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    Topher Lydon
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Carter's Army - 15. Chapter 15

December 10th

 

He was sitting in the library with the Scrapbook open on the table in front of him. It was a biography on Hollywood stars of the fifties. He sat there quietly studying the pages rereading the section on Dean's life.

James Dean had been little more than a boy when he died, killed at twenty-four on the highway near Paso Robles, California, on September 30, 1955, while on his way to a sports car meet. At the time of his death, Dean had completed three movies, East of Eden, Rebel Without a Cause, and Giant, only the first of which had been released.

Just like that, one man died and an icon had been born. It didn't affect Will in a profound way; it wasn't a sudden turning point for his life. If anything it sounded anticlimactic. A young man that had been such a symbol for teenage rebellion but what did catch his eye was the theory that Dean had been gay. Nothing founded in fact, everyone who would know was either dead or flatly refused to admit to anything, but the theory was enough for Will to take a closer look.

The more he read, the more he felt he understood, Dean was the phenomenon that he had been painted to be, he had been another screwed up person who had tried to deal with life in his own way. Seeming to get everything he could possibly want only to ultimately loose everything.

He closed the book with a snap and returned it to the shelf. He was thinking a lot about the future and what exactly he wanted from life. Hard things for a sixteen year old kid to decide, but reading about Dean just hit his own situation home.

He found himself standing in the great bay windows at the far end of the library, hands knotted at the small of his back staring out at the white covered world. His eyes travelled over the trees, and up to the horizon. The school commanded an impressive view of Merrickville; it sat up on a small hill above the small town and so sat slightly apart from it.

He had choices to make, and in a moment of clarity like that, he knew he had to make them. He couldn't just drift, he was suddenly in charge of his own life for the first time and that meant the only one who made the choices was him. It was as much thrilling as it was terrifying.

He knew he wanted University, which was a road he had been guided towards much of his life. His father had been grooming him for an eventual career in the military, but that was his dream not Will's. Will felt he owed his father nothing at that moment, and with good reason.

He knew he didn't want to stay in the Ottawa Valley; there was Dalhousie University that he had always wanted to attend. Go there and... and what? Be another carbon copy Ikea boy, mass-produced for living in Canadian society?

He could choose a school in England; his Grandmother would be ecstatic about that. Her little boy coming home. But then he would have to work harder to get there, the entrance requirements for foreign students; even ones that were citizens would be higher than a school in Canada.

There was always college, not much of an option for him. He was an academic and he knew books. As much as he missed playing cricket, he just couldn't make a living in Canada knowing how to play a sport everyone dismissed as a joke. Even if he did go back to England, he was so far out of practice...

He was actually angry with his father. He had made such a monumental decision to uproot his entire family to start again in Canada. He had dragged Will away from his friends, his family; even his dreams just to abandon him in this place. He had been cast away like a piece of rubbish just because gay men had no place in the Major's army.

He looked at his friends, and the parents they had. Lisa had a doting mom who seemed to look after everyone. Jared had stable parents that encouraged him; hell they even allowed him to throw parties when they were away.

Even Brody had parents that cared. Although he seemed distant from them, he still maintained a connection to them. Will supposed it had something to do with when Brody's Grandmother had become ill. He had moved in to care for her, no small commitment for someone so young. Watching someone he cared for slowly loosing a battle to cancer had hardened Brody, to the point that when she had passed away he had stayed in that house.

Parents were an important part of a teenager's life, that love and guidance that sent them down the path that would eventually lead them to their own lives. But that had all changed, in a single heart beat. One single kiss in the snow and everything had changed. But he wasn't complaining, he couldn't miss what he had never had.

If anything, he felt he should thank his father. The lessons he had learned were how to survive, the endless repetition of discipline till it was as much a part of him as the air he breathed. The only difference was now he was master of his own ship, that now he had to steer his own course and see where it took him.

University it would be, but he would enter the courses he wanted to enter. He would study the history he loved and maybe one day he would bury himself in some dark and musty library somewhere, happily deciphering languages that no one had spoken in millennia. Or maybe he would go on to Journalism school and see where his writing would take him. The choice really was his alone.

He felt rather than heard Andrew's approach, and he inclined his head slightly to confirm it. There was that all too familiar flush of warmth he felt whenever Andrew was near him and he turned with a full smile on his face.

"What are you staring at?" Andrew asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets staring out of the windows at the white world beyond.

"Just thinking," Will confessed, "About the future."

Andrew nodded, "That's cool," he cast a look back over his shoulder and seeing no one watching him he casually bounced against Will. A playful gesture that was perfectly safe, and wasn't going to earn Will any more lectures from Mister Greenwood.

Andrew stopped bouncing a moment and leaned in closer to Will, "I want to take you out tonight, on a date."

Will nodded it was a Friday night. Hard for him to believe only a week had gone by since he had been at Jared's party. The last few days since Greenwood had caught them had passed in almost a blur. Andrew had made every effort to find Will at the end of each lunch hour, and again after class they would walk out to Andrew's car together. Fleeting moments, but it was all they could afford.

"Is that a yes?" Andrew asked bouncing again. He was nervous, Will could never get that. Andrew always seemed so outwardly calm about everything, and yet a simple thing like asking him could make him sweat.

At least Will wasn't the only one intimidated by the prospect of going out on a date. But there was an almost earnest way about Andrew asking, like he was hoping Will would say yes even though he was uncertain about the whole gay thing.

"Yes," Will replied with a shy smile, his cheeks flushing again.

"Good," Andrew said relaxing noticeably, "I'll pick you up at seven thirty..." he stopped, "Oh and dress up, I want this to be perfect."

Will glanced at him, "Perfect huh?"

Andrew grinned walked away, a spring in every other step. From Will's perspective it was like the Captain of the Storm hockey team was skipping. He shook his head in amusement, what had he just agreed to? What was he going to wear?

Copyright © 2010 Christopher Patrick Lydon; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Will is moving from reacting to acting. That's a big step in anyone's life. :2thumbs: 

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