Bailey's point of view.
For as way back as I can remember Jeremiah has always been a part of my life. We had started kindergarten together and were just two weeks apart in age. We bonded instantly and he was like the younger brother I could never have. I didnât have any brothers or sister, and neither did Jeremiah. I think that is part of what caused us to be closer than just friends and more like brothers. Have you ever met someone for the first time and felt like youâve known him forever? That is how it was with us. We were like two magnets drawn together. And like opposite poles of magnets we had two completely different personalities. The old adage of opposites attracting certainly applied in our case. We were like night and day, but we clicked together. I would come to realize later in life that the bond we shared was a very unique and special one. Iâve never experienced it with anyone else.
It was probably around first or second grade that I realized that something wasnât right with Miah, the shortening of his name started in kindergarten when I wasnât able to say his full name. He would show up for school with bruises all the time, or he would even limp sometimes. I knew that he was a bit of a klutz, but never to the point to cause some of the bruising he had on his body. I was too young at that point to realize exactly what was going on. So whatever story Miah had given me to explain the bruises I went along with it if anyone asked. It was in fifth grade that everything changed.
My mom had taken us to the local pool to go swimming and we were in the locker rooms changing. Miah sometimes wore his shirt in the pool and used the excuse that he was very sensitive to the sun and didnât want to get sunburned. I didnât believe that because there were plenty of times when we came to the pool and he didnât wear a shirt. Miah was one of those people that could stay in the sun butt naked for a week and he still wouldnât burn. In the summer he always had a deep, golden brown tan, and I was always jealous. It took me at least a month to get the color he could get in a few days. Today though was one of those âshirt in the poolâ days. I wouldnât have thought anything of it, but as I turned to say something he was quickly pulling on the tank top he was changing into. He wasnât fast enough though. I could see part of a very large bruise on his back.
I asked him how he got that one, and he mumbled some excuse about falling down the steps. Normally Miah made a joke about what happened when he got hurt, but not this time. He was very quiet and refused to look at me. I tried to ask him about it and he got really defensive and started to yell at me to mind my own business. Now I knew something was up! We never fought. Ever. I stepped toward him to try and calm him down and he backed up against the lockers and winced in pain. He looked at me with fear in his eyes and asked me not to hurt him. Hearing those words come out of his mouth completely crushed me. Why would he think that I would hurt him? I walked up to him and calmed him down. I wrapped my arms around him and told him everything was okay; I wasnât going to hurt him.
Once he calmed down we started to go out to the pool to swim. I couldnât help myself, but I had to see what was on his back. I stopped him for a second and gently pulled up the back of his tank top. What I saw on his back was enough to make my stomach want to empty its contents right then and there. To this day the memory of it makes my skin crawl. There was a bruise on his back that was so bad it was practically black in color, but that wasnât the worst part. The worst part of it was the shape of the bruise. It wasnât a perfect shape, but you could tell what it was. It was the shape of a hand, a very large hand. Suddenly things made sense to me. His father. Thatâs why we never played at his house if his dad was home. Thatâs why I could never spend the night there. I was really fucking angry, but at the same time I was also very sad. Who the fuck was his father to think he could do this to him? Miah didnât deserve it.
I looked up to find Miahâs tear filled eyes staring at me. I never had to say anything. I put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him up against me. We walked out of the locker room like that. From that point on I made it my point to try and hang out at Miahâs house as much as I could. It was my thinking that if someone were there, then maybe his dad wouldnât do anything. And for the next few years it worked. Miah didnât show up at school injured or covered in bruises as often as before. It still happened from time to time, but never as bad as that day at the pool. I tried to talk to Miah about it once, but he cut me off with a look. I knew from that day forward he knew I was there for him no matter what. I never brought it up again because I didnât want to cause him any more pain.
When high school started things started to get a little weird. I was athletic but never really had any interest in actually playing on any of the teams at school. My dad though was very adamant that I try out for the football team. At first I just refused and said I really wasnât interested. My dad wouldnât let up though and kept pushing. So to shut him up I went out for the team, and somehow made it. After I made the team my dad started on me again, but about other things. Well not things exactly, it was one thing in particular. Miah. For some reason my dad didnât like Miah. He never really had problems with him when we were kids, but now all of a sudden he was trying to get me to hang out with other people at school. He was constantly trying to get me to have some of the guys from the team over to hang out and shit like that.
Finally after a few weeks I finally confronted him about it. He stated it was time that I got ânormalâ friends and that I should stop hanging out with âfairy-miahâ. I was in shock. Iâve never heard my dad talk like that in my entire life. He was usually a pretty laid back, easy-going guy. I asked him what he was talking about. It turns out that my dad and the football coach at school were old buddies. The coach told him that he heard that Miah was a âdirty fagâ and suggested to my father that I shouldnât be hanging out with him. The coach heard it from some of my teammates and said that hanging around Miah would jeopardize my spot on the team.
I argued with my father and told him that I wouldnât stop being friends with Miah. And in a moment I will never forget, my father backhanded me. I donât know who was more shocked, him or me. My father stared at me with a ferocious anger in his eyes that I never knew he was capable of and gave me two options. Either stop being friends with Miah or I would be shipped off to boarding school. He added in there that no son of his would be a âfag-loverâ. I recoiled at his words. They cut me like a knife. He told me that I better think long and hard before I made my decision, and that the coach would be keeping an eye out to make sure I kept my distance from Miah.
I locked myself in my bedroom that night. Tears streaming down my face for one of the few times in my life. I couldnât imagine not being around Miah. Not only was he my best friend, but also recently he had become so much more to me. I started realizing over the summer that girls never really held my interest. They were cute and all, but didnât do a thing for me. I was really confused about what was happening to me, but that confusion ended during one of the nights Miah had spent the night. It was one of the hottest nights of the summer and we were hanging out in my basement watching movies. We had taken our shirts off to help cool us down a bit. I was teasing Miah and had started to tickle him. We ended up wrestling and in a feat of strength I didnât know he had, Miah pinned me to the floor. Our bare chests were pressed together and he was staring down at me laughing. Our bodies were slick with sweat and feeling him pressed up against my body had made me hard as a rock. I was really embarrassed and I tried to flip him off me before he could notice. I only got him about halfway off of me when he slammed me back onto the ground using the full weight of his body. His chest pressed right up against my own and I could feel his breath on my face. Then the unexpected happened. My body shook and I exploded in my pants. Talk about being embarrassed!!!
He saw the flush on my face and asked if I was ok. I told him I was and that it was just really hot and I needed to cool down. If he only knew how hot I really was right at that moment. I ran to the bathroom to clean up before any evidence could be seen. I was so ashamed. Here he was just joking around and having a good time hanging out with me, and I had to turn into a fucking pervert. Even though I felt like a total shit, I had to admit to myself that it was the best orgasm I ever had since I discovered masturbating a year ago.