his bag from the trunk. It felt good to stretch his legs, but standing was harder on his bladder than sitting had been. He followed Abby into the lobby, willing himself not to cross his legs as he walked. At the checkout desk, Abby greeted the manager and gave him her name. The manager typed, then frowned. “What did you say it was, again?” Abby repeated her name, spelling it out for good measure. Garrett clenched his teeth unconsciously and stepped closer to the rib-high counter, hoping to hide the uncontrollable shuffling of his legs. He just wanted to get to their room… “Oh, you booked online!” the manager said, as if that made all the difference. “Sorry, our system is so odd…” He handed Abby the keys. “Room 624. Wifi password is on the card. Elevator is around the corner on the left.” Abby thanked him and headed in the indicated direction, Garrett behind her. “6th floor!” she said, as if this was a good thing. “You love the highest floor. Plus, it’ll be quieter up there.” Obviously, Garrett was less worried about overnight noise than about immediate timing at the moment, but actually, finally heading to their room made him feel considerably less anxious than he’d been in the car. In the elevator, he positioned himself slightly behind Abby, daring to squeeze his crotch while she pressed the button for the sixth floor. On the top floor, Abby glanced at the room number signs. “Oh, and look, we’re at the end of the hall, too! Furthest away from the elevator. Definitely the quietest spot.” She beamed at Garrett, who did his best to smile back. At this point, he knew walking the length of the hallway wasn’t going to be his undoing, but he was incredibly uncomfortable and didn’t want to have to rely on holding himself to keep from leaking. Nearly breathless with relief, Garrett watched as Abby unlocked and opened the door and flicked on the lights. He could see the bathroom, just to the right, he was finally going to get to pee… Just as Garrett stepped forward, a harsh, blaring sound fill the hallway, and Garrett started to wet himself. In the same instant, he clamped his hand between his legs, forcibly cutting off the flow, but not before a warm leak soaked into his underwear. He had just enough time to get control and remove his hand when Abby turned around. “Ooooh, terrible timing!” she said sadly. “Sorry bud. Fire alarm.” She reached past Garrett to drag his suitcase into the room, while simultaneously shoving him into the hallway. Too tired, desperate, and stunned to fully understand what was happening, Garrett stammered. “What…can’t we…” “Nope,” Abby put on her best big sister/doctor face and she firmly shut the door to their room, effectively locking Garrett out in the hallway. “This isn’t a dorm, kid. They take these things seriously around here. Everyone out, so the fire department can come make sure everything is safe.” Abby turned and opened the door to the stairway at the end of the hall, while Garrett stood frozen for a second. The sound of the ongoing alarm seemed muffled in his confusion, but Abby was already walking down the stairs, so he followed automatically, letting his brain sort things out on the way down. They had to go outside. He had to walk down five flights of stairs. He had to go to the bathroom so badly, and his underwear were already wet. He had no idea how long it would be before he would get to use the restroom. The stairs were agony for Garrett. The hotel didn’t seem crowded, but there were a few other people obeying the alarm, preventing him from putting his hands between his legs. Garrett stayed behind his sister, pausing a few times to twist his legs a bit and maintain a sense of control. Outside, it was cooling down, but not nearly cold enough for Garrett’s teeth to start chattering the way they were. He unconsciously followed Abby away from the building, gazing frantically around for something, anything that could help him – an open restaurant, a thick copse of trees – anything that could substitute for the bathroom he’d been so abruptly prevented from using. But there was nothing to be found. There were no restaurants or shops of any sort within Garrett’s line of vision, and, although the hotel had some woods on one side, they were blocked off by a long, wire fence. A fire engine pulled up in front of the hotel, shutting off its wailing siren. A squadron of firefighters hopped out in full gear, and Garrett lost any hope he’d held that they’d be able to go back inside quickly. Abby had wandered onto the grass across the access road, away from the crowd that had gathered at the edge of the parking lot. She hadn’t spoken since the alarm went off, but she turned when she heard Garrett’s choked whimper. Stunned, Abby looked up at her brother. His bottom lip was shaking, and she could see his eyes shining in the light of the street lamps. “Hey!” she cried. “Buddy, what’s wrong?” The tears in Garrett’s eyes thickened and threatened to spill. His face crumpled in agony. “I’m gonna have an accident,” he mumbled, voice cracked and shaking. Abby’s eyes widened as Garrett seemed to cave in front of her. He hunched forward, crossing his legs, shoulders shaking visibly. “OK…OK…” Abby said gently. She quickly scanned the lawn around them and saw a bench off to their left. “Come here, honey.” She put her hand under Garrett’s elbow and guided him to the bench, further away from the crowd in the parking lot. As soon as they sat down, Garrett bent nearly in half, shoving his hands between his legs. The bench was thankfully angled away from the crowd, so his desperation was at least somewhat concealed. “Oh, Gar,” Abby murmured, rubbing his back. “Sweetie, what happened? What’s going on?” It was as if sitting down had eliminated the last of Garrett’s social restraint. All the anxiety of the past several hours came spilling out, accompanied by a copious stream of tears he could no longer hold back. “I need to go to the bathroom!” he sobbed. “I went at LAX, but then we were delayed, and I couldn’t go in Chicago, and I didn’t want to go on the plane because the bathrooms are so small, and then I didn’t want to keep you waiting, and then there was traffic, and I was gonna go in the room, but then the fire alarm went off and there’s nowhere to go out here and I don’t think I can hold it anymooooooooore!” He looked up at his sister, hands still clenched in his crotch life his life depended on it. “Please, Abby,” he begged, “I don’t wanna go in my pants.” “It’s OK,” Abby whispered soothingly. “It’s OK. You can do this.” She’d learned long ago, when Garrett was in elementary school, that he didn’t like being told it was OK to wet his pants. After the incident in first grade, he hated the thought of having an accident so much that he would be infuriated at any suggestion that accidents were acceptable behavior. His family learned quickly that encouragement, not placation, was the way to go. “We can find someplace close,” she tried. “Let’s just go back to the car.” Garrett shook his head emphatically, almost stubbornly. “No, no,” he whined, his voice coming out childish and miserable in his frustration. “I don’t…I can’t get your car wet.” “You’re not gonna wet your pants,” Abby promised. Fresh tears fell from Garrett’s eyes, and his lower lip trembled. “I already did!” It took all of Abby’s willpower not to reflexively glance down at her brother’s legs to check the veracity of his statement. Instead, she just asked “What?” Garrett was shaking so badly, Abby almost thought she could hear his bones rattling. “W-w-w-when the alarm went off,” he stammered through his tears. “I had to go, and I was gonna go to the bathroom, but then alarm went off, and I started to go in my pants.” Abby frowned in sympathy. She felt terrible that she hadn’t noticed how badly Garrett needed the bathroom at any point since she met him at the airport. She couldn’t see any realistic way out of this situation. “Please, Abby,” Garrett repeated, practically babbling now. “I don’t wanna pee my pants. I have to go, and I can’t…” His breath caught and he twitched forward as a wave of desperation overcame him. He felt another leak escape, soaking into his already-wet underwear. He raised his eyes again, looking so much younger than his 21 years. “I don’t think I can…” he cried, losing coherence. “I keep…” I don’t think I can hold it. I keep losing control. Abby’s heart wrenched in her chest. “Honey, why I go see how much longer the fire department will be? Then we’ll at least have a timeline.” Garrett nodded, still whimpering. Abby rubbed his shoulder reassuringly and quickly headed over to where a small group of people were clustered around one of the firefighters. As soon as she left, a violent shudder rippled through Garrett’s whole body. It was as if the social fear of someone else seeing him have an accident was the only thing preventing it from actually happening, and as soon as Abby was out of sight, he lost all control. Nearly doubled over, tears dripped off Garrett’s nose into his rapidly soaking lap. He kept his cries quiet enough that he could hear the voluminous, shameful sound of his urine hitting the concrete patch below the bench. The force of his accident was so great, he could feel it hitting his jeans before spreading in every direction. The bench was wet beneath him, and urine pooled on his lap, quickly gushing over his knees and streaming down both his shins. He felt as if his entire abdomen had disappeared, leaving nothing but a vacuum under his ribs. He knew he was breathing because he was still crying, but his body seemed entirely devoid of oxygen. Still quaking, Garrett eventually realized that he had stopped wetting himself at some point. He was drenched, deflated, and completely defeated. He’d lost all sense of connection to the world around him – all that was left was an empty, aching bladder and thoroughly saturated pants. “Gar?” Garrett didn’t turn his head as Abby approached him. “Honey, they said there was a small fire in the kitchen,” she explained as she walked up. “It’ll be at least another 20...” Abby trailed off as she rounded the bench. She hadn’t let herself focus on Garrett’s posture as she’d returned from the parking lot, but now, she couldn’t ignore the evidence in front of her, and her heart crumbled at the sight. “Oh, Garrett.” Garrett had never really stopped crying, but he wept even harder hearing the pity in his sister’s voice. Abby sat down next to him, murmuring reassurances as she gently pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder. He convulsed with the effort of keeping his sobs quiet enough not to attract attention. For several minutes, they sat this way – Abby holding her brother and whispering comfort while his tears dripped onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered as soon as he was able to actually form words. Abby felt her own eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have rushed you out of the room or out of the airport. I’m so sorry, Gar.” Garrett sat up, lifting his head from his sister’s shoulder, but he remained slumped, shoulders curled inward. He sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. His sopping pants were heavy, molding him into the bench. He was shaking and nervous, mortified by how completely he had lost control and terrified that it would happen again. Despite having emptied his bladder entirely just minutes ago, he tried to clench his pelvic muscles to check his state of fullness, only to find that he was getting no signals at all. It was as if his body was completely disconnected from his bladder, leaving him anxious that he could pee himself again at any moment. But he didn’t say any of this to Abby. He just wiped at his eyes and tried to stop his lower lip from trembling. For her part, Abby knew not to push him, so they sat in silence, punctuated only by Garrett’s occasional sniffles. Abby kept checking back toward the hotel, and after another 20 minutes, she saw people start streaming back in through the front doors. “Hey.” She rubbed the back of Garrett’s hand. “They’re letting people back in. Are you ready to go inside?” Garrett turned to confirm Abby’s statement, and an involuntary shudder ran through him. “We can go through the side stairs,” Abby promised, correctly interpreting his hesitation. “We can wait a few minutes until the crowd thins out a bit. No one will see you.” Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, Garrett gave the barest of nods. “Okay,” he said quietly after several seconds. “Okay.” Abby smiled encouragingly. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “No one will see, and we’ll go upstairs and change.” Garrett kept his eyes on the crowd strolling back into the hotel, tracking their progress. He shuffled a bit on the bench, feeling his now-cold pants chafe against his skin. “Just a couple more minutes,” Abby assured him. “Okay,” Garrett whispered almost unconsciously. He turned back to Abby, barely meeting her gaze before flicking his eyes downward. “I…” He sounded so young and broken; Abby just wanted to wrap him in a hug for the rest of the night. “I think I have to go again.” After all of the events of the evening, Abby didn’t have the energy to be surprised. It made sense, after all, that if Garrett hadn’t used the bathroom since the airport in LA, that he’d need to go again so soon after having an accident. “Of course,” she said easily. “Everyone is almost inside. We’ll just go around back to the stairs.” Garrett turned back around to see the last few people walking through the revolving door into the lobby. He waited another few seconds before standing and instantly cringed at the feeling of his piss-heavy pants hanging down from his waist. He blinked back a fresh sheen of tears, inhaled slowly, and started trudging back toward the hotel with Abby at his side. They kept their distance, sticking to the shadows beyond the lights from the entrance. As they approached the side door, Abby saw Garrett pause and shift his hips back and forth. “Honey, do you want to use the elevator?” she asked cautiously. “It might be faster.” Garrett looked down at his drenched pants and shook his head emphatically, and Abby dropped the matter, swiping into the side door with her key card. They ascended slowly, Abby slightly ahead of her brother, both keeping diligent watch for any other hotel guests. The stairs were deserted, thankfully, and their footsteps echoed off the unadorned walls. Abby kept glancing back at Garrett. She couldn’t tell if his look of discomfort was from the feeling of his wet clothes or his need for a bathroom, and she was torn as to whether to try to speed up or let him move slowly. They made it to the fifth floor landing, and Abby started up the last set of stairs when she heard a gasp behind her. She turned to find Garrett hunched over, hands between his legs, looking positively panicked. Garrett looked up at his sister, eyes wide and fearful. His guileless terror made him appear at least a decade younger than his 21 years. “Abby!” he rasped, voice high and cracking. “I had to go, but then it got really bad all of a sudden and I started to go in my pants again!” Deliberately slowing her breathing, Abby stepped back onto the landing. “It’s OK,” she murmured, glancing at the fifth-floor door to make sure no one was coming. “Just hold on, bud. Just one more floor. You can make it.” Garrett’s eyelids fluttered, sending a single tear down his cheek. Abby could tell he was hanging on by a thread to both his bladder and his emotions. “I can’t pee on the stairs!” he moaned quietly. “It’s OK,” Abby repeated. “Deep breaths. You can do this.” Her voice was steady, but inside, Abby was in full agreement with her brother. Wetting himself outside, though humiliating, was not nearly as bad as leaving a puddle of urine on the stairs. There was no way they’d be able to keep that from the hotel staff. Garrett sniveled, quivering, but he followed his sister’s instructions and took a deep breath. It took several long seconds, but he eventually straightened slightly and started up the stairs, keeping his hands firmly buried in his crotch. Abby stepped quickly ahead of him, ready to open the door on the top floor. Garrett’s progress was slow and irregular, and tears were freely streaming down his face by the time he reached the top step. “Please, Abby,” he begged as she opened the door to the hall. “It’s coming out.” Breathless, Abby swiped the key in the door to their room. In her haste, she missed, and the locked beeped red. “Abby!” Garrett whined frantically, feeling his wet pants re-warm under his desperate grasp. “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, carefully reinserting the key. The locked clicked free, and Abby wrenched the door open, shoving Garrett past her into the bathroom. She shut both doors simultaneously and let herself exhale, knowing that at least they had avoided soiling the stairs or the carpet in the hall. In the bathroom, the lights were still on from when Abby had entered the hotel room the first time. Garrett could see the toilet, but couldn’t move from the spot where he’d stumbled onto the tile. He’d started losing complete control as Abby had fumbled with the key, and now, standing within feet of the toilet, he could do nothing but wet on himself, having an uncontrollable accident in his pants for the second time that night. Garrett’s legs gave out and he slumped against the wall, sliding onto the floor into the spreading puddle. The knowledge that his warm piss covered the floor was the only thing keeping him from falling over completely. Out in the bedroom, Abby listened for sounds of a typical bathroom visit, but heard none. After a couple of minutes, she knocked gently on the door. When she got no response, she called a warning to her brother before opening the door. Garrett sat crumpled against the wall, eyes red and shining. His pants glistened in the light with new wetness, and his puddle spread out around him. He looked up at Abby, his face a mask of misery. “I didn’t make it,” he whispered. “I peed on the floor.” Abby’s heart broke at the sight of her forlorn, dejected baby brother. She reached up to grab a towel from the rack and started sopping up his mess. When she had absorbed enough to get close, she crouched down next to Garrett and put her hand on his cheek. “You’re OK, sweetheart,” she soothed. “It was just an accident. You tried.” Garrett didn’t respond, and Abby sighed. “Take a shower, honey. I’ll bring you your pajamas. You can get cleaned up, and we can get some dinner.” “’m not hungry,” Garrett mumbled. Abby just nodded. “That’s OK. We can just go to bed. You’ve had a long day.” Abby pushed herself to her feet. Garrett made no immediate move to follow, so Abby dropped the wet towel in the corner of the bathroom and went to get Garrett’s pajamas from his bag. When she returned, Garrett was at least standing, his face still streaked with dried tears. She set the dry clothes on the counter, and Garrett mumbled a thank you. While Garrett showered, Abby changed into her own pajamas, vicariously exhausted from the events of the evening. She wasn’t particularly hungry, either, but she could order some room service snacks for her to munch on (and Garrett, if he decided). When Garrett emerged 15 minutes later, Abby tried to smile. “Hey, kid.” She gestured toward the second bed. “Come relax. We can watch a movie.” Garrett didn’t acknowledge Abby’s words at all. “My clothes,” he muttered by way of a question. “We can rinse them out in the rub,” Abby replied, rising from the bed to help, but Garrett waved her back. “I’ll do it,” he said, still not looking her in the eye. Suppressing a sigh, Abby watched Garrett return to the bathroom to rinse his urine-soaked clothes. She thought back to Garrett’s accident during the distract final game and how devastated he’d been at wetting himself at age 16. Now, 5 years later, Abby couldn’t imagine he’d have an easier time getting over the experience of peeing his pants. Twice. She heard the sounds of Garrett rinsing and wringing out his soiled clothes. Her older-sister instincts urged her to go help, but she stayed put. After a few minutes, Garrett slunk back out into the bedroom. He stood awkwardly at the foot of Abby’s bed. “Come on, bud,” Abby encouraged after a few seconds of silence. “Come sit down.” Garrett frowned and shook his head. There were a few more seconds of silence before he spoke softly. “I have to sleep in the bathroom.” Abby’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. “Honey, no-“ Garrett raised his eyes to look at Abby, his face crestfallen. “You know I do, Abs,” he said miserably. “I’m gonna wet in my sleep, and I can’t pee in the bed.” Abby couldn’t argue. Garrett had wet the bed after his soccer accident in high school (for several days, in fact), and she couldn’t put him through the humiliation of wet sheets in a public setting. She shifted on the bed, patting the now-open spot next to her. “You’re not gonna fall asleep yet,” she said. “Come watch a show with me, and then we’ll set up something in the bathroom.” Garrett paused, then nodded. He practically melted into the bed, folding up next to his sister. Abby wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gave a squeeze. This wasn’t the best way to start their vacation, but they’d both survived Garrett’s accidents before. They could do it again.
  7. Well done! I'm so pleased with how you retained the original character of my story :)
  8. Thank you! I was glad I had time this past weekend to write it :) Thank you! I'm glad you like it. I'm not gonna continue this one, but I'm going to try to keep writing as long as I have time!
  9. Happy almost Halloween! *** The mood in the car was jovial and teasing. Kyle felt a tap on his shoulder and reached his hand backwards to grab the bottle that was being passed. He took a sip – certainly not his first beer, but there was still something special about drinking on your 21st birthday – and rejoined the spirited conversation. “It’s totally safe,” Ethan was insisting. “They’re legally not allowed to touch you or anything, so you can’t get hurt.” “OK, first of all, that’s completely false logic,” Kayla replied. “Just because they can’t touch you doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt. Hell, Baby Barton back there can’t walk ten feet without knocking something over!” “Hey!” Cody, Kyle’s youngest brother, protested from the back seat. “You know it’s true, man,” Kyle grinned. Cody was the biggest out of all five brothers already, but hadn’t quite developed the coordination to keep up with his size. “I know-” Cody took a swig from his own beer. “- but y’all aren’t allowed to call me Baby Barton anymore. I’m officially in college now. I’m a grown man!” The car filled with laughter. Cody had been stuck with the nickname literally since birth, but now that he’d joined his brothers at university, Kyle supposed it was fair that he wanted to leave that particular nomenclature behind. “Besides,” Kayla continued once the laughter died down, “it’s not about being physically hurt. These places are literally designed to mess with your brain. It’s not like you can prevent yourself from being scared just because you know you’re not going to be hurt. The brain doesn’t work like that.” “And that’s the point,” Kyle drawled, turning to wink at Kayla. “A little excitement is good for you!” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Distraction from our meaningless, consumer-driven lives? It’s a haunted house, Tyler Durden, not an uprising.” “You agreed to come!” Cody called from the back seat. “Shut up, Cody,” Kayla tossed a napkin back at him. “It’s Kyle’s birthday. He gets to make the plans.” “It’s my birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!” Kyle sang. He was only on his first beer, so he wasn’t even a little bit drunk (that would come later), but he was buzzing on the cool fall night, the presence of his friends and brothers, and the impending excitement of what was supposed to be one of the best haunted houses in the state. Despite being born in late October, Kyle had never been a devoted fan of Halloween. As the fourth of five brothers, he’d participated in his fair share of group costumes, but his parents had always made sure to make his birthday its own celebration. He hadn’t been forced onto hayrides or into pumpkin patches for his parties. Now, he was turning 21 at the beginning of his junior year of college. His two oldest brothers had already graduated, but Caleb, the middle child, was finishing a five-year architecture degree and had agreed to be one of the designated drivers for the night. Even though Cody was a freshman, it had never been a question of whether or not he would be invited to come along. The Barton Boys, as pretty much everyone in their hometown called them, were a close bunch. Growing up in a small town, Kyle had never really felt the stereotypical pull to escape or to distinguish himself from his brothers. He was easygoing and confident, secure in his role as neither the youngest nor the official middle child. When the time had come to choose a college, Kyle hadn’t even blinked before deciding on the same state university that two of his three older brothers attended. And when Cody had joined Kyle and Caleb this year, there wasn’t a hint of resentment. In all, there were about 15 people coming to the haunted house. Caleb was driving their old but reliable minivan, all seven seats filled. After the haunted house, the plan was to go back to Kyle’s apartment that he shared with Ethan, Greg, and Shawn for cheap drinks before heading out for the obligatory 21st-birthday trip to the college town bar. It had been Ethan’s idea to do the haunted house in the first place. Kyle wasn’t exactly a horror aficionado, but he liked the thought of doing something as a group other than just hanging out at his place. There weren’t a ton of options around their fairly rural university, but the timing of his birthday made the haunted house a perfect fit. Caleb pulled into the field that had been marked off for parking, and everyone climbed out of the van. Part of the draw of this particular attraction is that it was built into an actual abandoned Victorian mansion, surrounded by what probably would have been considered “moors” if it hadn’t been in the Midwestern United States. As it was, patrons parked on the grass and walked up a tree-lined drive, surrounded by recorded yet realistic sounds of wind and hooting owls. The remainder of the group parked and joined the occupants of Kyle’s van, reactions split between excitement and nervous chatter upon seeing the sinister edifice. Kyle downed the remainder of his beer and tossed the bottle into the front seat of the van before joining the group to walk up to the check-in table. He sidled up next to Kayla, who was eyeing the house skeptically. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. “There’s a waiting area in the back. You can just hang out there.” She bumped her shoulder against his affectionately. “I’ll be fine,” she promised. “Paying to be scared shitless might not be my idea of fun, but hanging out with you on your 21st birthday is.” Kyle felt the corner of his mouth tug upward. He and Kayla had met their freshman year when their respective roommates were dating. The relationship hadn’t lasted more than a few months, but Kyle and Kayla had remained close friends ever since. After growing up with four brothers, Kyle found Kayla’s comparatively gentle mannerisms (though she could certainly hold her own) were a refreshing source of support. He wrapped an arm around Kayla’s shoulders and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here. And you know I’m totally on board for whatever ridiculous activity you pick for your birthday. “Mmmmm…” Kayla leaned into Kyle’s embrace. “I’m thinking manicures. Maybe makeovers at Ulta.” Kyle burst out laughing. “Perfect. My smoky eye needs updating.” He was still laughing as they approached the check-in table. Kyle pulled out his wallet, but Caleb waved him away, having already paid. A worker gave them all releases to sign (Kayla glared pointedly at Kyle, but cooperated) and explained the rules: no more than five people in each group, keep moving forward, no touching of the actors, and they could ask for an early exit at any point. “People actually don’t make it through?” Ethan was smirking, but Cody actually looked nervous. “A few,” the worker answered, face neutral. Ethan wiggled his eyebrows, but Kayla just snorted. “Ugh. Let’s just do it. Enough intimidation.” They split up into groups of five, agreeing that Kyle should go in the first group. His brothers joined him, along with Kayla and Ethan. “No judging me when I scream,” Kayla ordered as their group approached the entrance. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be too busy screaming myself to do any judging,” Cody grumbled. Ethan rubbed his hands together gleefully, and even Caleb looked excited. Kyle couldn’t help but grin; he loved having his family and friends together for this little adventure. The front door creaked open, and they stepped inside. The mood inside the house was instantly creepy – the sound was somehow totally different, as if they’d stepped through a portal to another world instead of just crossed a threshold from outside. The initial shock of silence felt almost tangible, like all the air had been sucked out of the room in addition to all the sound. Kyle’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw they were standing in a hallway. The light was dim and had a bluish tone – Kyle wasn’t quite sure where the light was even coming from. As they slowly moved forward, Kyle realized that the house wasn’t truly silent. There were soft, distant sounds…whooshes, creaks, and some panicked-sounding whispers. Despite himself, Kyle felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. There was a high-pitched giggle, and a pale girl in a torn nightdress skittered across the hall behind them. Cody yelped, and Kayla squeaked and grabbed onto Kyle’s arm. Kyle patted her hand reassuringly, but his own heart was racing. He knew it was all fake, but something about the sounds and the dark was really getting to him. They turned the corner at the end of the hall, entering a dimly-lit room with blood smears on the wall and trashed furniture littering the floor. “Go back!” Kyle jumped and turned to see a bloody girl, seemingly missing an arm, crawling across the floor. “Get out while you can!” she moaned. “He’s coming!” A creaking sound made it sound like someone was coming into the room behind them. Ethan laughed, but everyone else looked at least a little nervous as the hustled through the room. Moving through the maze of rooms, Kyle was practically shuffling rather than walking. There seemed to be an impossible number of rooms and corridors, like they were going through a maze rather than a house. The whispers and creaks grew louder with each room, heightening a sense of urgency. The overall story seemed to be that they’d wandered into a house that was being ravaged by a mad serial killer. Each room and hallway had victims in various stage of dismemberment, moaning and shrieking for them to get out. Kyle knew it wasn’t real, of course, but Kayla had been right – something about the dark, the sounds, and the unpredictability was convincing his brain that he truly was in danger. He had goosebumps all over, and his stomach was clenched. The rest of the group was reacting more, too. Ethan kept laughing, almost maniacally; Cody and Kayla were nearly indistinguishable in their shouts and squeaks. Even Caleb yelled occasionally. Kyle wasn’t making quite as much noise, but he felt almost sick. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he kept getting more and more terrified. The rational part of his brain knew that he was in no danger, that he certainly wasn’t going to be maimed by an axe murderer. The increasingly powerful part of his brain was saying RUN! They were now on the second floor, having climbed a narrow, creaking set up stairs. The tone of the sounds became even more desperate, and Kyle could feel his heart beating in his throat. He fought against shutting his eyes, instead opting to focus on how, surely, it was almost over. He could feel Kayla behind him, not quite hanging onto his arm, but definitely (subconsciously) using him as a shield. They rounded a final corner into a room that was pitch-dark. Kyle stopped short, unable to see at all. Suddenly, bright lights flashed, simulating lightning. Flashes illuminated the outline of a huge, hulking figure wielding a very large chainsaw. The figure roared, visible only in half-seconds as the lights strobed irregularly. Every cell in Kyle’s body froze. He heard Kayla scream, but the noise came as if through a pillow, muffled and distant. He could feel the boys moving around him, punching and grabbing at each other, trying to find a way out. In the midst of it all, the feeling that most completely broke through Kyle’s terrified paralysis was that of liquid soaking into his jeans. He was wetting his pants. Kyle gasped, drawing in possibly the first breath since he’d entered the room. He pressed his knees together and manages to stop peeing, but not before the wetness reached all the way down his thighs. It was as if Kyle’s brain couldn’t process more than one thought at once. First, he’d been petrified by the man with the chainsaw. Then, he’d been horrified to figure out that he’d lost control of his bladder. While that was happening, he was being shoved toward the newly-illuminated way out by Ethan and his brothers, all frantically trying to escape, a fact he just started to notice now. Carried along by the momentum of his brothers and friends, Kyle burst out of the house onto a landing. Kayla’s screams and Cody’s shouts had turned into relieved giggles, while Ethan and Caleb raved about the experience. The outside of the house was slightly more illuminated, but it was dark enough outside that nobody seemed to notice the stain down the front of Kyle’s pants. They clattered down the wooden stairs, stumbling giddily toward the designated area to wait for their friends. Kyle took one look at the well-lit tent and veered away from the group, rounding the side of the house. He heard the sounds of his friends fade as they continued toward the tent, seemingly unaware that he’d disappeared. Leaning against the siding, Kyle tried to slow his ragged, panting breaths. He stood in the shadows, which felt fairly safe at the moment, but he knew that he wasn’t safe for long. His soaked jeans pressed heavily against his thighs. Kyle looked down to confirm that, yes, evidence of his accident was very much visible. There was no way he’d be able to face his friends without them knowing what he’d done. He felt fuzzy, like his brain had been replaced by cotton fluff. Just 20 minutes ago, he’d been so content, so pleased to be hanging out with his friends and brothers for his birthday. Now, he just felt stupid and childish – the baby who was unable to handle his own birthday party activity. “There you are!” Kyle cringed. Kayla sounded so happy, on an adrenaline high from surviving the haunted house. “What are you doing back here?” Kayla sounded so unsuspicious. “Come and join us! Brady’s group should be out soon!” Kyle blinked. Kayla wasn’t standing right in front of him, and she apparently hadn’t noticed his wet pants yet. Kayla took a step closer when Kyle didn’t respond. “Kyle?” Another few seconds passed before Kyle opened his mouth. “I can’t.” Kayla took another step forward, reaching out a hand. “You can’t? Kyle, what happened? Are you hurt? Are-“ She cut herself off as she got close enough to see the darkness on Kyle’s jeans. Kyle raised his head to look at her, but his eyes had no tears – only shame. “Oh, Kyle…” Kayla moved to comfort him, but she was cut off by an even more unwelcome sound. “What’s goin’ on, dude? That was awesome!” Kyle closed his eyes, delaying the sight of Ethan and his brothers approaching. “Hey, what’s…whoa!” Kyle heard a snort of laughter from Cody, followed by an “Ow!” which definitely meant that Caleb had punched him to shut him up. There was nearly a minute of horrible, shameful silence as Kyle’s roommate and brothers took in the situation but couldn’t figure out how to handle it. Kyle opened his eyes, but kept his head down, completely unable to make eye contact. “Ethan, go back and wait for the other groups,” Kayla finally said, quietly but firmly. Kyle raised his eyes just enough to see Ethan nod. “What do I tell them?” Kayla drew in a breath, thinking. “Tell them that Kyle decided we didn’t have enough booze back at the apartment, so Caleb took us to buy more. I went with them to make sure they bought something drinkable, not just cheap, shitty beer.” Ethan nodded again, agreeing with the plan as if it was totally normal, not a cover for a grown man pissing himself. “I can probably talk them into stopping and buying our own contributions, since it’s Kyle’s birthday and all. Give y’all a few more minutes.” Ethan clasped hands with Caleb, glanced in Kyle’s direction (Kyle was still avoiding eye contact), and turned to jog back to the tent. “That should give us at least a half hour.” Kayla put a hand gently on Kyle’s arm. “But we should probably get going.” Kyle started walking, letting Kayla guide him toward the car. He couldn’t put together a coherent thought. He hated the awkward silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak or assure his brothers that everything was OK. Everything wasn’t OK. He’d just been so scared by a fake scenario that he’d peed his pants. In public, no less. The 15-minute drive back to Kyle’s apartment was suffocating. Caleb turned on the radio, but no one seemed to be willing to start a conversation. Kyle had unconsciously avoided the front seat, so he sat in the middle with Kayla. Caleb pulled up in front of Kyle’s apartment, but didn’t even turn off the car. “Any requests?” he asked, knowing full well that only Kayla would answer. “White Claw, please,” Kayla requested. “Raspberry or mango.” Caleb flashed a thumbs-up. “We’ll grab some snacks, too. Back in 20 minutes.” Kyle had just enough presence of mind to pull his keys out of his pocket at the door. Kayla followed him in and flipped on the lights, but Kyle just stood in the middle of the living room, trapped between wanting to say something and just wanting to hide in his room for the rest of the night. Kayla sighed, but it wasn’t exasperated. “Kyle, it’s fine,” she murmured. “The house was wild. We were all scared.” Kyle just stared at her, clearly not accepting her argument. She tried another tactic. “No one else has to know. Just go get changed real quick. The night is still young.” Kyle’s shoulder’s slumped, but he knew he didn’t have another good option. Short of lying to everyone more and claiming sickness, he wasn’t going to get out of his own birthday party. He turned toward his room, but stopped when he heard a brief sniff of laughter from Kayla. Apprehensive, he turned back around. She was looking at her phone and smiling. She glanced up at Kyle, eyes sparkling. “Ethan just texted,” she explained. “The last group just came out, and both Tyler and Egan pissed themselves.” She smiled encouragingly. “Ethan didn’t say anything about you, of course. He just said that those two are going home to change, so we’ve got a bit more time before everyone gets here.” Kyle exhaled slowly, feeling like his brain was finally solidifying after being turned to fuzz. “Thanks, Kay,” he whispered, managing the ghost of a smile. Maybe his birthday was still salvageable after all.
  10. Aww, thank you! Thanks! Glad you liked it! It was a total fluke, but I'm glad you liked it!
  11. OK, I had another idea. Y'all don't mind if I just write every story from now on about these two, right? 😉 *** Robbie gripped the handles of the wheelchair tightly to keep his hands from shaking. The nurse was explaining some basic care instructions, and he really was trying to listen, but the fact that TJ was finally coming home had Robbie overwhelmed by a flood of conflicting emotions. “Yes, sir,” TJ said in response to the nurse’s instructions, looking infinitely less stressed than Robbie. Which, Robbie supposed, meant that he was doing something right. “And you’ll come back next week for Dr. Carter to check your progress, and they’ll evaluate you to see if you’ll need physical therapy,” the nurse continued. He was talking to both of them, but looking at TJ. Robbie nodded robotically, regardless. “Then you’re all set!” The nurse reached out to shake TJ’s hand. “Glad to see you go, Mr. Masters!” TJ beamed. “Thanks, Allen. I really appreciate all your help. And everyone’s.” Robbie resisted the urge to reach out and stroke TJ’s hair. He’d only been in the hospital for a week, but Robbie’s stomach still clenched at the thought of seeing his boyfriend lying in a bed, post-surgery, monitors hooked up to his chest and abdomen. Taking a deep breath, Robbie pushed TJ through the automatic doors. Although he was excited to have TJ back in their dorm, physically setting foot outside the hospital suddenly felt terrifying, as if TJ would shatter without the safety of medical professionals around him at all times. “Please breathe.” Robbie blinked at the unexpected request from TJ. “What?” “I can feel how tight you’re holding the chair,” TJ explained. “You’re gonna give yourself arthritis.” Looking down, Robbie saw that his knuckles were indeed white with tension. He forced himself to relax his grip as he pushed the chair to the adjacent parking lot. “Sorry.” They reached Robbie’s car, and TJ pushed himself out of the chair before Robbie could protest. Even injured, TJ’s every movement spoke of the work-honed strength of his capable body, and Robbie found himself briefly marveling at his toughness. TJ locked eyes with Robbie. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider. Instead, he smiled, and Robbie felt some of the tension in his own chest release. “You ready to go home?” Robbie asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Exhaling, TJ nodded. To Robbie, he already looked tired, just from standing for a few seconds. Robbie unlocked the car door for TJ to slide inside, making sure he was settled before closing the door and returning the wheelchair to the hospital entrance. On the short walk back to the car, Robbie closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself for his responsibilities. According to all the doctors, TJ’s prognosis was flawless. His surgery had gone perfectly, his shoulder was healing beautifully, and his general youth and fitness had both protected him from more serious injury and expedited his recovery. Still, healing from a rupture spleen and dislocated shoulder (among other, more minor injuries) was no joke, and Robbie was determined to provide every bit of care that TJ needed, no matter what. Back in the car, TJ’s eyelids were already drooping, but he opened them when Robbie arrived. Preempting an anticipated apology, Robbie reached across and opened the glove box. “Look at this!” He pulled out a temporary accessible hangtag and attached it to the rearview mirror. TJ blushed faintly, but smiled. “You only did that because you knew I’d be too tired to fight you on it.” “Damn straight,” Robbie smirked, trying to ignore all the other answers that had popped up in his mind. He knew that TJ wouldn’t appreciate being babied or pitied, and Robbie knew that a big part of caring for him would be making sure that care wasn’t smothering or condescending. Robbie drove more carefully than he usually did, periodically glancing over at TJ to make sure he was OK. It wasn’t too far of a drive from the hospital to campus, and Robbie was able to park in a designated spot right next to their dorm. Robbie grabbed TJ’s bag from the back seat and positioned himself right at TJ’s shoulder for the trek up to their room. As freshman, Robbie and TJ had been able to request each other as roommates. Although many students lived off campus in later years, TJ’s work study allotment gave him free dorm housing, so Robbie had willingly stayed as a sophomore. Though basic, their room was in the corner of the hall, so it was quiet and benefitted from windows on two sides. They had enough space that they didn’t have to bunk or loft their beds, a fact that Robbie was currently more grateful for than ever. TJ wordlessly consented to taking the elevator, and flopped onto his bed as soon as they entered the room. “I should check my email,” he said, even though his eyes were already shut. “It can wait,” Robbie insisted, emptying the contents of TJ’s bag into the laundry hamper. “I need to catch up on work,” TJ mumbled, though the quirk of his lips indicated that he knew he wasn’t going to accomplish anything just yet, and any assertion otherwise was mostly to tease Robbie. “You don’t have much,” Robbie promised, “and I have everything you need listed and organized on your desk.” TJ’s eyes fluttered open, and he fixed Robbie with a disarmingly sleepy smile. “You’re the best.” Robbie attempted a smile in return. “Rest,” he ordered. “It’s not even 10 AM. You have plenty of time to start catching up.” TJ may have been asleep before Robbie even finished talking. Robbie stared lovingly for a few seconds before resuming his work of cleaning out TJ’s bag and preparing the laundry. After making sure TJ’s phone was on silent, Robbie sent him a text to say he’d be down in the laundry room, just in case TJ woke up when Robbie wasn’t there. Having never really dealt with any trauma or emergency before, Robbie had been somewhat surprised to find out that he was not the kind of person to melt down in the face of stress. On the contrary, it turned out that he was an organizer, and he’d filled his time since TJ’s accident with everything from communicating with TJ’s professors to sharing updates with Mr. and Mrs. Masters back home to researching surgery and recovery studies. Now that TJ was back on campus, Robbie figured he would continue filing his time with work. He’d skipped his own classes for the past week (not that he would have been able to concentrate on lectures, anyway), but TJ would be appalled if Robbie kept up his absences. So it would be class, meals, watching over TJ, making sure TJ ate, helping TJ catch up on work… Robbie all but sprinted back up to their room after putting the laundry in the washing machine, but TJ hadn’t stirred. He slept until after noon before blinking awake with a scratchy groan. The entire afternoon and evening passed not entirely unlike a pre-accident weekend day. Both young men worked on a few assignments, watched TV, and ordered a pizza for dinner. Of course, TJ didn’t go to work, and his movements were slower than usual, but, other than his arm sling, there were no overt signals that he’d spent the past week in the hospital. Still, Robbie watched carefully, unable to fully relax. The past week had been the worst of his life, and he wanted to do everything possible to prevent TJ from feeling even the slightest discomfort or strain. At around 9:30, TJ sat up from his position on the couch and yawned. “I think that’s about as much as I’ve got in me today,” he said. He leaned over and kissed Robbie on the cheek. “Thanks for such a great welcome home.” Robbie smiled back. “Couldn’t wait to have you back.” He watched TJ brush his teeth and slide into bed. Robbie turned off the overhead light and flipped on his desk lamp, but he couldn’t make any progress on his term paper. He kept looking over at TJ, checking to see if he was comfortable, if he had woken up, if he was still breathing… After another half hour or so, Robbie gave up. He was tired, anyway – he’d gotten up way earlier than he usually would have on a Saturday to get to the hospital in advance of TJ’s release. He looked over at TJ one more time before turning off the light and slipping under the covers. *** It was an unseasonably warm March Saturday, and Robbie was breathing deeply as he strolled across campus to meet his boyfriend. TJ was scheduled to get off work at 5, and he and Robbie had plans to go to dinner and a movie. The worksite was a new psychology building on the east side of campus. Most work-study students were assigned to jobs in the dining hall or something, but due to the many new construction projects on campus, TJ had been able to leverage his substantial contracting experience into a building job that both covered his work study and paid extra. At the site, Robbie was immediately able to pick out TJ from through the fence. He was standing stop a three-story scaffolding tower, doing…well, Robbie didn’t know exactly what TJ was doing, only that he looked better than anyone had a right to in a hard hat and day-glo safety vest. The foreman called up to TJ, likely signaling the end of his shift, and Robbie raised his hand to wave as TJ turned around, but stopped when he heard shouting. A backhoe or a forklift or one of the machines that Robbie never bothered learning the name of was rumbling toward the partially-constructed building, not fast, but clearly out of control. Men shouted and scrambled, and TJ stepped toward the ladder to climb down, but it was too late. The machine clipped the pole at the bottom, and the entire scaffolding structure came crashing to the ground. *** Robbie bolted awake, sitting straight up in bed and clapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the gasp he'd let out. He felt himself peeing through his pajama pants, just like he had upon awakening every night for the past week, but knew by now that it was useless to try to stop. He looked over at TJ’s bed, blinking in the darkness, but thankfully, he didn’t seem disturbed. Robbie let out a slow sigh, wiping the tears that had gathered in his eyes with the back of his hand. His stream slowed to a stop, and he was left sitting in a shallow puddle that wouldn't sink into the plastic university mattress. He’d half-hoped that the nightmare would stop now that TJ was back in their room, but clearly, the terror of watching his boyfriend tumble in three stories of wood and rebar wasn’t going away that easily. As quietly as he could, Robbie peeled back the blankets to inspect the damage he could feel around his groin. The horrifying dream wasn’t the only nightly occurrence Robbie endured since TJ’s injury, though now, he was faced with cleaning up without waking his boyfriend. Closing his eyes, Robbie sat for a moment. He was still shaking from the nightmare, and he tried to remind himself that it was all OK. Despite how horrid the collapse had looked, TJ had never even lost consciousness. His abdomen had taken the brunt of the damage, including a ruptured spleen, and he’d dislocated his shoulder, but it could have been much worse. Robbie had been allowed to ride in the ambulance, and TJ had (unsurprisingly) remained calm, even when rushed into surgery. The cognitive exercise of focusing on the positives didn’t really do a whole lot to slow Robbie’s racing heart, though, so he decided just to get on with it. His wet pajama pants clung to his legs as he stood up. He didn’t dare turn on a light; he just gathered all the sheets from his bed, hoping that his pillow and blanket had been spared. Stepping softly, Robbie placed the wet sheets in the empty hamper (he’d make up some excuse tomorrow if TJ commented on the additional laundry). Of course, his second set of sheets had been washed earlier that afternoon, so he pulled them out from the bottom of his wardrobe. He decided against fully making up the bed, though, and just unfolded the sheets and laid them over the mattress before turning to clean himself up. “Robbie?” Robbie froze. He was facing TJ’s bed, but surely it was too dark for him to see anything. His shock and worry prevented Robbie from responding right away, and before he knew it, TJ was pushing himself up into a seated position. “Is everything OK?” “It’s fine! Go back to sleep!” Robbie responded far too quickly and intensely to be of any comfort, and TJ reached over to turn on his bedside lamp. “Rob?” TJ blinked in the dim light, concerned. “What happened? Are you OK?” “No, I’m fine,” Robbie pleaded, his voice shaking. “Go back to sleep, it’s fine.” TJ started to push his own blankets back. “Rob, what’s-“ “No, stop!” Robbie begged, unable to stop his eyes from filling with tears. TJ had gone to bed without a shirt on, and his surgical scar stood out down the middle of his upper abdomen. TJ’s eyebrows drew together, and he moved to stand. “Robbie, let me help.” “You’re hurt!” Robbie blurted, his voice breaking completely. TJ froze, sitting on the edge of his bed, poised to stand. Then he relented, looking sad. “So are you.” Robbie felt his lower lip start to quiver. He just wanted TJ to turn off the light and go back to sleep; he just wanted to throw himself in TJ’s arms and let himself be comforted. The conflicting desires, coupled with the lingering terror of his recurring nightmare, paralyzed Robbie, leaving him standing in the lamplight in urine-drenched pants. For a few moments, the two simply stared at one another, each silently pleading for their own outcome. Finally, TJ spoke again. “Rob, it’s OK. Go get changed. I’ll wait for you.” Robbie wanted to protest, but TJ had made up his mind and he did, in fact, need to get changed. He hesitated for only a moment before grabbing a clean pair of sweats from the drawer, taking his washcloth from the rack, and heading to the bathroom. He hadn’t bothered to check the time, but the hallway was empty and silent. In the bathroom, Robbie took deep breaths and splashed cold water on his face. He was determined to at least look calm when he got back to the room, so he could convince TJ that everything was fine. He changed quickly, wiping down his lower half. He didn’t want to keep TJ waiting. Back in the room, TJ was sitting propped up against the head of the bed. The lamp was still on, casting low shadows around the room. TJ didn’t say anything when Robbie walked in, giving him a moment to deposit his wet things in the hamper. Although Robbie had sworn he would be calm and reassure TJ that he could just go back to sleep, seeing his boyfriend wait so patiently destroyed Robbie’s determination. “Come here,” TJ said gently, patting the space on the bed next to him, and the last of Robbie’s resolve melted. He sat on the bed and curled under TJ’s waiting arm. TJ held him for a moment until Robbie was able to speak. “I’m sorry I woke you up,” he murmured. “You need sleep.” “Have you been sleeping?” TJ countered. Robbie teared up again, frustration rising from his desire to care for TJ. “It’s not about me!” he exclaimed. “You’re the invalid, here. I’m supposed to take care of you.” “You are taking care of me,” TJ said softly. Robbie hummed a slight dissent. “No, you are,” TJ insisted, “but listen.” He drew his arm back from its embrace around Robbie’s shoulders and grasped his hand instead, threading their fingers together. “Do you think for one second that I would be OK with seeing you hurt?” Despite the early (late?) hour, TJ’s voice was full of emotion. “If I had to watch you in a hospital after emergency surgery, I’d be an absolute mess.” Robbie gripped TJ’s hand. “But I’m supposed to take care of you,” he repeated, trying one last time to claim emotional high ground. TJ squeezed Robbie’s hand back. “But you need taken care of, too. And as long as I’m capable, I’m gonna try to do that.” Robbie leaned against TJ’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted. Over the past two and a half years of their relationship, he and TJ had developed a wonderfully effective mutual support system. It wasn’t until this very moment that he realized how much he depended on TJ’s support and how much having that balance upset over the past week had affected him. “Seriously, Rob,” TJ said. “how much have you been sleeping?” “Some,” Robbie answered, vaguely but honestly. “So this has been happening every night?” Part of their successful mutual support system was that TJ and Robbie had learned each other’s respective language – what they were and weren’t saying. So of course, TJ had accurately interpreted Robbie’s one-word response. “Yes,” Robbie admitted, almost shyly. Even to the person you love most in the world, it’s not fun to acknowledge that you’ve wet the bed every night for a solid week. “I keep dreaming of the collapse.” TJ leaned his head against Robbie’s and sighed. “I’m so sorry I scared you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you got hurt,” Robbie replied. “So am I,” TJ said, “but you know it’s going to happen. Not an entire scaffolding collapse, hopefully,” he added quickly, “but shit is going to happen to both of us. Big things, sometimes. And we can’t…” TJ trailed off, and Robbie smiled. TJ wasn’t the talker in the relationship, but Robbie knew what he was trying to say. “We can’t burn ourselves out trying to support each other without letting ourselves be cared for in return,” he finished TJ’s thought for him. TJ sighed in relief at not having to verbally express himself any further. “So you promise, then?” TJ said, clutching Robbie's hand in his. "You'll let me help next time?" Robbie lifted TJ's hand and kissed it. "I promise."
  12. I'm so glad you liked it! I have to admit, I was a sucker for that image myself! Oh, yay! I was kind of surprised by how much affection I developed for these characters. They're definitely going to end up happy in the long run 🙂
  13. I do love these characters. This scenario has nothing to do with continuity, but then again, I never planned this to have multiple parts, anyway. I have no more ideas for these two, so I hope you like this last story! *** “Hey.” The sound of Robbie’s voice pulled TJ out of the haze he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. TJ turned to smile at his boyfriend, marveling that he got to be on the receiving end of the affectionate look on Robbie’s face. “Already tired?” Robbie teased. “It’s only been a half hour, and we’re supposed to take care of these rug rats all weekend.” “I’m not a rug rat!” One of the first graders sitting behind Robbie on the bus yelped indignantly, and TJ grinned. “Oh, yeah?” he teased the boy, leaning out into the aisle. “What are you, then?” “I’m Batman!” Both TJ and Robbie burst out laughing at the kid’s growly attempt at an impersonation, and the boy beamed, all rug-rat-based annoyance gone. TJ turned back to Robbie, still laughing. “I’m good. I just forgot how exhausting it was wrangling all these kids.” Robbie nodded in agreement, eyes wide. “Who knew that getting 40 elementary school students on a bus was such a challenge?” “I should have warned you.” Robbie waved his hand dismissively. “You did.” He grinned at TJ, and TJ let out an involuntary sigh of contentment. “I knew what I was getting into.” It was a pleasant, early-spring weekend. TJ and Robbie had been officially dating since November and were now reveling in the delightful period of adoring each other and hanging out as much as possible before they really started facing the fact that they’d be graduating soon and would have to confront not being together nearly every day. In the spirit of that emotional revelry, TJ had invited Robbie to join him as a volunteer on his yearly youth church retreat. TJ’s church took their elementary school parishoners to a retreat center, about an hour away, for a weekend of singing, crafts, and other tangentially-religious activities. TJ had attended as a child, and, for the past few years, he’d volunteered as a youth leader. Unwilling to spend an entire weekend away from Robbie, TJ had been delighted when he’d agreed to come along. Now, they were both sitting toward the front of the bus, on opposite sides of the aisle. Though not exact, the retreat participants were generally arranged in order of increasing age, with the first graders sitting behind Robbie and TJ and the fifth graders occupying the seats in the back. TJ had told Robbie that they didn’t have to share seats with the kids, but he wanted them both to sit on the aisle, so they could be readily available. The bus was an old school bus, with flat, bench seats. There were seat belts installed, but TJ was pretty sure that most of the kids hadn’t bothered putting them on. It had been a hard enough battle making sure that the kids stuck to sitting two per bench. They weren’t long into the drive – despite what he’d said, the actual loading of the bus hadn’t taken too long – so they still had a little over 45 minutes to go. The bus was filled with cheerful chatter, but nothing overly loud or obnoxious. Leaning back against the seat again, TJ allowed himself to become a bit distracted again. He hadn’t lied to Robbie, of course – loading the bus had been chaotic – but he was also focusing a little bit on his own body. Much to his own chagrin, TJ had to pee. It wasn’t bad, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it on the bus, a fact that made him more anxious than it would have a year ago. He was fine. His need wasn’t urgent at all, but wetting yourself twice in a matter of weeks as an 18-year-old sticks with a guy. It wasn’t even that he was worried about what Robbie would think. Over the course of the academic year, as he and Robbie had gotten to know each other, TJ had been more than a little surprised to find out how much they had in common. They were both problem-solvers, unwilling to just sit back in the face of a challenge. Granted, TJ’s skills were much more tangible and functional – first aid, navigating, and, obviously, building and engineering. In contrast, Robbie was a negotiator, a comforter, with social and verbal skills that TJ still marveled at. It was quite a good match, really. In most given situations, TJ could fix things and Robbie could fix people. With that thought, TJ smiled reflexively to himself. He loved and trusted TJ, and the gratitude he felt for this weekend they were about to spend together relaxed him momentarily. That relaxation was abruptly shattered by a bone-rattling clap of thunder. TJ jumped in his seat, and several children screamed. He wasn’t surprised to hear Robbie instantly respond with light, calming words. TJ looked out the front window, and his stomach sank. Some of the darkest storm clouds he’d even seen loomed ahead, directly in their path. He pulled out his phone and quickly examined the forecast – sure enough, there was a bright red line of storms across the highway. The system wasn’t wide, thank goodness, but it looked rough. The pastor was speaking in low tones to the bus driver, who was assuring him that it would be safe to drive through. TJ agreed with that assessment. It wouldn’t be fun, but the highway they were on wasn’t in a flood zone, so, as long as they went slowly, they weren’t at risk to get washed away. Of course, the 40 or so six-to-eleven-year-olds on the bus might not feel quite as comforted. Robbie locked eyes with TJ, who shrugged and nodded to communicate yes, they’d be going forward. Robbie nodded back, then stood in the middle of the aisle. “Friends!” he called in a voice that was miraculously loud without ever being harsh. “I know that was some really loud thunder, and those clouds look scary, but we have the best bus driver in the whole world, and we are totally safe.” All of the kids, both those teasing and those who were genuinely scared, had quieted at the sound of Robbie’s voice, so he continued. “We’re gonna slow down a little bit when we get into the rain –“ In fact, rain was already starting to slap against the bus windows “- but we will get to Sunrise Acres really soon!” Robbie had barely sat back down (the pastor smiled his thanks) when a small voice piped up. “Mister TJ?” TJ turned to see little Batman (whose real name was Davis) staring at him with wide eyes. “Can…can we sit with you? Me and Auggie don’t like thunderstorms.” “Of course, buddy.” TJ could practically feel Robbie’s admiring gaze on him as he stood and shifted back to sit between the boys. “Us, too!” Another pair of kids from across the aisle requested, and Robbie imitated TJ’s move to join the young boys. The sky had darkened sharply, and rain lashed loudly against the bus. Cars in front of them had slowed, their hazard lights flashing red. Thunder, though not quick as loud as the first crack, boomed sporadically. They were going well below the speed limit, and TJ and Robbie both had first graders snuggled against their sides. TJ squirmed slightly. The initial crash of thunder had snapped his nerves into high alert, which was not good for his bladder. Now, knowing that not only would their trip take substantially longer, but that he was functionally stuck in his seat, unable to do much to alleviate any urgency, TJ felt a lot worse about his chances than he had ten minutes ago. “You OK?” Though quiet, Robbie’s question reached TJ in the now-quiet bus. Attempting a smile, TJ turned to his boyfriend. He knew he couldn’t lie; just the fact that Robbie was asking in that tone meant that he’d already noticed TJ’s discomfort. “I’m…a little disappointed that the trip is gonna take longer,” he explained vaguely. Robbie’s shoulders slumped in sympathy, and TJ knew he’d gotten his point across. He felt his face warm with the veiled admission. He felt stupid and childish – he was fine, he knew he should be able to hold it for the rest of the ride, and nothing in Robbie’s response had given any indication of disgust or embarrassment. Still, TJ felt his muscles tense slowly. He’d never explicitly discussed his accidents with Robbie, not even after Robbie had wet himself while hiking (TJ still felt awful). They were dating, so clearly Robbie wasn’t that bothered, but TJ couldn’t help but question himself now. Just the knowledge that it could happen, that wetting himself was far within the realm of possibility, made him feel nervous and unsteady. There was a bright flash of lightning, followed by a near-simultaneous crash of thunder. Davis squeaked, and he and Auggie buried their faces under TJ’s arms. TJ looked across the aisle and saw that Robbie was in virtually the exact same pose. TJ wasn’t sure how far they’d gone. It was too dark to recognize any of the landmarks around them, so he could only hope that they’d get through the storm soon. He pressed his legs together, frustrated at how much his need had grown over such a short time. Staring forward, TJ thought he could see a tiny bit of light on the horizon, signaling that they were nearing the back edge of the storm system. He didn’t know how fast the clouds were moving, but the bus was traveling at about 25 miles per hour (much slower than the posted 65-mile-per-hour speed limit), and TJ estimated they only had about ten more minutes before the rain started to let up. He was just about to tell Davis and Auggie that they were getting close when the loudest thunderclap yet shook the bus. Auggie – and half the kids on the bus, it sounded like – shrieked, and Davis started to cry. Robbie, whose charges were huddled but comparatively calm, glanced over at TJ, who started rubbing Davis’ back. “It’s OK, bud,” he murmured. “We’re almost out of the storm. You’re safe, I promise.” Davis sniffled and mumbled something against TJ’s side. “What was that, bud?” Davis sniffled again, but lifted his face out of TJ’s shirt. “The thunder made me pee my pants,” he whispered, voice shaking. TJ looked down and realized that he could feel wetness against the side of his leg. The sensation only worsened his own desperation, but he made sure not to show his discomfort to the boys. “That’s OK,” he assured Davis quietly. “Thunder can be scary sometimes.” Davis wiped his nose on the collar of his shirt and nestled under TJ’s arm. “We’ll get you cleaned up when we get to the cabins,” TJ promised, squeezing his own thigh muscles as discreetly as possible. Davis didn’t respond, so TJ just sighed quietly and sat back. He’d been right before; they were definitely close to coming out of the storm. The rain had lessened slightly, and TJ felt the bus speed up a little. Some of the older kids in the back had already noticed the decreased tension and had picked up some more casual conversations. TJ breathed a sigh of relief a few minutes later when they officially crossed out of the storm. Driving out from under the clouds was like going from night to day. He felt Auggie straighten a bit beside him, though Davis kept leaning against his side. He made eye contact with Robbie, who raised his eyebrows in a silent question of how TJ was doing. TJ raised and lowered one shoulder. He was definitely uncomfortable, but tried to convince himself that he’d be OK now that the bus was driving the speed limit again. “Another half hour, guys!” the pastor called, resulting in a semi-sarcastic cheer from some of the students. TJ shifted his hips. “What’s the plan when we get there?” The pastor looked at his watch. “It’ll be nearly time for dinner by the time we get there – much closer than we intended, obviously. I think we’ll take the group straight to the dining hall and let the retreat staff supervise. We’ll sort out the bags and take them to their respective cabins.” Nodding, TJ looked down at Davis, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to listen. “We might have a few kids who want to change before dinner,” he said, trying to be tactful. The pastor leaned into the aisle a little and seemed to realize what TJ was implying. “No problem,” he said. “I’ll have Nurse Laurie take any kids who need it to change in the med building before dinner.” TJ felt himself relax the slightest bit. He, Robbie, the pastor, and a few other high school volunteers were the only “grown-ups” on the bus, but there was a caravan following them with other parents and church staff. And that meant that TJ might not have to be wholly responsible for the kids and their stuff when they got to the retreat center. Holding onto the thought that he could more or less run to a bathroom as soon as they arrived, TJ clenched his muscles to prepare for the remainder of the trip. Robbie gave him some comforting looks, but they didn’t talk much, as none of the first graders next to them seemed to be willing to let them return to their original seats. Thankfully, the rest of the trip went as smoothly as possible. The sun was on its way down by the time they pulled onto the retreat center property, but it was still plenty light out to see all of the buildings. “Now listen!” the pastor called as the bus pulled into the parking lot next to the dining hall. “We’re gonna go straight in to dinner. Please go to the bathroom to wash your hands first, and then we’ll pray before we eat. Volunteers, please make sure anyone who needs it goes with Nurse Laurie to the med building, which is right over there.” He pointed out the window to the smaller building next to the dining hall. The ride had been tense, and virtually every passenger stood up as soon as the bus parked. Robbie looked eagerly at TJ, who was standing very stiffly. He desperately wanted to be able to hold himself but didn’t dare until all the kids were gone. Sitting at the front meant they got to be some of the first ones off the bus, which helped. TJ clenched his jaw as he climbed down the steep bus steps, and nearly groaned when he felt himself leak. He quickly pushed aside the shameful sensation and looked around, still holding Davis’ hand. The adults from the cars behind them were already pulled luggage from the storage spaces under the bus and sorting it into piles. Smiling retreat staff were waiting off to the side, ready to usher the group into the dining hall. TJ spotted the nurse and led his little friend over to her. Nurse Laurie, who TJ knew from pretty much all his previous trips to this retreat, smiled and took Davis’ hand. “Hi, buddy! We’ll get you ready for dinner in no time.” She turned to TJ. “Can you find his bag?” TJ was nodding before he could even consider the implications of the extra minutes it would take to find Davis’ luggage and bring it to the nurse. He wouldn’t have said no, of course, but he really didn’t have any time to spare. Next to the bus, Robbie had already joined the luggage-identification process. TJ felt a surge of affection for his boyfriend. Robbie wasn’t just tagging along to spend time with him; he was really helping out in any way he could. Robbie smiled encouragingly, if concernedly, as TJ approached. In response, TJ could only manage a slight grimace. He needed to go so badly, and not being able to physically hold himself was agonizing. “Just go,” Robbie whispered. Nearly tearing up at his boyfriend’s concern, TJ shook his head. “I need to get Batman’s bag.” “I’ll get it,” Robbie insisted. “His last name is Holland, right? Just go. We’ve got this.” Overwhelmed with gratitude, TJ considered kissing Robbie, but decided against it. Instead, he jogged off toward the volunteer cabin. As he rounded a corner, TJ grasped frantically at his crotch. He’d chosen this route in an instant, knowing that there would be lines in the dining hall bathrooms and, this way, he could hold himself and be much less likely to be seen. TJ stumbled through the door of the familiar cabin, fruitlessly trying to hold back the leaks that were springing against his hand. He slammed open the door to the bathroom, but it was too late. Being out of sight of everyone else and in sight of a bathroom, was too much, and his bladder gave out entirely. Moaning unconsciously, TJ curled forward. Streams of warm liquid snaked down both of his legs, pooling on the old, tile floor. The toilet was right in front of him, but the shame of having already wet himself was paralyzing, and he made no effort to move in front of the bowl. The entire cabin was silent, save for the sound of a few final drips of urine trickling onto the floor from TJ’s wet pants. He drew in a deep, shaky breath before reaching for the paper towel dispenser. His movements were almost robotic. He felt completely empty, not just physically, but emotionally. He didn’t cry, or even tear up. He was the Tin Man, his bladder and his chest utterly hollow. TJ wiped up the puddle on the floor, even going so far as to wet some paper towels in the sink and run them over the tile to try to clean any stickiness. Once the floor was cleaned, however, he stopped. Standing in the middle of the bathroom, wet pants clinging to his legs, TJ realized that he couldn’t do anything else. His bag was still back with the bus, so he couldn’t change, and he certainly wasn’t going to risk going out to find it. Not looking like this. Shoulders slumped, TJ slunk outside. The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but the east side of the building was shadowed. TJ slid down against the outer wall of the building, burying his head in his arms. “Teej?” Robbie’s voice came from inside the cabin, and it occurred to TJ that he hadn’t shut the front door behind him. Rude. Before he had time to respond, Robbie appeared around the side of the building. “Hey,” Robbie murmured, joining him on the ground. “I had an accident.” TJ wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to say that out loud. Robbie knew the situation, and it was still plenty light enough for him to see the stain all down TJ’s pants. Robbie was silent for a moment, and TJ looked up to see his boyfriend gazing at him with a look of unadulterated tenderness. He opened his mouth to say something, but TJ spoke first. “I know,” he promised, anticipating what Robbie was going to say. “I’m not…I know you don’t care. I know you’re not gonna break up with me or think I’m gross or…” TJ trailed off. He wasn’t as good with words as Robbie, and he couldn’t quite describe what he was feeling. After a moment, Robbie spoke softly. “I’m glad you know that.” He had the barest of smiles on his face. “It means I’ve done something right this year.” TJ’s lips twitched, but he was still feeling to empty to smile properly. Robbie reached out and brushed the back of TJ’s hand lightly. “So what can I do?” TJ tilted his head to the side, and Robbie took the signal to scoot closer, his shoulder pressed against TJ’s. TJ leaned over, resting his cheek against the top of Robbie’s head. “I don’t know if you can,” he said honestly. Robbie squeezed his hand, but didn’t say anything, so TJ continued. “I know you don’t care,” he repeated, “but I’ve…I’ve pissed myself three times now.” His voice started to shake, and he inhaled to steady it. “It’s not just in front of you. It’s that I’ve done it at all.” TJ finally felt himself start to tear up. “I’m eighteen, damnit. I’m not supposed to be wetting myself at all, much less three whole times, dead sober, awake…” Verbalizing his accumulated shame from the past several months made TJ feel like his sternum was cracking in half. Robbie shifted even closer, holding TJ’s hand between both of his. “I don’t like it,” TJ said, “and I don’t know if I can feel better right now, because I’m an 18-year-old guy who’s pissed himself three times since September, and…” He sighed, learning into Robbie. “I don’t like it.” Robbie was still quiet, gently stroking TJ’s hand. TJ felt drained, even though he hadn’t spoken that much. “OK.” TJ was too tired to sit up, but he wrinkled his eyebrows at Robbie’s simple statement. “What?” “OK,” Robbie repeated. He turned his head to kiss TJ’s shoulder. “I won’t try to talk you out of being upset, but I will stay with you and do whatever I can to keep you from feeling worse.” Now, TJ did sit up, almost awed, but Robbie’s face was utterly guileless. “You…how…” Robbie’s eyes sparkled with affection. “Teej, you know if I had my way, you’d never be sad, ever, but that’s not how life works. So I will be here in whatever capacity you want me to, but I’m not going to deny you your right to be unhappy.” Now, the tears filling TJ’s eyes were ones of love and gratitude rather than humiliation. He pressed his forehead against Robbie’s, unable to verbally express how perfect Robbie’s support was in that moment. The pair stayed like that for a few minutes, Robbie keeping his promise to do whatever TJ needed him to. Finally, TJ drew in a deep breath and raised his head. “I have to change,” he mumbled. Robbie nodded, kissed TJ quickly, then pushed himself up so he could help TJ to his feet. They walked into the cabin, where Robbie had brought both his and TJ’s bags from the bus. TJ grabbed his bag and headed toward the bathroom. “You go ahead to dinner. I think I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He gave Robbie a half-smile, signaling that he was okay enough to be left alone. “See you down there?” Robbie smiled, but didn’t move. “No way. I’m gonna wait right here, and we’ll go down together.” TJ paused in the doorway of the bathroom, then grinned. “OK.” He shut the door behind him, still smiling. Together.
  14. I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Thank you! I liked getting to expand Robbie's character a bit :) Thank you so much!! I do try to make my stories reasonably plausible. You know, I didn't even think of that - how using TJ's point of view would allow me to explore that shift a bit more. I was thinking more about how a what a person thinks of themself might be really different than how they're seen by other people. So Robbie isn't as "cool" as TJ thinks he is, and TJ isn't a "useless" as he sees himself. Sorry, darling, we're not going to be exploring the movie night! I only have one scenario idea left, and it's not exactly a smooth transition!
  15. Perspective change! I couldn't write this from anything other than Robbie's point of view. Thanks for reading! *** Robbie ran his fingers lightly through his hair, trying to faux-casually arrange it into the perfect look, then sighed audibly at his own vanity. He’d already spent way too much time picking out an outfit – what does one even wear to go hiking? - before finally enlisting his mother’s help. Pilar had laughed and rightly instructed him to wear cool, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t chafe. “And good shoes, mi amor!” she insisted. “The last thing you want is to have to leave early because you can’t walk any more.” The fact that he hadn’t thought about comfort at all made Robbie even more nervous about their plans for today. And he really, really wanted today to go well. It had been two weeks since the disastrous party at Meg Slokin’s lake house, and Robbie had been beating himself up ever since, wracking his brain trying to figure out how to make things up to TJ. TJ. Robbie smiled involuntarily, like he usually did when thinking about his tall, quiet classmate. He’d noticed TJ almost immediately when he’d started at the new school. Robbie hadn’t lived in many places with working-class peers, so TJ’s unbranded clothes and un-pomaded hair caught his eye right away. Unfortunately, it had taken several weeks to learn much more about TJ than he could observe in the hallways. Any classmates he asked (and Robbie tried not to ask too much, lest he come off as stalker-y) had simply shrugged and offered up some version of “He’s nice enough, but I don’t know him too-well.” Then, by some miracle, TJ had showed up at Robbie’s house. Robbie vaguely knew that his dad had hired someone to redo the pool house, but he’d nearly flipped when the truck door opened and TJ had stepped out. He’d spent all morning coming up with besotted schemes – “reading” by the pool, bringing TJ a drink – anything to get another glimpse of his classmate. Of course, that day had ended up teaching Robbie more about TJ than he’d been able to learn in the first few weeks of school, but not necessarily in a good way. Eager to show TJ that the upper strata of their classmates weren’t scary, Robbie had concocted a plan to bring him to Meg’s party. And that had only made things worse. Robbie had rued his own thoughtlessness. He’d only thought as far as getting TJ to come to the party; he’d made absolutely no effort to make sure TJ was comfortable or taken care of. Not one to give up, Robbie was determined to make sure that this time, TJ was totally at ease, and what better way to do that than to let TJ make the plans? “Hey!” Robbie had internally cringed at the amount of overly enthusiasm in his tone when he’d met TJ at his locker two days ago, but he’d soldiered forward. “What are you doing this weekend?” TJ had hesitated, so Robbie kept going. “I figured since we’ve hung out at my house and then gone to a party that I wanted to go to, it’s definitely your turn to pick what to do. So what do you like to do on weekends? If you’re not working.” Robbie’s heart had been racing, but his smile never wavered. TJ had looked a little baffled at first, but he’d smiled a little bit. “The weather is supposed to be nice on Saturday, so I was gonna go for a hike,” he’d said, and Robbie lit up. “Perfect!” He beamed. “I’ve been looking for a way to explore the area a bit more. What time?” Still looking bemused, TJ filled in some details, and, within seconds, the two boys had made a plan for TJ to pick up Robbie at 2 on Saturday. It was now 1:45, and Robbie was all but bouncing up and down in anticipation. He was determined that this time, it would be a successful hangout. Something they could look back on as their first real date. TJ had texted Robbie a few times that morning, which Robbie took as an encouraging sign – just some reminders to put on sunscreen and be hydrated, along with promises to only do as much as Robbie was comfortable with. It was definitely true that Robbie didn’t have a ton of experience with “hiking,” per se, but he was fit enough. Hiking was just more intense walking, right? And Robbie trusted that TJ didn’t want to push him too hard. Even though Robbie felt like he kind of owed TJ some of his own discomfort at this point… With expected punctuality, TJ pulled into the driveway right at 2. Robbie wasn’t waiting on the porch, but he still walked outside without waiting for him to come to the door. He hadn’t gotten a chance to meet TJ’s parents, so he didn’t want to impose imbalance in the relationship so soon by making TJ ring the doorbell. “Hey!” Robbie grinned at he approached the truck. “Thanks for picking me up!” “Sure.” TJ smiled shyly and slid back into the driver’s seat. He didn’t say anything else, but Robbie was prepared to lead the conversation. “So where are we going?” “Well,” TJ began, backing out of the driveway, “I figured since you said you haven’t done much hiking, we’d do Pinehead Trail. It’s not too challenging – no climbing over boulders or anything – but it’s a bit further out of town, so it won’t be as crowded as some of the closer ones.” Robbie felt his chest warm. TJ had clearly put more thought into this date (it was totally a date) than Robbie did their last one, and he was grateful for the consideration. “Sounds perfect,” he said. “I hope I don’t slow you down too much.” TJ ducked his chin slightly, but kept his eyes on the road. “I’m sure you’ll be great.” Sensing that giving the compliment flustered TJ a little bit, Robbie changed the subject. “So you don’t have to work this weekend?” As Robbie expected, TJ was a little more chatty when it came to talking about work. “Nah. Dad’s in Memphis for a few days at a lighting conference, so I get a bit of a break. But he’s updating the ballroom at the Berken Center this month, so I’ll be out there, helping with flooring next weekend.” Robbie couldn’t get over how casually TJ talked about fixing things. He had to many skills and so much knowledge, and he didn’t even know it. “A lighting conference?” he prodded. TJ let out a half-breath, half-laugh. “It’s not quite as boring as it sounds,” he said, then went on to explain how the presenters and vendors at the conference were a mix of designers, hawking the newest, fanciest gadgets for rich clients and engineers presenting the latest advances in functional lighting and energy saving. The whole time, Robbie just stared at TJ, aware of just how far gone he was with his crush. He had no personal interest in lighting, but TJ’s explanations were so seamless and casual. Robbie would have listened to him all day. “So,” TJ continued, unexpectedly turning the conversation back to Robbie, “what made you want to go hiking?” “Oh!” Robbie shrugged, trying to look less flustered than he felt. He didn’t want to go hiking; he wanted to spend time with TJ. But he didn’t want to say that just yet. Didn’t want to scare him away. “This is maybe the prettiest area we’ve ever lived in, but I’ve still only really seen it from cars and buildings. I thought maybe you could show me how to appreciate it for real.” Robbie saw TJ’s jaw twitch, and it looked like he was suppressing a smile. “Well, Pinehead has one of my favorite spots in the county, so hopefully that counts.” Ugh. There was that heat in Robbie’s chest again. TJ was taking him to one of his favorite spots? He was done for. The boys chatted for the remainder of the 30-minute dive out to the trailhead, and Robbie was pleased with how comparatively talkative TJ was being. He definitely seemed more comfortable today, which, of course, was Robbie’s whole goal. TJ parked and pulled a bag out of the backseat. Empty, handed, Robbie felt a bit stupid. “Should I have brought something?” “Nah.” TJ threw on the backpack and started walking toward the trail entrance. “It’s only a four-mile round trip, so I have everything we need. Water, some snacks, and some extra sunscreen if we decide to hang out for a while.” Robbie could have swooned. “If we decide to hang out for a while” He was definitely going to count this as their first date. He followed TJ onto the trail, which, as promised, was fairly smooth and well-marked. It wasn’t too steep, but Robbie definitely noticed that they were headed in an upward direction. His stomach contracted a teeny bit, but they were surrounded by trees as far as the eye could see, so he tried not to worry too much. “Alright, Lewis and Clark,” Robbie said teasingly as they started the hike, “or some other explorer who wasn’t also the perpetrator of genocide, and I can’t think of one off the top of my head right now…start teaching me!” TJ turned to the side and actually smiled. “Weren’t you ever a Boy Scout or anything?” “Nope!” Robbie shrugged, unbothered. “Like I said, we’ve never lived in a place with nature quite as appealing as this, so I never learned anything beyond the basics in science class.” Shrugging in return, TJ kept walking. “If you want the full nature-boy lesson-“ “Yes!” Robbie interrupted. TJ smiled even wider, and Robbie reaffirmed his silent commitment to listen to whatever he had to say. “OK, then. Just stop me if you have questions, or if you get tired, or whatever.” “Yes, scoutmaster!” Robbie beamed and held up four fingers. TJ shook his head and reached over to put down Robbie’s pinky into the proper Boy Scout salute, and Robbie was certain he was about to melt into the forest floor. It was perfect. The hike – date – was going better than Robbie had let himself hope for. TJ was relaxed, chatty, and absolutely fucking brilliant about absolutely everything along the trail. Robbie felt ignorant in comparison, but he didn’t even care. He was finally getting to spend time alone with TJ Masters, and TJ seemed to be having a great time. Yes, they kept climbing higher, but Robbie could still only see further expanses of trees, so he refused to let himself get anxious. Robbie was definitely not as experienced of a hiker, but TJ was kind, stopping frequently for water and snack breaks. Robbie was sure their pace wasn’t breaking any records, but at least it was keeping him from wheezing and sweating like an old man in a marathon. It was a decently warm fall day, so, although just standing in the shade felt nice, hiking definitely built up some heat. Robbie had downed a water bottle before leaving (TJ’s texts had told him to stay hydrated!), and he gratefully drank another one that TJ produced from his backpack. “We’re almost there,” TJ finally said after about 45 minutes. He turned toward Robbie, looking as animated as Robbie had ever seen him. “My favorite spot.” Practically giddy at TJ’s excitement, Robbie tried to downplay his glee with sarcasm. “Man, if you’re taking me to your murder-cave, I’m gonna be so disappointed.” TJ laughed and pointed to a smaller, unmarked trail (totally could be a murder cave, Robbie though, but followed him anyway). “I discovered it by accident a couple of years ago, but I swear, it has some of the best views in the state-“ Views? Robbie paused for a millisecond, but TJ kept walking. Robbie continued, drawing in a long, deliberate breath. It’ll be fine, he insisted mentally. It’ll just be some pretty plants or something. TJ kept traipsing forward, leading Robbie through the thicker growth. “I couldn’t find any official measurements – like I said, this isn’t, like, a noted place or anything – but I did some estimates of my own, and on a clear day, you can see over 20 miles!” …over…Robbie felt his breath getting shallow. It’s fine, it’ll only be a minute… “Here!” TJ stepped into a small clearing and gestured grandly. He was standing just a few feet from a dropoff that had to be a thousand feet high. Robbie’s heart rate skyrocketed, and he broke out into a cold sweat. He tried to hang back by the trees, but the clearing was maybe only 10 feet wide, which put him way closer to the edge than he was OK with. TJ was beaming, looking out over the (admittedly) gorgeous scene, but Robbie’s vision started to blur and his limbs were starting to go numb with terror. He knew he had to turn back. “Hey,” he called, trying to sound casual. TJ turned, and Robbie managed a weak smile – he didn’t want to worry TJ or freak him out or anything - but before he could open his mouth, he felt warmth down the middle of this thighs. Robbie’s brain wasn’t functioning at full capacity, so his reaction was slow, and, for a second, he just stood, attempting to smile at TJ while simultaneously pissing his pants. TJ’s excited grin had evaporated, and his faced morphed through multiple configurations, showing confusion, doubt, and then betrayal. “Are…” TJ’s voice had lost all of the confidence from the hike. “…are you making fun of me?” Robbie’s mouth dropped open as the weight of TJ’s question hit him like a linebacker. “No!” he gasped breathlessly, “No, I…” But he didn’t have enough air left to continue. Robbie swayed forward and didn’t even have time to put his hands out to break his fall before TJ was there, wrapping him in strong, sure arms. It occurred to Robbie that he was still peeing as TJ guided him onto the ground with heartbreaking gentleness. He didn’t have the energy to look around, but he hoped he wasn’t getting any on him. “I’m…” Robbie breathed. “I’m sor-“ “Shh,” TJ cut him off, but there was no anger in his tone. “Don’t talk. Just breathe.” “But I-“ “I mean it.” TJ was the very definition of “firm but kind.” “Just lay back and breathe. I’m going to hold your feet up to get blood flowing back to your head.” Reluctantly, Robbie did as he was told. He closed his eyes, mostly to help calm down, but also to hold back the sheen of tears that had gathered. In his self-imposed darkness, Robbie agonized over TJ’s initial reaction. He actually thought Robbie was teasing him, that he’d somehow tricked him into coming up here so he could make fun of his accidents! Not for the first time that day, Robbie felt like a total idiot. He’d been so concerned with the thought of doing something that TJ liked (and, of course, of getting another shot at a date himself) that he hadn’t really considered how TJ might feel about spending time with a classmate who had now seen him wet his pants twice within the past few weeks. Robbie’s heart rate had slowed considerably, and laying down definitely helped. He didn’t how long it had been, but he opened his eyes and stared intently at TJ. “Rest,” TJ ordered, in the manner of a somewhat exasperated nurse. “We’re in no rush.” “No.” TJ opened his mouth to interrupt, but Robbie talked over him. “I won’t move, I promise, but I can talk.” TJ made no more moves indicating dissent, so Robbie continued. “I hate heights,” he said simply. “Like I’m fine with being high up, as long as I don’t see it. So I choose aisle seats on planes, and I don’t look out the windows of tall buildings…” He felt himself tear up again, but he kept going. “I’m so sorry,” he pleaded. “I wasn’t making fun of you, I’d never-“ “Shut up.” Robbie blinked, stunned, but TJ didn’t sound annoyed. He was just shaking his head ruefully. “Of course you weren’t making fun of me. I shouldn’t have accused you.” As he spoke, TJ was breaking apart a granola bar from the bag and handed Robbie a small piece. “I’m not mad at all, so please don’t apologize. I just…” TJ dropped his gaze and trailed off. Robbie would have walked through fire to erase the look of shame from TJ’s face. He slowly pushed himself up to a seat against the tree TJ had laid him next to. TJ looked on apprehensively, but ultimately allowed the change in position. “I’m so sorry,” Robbie repeated, despite TJ’s request. TJ was shaking his head, but Robbie couldn’t stop. He was still woozy, which was both strengthening his resolve and lowering his inhibitions. “All I wanted was to do something that you liked, because everything we’ve done together so far has been awful for you, and that’s not fair, and then I went and ruined your favorite spot, and all I wanted was an amazing first date with a cute guy who-“ Robbie would’ve kept going, but he was cut off by the pressure of TJ’s lips on his. TJ. Was. Kissing. Him. Robbie’s eyes widened in shock for a half-second before he closed them and leaned in, savoring the feeling of TJ’s surprisingly soft mouth. TJ broke off the kiss abruptly, and it took every ounce of Robbie’s self-control not to whine like a child whose favorite toy was snatched away. He stared at TJ, who looked just as stunned by his own actions as Robbie was. He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, looking sheepish. Unable to think of anything to say, Robbie just flapped his mouth open and closed like a fish. Finally, TJ looked back up, the corner of his mouth curled into a small grin. “I think you’re cute, too.” In no universe did Robbie ever expect that his first kiss with TJ would occur while he was soaked in his own urine, still shaking from a near acrophobia-induce anxiety attack. But it was perfect. “So I didn’t ruin everything?” Robbie asked, finally regaining his voice. TJ shook his head, still looking dazedly bashful, but he straightened up a bit when he looked back at Robbie. “But we need to think about how we’re gonna get you back to the truck,” he said seriously. “We have plenty of time for you to rest and eat and get your strength back, but…” TJ looked down at Robbie’s drenched jeans, and Robbie cringed. “It’s a long walk,” TJ said, almost regretfully, “and-“ “It’ll chafe,” Robbie finished for him, sighing. “Yeah.” TJ checked his watched, then looked up toward the sky. “We won’t have enough time before it gets dark to just hang out until it dries.” Robbie shrugged, taking another bite of granola bar. “I’ll live.” TJ winced sympathetically. “It’ll be really uncomfortable, though, especially tomorrow.” Still floating from the kiss, Robbie wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you offered to come over tomorrow and minister to my balls?” “Jesus,” TJ rolled his eyes, and Robbie knew he was going to have a ton of fun teasing him in the future. “It’ll be fine,” he promised. “I don’t have anything to do tomorrow, so I can just hang out in my room, pantsless.” TJ looked skeptical, but neither boy could think of a better plan. He forced Robbie to sit for another 20 minutes, eating to replenish his blood sugar, before relenting and agreeing to start their trek back down. TJ went even more slowly than he had on the way up, sticking close to Robbie’s side the entire time. Robbie relished the proximity and tried to focus on that, rather than his chilled, wet pants and underwear. The chafing was no joke, and Robbie was genuinely sore by the time they reached the truck. “Do you want anything else to eat?” TJ asked as they finally pulled out on the road. “No,” Robbie leaned back against the headrest, grateful to no longer be walking. “We’ve got plenty of food at home.” TJ nodded, but 10 minutes later, pulled into the parking lot of a small shopping center. “Be right back,” was all he said. Robbie didn’t question him, and TJ returned holding a small box. “A&D ointment?” Robbie grimaced, but the warmth in his chest returned at TJ’s caring gesture. “I figured you wouldn’t have any unless someone in your house had gotten a tattoo recently,” TJ said as he started the car. “You really shouldn’t just use any old lotion.” Robbie was tired and thoroughly bemused by the events of the afternoon, but he smiled at TJ. “You really do know everything.” TJ snorted, but his derision was minimal. By the time they arrived at Robbie’s house, his skin was aching enough that he didn’t feel to awful about the date ending. But he still wanted to ensure another one. “You’re working next weekend?” “On Saturday,” TJ clarified, clearly on the same page. “So you’re free Friday?” TJ grinned. “Maybe a movie?” “Perfect,” Robbie smiled, but swallowed a comment about movies being a safe activity. He might be okay with joking about pissing himself, but he didn’t think TJ would be. Satisfied with their vague plans, Robbie climbed out of the car, clutching the ointment like a priceless gem. “Thanks for a great date,” he said honestly. “See you Monday.” TJ smiled back. “See you Monday.”
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