Pool of Tears

by Kattali

Brandon stood at the top of the stairs staring at the door at the end of the hall. He held the stuffed plush puppy tightly in his arms. He suddenly felt small, very small, as if he was Alice In Wonderland after she drank the potion and shut up like a telescope to ten inches tall. But he couldn�t cry like Alice. There would be no pool of tears. He commanded his feet to move; yet they wouldn�t. He stood frozen like a statue in a park.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his back urging him forward.

�Come on now, Brandon. It�s past your bedtime. Get going.� His mother�s voice was firm and detached.

Brandon didn�t budge. His feet were nailed to the floor.

�What�s wrong with you?� she snapped.

�I-I want my pillow.�

�Forget it. Grandpa�s already asleep, and I�m not waking him. Now get to bed.� She gave him a push forward.

Brandon stumbled then steadied himself holding onto the wall. He turned to look at his mother. Fear shown in his eyes. �Why does Grandpa have to sleep in my room? Why can�t he sleep in Richy�s room?�

�Your grandpa�s old, and he�s upset. That�s why. I�m not gonna make him sleep in Richy�s room. I�m giving Grandpa your room, and you�re gonna have Richy�s room from now on since your brother isn�t gonna need it. It�s late. Get your ass down to your new bedroom and get to bed. I don�t want to hear any more whining.�

Brandon hung his head and began the long walk down the short hall, shuffling his feet the whole way.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brandon stared at the plate of baked beans and blackened hotdogs. It was the fifth night he was faced with eating the mushy mess. He looked over at his mother. He winced as she smothered her beans and hotdogs with ketchup. She brushed strands of over-bleached hair out of her eyes then filled her empty glass of vodka.

�Be a good boy and get your mama another pack of cigs.�

Brandon rolled his eyes. He slid off the chair without the pushing it back. He walked over to the carton of cigarettes lying on the counter. He felt his mother�s eyes on him the whole time.

�Here.� He tossed a pack down in front of her.

�Thank you, baby,� she smiled. �You�re too skinny. Look at you.� She took his arm and held it up. �All skin and bones. You don�t eat enough. You should eat more. You pick at your food. I see you. Don�t think that I don�t see you pick at your food.�

�I eat, Mom. I just have a high metabolism.� Brandon pulled away and went back to his seat.

�Where�s your brother? RICHY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!�

Brandon pushed the food around his plate. A puddle of brown juice formed under the hotdogs. His stomach turned.

�Hey, Ma,� Richy grinned. He came up beside her and kissed her cheek. �Your glass is empty, Vivian. Let me.� He filled it to the top with vodka. �How�s my favorite mama?�

�I�m your only mama, you asshole. And don�t fucking call me Vivian. I�m your Mama. You remember that. You show me respect.� She grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips. �You better appreciate me. I fucking gave birth to you. Practically killed me. Big fucking baby. You fucking tore me so bad.�

�I know, Mama. I�m sorry for that. I love you, Mama.�

�You�re a good boy, Richy. � Vivian patted his arm. �Look at your brother. All skin and bones. He doesn�t eat.�

�Aw ma, he�s keeping his girlish figure. He�s a pretty boy. Look at those big blue eyes and long lashes. Those blond curls. Those cherry lips. Those are kissable lips.� Richy winked at Brandon.

His little brother blushed.

�He shoulda been a girl.� Vivian shook her head. �Something was fucked up with that GNA stuff.�

�DNA, Mama,� Richy corrected.

�Whatever. Probably got switched at the hospital with some other baby. You hear of that all the time. He doesn�t even look like you or me. Under this bleach job is black hair like yours. You�re a big husky boy. He�s all skin and bones.�

�Does he have the same daddy as me?� Richy asked.

�Fuck yes!� She slapped him on the arm. �Your asshole father was cheating on me. I�m not a fucking whore!�

�Sorry, Mama.� Richy rubbed her back. �It�s probably the DNA. That stuff is weird. Or maybe he got switched at the hospital.�

Brandon let the hurtful words bounce off him. He heard them too many times. Why did it always have to be him that was switched at the hospital? Why couldn�t it have been Richy? What did their father look like? Was his father�s hair blond? Did his father have blue eyes? His mother said he was tiny when he was born. She remembers his birth. He didn�t almost kill her. He didn�t fucking tear her. He never had to apologize for tearing her.

Richy grabbed his jean jacket and headed for the door. �See you later, Ma.�

�Where you going?�

The door slammed before she got an answer.

Brandon grabbed his jacket and ran out after him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

�Richy! Richy! Wait up!� Brandon ran as fast as his feet could carry him.

Richy stopped half way down the road, his hands in his pockets. He didn�t turn around, but the way he was standing showed that he was pissed off.

Brandon was gasping for breath when he finally reached him. �Thanks for waiting.�

�What do you want, Bran-dumb?�

�Where are you going?�

�Tommy�s. And you want to know because?� Richy started walking.

�Is there a party? Who�s going to be there?�

Richy slung an arm around his little brother�s shoulders. �Oh yes, yes, yes. Now I get it.� He playfully put him in a chokehold.

Brandon laughed then felt panic, as his brother�s arm grew tighter. �Richy,� he whispered. �Let go.�

�Give it up, Bran-dumb. Who do you want to see?�

�Richy,� he squeaked.

�Tell me,� he squeezed tightly then loosened up a bit.

�Taylor.�

�Faggot,� Richy let him go, laughing. �I knew it. You got it on with that faggot last time. Didn�t you?�

Brandon shrugged his shoulders.

Richy started walking again. Brandon didn�t move. His brother always called him stupid names, but he never really thought much of it. But he didn�t know what to think this time.

�Are you fucking coming?� Richy yelled over his shoulder.

Brandon stood with his head hung.

�Hey! I don�t give a fuck if you suck cock or take it up the ass. You can be a faggot it you want. I don�t fucking care. Whatever gets you off. Now are you coming or not, Bran-dumb?�

Brandon smiled and ran over to his brother.

Richy slung his arm around Brandon�s shoulders. �You�re too fucking pretty to be a boy.�

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The music was so loud that Brandon couldn�t hear himself think. He searched the dimly lit smoked-filled room for Taylor, but didn�t see him. He moved to the kitchen. Bags of chips, pretzels, candy, and boxes of cookies and Twinkies, and other snacks covered the table and counters. Empty beer bottles were scattered about. His sneakers made a smuck sound every time he took a step because of the sticky floor. Brandon screwed up his nose at the stench of the room as he squeezed his way through the body packed room. Taylor was nowhere in sight.

Tommy�s parties were legendary. Everyone came. His house and yard were crammed with people. Yet Brandon was beginning to think that perhaps Taylor didn�t come. Brandon made his way to the basement. Porn was playing on the big TV. He spotted his brother right off. He was smoking weed as usual and drinking vodka, just like his mother. Brandon stuck to beer. All it took was getting sick one time on vodka. He was repulsed by it now. Couldn�t even take one drink of it. Richy said he�d get over it and start drinking it again. Brandon didn�t think so.

Then he saw him-- Taylor. Sitting on the floor between Chad�s legs. Taylor took a toke of Chad�s pipe and passed it back to him. His head flopped back against the chair, his eyes half closed and a smile on his face. Brandon licked his lips before continuing his descent down the stairs.

�Hey, Bran-dumb,� Richy motioned. �Come here, little bro.�

Brandon worked his way over to Richy, pushing past people and stepping over bodies. He was feeling lightheaded breathing in the acrid smoke.

Richy grabbed his arm and pulled his brother into his lap. �Take a sip.� He held the bottle of vodka to his lips.

�Nah, don�t wanna.� Brandon pushed it away.

�Someone pass me a beer for my pretty boy,� Richy yelled. �He�s a very pretty boy. Don�t you agree, Taylor?�

Taylor smiled. �Yup.�

�You like his lips? These pretty cherry red lips?� Richy wet his thumb with vodka and brushed his thumb against Brandon�s lips.

�Stop it.� Brandon pushed his hand away.

�Oh right. You don�t like vodka anymore. Where�s that fucking beer?�

�A beer for the pretty boy.� Mark dangled a bottle in front of Brandon, who grabbed it. �And,� he held up a baggy of little white pills, �a little E.�

�Fuck me.� Richy grabbed the bag. �Oh man, you fucking scored tonight.�

�Take a couple for yourself and your pretty boy,� he offered.

�Oh man, I owe you.� Richy took his share and passed back the baggy.

Mark shoved the baggy in his pocket and moved on.

Richy popped a pill in his mouth and followed it with a swig of vodka. �You want one?�

�Sure,� Brandon nodded.

�No way, you little fucker. You�re too young. No fucking drugs until you�re fourteen.�

�Pot�s a drug.�

�That�s different. Now what are you waiting for, my little faggot brother? Are you gonna go over there and fuck the brains out of Taylor or not?�

�Stop it, Richy.�

�Holy fucking shit!� Chad yelled out pointing at the TV screen. �Is that who I think it is?�

�What? Where?� Richy yelled.

�Oh man! Fuck!� Steve yelled. �Molko. Fuck. That�s him.�

�Shit. Honey, you need glasses,� Regina smacked Steve on the shoulder. �That ain�t Brian Molko. He don�t do porn, you fucking dumb ass. You just wish that was him. All in that leather bondage. I�ll put you in leather bondage and whip your ass.�

�You promise?� Steve pleaded.

�You fucking pervert,� Reginna whacked him across the head.

�Yes. That is Brian Molko,� Chad spoke up. �And that�s Britney Spears.� He slapped his thigh laughing. �Fucking strap on. She�s gonna fuck him.�

�You�re fucking full of shit. That�s not Britney! You�re all a bunch of fucking perverts,� Regina declared.

�You�re jealous, Regina,� Tommy yelled from the back of the room. �I�m gonna get you a strap on and a whip. Steve could use good ass fucking and whipping.�

The room exploded in laughter. Regina reeled off a string of cuss words and stomped up the stairs.

�When was the last time you had your ass fucked, Bran-dumb?� Richy asked.

Brandon bit his lip and looked away.

�Was it Taylor? Did he take your sweet tight virgin ass?�

�Stop it, Richy. Please.�

�Sthop it,� he teased. �All pretty boy coy. Batting those lashes. Fuck.�

Brandon tried to pull away, but Richy had a tight grip.

�Let go of me,� he yelled.

�You need an ass whipping yourself, little brother. You didn�t get my permission for anyone to take your tight virgin ass.�

�I don�t need your permission,� Brandon growled.

�Ah, you�re getting cocky again, you little fucker. Am I going to have to tie you to the clothesline post and leave you outside all night again?�

Brandon gasped as fear enveloped him. He remembered the last time. He never wanted to go through that again. �NO! No. I�m sorry. I�m sorry.�

�You better be, you little fucker.�

Brandon�s eyes filled with tears as Richy�s nails dug into his arms.

�Let go, Richy. You�re hurting me.�

Richy let go with such force that Brandon hit the floor hard. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

�You�re such a fucking sissy.� Richy wiped his nose with the back of his hand and slunk back into the couch.

Brandon didn�t know what to do. He felt dizzy and sick.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder. �Brandon.�

He looked up to find Taylor�s green eyes peering down at him. His black silky hair framed the delicate features of his face.

�Give me your hand.�

Brandon placed his dainty hand in Taylor�s and let the older boy help him to his feet.

�Let�s go upstairs,� Taylor suggested.

�They�re all laughing at me,� Brandon whispered.

�Nobody cares. They�re all fucking wasted. They don�t even know what�s going on.�

Taylor put his arm around the boy�s waist and led him toward the stairs.

�You fucking take care of my little brother, Taylor. Don�t give him any drugs. He�s too fucking young. I�ll fucking kill you if you give him any drugs!� Richy yelled after him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taylor shut the bedroom door. The thump, thump, thump of the music resonated through the walls. Brandon looked around. Rosary beads hung on the bedpost. A cross with Jesus hanging on it was above the bed. Various pictures of Jesus and Mary were on the walls. He felt funny being in Tommy�s mother�s room. He knew they were going to fuck. It was like a sacrilege--fucking in your friend�s mother�s bed with Jesus bleeding on the cross looking down on you. He shuddered.

Taylor took Brandon�s hand and led him to the bed, which was covered with an ivy and roses bedspread.

�Lie down,� Taylor ordered.

Brandon lay down on his back.

Taylor straddled him and put his hand under Brandon�s shirt and squeezed his nipple. The boy gasped. His cock ached.

�You can�t wait, can you?

�No,� Brandon admitted.

�You like it when I fuck you,� Taylor grinned.

He nodded. �I feel funny.�

�Why?�

�It�s his mom�s bed.�

�We won�t mess it up. She�ll never know.� Taylor kissed him. �No one knows.�

�Richy knows what we did. What we�re doing.�

�I don�t care. You shouldn�t either.� He pulled Brandon�s shirt off and unbuckled the boy�s pants.

�Do you think I�m pretty?�

�Fuck yes.�

�Taylor?�

�What?�

�I want to be your--�

Taylor cut him off, �My what? My boi toi? My slave? My Geisha girl?� He grinned.

�Your boyfriend.� Brandon bit his lip.

�My boyfriend, huh? Will your mommy allow you to have a boyfriend?�

�I don�t know.�

�I should go to her and ask permission.� Brandon kissed him. �Mrs. Kominsky, may I please have your son, Brandon�s, hand in boyfriendship.�

�Stop it.� He covered his face with his arm.

�Now, now. Don�t do that.� Taylor pulled his arm away. �I love those baby blues of yours and those long lashes and those pouty lips.�

�So can I be your boyfriend?�

Taylor got off the bed and walked over to the dresser.

�What�s wrong? Where are you going?� Panic filled Brandon�s voice.

�Hold on. I just want to get a few things.� He rummaged through the things on the dresser. Once he had what he was looking for he returned to the bed. �Sit up,� he ordered.

Brandon looked questioningly at Taylor, but did as he was told. The older teen sat in front of him and held up a silver tube.

�What�s that?� Brandon asked.

�Lipstick. Cherry Wine. Now give me those pouty lips of yours.� Taylor dabbed the boy�s lips with the vibrant color. �Beautiful.�

�Can I see?� He reached for the hand mirror, but had his hand slapped.

�Not yet.� Next Taylor pulled out mascara. He expertly applied the mascara adding length and thickness. �Damn! You look hot.�

�Let me see,� Brandon reached for the mirror. He studied himself.

�What do you think?�

He nodded. �I like it.�

Taylor took the mirror. �Now, lower your eyes.�

Brandon looked down at his lap.

�No.� He put his hand under the boy�s chin and lifted it. �Not your head. Just your eyes.�

�Okay,� he said softly. �Now what?�

�Just do what I say. Keep your eyes lowered. Just like that. Beautiful. You really are pretty.� Taylor stroked Brandon�s cheek with his thumb.

Brandon shivered. His cock throbbed and twitched. He wanted Taylor to fuck him.

�Now lift your eyes. Just your eyes.�

Brandon slowly looked up until his eyes met Taylor�s.

�Perfect. That�s just how the Geisha girls do it.�

Brandon lowered his eyes. �That�s what you want me to be? Your Geisha girl? Not your boyfriend?�

�I want you to be my everything. Can you do that?�

He let out a sigh. �Yeah.�

�One thing. I want your hair longer. It�s too short.� Taylor ran his fingers through the blond curls.

�How long?�

�To your shoulders. Maybe longer. Like Alice in Wonderland. You know that story. Don�t you? Alice in Wonderland? Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Just like yours. You�ll grow your hair out? You will do this for me?�

�Yes. I�ll do anything for you. I love you.�

�I�m going to fuck your ass raw.�

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brandon opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bedroom. Taylor was gone. The music was still blasting through the walls. He looked over at the clock sitting on the nightstand�one thirty. He was naked. His clothes lay in a pile on the floor. He rubbed his ass. He hurt like Hell. He quickly got dressed and left the room to look for his boyfriend.

Brandon navigated the den and kitchen. There was no sight of Taylor. He decided to head down to the basement where he had last seen Richy. His brother always seemed to know where everyone was.

A sour stench permeated the room. Brandon scrunched up his nose and worked his way through the bodies, clutter, and vomit covering the floor.

�Chad! Where�s my brother?�

�Outside maybe. With Steve.� He grabbed a bag of chips from a guy. �Get your own fucking bag. These are mine. God damn fucking pig.�

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night air felt warm and dewy. Brandon shoved his hands in his pockets. The front yard was active. Partying at Tommy�s took place inside and outside. Tommy lived in good area. His driveway was down far enough from the road with lots of trees surrounding his house, which provided lots of privacy. And his neighbors� houses were spaced out. Not like his house. Everyone who passed by could see what was going on in his yard. And his neighbors were close enough that they could spit on his front walk.

Trevor had Courtney sitting on top of a car, her legs straddling him. They were ravaging each other. Brandon watched with curiosity. The way Trevor kissed Courtney looked as though he had his tongue all the way down her throat. He wondered if that was what he looked like when Taylor tongued him.

Suddenly Courtney caught him staring at her out of the corner of her eye. �What the fuck are you looking at?�

�Um, I�m looking for my brother-- Richy. Have you seen him?�

�No,� Courtney snarled.

�Hey, I know where Richy is,� Trevor informed him. �He�s over by Mike�s truck. They�re suppose to go on a beer run.�

�Uh, thanks.� Brandon took a few steps backward, feeling awkward for interrupting, then took off for the far side of the yard.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mike�s truck was easy to find. He always parked it in the same spot�between the shed and back wood. Richy said Mike had this weird thing about not wanting anyone to touch his truck or park near his truck. So he always parked it in this out of the way spot. Brandon had to admit it was a nice truck. Not one of those barely running vehicles with rust holes patched up with duct tape.

Brandon turned the corner near the shed. Mike�s truck was still there, so they hadn�t left yet to get the beer.

�Where the fuck is he?� Brandon kicked the tire. Frustration was mounting. He couldn�t find Taylor without Richy�s help. Richy knew everyone. He could find anyone within minutes. It was as if he had a built in radar. Richy said it was �a gift�. Whatever it was he needed his brother. He had to find Taylor. They had to make plans.

Brandon grabbed the side of the truck and pushed his feet against the tire, leaning back until he could see he stars above. Stars were magic. Dancing lights that didn�t exist anymore once they reached his eyes. It was a little sad if he thought about it too much. He pulled himself up and was ready to begin his hunt once more when he heard a groan. Brandon looked around but couldn�t see anything. He went around the back of the truck. No one was there. He listened carefully. There was moaning and groaning coming from somewhere. He quietly walked up to the passenger side of the truck and peered into the side window.

Richy was sitting on the driver�s side. He was slumped down with his head thrown back against the seat. He was gripping the steering wheel, moaning. Brandon looked down. The backside of some guy was on the seat-- a head in his brother�s lap. Someone was sucking Richy off. Brandon stood frozen like a statue in a park. Richy�s words played over in his head. �I don�t give a fuck if you suck cock or take it up the ass. You can be a faggot it you want. I don�t fucking care. Whatever gets you off.� And here his brother was getting sucked off. Who was the faggot now?

Richy let out loud groan and smashed his hand against the steering wheel. �Fuck!� He grabbed the guy by the back of the neck. �God damn!�

The guy laughed. Richy roughly pulled him into a kiss. Brandon watched in disbelief. He didn�t know this about his brother. Why hadn�t he known?

Richy looked past his lover to find Brandon staring at him. It didn�t stop him though. He was giving his brother a show he�d never forget. He�d teach him a lesson about life that he�d needed to learn.

�Your turn.� Richy pushed the guy down on the seat and unzipped his pants, freeing his rigid cock.

Brandon stared down at the face of his brother�s lover. He felt betrayed by the dim moonlight. It was tricking him. Moonlight was known to do that. He closed his eyes to clear away the trickery, then looked up at the stars. Star light, Star bright, First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, Have this wish, I wish tonight. Brandon opened his eyes and once more looked through the side window. Richy was busy sucking off . . . Taylor. There was no mistaking. It was Taylor. No moonlight trickery. Brandon just stood there and watched. When Taylor let out a grunt and cum sprayed on the window, Brandon turned and walked away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

�Goddamn fucking police,� Vivian pressed on the gas pedal, accelerating the car to ninety miles per hour.

�Mom, slow down. You�re scaring me.� Brandon pressed his hands against the dash.

�Put on your seatbelt. Put on your fucking seatbelt! Goddamn fucking police. They had no fucking business chasing your brother. You don�t fucking chase kids. He wasn�t a fucking criminal!�

�Goddamn fucking police!� Brandon added.

�They killed your brother. Goddamn fucking police. He was a fucking kid. You don�t fucking force a kid into a chase. Goddamn killed my kid. I�m gonna sue those fucking bastards.�

�Yeah. Sue those fucking bastards.�

�You see how many friends your brother has?�

Brandon nodded.

�People loved your brother. He had good friends. All those people at his funeral. Goddamn graveyard filled with people. All his friends. People loved your brother.�

�Yeah. People loved my brother.�

�Goddamn police. I�m gonna sue those fuckers. You see all the yellow ribbons �round that tree? All the wreaths and flowers people brought? People loved your brother. He�s got good friends. All those yellow ribbons and flowers. Goddamn beautiful memorial.� Vivian wiped at a tear.

�Goddamn beautiful memorial,� Brandon said.

�You didn�t fucking cry. Why didn�t you fucking cry?�

�I don�t know,� he shrugged.

�You�re in fucking shock! You�re fucking traumatized!�

�I�m fucking traumatized,� Brandon repeated.

Vivian pulled onto the exit ramp. �You look handsome today, baby. All dressed up in your suit. Richy would have been proud of you.�

�Thanks, Mom.�

�Goddamn fucking police killed my kid. Damn good thing you weren�t with him. Going on some beer run. You don�t go fucking chasing down kids for going on beer runs. That ain�t no criminal offense. Goddamn police should be going after murderers.�

�Yeah. Going after murderers.� Brandon looked out the side window watching the houses pass by. �Mom?�

�Yeah?�

�When is Taylor�s funeral?�

�Heck if I know?�

�Why?�

�There was no obit in the paper.�

�How come?

�He doesn�t got no fucking parents.�

�Everyone has parents!� Brandon yelled.

�I know that! I don�t know where his fucking parents are! Some kids don�t have a good mother like me. I�m a goddamn good mother. Fucking police take a kid away from a goddamn good mother.�

�Yeah, fucking police.�

�Grandpa�s staying with us for awhile. I can�t send him home all upset over your brother. Too much goddamn upset. He�s gonna stay in your room.�

�Where am I gonna sleep?�

�You sleep in Richy�s room.�

Brandon swallowed hard.

�Goddamn fucking police killed my kid. I�m gonna sue those fuckers.�

�Goddamn fucking police,� Brandon whispered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

His feet scuffed against the floor as he reluctantly took step after step closing the distance between him and the bedroom door. He felt his mother�s eyes upon him, scrutinizing his every move from the other end of the hall. He turned the cold doorknob and stepped inside the dimly lit room. He locked the door. Shadows danced on the wall. He clutched his stuffed dog tightly as he walked to the half bath.

Brandon pulled the chain and the bathroom was brightly lit. Richy�s toothbrush and toothpaste sat on the metal shelf underneath the mirror. His electric razor sat on the side of the sink. He opened the medicine cabinet. The shelves were full of over the counter pills. There was a pair of nail clippers, black lipstick from his Goth days, a plastic cup, fingernail scissors, Band-Aids, and condoms. He closed the cabinet.

He stared at his reflection. He was a pretty boy�cherry lips, blond hair, blue eyes, long lashes. Taylor thought he was a pretty boy. Wanted his hair longer. Just like Alice in Wonderland. Wanted him to be his Geisha girl.

Now Taylor was dead. Richy was dead. They both betrayed him. Taylor didn�t want him. He wanted Richy. Taylor didn�t want some little kid. He loved Taylor. He still loved Taylor. He loved Richy, too. Even if they betrayed him.

He opened the medicine cabinet and took the pair of scissors. He studied them carefully. He leaned forward and stared into the mirror. Carefully he cut his eyelashes to stubs. When he was finished he looked at himself with satisfaction. Then he picked up his brother�s electric razor and turned it on. The way it hummed and vibrated forced him into a deeper trance. He lifted his hand and placed the razor against his skull and with sweeping motions his blond locks dropped to the floor. He ran his hand over his crew cut head when done. Brandon touched his lips. He opened the cabinet once more and removed the black lipstick. He dabbed his lips until they were covered. No more cherry red. Black death. It suited him well. He wasn�t Taylor�s Geisha girl anymore. He didn�t know who he was. He pulled the chain. Darkness once more.

Brandon stood at Richy�s bed. He had argued with his mother for hours over sleeping in this bed. He was scared. He didn�t want to sleep in his dead brother�s bed. Now he welcomed it.

He lay down on top of the covers and placed his stuffed plush dog on his stomach. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. The room was cold. He dreamed that Richy�s bed was a coffin, and that he was inside lying beside his brother. Richy�s arms were around him holding him tightly, soothing him, helping him. Richy wasn�t angry with him. Taylor was there, too. He wasn�t angry either. He had his arms around him. Taylor loved him. He still wanted him to be his Geisha girl even though he cut off his hair and eyelashes. Taylor said his hair would grow. They would be happy together. Brandon smiled. He was with the two people he loved the most, and he was Taylor�s �everything�.

Copyright 2003 Kattali

** Please note. This story has an "alternative ending". If you're interested in reading it, or would like to archive this story somewhere/offer feedback, you may contact Kattali directly at [email protected].

Thank you.