When he came to live with me

Out of the Blue

As I was sinking deeper and deeper into the realms of my vague thoughts, a few orange rays of the setting sun pulled me out. As always, I was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. I reached out to open the curtains and peeked outside and saw the silhouette of LA skyline with a gradient of orange and yellow, blending into dark blue. Gazing for a while, I saw lights turning on in the tiny windows of those sky-kissing buildings. I could only imagine what could have been going on there, gossips, arguments, drinking, gambling, partying or sex. It was the 14th of February, the day of lovers, and I could imagine each couple in Hollywood leaving for a romantic evening, just like my best friend Kevin, who was also my crush.

My imagination was interrupted by the clock ticking right next to my ears. It was 5:30 and I thought I should go downstairs for a quick snack. My stomach had started to grumble for I hadn't had anything after breakfast. I laid back alone on my snug bed in my humble abode in the midst of Bel-Air while the rest of the city went out for an intimate time with their significant others. I extended my arms to grab my mug from the bedside table and took a sip from the 10th cup of coffee of that day. As the thoughts of a quick lunch were surpassed by that of love, I heard keys jingling from downstairs. Then I heard footsteps ascending the stairs and reaching me. After living for half a decade with Kev, I could recognise his sounds.

Instantaneously, the door of my room opened and I could see his face again. Those dark brown curls cascading down his forehead just reaching his dark eyes. But this time, instead of joy, those dreamy eyes carried sorrow. He was tearing up and then he jumped into my bed with me as he wrapped his warm muscular arms around my chest and broke into tears. I knew what had happened as there would only be one reason for a person who went out with his girlfriend to return sobbing on Valentine's day. I wiped his tears and hugged him. I could never figure out how a straight guy like him would be so comfortable around a gay guy, who he knew had a crush on him.

"It's okay. You have me, "I comforted him although I knew my words did the least effort to heal him. Despite my undying love for him, I would feel really sorry for him when his girlfriends broke up with him leaving him depressed, which was quite often. He was extremely sensitive.

When I was with him, he wasn't my crush but my best friend. We were always there for each other and our unflagging supports when we were depressed, kept us still drawing air. We'd often lie on the bed, half-naked, wrapping each other in our hands, sharing our warmth with the advice. I called them our 'cuddle sessions'. As a matter of fact, when he witnessed that I was feeling under the weather today, he was ready to cancel his date to be with me in my bed. As much as I had wanted it, I commanded him to go as I did not want to ruin his special day just to smuggle his arousing teases into my ears.

"She cheated on me," he mumbled as tears rolled down his fair skin, "I met her... side-chick at dinner."

As he spilt more details, I was mortified and speechless. He had engulfed my petite self into his muscular body. My mind was so occupied by pity that there was no space for sexual thoughts and I had gotten used to his warmth after 5 years of it. He was my best friend for then, not anything else.

"I'm sorry. I really don't know what to say. It's horrible!"

"I know..."

His words were followed by a long silence when all I could hear was his sobbing and the clock ticking behind me.

After a while, he got up and revealed his hot body from the formal shirt and pant he was clad in and plunged next to me wearing only his boxers. We were back into our generic 'cuddle session' again. He held me tight in his strong arms with one of his legs over my emaciated thighs. Surprisingly, our cuddling sessions never arose any promiscuous thoughts in my mind but I'd often blush later recapitulating them. Out of the blue, he asked, "Would you mind jerking me off?"

I was stupified with those words, trying to figure out if this was a dream.

"It'll help me calm down a little. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Another long silence followed his words when I tried to process what he had just said.

Realising how perverse what he said was, he confessed, "What the fuck was I thinking! I'm so sorry. You don't have to do it."

"It's okay," I comforted him, "I don't mind..."

He was on the fence about my decision but I persuaded him and pulled his chunky body over me and seated him on my belly.