Secrets Kept

*Updated June 2014 – originally chapter 9, just tweaked a bit, not much of a difference.*

This chapter starts off right after the end of last chapter. Part if this chapter kind of refers back to one of the early chapters, I think it was chapter two that talked a bit about the painted ceiling in Gary's room – it dealt with childhood memories of friends, particularly a certain rival.

Chapter Eight

He was miserable. Of course, that had been the norm ever since September or October – but this time, it was far worse.

Something about the way Umbreon had pawed at the door and cried after she had followed Arcanine and Tracey out of the room had torn at him and Gary was forced to admit that he had been in the wrong for insulting one of his best friends and then for kicking Tracey out of his room. Even so, he couldn't help the anger that had flooded him when Wyatt had over-reacted to him simply asking for him to leave the room.

Gary sighed and slumped in his desk chair, absently straightening the many objects scattered across the surface of the desk. What had happened with Tracey before Wyatt had entered his bedroom was still circulating in his head: Tracey's closeness, the teasing jokes between them… Had they all been jokes?

"Maybe I just want to kiss you."

Was it possible that that particular statement had not been a joke?

Gary couldn't say that he was at all turned off by the thought of Tracey kissing him – he actually wanted it to happen, but was terrified of what would happen if they did. At this point, Tracey was perhaps the only person he could just talk to about anything and everything.

A groan escaped him: he couldn't deal with this right now. He was simply too tired and felt too weak and sick to dwell on the events. A poor night's sleep was the least of his worries; the tension from that morning's exams, plus the looming ones set for the next morning, would not leave him. It didn't help that all of his friends, including himself, had several drinks the night before and he hadn't had anything to eat since then…

Lately it seemed as though the group of teenagers could not hang out together without alcohol being involved and there were many times when Gary would suddenly feel weak and ill and then realize that he hadn't eaten in nearly an entire day or, in a few instances, even longer. Constant anger, confusion, and general melancholy always seemed to simply kill his appetite.

A frustrated sigh escaped Gary and he stood, only to flop onto the bed a second later. He laid with his eyes closed for several moments, trying to calm down, but to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the image of Tracey coming closer, nor the fantasy of actually kissing the boy… or more. Hoping to escape the images, he opened his eyes and gazed at the ceiling miserably, focusing on the painted stars scattered across the darkness above him. Again, distractions were not particularly easy to come by: there were too many memories of painting the stars as a child. He forced himself to focus on the stars themselves, silently naming the constellations that had been painstakingly sketched and painted.

It was no use – the constellations had been Adrian's idea and Darren and Wyatt had been the two friends to help Gary put them in place.

Gazing up at them only served as a painful reminder of all of the drama that was currently taking place between his friends. Currently, he was torn between his two closest friends and couldn't defend one without betraying the other. His best bet was to not get involved, but that was much easier said than done. Lately, Wyatt had been drinking constantly, even downing an entire bottle of rum on his own one recent weekend, though Gary kept telling himself that he hadn't really drank that much. It just seemed like his friend had drank a large bottle of potent alcohol because he, Gary, had been too drunk to accurately see how much his friend had to drink.

Of course, he knew that wasn't true – he had watched from a distance, vaguely listening to Chase and Brandon's worried conversation about their blonde friend, all the while trying to keep from feeling too incredibly miserable.

He knew he couldn't choose sides when it came to this situation between Darren and Wyatt; he was able to see both sides and therein lay the problem. To say that Wyatt was depressed due to family troubles would be an understatement and Gary could certainly see how that could affect his behavior. The blonde boy was so insecure that he was forever throwing himself at the girls, always looking to score – just as Gary would constantly flirt back with his sister's friends whenever they started with their shallow advances. The girls were just a distraction, for Gary, the distraction was from how terrible he felt being attracted to other males. For Wyatt, it could be any number of things, but the purpose was still the same. It was all a distraction and it was all an act: a mask to hide behind. Because of that empathy, there was no way Gary could possibly side against the other boy.

They had both done something that was expressively forbidden by doing something romantic with Darren's sister. Alcohol had been a major contributing factor in both instances but the results had been vastly different. This instance resulted in fights and a torn group of friends, the time Gary had kissed the girl hadn't resulted in anything dramatic, save for a private break down behind closed doors. Just as there was no excuse for Wyatt to sleep with her, there was no excuse for Gary to kiss her – a friend's sister was off limits.

Suddenly, Gary had the inexplicable urge to go and explain the reason behind his actions so many months ago to Darren. He hadn't been thinking; he was just desperate to like a girl – any girl, even if it was a girl that may as well be his own sister. He had gotten too caught up in an act, so anxious to keep his friends from ever wondering about his sexuality. He had been stupid and drunk and, God, how he wished he could take it back!

Gary gave the painted stars on the ceiling one final, baneful glare and forced himself off of the bed, out of the room, and down the stairs to the garage. Along one wall was a shelving unit with a few semi-full cans of paint. One of them still held a decent amount of black paint, left over from painting something in the lab. He picked it up and snatched up a paintbrush, barely noticing the dark green paint that stained the handle: it was the same one that Tracey had used the first time sexuality had ever come up in conversation between them.

He shook his head forcefully – he was not going to think about Tracey. Not now, not ever again. He was simply done with this.

He was done with seeing his friend in any sexual light, regardless of how kind, understanding, and undeniably attractive he was… And he was done focusing on his other friends, the worries he had about them discovering his secret. He was done, and he was determined to erase the symbolic connection to the past, to their friendship, by painting over the stars on the ceiling.

… … …

It had all made sense then, when he had been angry, dejected, and unbearably stupid. An hour of work left behind a ceiling with blotchy spots of freshly gleaming black paint, now covering a project that had taken months. The paint fumes had left Gary feeling nauseated and the realization of how incredibly stupid painting in anger had been had left him in tears for the second time in perhaps six months.

The black paint was gone, and so were the painted stars, and Gary was left to dry his eyes, gather the remainder of his pride, and find something to calm him down. Something that wasn't stupid, pointless, or dangerous. At least not too dangerous. A little danger would give him some adrenaline and would, hopefully, cheer him up a bit. That was what had led him to bungee cording his surfboard to the top of his car and heading out to the beach, despite the storm that was approaching the mainland.

The skies were dark and cloudy, and the water was certain to be choppy, but it would be a distraction and it would give him a rush that would, if everything went well, make him feel better.

He hadn't counted on running into Wyatt, though he should have anticipated it, seeing as Wyatt was the most fervent surfer out of the group. They ignored each other for the better part of an hour, focusing more on staying on their boards despite the rough waves than acknowledging each other's presence. Finally, once the water had turned too rough to continue surfing, they left the beach and headed towards the parking lot, still saying nothing to each other. Wyatt carelessly tossed his board into the back of his pickup truck and watched as Gary attached his board to the top of his car.

"My parents are getting divorced," he announced quietly. Gary finished securing his board and turned slowly to face his friend, unsure if he had heard correctly over the roaring of the waves. "They won't stop fighting…"

"I'm sorry," Gary replied, not quite knowing what else to say.

"Dare' knows what's going on, Amanda found out from him somehow… It wasn't my idea to… You know, last night."

"Wyatt… That really doesn't make much of a difference, you still –"

"I was drunk! I wasn't thinking –"

"Still doesn't make a difference. You slept with her, bragged about it, and then fought about it."

"You kissed her!"

"I know I kissed her, Wyatt. It's not an easy memory to forget," Gary pointed out calmly. After spending time in the water, he had little trouble staying calm, despite his friend's irritation. The cold water had been invigorating, the distraction refreshing. It felt almost as though he could think more clearly now.

"But no one did anything when you did that," Wyatt replied, sounding almost desperate.

Gary sighed and met his eyes, a strange urge to tell him everything suddenly welling up in him. "Wyatt…" He stopped, unable to continue. "Never mind. I'll talk to Darren tomorrow, just stay out of trouble until then, okay?"

The other boy only gave a slight nod before climbing in his car and driving off, leaving Gary to lean against his own car with a sigh. Gary stood there for a long while, mind whirling as he gazed unseeingly towards the hills of Pallet Town.

Why had he come so close to telling him? Why hadn't he just told him, for that matter?

Because he has such a big mouth, he would tell everyone in Pallet… Just like May would, Gary reminded himself.

How long would it be before he got up the courage to come this close to opening up to a friend again? Would he ever be able to tell them?

Probably not, so don't even waste your time thinking about it.

He glanced over the terrain of the town and easily located the lab and the ranch. There was human figure on one of the hills, surrounded by pokemon; somehow, he knew it was Tracey. Another sigh escaped Gary. There was no way to escape the pokemon watcher. Not when they lived in the same small town and certainly not when he was in the bedroom next to him in the same house. Even here, at the beach, he couldn't escape him. The only place in Pallet that was further from the lab than the beach was the tiny harbor a mile southeast, which was home to a ferry that went from Kanto to the Orange Islands. Again, another reminder of Tracey…

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the first drops of rain began to fall, causing Gary to groan in annoyance – the roof wasn't on his Jeep and his grandfather would be undoubtedly angry if the interior of the car got soaked in the rain. Could the day get any worse?

Finally pulled out of his stupor, Gary climbed into the car and was about to pull out of the parking spot when he noticed that his cell phone was on the floor when it had been on the dashboard when he arrived at the beach. A glance at the screen revealed several missed calls, five from May, two from his grandfather, three from Darren, and even two from Adrian - apparently the vibration from the ringer had caused the phone to fall.

Maybe the day could get worse.

… … …

May had been quick to inform him that he had missed dinner and that their grandfather was looking for him when Gary returned home, though he ignored her and headed straight upstairs. The plan had simply been to head to his room, change into dry clothes, and then spend the rest of the night hiding out in there. He felt miserable enough to do exactly that, yet, for some reason, Tracey's open bedroom door seemed a bit more inviting. Tracey was sitting at his desk, drawing, while listening to a classic rock station on the radio, softly singing along to the Boston song that was playing.

It only took a moment for Tracey to glance up from his sketchbook once Gary leaned against the doorway to the room. He took one look at the board shorts and t-shirt Gary was wearing, both soaked from the rain, and shook his head.

"I guess I was right when I thought you went to the beach. Your car didn't get too wet did it?"

"No, but I got soaked putting the roof back on. How did you know I was at the beach?"

Tracey gave a small shrug. "I didn't see your board in the garage when I went to do my laundry earlier. It seemed logical that you would be at the beach since both the board and your car were gone," he said as though that explained everything. He turned back to his sketch and continued shading as he continued speaking. "The professor was looking for you; he seemed annoyed about your bedroom. Why did you paint the ceiling anyway?"

A groan and a roll of the eyes were the only responses he received to that question.

There was silence for a few moments before Gary spoke up again. "I almost told him."

Tracey paused for a moment. "Your grandfather?"

"No, Wyatt."

Another moment passed silently before Tracey looked back at Gary. "Seriously?" Gary nodded. "Why?"

"I don't know…" he moaned miserably.

"Well, do you want him to know?"

"Not particularly."

Tracey wasn't entirely sure that he believed him. If Gary was so dead set against his friends finding out, he wouldn't have come close to telling any of them and he wouldn't be so bothered by it. "Then why does it bother you?" Gary merely shrugged. "I can't really help you then, Gary," Tracey pointed out, averting his eyes.

It was the wrong thing to say. Gary snorted and shook his head. "If I wanted help, I would have asked for it," he replied derisively, turning and stalking towards his bedroom.

Disappointed by the response, Tracey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The reaction did nothing but remind him that there really wasn't anything he could do for the other boy as long as he was drowning in self-pity. "Of course you would have," he muttered under his breath. "That's why you came in here."

Let him deal with it, he thought to himself. He wondered if perhaps he should apologize for what had happened earlier, in Gary's bedroom. Don't even think about it, it was a joke. If Gary can't take the joke, then that's his problem. Tracey stood with another sigh, choosing to ignore his thoughts and head towards the other boy's room anyway.

Deep down, he knew that their near-kiss was not a joke. What led to it was a joke, the actual event was far from it.

This was starting to get to be too much for him. Helping out a friend in need, he could handle; falling for that friend was a bit too much. He was starting to feel like he needed a break from Pallet and all of the stresses of the town, so he did the only thing he could think of and reached for the telephone to call his mother.

… … …

Tracey was the type of person that absolutely needed at least a solid six hours of sleep in order to function properly, unfortunately, that meant his decision to stay up half of the night on the phone with his mother made it nearly impossible to complete his work at the lab the next day. He was almost jealous of Gary for once – the other boy could function easily on only an hour or two of sleep. Of course, Gary was at school this morning, finishing his exams for the year; English and biology, if he remembered correctly. Without anyone else to fix his botched chores, the professor had been quick to notice that something was amiss when it was nearly eleven in the morning and the water pokemon had yet to be fed breakfast. He had reminded Tracey about the chore, figuring that the boy had grown used to Gary completing it in the mornings – after all, Gary had been doing it most of the school year and this was an odd week.

The professor hadn't been surprised at all when Tracey immediately rushed to feed the water pokemon when reminded, but he had been surprised by the uncharacteristic curse that Tracey gave before doing so. Once he finished the chore, Tracey returned to the lab and leaned against the wall next to the door for a moment, trying to decide whether he should take a short nap before lunch.

"Tracey, are you feeling alright today?" Professor Oak asked, glancing over at his assistant.

Tracey sighed and sank into his desk chair. "I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't sleep well last night."

The professor nodded and glanced back at the computer screen he had been looking at. "That seems to be the case with every one today," he observed.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I couldn't sleep so I came down here – "

"Which explains why all of the paperwork is done and your desk is clean… for once," Tracey added with a small smile. The professor's late-night working sprees usually resulted in a much cleaner lab than usual the next day.

The professor returned Tracey's smile before continuing. "Based on Gary's attitude this morning, I assume he didn't sleep well either. Then again, with the way he's been lately, this might just be Gary being Gary…"

Tracey groaned and shook his head. There was always something going on with Gary and he was tired of hearing it. When he gave his mother a vague description of what was going on, she had suggested coming home for a few weeks and he was starting to feel a strong desire to do just that.

"It seems like something's bothering you," Professor Oak spoke up again, pulling Tracey away from his thoughts.

"I talked to my mom last night."

"Oh? How's your family?"

"Fine… I was thinking of visiting them for a bit this summer."

"You should. You haven't seen them since you visited in October."

He hesitated for a moment; this visit would be significantly longer than most of his recent visits and he knew that would make things difficult at the lab over the summer. "I was thinking of staying there for a couple of weeks…" he admitted.

"Hmmm. That will make things a bit difficult, especially with Gary going away, but I suppose I can always have Darren and Adrian help out."

"Gary's going away?" Tracey asked.

The professor nodded. "Possibly. Professor Birch is tagging sharpedoes in the Orange Islands with Professor Ivy and asked me if Gary wanted to join them this time. After all, he has been helping from a distance with the actual research part of it. Personally, I hope he decides to go. Maybe it'll cheer him up a bit."

Great, so we'll both be in the Islands at the same time, Tracey thought, a bit sarcastically. "Do you think he'll go?" he asked.

Professor Oak thought for a moment before replying with a small shrug that immediately reminded Tracey of Gary. "It's hard to tell. I would think he would be eager to go since he hates staying in one place but he's become rather lazy lately. If he isn't fighting with his friends or skipping school, he's sleeping, which he usually does when something's bothering him," the professor added as an afterthought.

Tracey said nothing in response. It was certainly true that something was bothering Gary – hell, there were many things bothering Gary and Tracey could list them all off the top of his head and with no effort. Of course, he couldn't exactly tell Professor Oak that. He was sworn to absolute secrecy and, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't tell anyone about the issues. It was difficult to keep that sort of secret, and there were days that Tracey simply wanted to sit down with the professor or May, or even pull aside one of Gary's friends, and bring something – anything – to their attention in hopes that they would take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of Gary's issues. Being the only person, other than Gary, with this weight on his shoulders was a terrible pain.

"You two have become rather close this year," Professor Oak observed suddenly. Tracey froze, knowing what was coming. "Do you happen to know what his issue is lately?"

Tracey sighed and shook his head. May was always asking him the same thing, as was Darren, and occasionally Gary's other friends. "He talks to me about some things…" he hedged.

The professor simply nodded and returned to his work. "At least he's talking to someone. He's so stubborn, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he refused to talk to anyone."

To Hell with it… "I'm the only one he'll talk to," Tracey blurted. Please, figure it out, he thought. "I guess he thinks I'm the only one that can relate… or something like that…" he muttered. Put two and two together and talk to him…

"It's amazing how teenagers can convince themselves of that. No one can ever understand them. It gets to the point where you just want to give up on them and figure that they'll come around on their own." Professor Oak smiled and left, heading in the direction of his office, leaving Tracey alone in the main lab.

As soon as the professor was out of the room, a loud groan escaped Tracey and he dropped his head on the top of his desk, hitting his forehead rather hard on the surface. "Great…"

"You know, that's about how I've felt all day," a voice spoke up from behind him, eliciting yet another sigh. He didn't feel like dealing with Gary just now.

"Isn't that how you've been feeling just about every day since, oh, I don't know, September?" Tracey snapped irritably.

Gary shrugged calmly, just barely rolling his eyes as he ventured deeper into the lab to lean against one of the counters close to Tracey. "Not every day."

"Just most days."

Gary shook his head and suppressed a sigh. "Sure, whatever you say, Trace."

"You know it's true," Tracey replied. With that, he stood and left the room, unable to stand being in the same room as Gary at the moment. He was simply sick and tired of the angst and drama. He just wanted to go home and forget about it all for a few weeks.

Gary groaned in frustration, raking a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. "God, I need to get out of this town," he complained loudly to no one in particular.

"Well then, here's your chance," his grandfather's voice came from the direction of his office, causing Gary to roll his eyes.

Now what? he wondered in annoyance.

… … …