(Dream…1st kiss)

There was room frozen in time, painted blue, jean blue. There were hockey pucks and sticks decorated systematically on the walls. The room was filled with dim light from a desk lamp. There were two boys sitting on the edge of the bed; whose comforter also happened to be jean blue with hockey pucks. The boys differed greatly in looks. The shorter one was pale with dark eyes. His hair was long and dirty blonde; his cheeks were flushed with pink. The other boy was taller, his skin was tanned, his body more toned than his counterpart's. His hair was short and spiky, and his eyes were honey with a tint of gray. They shone in the dim light, tears streaked his face. Time resumed.

"Don't cry Mike." The smaller boy spoke softly to his best friend. He put his hand lightly on his shoulder and patted his back like his mother and done to him countless times before. "It'll be okay." He smiled weakly.

"It won't and you know it Will!" The other boy sobbed. He knew this was the last straw. He heard his parents arguing. He was only seven, but 'divorce' was a word that he understood. He proceeded to bury his face in his friend's shoulder. He loathed crying but he couldn't stop the tears.

"Crying's not going to help Mickey." The smaller boy rubbed his friend's back gently as he shhed him. "I hate them you know." His friend looked up quizzically. "For making you cry." The boys looked at each other for a long moment. The smaller one was the first to move. He put his arms around the other's neck. He pressed his lips to his friend's.

"What are you doing?" The boy whispered as though he was afraid someone might overhear.

"It's what my dad does when my mom's upset." The boys sat wordlessly, assessing the scene.

"I don't mind." The boys smiled and the smaller one took this statement as an invitation to press their lips together once more. They paused and giggled at their silliness. "I don't think you doing it right." The taller boy chuckled.

"I think I'm supposed to put my tongue in you mouth." The smaller boy answered bashfully. His face grew red instantly. But the other boy only laughed.

"Yuck. Who told you that?" Asked the taller boy.

"Chris." Answered his friend simply.

"Chris lies a lot." The other replied.

"I don't think he was lying. My parents do it when they think I'm not looking." They both shook their heads in disgust. Grown ups were definitely icky.

"I don't mind." The taller boy said, his face reddening.

"What?" Asked the other boy confused.

"If you do that." replied the other boy, his face red hot, right to the scalp. The smaller boy immediately understood. He hesitated at first, but curiosity got the best of him. He repeated his gesture only with the added stipulation. He instantly realized a problem.

"I think you supposed to open your mouth." They laughed.

"Oops." The smaller boy tried again, more successfully. The kiss was sloppy and clumsy, but determined. The boys engrossed themselves in their task and found themselves enjoying it. They were so immersed that they didn't even hear the bedroom door open slowly. They didn't even realize that they weren't alone until…

"What the hell?" A large man with dark skin marched into the room. He pulled the taller boy up and off the bed by one arm. The boy felt bruises forming but said nothing. He let tears silently fall down his cheeks and stain the dark blue carpet. The man dragged him painfully out of the jean blue room. He eyes looked back at his friend pleading for help, but the smaller boy could do nothing but sit there and cry.