Connor was sitting at the piano plucking out some blues improvisation. He was writing a song for Steve before school let out, a little celebration of the last year; he thought it appropriate, seeing as how Steve had taught him to reject repression and reveal his true self. Suddenly the phone rang. Connor swung his legs around the bench, leapt to his feet and dashed to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Con, it's Steve. You need to come over," came the voice from the other line. He sounded as if he'd been crying. Connor was confused, but told him he'd be over in a heartbeat. There were a few blocks between their houses, but it was only a ten-minute walk. Connor pulled on his jacket and hurried out the door, leaving a note for his mother.
He arrived at his friend's house and rang the doorbell. Steve's dad opened the door.
"Where's Steve?"
"In his room." And Connor rushed in without a word, maneuvering under the man's arm and down the hallway. He opened the door cautiously and discovered a suspiciously empty-looking room.
Steve was curled up under his covers. His head was hung, his dark hair covering his puffy red eyes. Connor sat beside him and put a hand on his knee. Steve looked up, and seeing that his friend had come, hugged him desperately. It looked like he was about to break into sobs again.
"Con, we're leaving," he said quietly into Connor's shoulder.
"W-what? Leaving?"
"My parents told me about an hour ago. We're going back to Oahu next week, after school's done."
Connor, now realizing the gravity of the situation, felt the tears coming as well. "No. No. Steve."
"Yes," Steve replied in a choked cry. The two sat in silence until they had finished crying, clutched at each other, held on for dear life. They didn't want this to end. It was too good to end, but of course, perhaps it was too good to be true. The song wasn't done yet. Steve couldn't go yet. They parted without another word, just a solemn hug.
That night, finally having conquered his sadness and fallen asleep, Connor had a dream.
"I wish I could just take you back to Hawaii with me," Steve said with the good humor that never seemed to leave him, even in situations like this. They were standing underneath the tree in Steve's backyard.
"Stay here or take me," Connor said in response. He would love to go there. He'd never been out of mid-western America before. "Please, just don't leave me." His bright blue eyes bored into Steve's brown ones, and Steve reached out to cup his face.
"Con, I'd do anything to be with you forever." And Connor felt his heart leap twice as high as it had in the past. Steve's hands ran through blonde locks and pulled him closer. His eyelashes fluttered and he stumbled a little, his hands grabbing for a hold. He found the hold on Steve's hips. The two boys moved closer together, and finally their lips met. It was like an explosion, so sudden and spontaneous. They had to have seen it coming, but they couldn't imagine what it would be like. Steve's hands traveled down to Connor's back and he pulled him still nearer, and they pulled hungrily at each others' mouths, arms and chests struggling against each other with a lustful heat.
They laid with each other, drifting off to sleep, and the heat of their bodies didn't seem to go away—when they awoke, the hot sun was beating down on them, and the sand was warm. Sounds of gulls and gently-crashing waves provided a serene white noise for the environment. They were sitting on a small atoll, alone, with no one else in the vicinity, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Connor had never been to Hawaii before, but he'd seen pictures, and his mind filled in the rest.
"We're here," Steve said, looking out into the waves. He stood and walked to the edge of the beach, dipping his toes in the water with a pleasant smile. He removed the polo shirt he was wearing; he had a tan, toned torso. Steve must have noticed Connor making eyes at him, because he pulled him to his feet and took off his shirt as well. Connor was embarrassed, but his confidence was restored when Steve told him he was beautiful.
They swam in the nude; the warm salty water felt good on their skin. It seemed to wash away the shame they had. They sat on a sandbank as the sun set, casting a crimson glow on the sea. The sky grew dark and soft with stars, the water lapped at their collarbones, and they explored each other. They kissed, they touched. Steve handled Connor and made him feel amazing. Connor felt no regret, only longing for more.
They experimented with each other—what happens when-oh yes—what happens when, YES!—and finally Connor was in Steve's lap on the warm beach, rocking back and forth just taking everything in, and he loved it. It was like the videos on the internet-oh, Lord how he prayed after watching those. They did the unspeakable, and Connor seemed to live every moment of it. He rejoiced and shouted into the sky, and he didn't care because it just felt so good-
Connor woke with a shout, holding himself up by one shaking arm. His chest was rising and falling uncontrollably. He could barely breathe, and sweat dripped down his face and into his bangs. Worst of all, his groin burned—his boxers were soaked with semen, and his privates were aching. One hand was under the band of his boxers, having been carrying out the ill-doings; he snatched it away and wiped it disgustedly on his sheets. He felt as if he would need five consecutive hours of showering to cleanse himself. Tears sprang to his eyes; not this again, he thought, crying silently in the night and rocking back and forth. He couldn't let his mother hear him. Oh Lord. Oh Lord, please. Oh God.
But he was not crying because he had just suffered the most horrific nightmare possible, where he had betrayed God and committed a terrible, unforgivable sin.
He cried because he had just been immersed in the most wonderful, beautiful dream possible, and now he was awake.
