Title: The New Kid
Rating: PG—very tame, however there are some swear words
Disclaimer: I understand that CowLip and Showtime own the rights to these boys, I'm merely "borrowing" them for the time being. This story made for fun, not for profit. No infringement intended.
Dedication: To two wonderful sources of support, Sonny and Ade. Thank you for everything.

The New Kid

Fourteen-year-old Michael Novotny was in third period English class, fidgeting in his chair, suffering from acute boredom as his teacher droned on about Anne Frank. It's not that he didn't think Anne's story wasn't interesting; it's just that his teacher was lame and made everything he spoke about sound boring. So Michael pretended to be engrossed in his book when really he was reading the latest issue of X-Men comics which he strategically placed inside his orange Trapper Keeper.

X-Men were so much more fun to read about than the Holocaust—that was simply depressing.

Every so often, Michael would raise his head so he looked like he was paying attention to the teacher at important intervals and then he would go back to reading his comic. Fifteen minutes into the class, there was a knock on the door and one of the school's guidance counselors asked to speak to Mr. Simpson. A minute or so later, Mr. Simpson was back in class, ushering in some strange boy.

"Class, this is Brian Kinney. Brian's a new transfer student," he introduced.

Michael didn't look up from his comic, though he clearly heard what the teacher was saying. A new boy. He wondered what he was like and if he would be another bully or if he would leave Michael alone—he preferred the latter option. Then there was another option: the prospect of meeting a new friend. That would be cool. Particularly because his best friend, Charlie Dodd, had recently moved to Oregon on account of his dad's job. Without Charlie around, Michael was feeling lonely, even though he did have other friends. It wasn't the same. They weren't Charlie.

"Brian, you can take a seat next to Michael Novotny. Michael, please raise your hand so Brian knows who you are."

But Michael wasn't paying attention so he missed the teacher's request. "Psst, Michael," whispered Sarah who sat behind him.

"What?" he asked irritated to be interrupted from his comic-reading.

"Mr. Simpson just called you. He wants you to raise your hand so the new kid can sit next to you."

Shit! Reddening, Michael raised his hand. The kid gave a nod and then strode to the seat, raising his brow at Michael when he sat down.

Wonder what that means? thought Michael.

"Okay, let's get back to what we were discussing. Class, turn to page 45 in The Diary of Anne Frank. Michael, why don't you let Brian read along with you."

Shrugging, Michael pushed his seat closer to Brian's and opened up his book to the correct page.

"Thanks," Brian whispered.

"No problem." It was at that moment that Michael glanced up at this new boy. When he did, he noticed Brian look intently at him. Oh shit, did he have something on his face? Blushing furiously, he wiped at his face, feeling relief when he couldn't feel anything.

The kid smirked at him. "You know you're cute when you blush," Brian whispered to him, which only made Michael blush further.

"Uhh…"

"Name's Brian. Brian Kinney."

"Yeah, I heard Mr. Simpson introduce you. I'm Michael Novotny."

"Hey Michael." Brian smiled at him and Michael couldn't help but give a smile back.

"Hey. Well, we better read this."

They read along with the teacher until class was over. Michael packed up his book and Trapper Keeper which he stuck in his backpack when he noticed that Brian stood around, waiting.

Michael felt unnerved at the way Brian's eyes penetrated him. He felt exposed. Swallowing, he decided that two could play at the staring game, so he stared back. It was at that point that Michael really took a good look at Brian. Brian was wearing jeans and a Smiths t-shirt (which Michael thought was way cool, not that many of his friends were into The Smiths, they liked more of the poppy new wave stuff) underneath a jeans jacket. His honey-brown hair was wavy and Michael noted Brian brushing his hair off his forehead, out of his eyes. Eyes which were hazel. Michael always thought that hazel eyes were cool. Certainly cooler than the plain brown ones he had.

Brian snickered as he watched Michael stare at him. Michael was one of those "boy-next-door" types; he could tell just by looking at him. The kid was wearing jeans and a Superman tee shirt. Brian preferred Batman himself. Darker. Edgier.

Breaking the silence, Michael asked, "Can I uh, can I help you with something?" He fiddled with his backpack strap as he asked.

"Yeah, do you know where the gym is? I have that next period."

"You do?" Michael squeaked out.

"Yeah, why, is that a problem?"

Shaking his head, Michael stuttered, "Uhh…no. No. I uh, I have gym fourth period too. I uhh, I can sh-show you where it is."

"Thanks, Mikey," he said breezily.

"What?" Michael asked, not sure if he was hearing right.

"I said thanks, Mikey."

"My, my name is Michael. Only my Uncle Vic calls me Mikey."

"Not even Mike?"

Michael shook his head. "Bummer, cuz Mikey's a good nickname. Oh well, lead the way, Novotny."

"Sure thing, Kinney."

Brian let out a chuckle as he followed the shorter boy to the gymnasium.

"So, what are we doing in gym?"

"Well, you're just in time for basketball."

"Ugh, I hate basketball."

"Really?" Michael asked in surprise. "Me too. I'll show you where the lockers are. C'mon."

Brian stopped suddenly. "What is it?" Michael asked as he Brian shifted on his feet.

"I didn't bring any gym clothes. Not for the first day! Crap, guess I'll have to sit this one out."

"Oh. Well, uhh, you could borrow my spare set of clothes, if you want."

Raising a brow, Brian asked if Michael was sure and when he got the nod, he followed him into the locker room and sat on the bench as he waited for Michael to rifle through his locker until he extracted a pair of sweatpants and a plain white tee which he handed to Brian and then he grabbed his own clothes, a pair of shorts and a tee. Yanking off the tee he was wearing, he thrust it into his locker and pulled on the other tee. He felt eyes upon him, which made him shiver. He hated changing in front of the guys because he was so small, something which often garnered him teasing. He hoped Brian wasn't going to tease him about his height or lean frame.

"You just gonna sit there or are you going to get dressed?" Michael finally asked as he shimmied out of his jeans and then hurriedly got into his shorts.

"Uhh, sorry," Brian said sheepishly as he took his jean jacket off and hung it up in one of the longer lockers before taking his tee off and doing the same with it.

Michael looked away so Brian could have some privacy. Sitting down on the bench, he tied his Keds as Brian slipped out of his jeans and into the sweats.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Cool. We're already late though." Michael looked over at Brian and felt weird to see this new guy wearing his own clothes. Brian was taller than him but lanky, so he managed to fit in Michael's clothes which were a bit bigger than Michael's own size.

"Shit. Sorry."

Michael shrugged and exited the locker room with Brian trailing behind him.

"About time you showed up, Novotny," yelled the gym teacher, Mr. Edwards. The rest of the class snickered and Brian frowned. He hated rude assholes and from one sentence, it sounded as if the coach was.

"It was my fault," he spoke up.

"Who are you?" the teacher asked, looking at the new kid.

"This is Brian Kinney, Mr. Edwards. He's a transfer student. I was just showing him around and let him borrow some clothes so he could participate."

"All right. I'll let it slide this time, Novotny. Okay everyone, let's warm up by jogging around the gym."

The kids started to jog, Brian finding it easy to go at a fast pace. He was in fairly good shape and running and jogging always came easy for him. He certainly had enough practice. He noticed Michael lagging far behind, in the very back with a couple of fat kids. Weird, especially because Michael was skinny.

They jogged for what seemed like forever until finally Mr. Edwards blew his whistle and told them to head to the baskets, grab a ball and a partner to play some one-on-one. Brian stood around with his hands in his—Michael's—sweatpants' pockets, surveying as everyone got paired up, even the fat kids. The one other loner was Michael and he was leaning against a wall, panting heavily.

"Need a partner?" Brian asked, walking over to the boy whose face was red and breath shallow.

Nodding, Michael wheezed out, "Sure."

"You okay, kid?" Brian inquired, his voice tinged with concern.

"I'm not a kid," Michael said defensively after he got his breath back. "I'm fourteen."

"What a coincidence, so am I. Just asking, you're outta breath from the jog. It's not like we ran a mile or anything."

Shaking his head, Michael grabbed a free ball from the bin and said, "C'mon, we don't want to get in trouble, let's play."

Dribbling the ball a bit before he attempted a basket, Michael hung his head when it failed to land anywhere near the hoop.

Brian grabbed the bouncing ball and dribbled before attempting his own shot. Like Michael, it failed to land in the basket. Muttering under his breath, he passed it to Michael whose second attempt was another failure. As was Brian's.

"I fucking hate basketball," Brian muttered when his third shot failed to pass.

Nodding in agreement, Michael told him, "No kidding. Then again, I fucking hate every sport. I'm so uncoordinated."

"That's okay, Mikey. Err, Michael. Sorry." Brian gave Michael a sheepish grin.

Michael grinned at him. "'sokay."

They played a little while longer, eventually both making baskets. Their playing was never competitive and they managed to crack some smiles and laugh at each other's antics.

"Kareem Abdul-Jabbar I'm not," Brian declared when the game was over, once the whistle blew.

Scrunching his face, Michael asked, "Kareem Ab-who?"

Brian laughed out loud, earning a stern look from their gym teacher who announced they all had to cool down by running three laps around the gym. What a pain in the ass, Brian thought. His hazel eyes turned in the direction of where Michael stood, muttering under his breath. Seemed like the kid didn't like to run.

A couple minutes later, class was over and Brian returned into the locker room and changed out of Michael's clothes and back into his own, his eyes circling the room as he caught some of the guys in various states of undress. Some of them were kinda cute, but there was a definite lack of true "hot" guys. Course they were pretty young, most guys weren't "hot" until they hit at least fifteen! Brian snickered to himself. Michael was sure being quiet as he got dressed…Brian looked up and noticed that Michael wasn't there. Huh, that's weird, he thought.

Shrugging his jean jacket on, Brian departed the locker room when he saw Michael huddled in a corner, his face extremely pale. Brian jogged over to him and was shocked to hear the boy's wild breathing patterns.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Need," Michael panted, gasping for breath.

"What?" Brian asked, his hazel eyes displaying concern for this kid who'd been nothing but kind to him since they met in English.

"Can't…breathe," he murmured, his hand on his chest.

Eyes widening, Brian glanced around for help. Nobody was there. Shit!

"Why can't you breathe?"

"Need." Pausing, Michael took a deep gulp. "Inhaler."

"Inhaler? Oh shit, you're asthmatic?" he asked, realization dawning on him.

Nodding, Michael wheezed again. "Where is it?" Brian asked. "Inhaler, where is it?"

"Lo-locker. Bag. Book bag," Michael said, feeling dizzy, clinging to the wall.

Brian nodded and ran back into the locker room and rummaged through Michael's backpack looking for this very important object. "Shit, where is it?" he asked the empty room when he couldn't find it. Finally he opened the front zipper and spotted the object. "Got it," he yelled and ran back to where Michael stood, looking like he was going to pass out.

"Here, Mikey," Brian said, thrusting the object into Michael's hands.

He watched as Michael shakily took a puff and then one more. He waited until he heard Michael's breath catch and then even out. "Thank, thank you Brian."

Swallowing, Brian said, "No problem. Glad I was here."

"Me too," Michael said with a smile. "Shit. That was a bad attack."

"You need to see the nurse or something?" Brian asked, not sure if he trusted that Michael was going to be okay.

Shaking his head, Michael said, "Nah. There's nothing they can do. Besides, they'd probably call Ma and she'd freak."

Brian wondered what that was about and if Michael's mother freaked the way Brian's own father did. For some reason, he was feeling protective of the kid, and didn't want to get him into trouble.

"Well we don't want that to happen. I hate when my mom spazzes," he said lightheartedly, which garnered a small smile from Michael.

"So, uh, what's the rest of your schedule look like?"

Brian grabbed his schedule out of his back pocket and placed it into Michael's hands, waiting as Michael's deep brown eyes quickly perused the slip of paper.

"Wow," Michael said when he finished and handed it back to Brian.

"What?"

"We also have science and Spanish together. And lunch the same period. Now, actually."

"Four classes and lunch? Interesting."

Was it? Michael wondered to himself. "Or coincidence. Come on, I'll show you the cafeteria."

Brian followed Michael along until they entered the cafeteria. It was pretty large, bigger than the one at his old school. Tons of kids were milling about either in line to get something to eat or sitting at various tables. Brian could already pick out the various cliques—the stoners, the jocks, the nerds, the popular ones. Kids really did make it easy for him.

"Hey Michael!" a voice from across where they stood called. "Michael? You gonna come here and eat with us or what?"

Michael hesitated, looking back and forth between Brian and the table where his friends were sitting. Brian watched Michael's hesitation and he made up his mind for him. "See you around, Mikey."

He was about to argue the merits of his being called his first name when he decided it really didn't matter and for some reason he liked this Brian Kinney calling him "Mikey."

"You sure? I mean, you can sit with us if you want. My friends won't mind, promise." Dare Brian say that Michael's brown orbs looked hopeful?

Nodding, Brian playfully shoved his shoulder. "Nah. I'll find a place. Later."

"See you in science, Brian." Michael gave him a half-wave before he left to join his friends at their table.

"Michael, where have you been?" asked one of his friends.

"Mr. Edwards made us run extra laps after gym."

"Ugh," chorused the rest of the group.

Putting his backpack on the table, Michael unzipped it and took out the homemade lunch his mom had packed for him.

"Who was that guy you were talking to? I don't think I've seen him before."

"He's new," Michael told them, sitting down at the table. "His name's Brian. Brian Kinney. He's cool."

Brian meanwhile had wandered around the cafeteria and got in line to buy some crap food—a huge slice of pepperoni pizza with a Coke to drink—and find a place to sit. Some girl who was behind him in line was flirting with him. He gave her a mega-watt smile and no further encouragement. She giggled before placing her order. When he was done paying for his meal, he looked around the room. His eyes zeroed in on the table where he'd seen Michael walk off to. Michael was eating something—he couldn't tell what, from where he was standing—and animatedly talking and laughing with a group of boys. For some reason, that made him smile. Michael had a great laugh.

"You're the new kid, aren't you?" a voice behind him asked.

Brian glanced up at the blond guy who was sported a school jacket—looked like a football player to him. "You're in my English class, right? Kinsey or something?"

"Kinney," Brian corrected. "Brian Kinney."

"Matt Stein," the jock said. "You're not going to sit over there, are you?"

Brian gave him a confused look so Matt pointed out the table where Michael sat. "I saw you looking over there. That's the loser table. The nerds, the dweebs, the geeks. They sit around and read comic books and shit. So lame. You're new here, so piece of advice: avoid them like the plague."

Brian nodded. Duly noted. "You can sit at my table if you want."

Brian raised a brow. This kid didn't know him from Adam. He wondered what the boy wanted. Almost everyone wanted something, they didn't just freely offer it. Except, well Michael hadn't really seemed to want anything from him. He'd even invited Brian to sit at the table with his friends and join him for lunch. Shaking his head, he decided to hell with it and sat at the jock table.

Twenty minutes later, he was bored out of his skull. They may be "pretty" to look at, but most of them fit the stereotype of not having much "there." As bored as he felt, he didn't look it though and he spoke up when talked to and easily carried on conversation. They liked him, he could tell. Always could.

The bell rang and Brian rose from his seat and found a trashcan where he tossed his Coke can. He looked for Michael at the other table but saw that it was empty. Looking at his schedule he saw that math was next. He hated math.

Forty-five minutes later after going over the scintillating topic of integers, Brian was wandering around the halls, looking for a science class. Once found, he entered, on time for the first time all day. The classroom was set up as a lab. Most of the spots were taken. He glanced around the room at all the unfamiliar kids until he noticed a head of jet black hair. Michael! Brian had forgotten that they were also in science together.

"Hey," he said casually walking over to the table where Michael sat on a stool.

Michael was deep in concentration, reading that X-Men fic. He had art the period before and was unable to continue his reading. He was determined to finish this issue before school was done and then his plan was to head over to Buzzy's and find another story to whet his appetite.

Suddenly he noticed a hand that was waving in front of his face. "Don't sneak up on me like that," he chastised, embarrassed.

"Whatcha reading?" Brian inquired, peering down at the table where a comic book sat.

"Nothing," mumbled Michael.

"You must be Brian Kinney," a voice interrupted them.

"That's me," Brian said with a disarming smile.

"I'm Miss Thatcher. Nice to meet you, welcome to my science class. Oh, seems you found a free spot here next to Michael. You two can be partners from now on."

Michael's eyes widened and Brian smirked, taking a seat on the spare stool. The teacher walked to the front of the board and started writing on the chalkboard.

"Hey partner."

Michael chose to ignore Brian. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing," Michael said sullenly.

"Somebody's PMSing," ribbed Brian as he picked up the comic that Michael had been engrossed in.

"X-Men. Is this new?"

"Give it back," Michael whispered, annoyed.

"Make me," dared Brian.

"Okay class, I want you to open your books to page 320."

Michael did as instructed, glaring at Brian all the while. Brian simply scooted over closer to Michael to read along in the book. He put one hand on the page and the other was around the comic.

When class ended, Michael got up with a huff and said, "Gimme back my X-Men, Brian."

"Calm down, Mikey. This actually looks interesting."

Michael gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, it must be. You've been reading that all day. I saw you, in English."

"It's good," admitted Michael, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Can I read it when you're done?"

Michael was taken aback. "You're into comics?" he squeaked out.

"Duh, who isn't?"

Shrugging, Michael said most of the guys weren't.

"I'm not most guys, Mikey."

Biting his lower lip, Michael had to grant him that. Brian handed him his precious X-Men back and Michael tucked it safely into his book bag.

"Ahora es el tiempo para la clase de español," Brian rattled off.

"Huh?" Michael asked, thoroughly confused at the rapid change of topic.

"Now it's time for Spanish class. We're in Spanish together, de acuerdo?"

"I'm not that good at Spanish. I wish we could take Italian."

"Why? Italian's pretty similar. If you know Italian, you should be able to pick up Spanish."

"I'm Italian."

Brian pondered that one over. "Novotny's a weird 'Italian' name."

Rolling his eyes, Michael said duh, that was his dad's last name. But his mom's side was Italian.

Brian didn't belabor the point and instead followed Michael along to their next class which was also the last class of the day.

"Gracias a Dios!" declared Brian at the end of Spanish class.

"Thanks to God?" Michael asked.

"Sí, Mikey. Or I should call you Miguelito. That's Spanish for Mikey."

"You're just making crap up now."

Laughing, Brian shook his head.

"See you tomorrow," Michael said as he exited the building.

"See ya," Brian said, watching Michael walk away from the school but not head towards the buses. He must live nearby. Like Michael, Brian didn't need to take the bus to school.

Michael slowly rounded the corner, taking a shortcut to Buzzy's. He was still feeling a bit anxious about the day's events, what with meeting Brian and having the asthma attack and everything, so he needed some semblance of normalcy and going to Buzzy's after a long day in school was as normal as it got for Michael.

He didn't realize it, but Brian had been tracking him, curious as to where the boy lived. Brian paused when he saw Michael enter the store. Huh, he thought to himself, looking at the sign which read Buzzy's Comics. Michael sure was a comic lover! He refrained from going inside after Michael and just waited outside.

"Hi Michael," Buzzy greeted as Michael entered the store and fooled around with some of the toys.

"Hey Buzzy. How's it going?"

"Oh, you know. Same ol', same ol'. What about you?"

"Same. Any good inventory in?" Michael was hopeful, even though he'd been in the shop only a couple of days ago.

"You finish that X-Men already?" Buzzy was surprised, Michael had picked it up just two days prior to this visit.

Nodding, Michael told him he had and that it was the best issue so far.

"Let me see what I have," Buzzy said with a twinkle in his eye as he dug through a box of comics that had arrived just a few hours ago. He had a surprise for Michael.

"Here you go," he said, pushing the book towards Michael.

Michael's eyes widened and he gave the sweetest smile as he whispered, "Captain Astro."

"It's a special edition, Michael. In this issue, Galaxy Lad takes the reins when the good Captain falls ill."

"Really? Wow that sounds neat. How much?"

"Five bucks."

"Five? Shit, I only have three. Damn."

Michael frowned as he pushed the book back towards Buzzy. "Thanks anyway, Buzzy."

Buzzy felt bad for the kid. "Tell you what, since you're one of my most loyal customers, I'll give you a deal on this one. I'll take three dollars for it."

"Really? You don't have to do it, Buzz—"

He was cut off by the older guy. "Take it, Michael. You love the Captain and Galaxy Lad the best. I know you'll appreciate it." He put the comic book in a plastic slip and handed it to Michael who handed him the three dollars. Michael thanked him a few more times before leaving the store, hugging the new issue to his chest.

He was so captivated at the prospect of reading the newest issue of Captain Astro that he didn't realize he'd smacked into someone else. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"What'd you get, Mikey?" came a now familiar voice.

Jumping back, Michael said, "Shit, what are you doing here, Brian?"

"I uhh…" Brian didn't finish his thought.

"You followed me? Why?"

Brian shrugged. "Just bored, I guess."

He took out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and pulled out one which he put in his mouth after lighting up with his Bic lighter.

Michael's eyes widened even more so than usual. "You smoke?"

Brian gave him a look that read "duh."

"But you're only fourteen."

"Oh Mikey you're so naïve."

Michael frowned, not appreciating being patronized. He turned on his heel and headed in the direction of his house.

"Wait up!" called Brian who sprinted after him. Michael didn't answer him.

"C'mon, Mikey, I didn't mean anything by it. It's not a bad thing."

"Why are you even talking to me?" Michael asked harshly.

Confusion spread on Brian's face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just a geek, you know. A dweeb, a comic book nerd. A dork. You shouldn't be seen with me, it'll ruin your reputation before you have a chance to establish one. You should be hanging out with Matt Stein and his friends, be popular."

Brian had a feeling that Michael must have run into Matt who obviously had picked on Michael and brought Brian into the conversation.

"Yeah, well I don't need to be popular. 'sides, I'm not a dumb jock."

Michael didn't say anything, he simply stood at the crosswalk that was across the street from his house.

"Mikey, c'mon. I thought…well. Never mind."

Brian turned around and headed into the direction of his house, which was a few streets over, not too far from Michael's.

"Wait, Brian!" Michael called after him.

"What?" the other teen asked, whipping his head around.

"Do you like Captain Astro?"

"Who the fuck is Captain Astro?"

Michael let out the most intoxicating laugh as he walked over towards Brian. "Who's Captain Astro? He's only the best comic book superhero ever. Well him and his partner-in-fighting-crime, Galaxy Lad."

"Galaxy Lad and Captain Astro. Those names are kinda gay."

Michael didn't flinch when Brian said that, but he wasn't surprised, most people thought the same. And there were the Captain Astro/Galaxy Lad rumors.

"Yeah, well I don't care. They're the best."

"If you say so."

"Brian, do you have to be home now? I mean, will your parents be expecting you or something?"

Shaking his head, Brian said, "Nah. Jack is at work and Joanie is likely at some Church function or another." He rolled his eyes as he said the last part.

"You call your parents by their first name?" Michael was surprised.

Shaking his head, Brian admitted, "Not to their faces. But they won't care. I mean, Pop might get pissed if I'm home too late and he'll want me to do some chores, particularly if Claire's out getting pumped and dumped by some stupid jock at the high school."

Brian said such things so nonchalantly, it threw Michael. He guessed that Claire must be an older sister. Michael had always wanted a sibling.

"Well, you can come over. To my house. I can show you some Captain Astro and we can have a snack or something. Maybe even do some homework. If you wanna." He shrugged, trying to appear noncommittal, as if it was no big deal either way. But secretly, he hoped for the company.

"What about your folks? They mind strange boys coming over?"

"You're not a stranger, you're a classmate. And my mom's pulling a double at the diner."

"Oh. Well, what about your pop?"

He immediately regretted his question when he saw Michael's body stiffening, his jaw clenching. Did he say something wrong? Maybe Michael's parents were divorced. Well, that wasn't a big deal, a lot of kids' parents were divorced nowadays.

"I uh. My dad is uh. My dad's dead," he whispered, pain evident in his voice.

"Dead?" Brian was stunned. He didn't know any classmates with a dead parent.

Nodding, Michael said, "Yeah. He died two weeks after I was born. In Vietnam."

"Jesus, Mikey, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"He was a hero," Michael said wistfully, swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat.

"A real hero," he added, so Brian would know there was a difference between his comic book superheroes and his dad the war hero.

"So are you coming or not?" Michael asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"Coming," Brian said and he once again followed Michael, this time to his house which from the outside looked like it was stuck in the 70s. Once he stepped inside, he realized that it was just like the outside. It was tacky and full of kitschy knickknacks, but it was also homey. Unlike Brian's own home which was dull and lifeless. Brian could tell that though the Novotny house just had Michael and his mom, it was full of life.

Michael went into the kitchen while Brian stood around, looking at pictures on the wall. Pulling out a pitcher of lemonade, Michael got two glasses out of the cupboard and began pouring. Brian noticed something set up at the mantle so he walked over to have a closer inspection. What he found was a shrine, of sorts. There was a picture of a man in a uniform and there was also a Purple Heart in a box. Purple Heart! Wow, Michael's father really had been a hero if he'd been awarded the purple heart. He looked over the photo to see the man who never got to know his son and he felt mixed emotions. On the one hand, Brian wished his own father were dead. On the other, not ever knowing your own father had to suck too. Maybe one day he'd tell Mikey that they're both shit outta luck in the dad department. Maybe…

Clearing his throat as he re-entered the living room, Michael handed Brian a tall glass of lemonade and a mysterious bar which he discovered was a lemon bar, made by Michael's mother. Lemon bars and lemonade. Very quaint.

Not knowing if he should sit on the sofa or not, Brian looked to Michael for a hint and Michael told him to follow him, upstairs into his room. As they entered the room, Michael threw his book bag that had been slung on his shoulder onto the messy floor and he kicked off his Keds before sitting down on his bed and placing his drink on the night table. Holding his own glass in his hands, Brian took a look around the room. Wow. His room was nothing like this. Michael's room was lived in. It was messy as was typical with most 14-year-old boys but it wasn't that messy that he couldn't walk around or find things. What Brian noticed most of all was that it was full—of color, of things on the wall, of pictures, of toys and gadgets. Old motorcycle wallpaper garnished the room and some superhero curtains hung over his window. He looked at the bed Michael sat on and saw superhero sheets. Damn, he'd never met anyone as obsessed with comics as Michael. Not that it was a bad thing, Brian liked comics too just not to the same extent.

"Sit down," Michael instructed, patting some space next to him on the bed.

Brian did as was told, though there wasn't much space on the twin bed. Michael bent over to pull something out of the drawer in his nightstand and he handed the object to Brian. "This is Captain Astro of Astro Comics."

Brian would have figured that the magazine would be frayed at the edges or yellowed from the wear and tear of repeated reading, but no, it was in near-pristine condition. It was something that Michael obviously valued dearly. Brian couldn't think of anything he owned that he took such care of. Slowly opening the comic, Brian read the story in his head while taking in the illustrations. He was quiet and Michael, well he didn't say a word, he just sat there, watching Brian reading about the Captain and his best friend, Galaxy Lad. Absently, Brian wished for some music to break the serious mood that had entered the room. It was a comic for crying out loud, not Steinbeck!

"Well?" Michael asked a while later, once Brian was done reading.

"It's not bad."

"Oh," the disappointment could clearly be heard in his voice.

"For a gay comic, it's pretty awesome. I didn't know they had them."

"Wha, what?" Michael questioned, blinking rapidly.

Smirking, Brian looked at the shorter teen who was running a hand through his hair. "C'mon, Astro and Galaxy are so fucking when they get back to the apartment that they share. Duh. Although really, they're not the first ones. Batman and Robin? Bruce and Dick? Totally doing it."

Rolling his eyes, Michael had no retort. But he let Brian go on because the cocky boy had suddenly become animated on the topic of gay superheroes.

"Whatever. Wanna read another one?"

"Sure Mikey, sure. And gimme one of those lemon bars while you're at it."

A few hours later, Brian finally left the Novotony house and trudged back to his own. He'd been fed at Michael's—leftover pasta and more lemon bars than he could ever desire—and he'd read multiple issues of Captain Astro and he'd even finished his homework. Brian couldn't recall the last time he'd enjoyed such a carefree afternoon/evening. As soon as he opened the door, he heard the yelling—Joan yelling at Jack about Claire and then Jack calling Joan a drunk, as if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black. Sighing, he tiptoed into the house, hoping not to be discovered by his parents.

"Brian!" yelled Jack who'd caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, Pop?" he asked, turning around from where he stood on the bottom step of the staircase.

"Where the hell have you been, boy? Did you forget that Tuesday is trash night?" his father snarled, glaring at him.

"No, no sir. I'll get it right away."

"You'd better," threatened his father.

As Brian took to the task of gathering all the garbage, his mind flickered to warm chocolate eyes and the smile that Michael had on his face as he described what was going on in Issue 23 of Captain Astro. Maybe Brian could stop over Michael's another time after school and read more of the damn comic. It sure as hell beat being at his house.

Michael was filling the basin in the sink with dish soap and hot water so he could start the dishes when the back door opened, his mom entering the room.

"Hi Ma," he greeted with a smile as she took off her coat and stuck it on the back of a chair.

"Hi baby," she tiredly greeted in kind, pulling the apron off her waist and adding that to the chair.

"You look tired, Ma. You should take a seat. I'll heat you up some pasta," he told her and moved to get the Tupperware out of the fridge.

"Michael, I ate at work. I'm not hungry."

Michael eyed his mother. "You sure?" When she nodded, he put the Tupperware back into the fridge before leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"How was school, baby?"

"It was good. There's this new boy, his name is Brian Kinney."

"Oh yeah? He nice?"

"He's a transfer student. He's…interesting. Not like any boy I know. He's really smart. And confident. And …" Michael rambled on about the new boy and Debbie took it all in.

"Sounds like you made a new friend today, Michael."

Giving her a smile, Michael nodded. "Yeah. At least I hope so. Brian's really cool."

Brian Kinney this and Brian Kinney that. One day and Michael was a goner.