It was the fourth grade at Presentation B.V.M. School and I’ve made a new close best friend, Trevor. I couldn’t say we were exactly alike because we most definitely weren’t. We were, however, the same height for the whole year. Although, he was much bigger than me, not fat, not obese, not skinny, but “just right.” I remember sometimes I would tease him about his somewhat chubby belly when he took off his shirt in front of me, even though he wasn’t big at all (I guess because of my small size, an average weight boy seemed “huge” compared to myself). We were very close, even at the beginning of the school year. It didn’t take long before I frequently visited his home and became openly attached to him.
Trevor didn’t play any sports. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t very athletic, unlike me. There were times when I had to beg Trevor to go play outside when we were couped up inside playing video games or watching TV. He never really enjoyed any physical activities. One time, he gathered five other neighborhood boys outside to play “capture the flag.” That was the first time I heard the words queer and faggot. These words were mostly aimed towards Trevor for reasons unknown to me still. The other neighborhood boys were very fit and muscular-looking. A blonde one kept bragging about having a four pack abs. Another kept showing everyone his biceps during play. This strangely aroused me in ways I couldn’t explain. Trevor and I would grow with intense envy and jealousy against those boys. What did Trevor have to show? A full, jellylike gut and round arms? And what possibly did I have to show? Skin and bones? Every one of those neighborhood boys bragged and showed off something on their bodies that made them different from Trevor and I. One even threw his shirt off while moaning vigorously. I stared and watched. My eyes were glued tight onto him while desire sledgehammered me. They scanned every part of his body as he danced around the street, trying to tag the flag barer. Well, he was right, he did have a four pack. It was purely beautiful at the time.
When he shouted with victory in his tone, my eyes rolled over to take a glance at Trevor. His brown eyes were also glaring at the shirtless blonde boy, with some kind of unidentifiable emotion in them. I think we both felt something arousing towards him at that time, but couldn’t fathom emotions, nor words to our lips. He then charged over to me and raised his hand high above his head. The blonde boy was rushing over to give me a high five for doing something bravely in the game. When our hands met, his chest was inches from my face. I could almost feel his sweat splash onto me. My heart skipped a beat as my stomach filled with a different species of butterflies. As he left to get into his position, I could still smell his stench. It was something that didn’t bother me, instead, stimulated me. Trevor’s wide brown eyes met with mine as we continued to stare at each other. It felt like our emotions and inner feelings combined into one entity, something we both shared.
Trevor and I both knew we didn’t truly fit in with those other, “manly” boys. All we had to do was glance at each other and we knew what we were thinking. I wanted to leave and so did Trevor. We could feel each others urge to get away from it all.
“Vinnie and I have to go now,” mumbled Trevor, his voice shaking, “It’s time for dinner.” There was still a full hour left before Trevor’s mom would call us in for dinner. The other boys barely paid any attention to Trevor’s announcement. A few of them, including the shirtless blonde boy, turned to quickly say “bye” to us while we departed. I nervously returned the farewell after I heard the blonde boy’s voice. Trevor didn’t look back once, instead, he kept his head lowered as he watched his feet move across the black street. I, however, had to look back. I just had to take another long, hard look at him. Time itself, slowed down for me at that moment as I observed his entire body, one last time. My emotions were suddenly running haywire. Unexplainable things occurred just then. I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn’t know what exactly to say. My legs wanted to go back to other boys, but they were locked in a set motion. My heart was confused with this weaken feeling inside it. What was it I felt just then?
Later on, that day, along with those boys, had just become fantasies in my dreams. Trevor and I rarely spoke of that day, as it was quietly tabooed. Whenever one of us did mention that day, our voices grew with envy, as if we emotionally wanted more of it. We would sometimes try to find ways of making us more “manly,” to showoff those other boys, so we too could be like them. For a while, when Trevor’s dad left for work in the evenings, we would sneak downstairs in the basement and use his father’s weights. After ten minutes, we would be exhausted while we flexed our muscles for each other. Trevor would thoroughly feel my “results” from the ten minute workout. He would start by slightly squeezing my biceps. My bones could feel pressure from the force of his fingers. After my biceps, his hands would gently rub my bare chest, skating his fingers against the skin. Then, it was my turn. Trevor would sound like a little child as he excitedly waited for me to test his results. His round chest would pump outwards towards me and his big, round arms complimented his body’s size. To me, he looked very intimidating when he flexed like that. I stood there, shirtless, observing Trevor flex. It was now time for me to test his ten minute workout. My hand sunk into his biceps as they barely fit around them. Underneath was cold, hard muscle. I never understood why Trevor wasn’t an athlete, he was extremely strong. Then my hands made their way down to his plump chest. They continually pressed up against it. Sometimes, a finger or two would get lost inside his skin. Trevor was strong, very strong, much stronger than me. Aside from his plump figure, he could probably beat me up with no effort. That’s probably why Trevor constantly reminded me he lifted heavier weights than me whenever we worked out. It made me feel even smaller compared to Trevor, but deep down, we both knew we were getting manlier.
Trevor was eventually becoming so desperate, we even tried belching contests with each other. Those never really lasted more than a few minutes because we’d usually suck really bad or we’d make ourselves nauseous. The last time Trevor dared attempt another was when he openly belched at dinner to behave manly. His mom immediately grounded him and we never did those again.
Other times before our workouts, we would wrestle in his bedroom. We held giant, puffy pillows at our chests as we charged at each other like freight trains. Trevor usually knocked me down first, laying on top of me, thus making it impossible for me to move. Like I said, he was much stronger than I was and he weighed a lot more too. Honestly, I don’t know why I continued to play the wrestling games when I knew I would lose every time. I guess I subconsciously knew it made Trevor feel powerful and manly to beat me down. Strangely enough, I kind of enjoyed him knocking me all around. Trevor would always taunt me, telling me how I was going to lose as he armed his pillow. It was something we both accepted.
Majority of the fourth grade, we both spent most weekends and evenings after school becoming manly. Whatever we could think of to make us stronger, tougher, manlier, we attempted it. Some days, we would run up to his room after school and slam the door shut behind us. Then, we would instantly throw off our shirts to showoff our “manly” selves to one another. It would put a huge grin on both our faces for reasons unknown. We just felt really comfortable with this kind of confidence. Together at school, we had no self confidence and low self-esteem. I was the small, weak boy, and Trevor was the fat, short boy. So, I guess accepting each other’s bodies around each other felt safe and stimulating. In his room, we would discuss about the school day. Who did what, who said what, who was the best in gym class, who sucked in gym class; anything we could think of. It made us feel fulfilling when we insulted handsome boys, skilled athletes, girls or other peers behind their backs in our little sanctuary. After our critique of the school day, we would toss our shirts back on, wait for Trevor’s dad to leave, then dash to the basement to workout.
Back at school, it was as if our experiences at Trevor’s house never existed. Not once would we ever speak of what we did, what we talked about, how more manlier we got, or how much fun we had. It was kind of like a system of our own confidentiality. There were times at school, especially during lunch, when I wanted so badly to talk to Trevor about our workout routines. It drove me crazy, and I’m sure Trevor felt the same way. I wanted to show my peers how manly I’ve gotten since the beginning of the year. I wanted to show them all that I’ve changed, that I can behave and act like an average boy. In my dreams, I would fantasize that Trevor and I would be ripping our shirts off, flexing for everyone at school. Girls would be rushing over to us, gasping with glee as they examined us. Then, the boys would run over with their jaws wide open with shock. One boy would reach out to me, his fingers so close to my skin and just as he touches me, I would awaken to a fast beating heart. Those dreams frightened me greatly. I didn’t know what they meant. Usually the next day after school, in Trevor’s bedroom, I would spill my guts, telling him the stories from my dreams. He always seemed to appreciate and enjoy them as he listened with a smile.
Back then I didn’t know what do with my feelings. They were like, a gift, that I had to open in front of a crowd. The school year was passing by quickly and Trevor and I had recently turned ten years old. We were ten now, which meant no room for weakness towards the other boys. Our workout routines, including the “inspections,” became much more vigorous and thorough. Ten minutes eventually turned into thirty minutes. We could both feel it; we were getting stronger. Trevor’s plump body slowly morphed away into the shape of muscle. I remember by the end of the year, my fingers would no longer sink deep into his chest anymore. To share the wealth, Trevor complimented me by saying my arms and biceps got a little larger. In excitement, we jumped up and hugged each other with glee. Our bare bodies, seeping together like soaked towels. Strangely enough, I didn’t want to let go of him. I was so happy to have Trevor as a friend, to share secrets and feelings with.
It was now the beginning of summer. Trevor and I couldn’t wait to see each other everyday to play, workout and chat. I generally always went to his house because mine was a lot smaller and didn’t have any weights for us to use. Besides, I never once exhibited my true side to my parents like I did with Trevor. It was like I had to shut down half my personality at home. Life was simply better at Trevor’s house. The first month of summer went by in a flash. Trevor and I were closer than ever before. I can’t explain how were got closer, we just were. He and I finished each other’s sentences, knowing exactly what we were thinking. That’s when I started sleeping over more frequently. It just felt more comfortable to be near him all the time.
That summer, there was another incident on the street with other neighborhood boys. These were boys I’ve never seen before. My eyes jumped from boy to boy, looking for the legendary blonde with the four pack abs. He was no where to be seen. Three new neighborhood boys stood in front of us this time. They seemed to be slightly older than us, probably twelve, maybe even thirteen. Trevor appeared to be calm and confident around them. Instead, I was overwhelmed with anxiety and worry. I couldn’t get those rapid thoughts out of my head. This time, there was no epic game to play, no showing off our manliness and no demonstrating our strength. Rather, this time, the tallest boy pulled out a shiny magazine from his pocket. He boasted to everyone as he held it high in the air. The other boys were astonished and worshiped the tallest boy for revealing that magazine. We all sat down next to him on the curb, under a large, old tree. I caught a glance at the front cover; it had two young women, posing in bathing suits. It was a teen magazine made for girls. At first I was puzzled why a boy would have a magazine for girls. I closely watched the three boys moan and cheer as the tallest one flipped through the pages. They wined like starving puppies, repeating phrases like, “yes,” “look at those,” or “I wanna touch that!” Most of the girls in this magazine were half naked.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna get something more revealing,” announced the tallest boy, “Then we can really enjoy it.” My gut felt sour as I continued to watch those boys finger through all the pages, again and again and again. It felt so wrong to do that, to look at those half naked women. After Trevor told the three boys a clever excuse, we quickly left them alone. Once we made it to his bedroom, we sat there, quietly. I couldn’t ever recall us being this silent before. We were confused, distorted and aloof. A horrifying side of us fought with our inner feelings that night. Voices inside our minds kept pestering us, “why didn’t you behave like those other boys? Why didn’t you enjoy that?” That night was quiet, as we struggled to contain the confusion inside ourselves. That day marked its history in our friendship. We both knew what happened and why it happened, but we couldn’t figure out why we felt the way we did. Are boys our age supposed to like girls like that? I remembered my parents consistently telling me that someday I’ll have a girlfriend and that I’ll be kissing girls. But I wondered, “when will that happen?”
During the middle of the summer, our lives were shattered by terrible news. My parents told me I was going to another school for the fifth grade. At first I was excited, but then I realized I wouldn’t see Trevor anymore. I almost vomited when I fully compiled this news. Trevor didn’t take it all too well. He immediately threw the biggest hissy fit I’ve ever seen. I was actually forced to leave his house after I laid down the truth because he locked himself in his room and refused to talk to me. His mom felt bad for me as she drove me home after spending less than fifteen minutes there. Somehow, I felt guilty inside, as if this was my fault. It felt like I betrayed Trevor’s trust, like stabbing him in the back when he needed me the most. For two whole nights I couldn’t sleep. All I could think of was Trevor crying in his room, weeping, because of me. The third day, Trevor called and invited me back over. When I arrived, he apologized and decided we should spend as much time together before the big move. Nothing could make me any happier.
That night, I slept over. After a long day of working out and having fun, we were ready for sleep. This was the latest I’ve ever stayed up in my life. It was well past eleven o’clock at night. The room was pitch black and so silent, you could hear us breathing. We couldn’t stop talking about things, about our workouts, about our good times spent together, about our birthday parties, about school. After a good laugh, it grew uncomfortably quiet. I softly fidgeted in my blue sleeping bag beside his bed. As my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, I looked up and saw Trevor leaning over me from atop his bed. He slowly climbed down, then knelled next to me. It was difficult for me to see exactly what was going on, so I sat myself up in my sleeping bag. Just then, I could feel warmth around my lips, soothing wetness; such a satisfying desire. We kissed and kissed, for what seemed like a really long time, which was only truly five minutes. Trevor was the first to gently back away from the moment. He had the biggest smile on his face when he opened his eyes. A voice inside my head kept telling me I wanted more, a lot more. But there was another voice, countering the pleasant moment from our kisses. This voice scolded me, whipped me, demoralized me. Miraculously enough, I was strong enough at that time to shut those voices up and focus on what was happening now. Trevor leaned in and kissed me one more time on the lips before saying goodnight. I was so flushed, I didn’t know what it was I was experiencing. This feeling inside me, this amazing sensation on my lips, it all felt incredible. That night, I fell asleep with a joyous grin on my face.
Oddly enough, the next morning none of us brought up the topic of our midnight kissing. To me, it all felt like a fantastic dream that truthfully never occurred. During breakfast, Trevor’s mom invited me to take a visit to their pool that day. Trevor and his mom were members to a public swim club not too far from their house. I loved to swim and it meant I’d spend more time with Trevor. Gracefully, I accepted their invitation to the pool. Trevor cheered with happiness as he spoke a mile a minute, describing the pool and how much fun we’ll have there. His mom offered that I wear some of Trevor’s extra clothes and bathing suit for the afternoon. The bathing suit fit me perfectly, but his shirt was a little big on me. It didn’t matter to me, rather, I could smell his aroma on my body. The two of us never shut up the entire car ride. Although, we were very careful about what we said in front of his mom. Not once did we mention our workouts, our interactions with each other or our experiences with the neighborhood boys. We kept our chatter simple and clean.
For an unusual reason, the entire day I could not keep my eyes off Trevor. Whether he was in the water, drying himself off, eating in the shack or sitting down on a lawn chair. I felt more connected to him than ever before. There was like an unbreakable bond that chained us together, such as when people claim they met their soul mate. This bond became heavier the further we separated. If I was more than fifty feet away from him, my gut would twist and my heart would race. An uncontrollable force pushed me closer to him every time this happened. I simply felt right when he was close to me. Trevor would break my concentration by shouting my name just before cannonballing into the water.
After a long, exhausting day in the water, it was finally time to go home. The sun was beginning to fade into a haunting orange and the sky was developing into a blanket of sunset red. The once hot air has now become a chilly breeze. Trevor’s mom instructed me to shower first in the boys locker room, followed by her son. We gathered our dry clothes and headed inside the awful locker room. It reeked like a mixture of body oder and rotten fish. The floor was wet with spots of puddles and soaked wooden benches that desperately needed a cleaning. There were only two stalls that appeared as if they were hundreds of years old, rotting with mold on the toilets. An obese man exited one of the stalls, fiddling with his bathing suit strings with the sound of a vacuum flush behind him. Across the poorly lit room, was a naked old man standing in the corner. It seemed like he was struggling to successfully change himself. Trevor tapped my shoulder and pointed over to the shower stall. There was only one shower and it was terribly protected by a flimsy gray curtain. I gave Trevor a cold look as I cautiously entered the dirty shower. He smiled at me as I quickly closed the curtain in front of him. I tossed the drenched bathing suit over the curtain and turned the water dial that read HOT.
The steaming hot water repeatedly splashed against my naked body. It cleansed all the chlorine in my hair, leaving a warm sting behind. Just as I was reaching for the soap, the curtain swung open. I instantly became petrified with fear of the unknown. Trevor was butt naked, like me. He shut the curtain and stepped up closer to me. Both our heads were under the never ending water-spray of warmth. His hair drooped down off to one side of his head, but his dark eyes kept focused on me. Some stranded water found their way into our exposed eyes. That didn’t stop us from gazing into each other’s curious souls. I tried asking myself what was going to happen, but no one answered. My conscious was baffled too, unable to send me instructions. Trevor came in even closer, so close, our lips were almost touching. We remained in that position for some time with our eyes carefully centered with each other’s. All that you could hear was the soothing ambience of endless water, splashing on the tile floor below our bare feet. The rest felt unreal. I couldn’t digest this feeling I was experiencing. My body didn’t know how to react to such a thing. Trevor moaned softly, followed by myself. An enchanting voice inside my head told me not to look down. But I resisted, and I did look down. Through the foggy water and thick steam, I saw Trevor’s hand on it. His other hand was wrapped around his. I immediately raised my head and shut my eyes, trying to fight this overwhelming sensation. This uncontrollable, arousing touch flowed through my very veins. After a loud yelp from each of us, the sensation was gone and I once again felt nothing. It was an instant transition from flying in heaven, to falling into a harsh reality. I remained still with my eyes closed, slowly catching my breath. When I opened them, Trevor was already gone. He left with him a chilly draft that escaped through the slightly closed curtain.
I finished my shower, dried off and quickly got dressed. The locker room was completely barren, like an abandoned prison. My own meek coughs echoed through the room, bouncing off the rusted metal locker doors. More than ever I desired to confront Trevor. I just had to know what he was thinking, what he was doing, how we would explain himself to me. With haste, I dashed out of the locker room, only to find myself bumping into Trevor and his mom. My mouth opened to speak but only air came out.
“You boys ready to go?” she asked us with a smile. She picked up her pool bag and headed for the main exit.
“Trevor,” I struggled to say aloud, “What just happened?”
“I don’t know, Vinnie,” he replied, “But,” he paused and in all seriousness he continued, “I’m really glad we’re friends.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we followed his mom back to the car. Just before we reached the car, I finally said to him, “Me too.” Our relationship has forever changed.
August came like a brick flying through a window. Before I knew it, school was going to start in two weeks. Trevor and I haven’t seen each other the entire month. He and his family were away on vacation for the first two weeks of August. I waited anxiously for his phone call everyday, so we could see each other again. There was only one measly week of summer left now. By this time, we’ve become true masters at our workout routines, lasting up to one hour. This will be the last time I sleep over his house before school. We couldn’t stop talking all night. He and I kept promising one another that we’d still be best friends and that we’d hang out every weekend. So I crawled up top to his bed in the darkness and we made a pact; to be best friends forever. After we laid down the law and agreed to it, our giggling died out. I could hear the cricket’s playing their songs in the night. Songs that were telling me to go to sleep, that it’s late out, that I shouldn’t be awake at this hour.
Trevor licked his lips with his tongue, inching his way closer. I knew what was going to happen. I was prepared this time. This was something I wanted I kept telling myself. I opened my mouth as our moist lips met. Occasionally, I tasted Trevor’s tongue in my mouth, so I did the same to him. Then we eventually laid down, side by side on his bed, our lips still locked together. This time we didn’t bother to stop because we were scared. We both knew what we were doing and why we were doing it. Simply, because it felt good and it felt right. I don’t know how long we were kissing exactly, probably about an hour straight. It was like the two of us were trapped inside an impenetrable bubble as if time itself warped by without us. When we took a short break to catch our breath, Trevor took off all his clothes, carelessly tossing them on the floor. In all the excitement, I unconsciously did the same. Unaware of my actions, my hands automatically wrapped themselves around Trevor’s area. Trevor immediately mimicked my actions, quickly taking hold of mine. It only took us a few minutes to cum to at the same time. We yelped softly as a cold breeze of the night swept past our bare bodies. After it was all over, we continued to sit there, our hands still wrapped tight. We were breathing heavily through the mouth at each other. A few moments of recovery, he and I slowly let go simultaneously.
“I’ll clean it up,” Trevor whisper to me. I hopped off the bed and dressed myself. Still naked, Trevor grabbed the stained pillow case and sheet and curled them up into a compact ball. He shoved it underneath his bed, never to be seen again. I lied back down in the comfort of my sleeping bag and closed my eyes.
“Goodnight, Vin,” he whispered, putting on his boxers.
“Goodnight, Trevor,” I replied smiling, licking the taste of Trevor’s tongue on my lips.
It just happened I told myself, and it had to of happened for a reason. I had to of met Trevor for a reason, I had to of experienced all of this for a reason. Back then I was utterly oblivious to everything that happened to me. Even now, it still confuses me, frustrates me, inspires me.
Once the fifth grade started, I quickly made a few new friends there. I didn’t forget Trevor of course. However, whenever I called, his mom would pick up and say he’s busy with school work or something else. And whenever he would call me, I’d end up being busy with ice hockey or school work. This unsuccessful phone tag eventually stopped before winter vacation, and by then I already had new friends that lived in my neighborhood. We never saw each other again and till this day, I still wonder what he’s up to and how he’s been. The secrets we shared together also died together, but lived on within myself. Life moved too quickly for me to try to reach Trevor again the following summer before I entered middle school, and I’m sure he felt the same way. Sadly, by that time, he had become a mere memory that’ll never, ever be forgotten.