Fic: Love Me LIke Sunday, 1/2, Rated NC-17

[courts]

Title: Love Me Like Sunday
Author: courts
Disclaimer: Look for "Ham On Rye: The Series" on UPN this fall. No, really. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Rating: NC-17
Category: Slash, Hamilton/Ryder
Summary: A chance meeting brings two men together after years apart, bringing forth past mistakes and future possibilities.
Author's Note: At least partial credit for this story idea has to go to the New Radicals for their song, "Crying Like A Church on Monday" which inspired me. The lyrics that appear at the beginning of each part are from that song. Oh, and the song that they dance to in the second part is "Again" by Janet Jackson. And, lastly, thank you to Toria, a most excellent beta, without whom this story would probably still be sitting on my hard drive collecting dust.

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Part 1: Past

I was dancing
With your shadow
Slow down memories hall
I said wait have I been seduced and forgotten
You said Baby haven't we all

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October 20, 2011
Downtown Chicago

It was raining. Well, of course it was raining, Ryder Forrest thought as he hurried along the sidewalk. He had a staff meeting to get to in twenty minutes, a presentation this afternoon that he still had to finish preparing for, and half a dozen errands he'd been putting off for weeks and had really hoped to get done today. The dry cleaners would probably start auctioning off his clothes if he didn't pick them up soon. And now it was raining. Perfect. Now he'd be late, putting him even further behind, and he probably wouldn't even get his cappuccino from Starbucks if these infernal people in front of him didn't start *moving*, for God's sake! Days like this reminded him of why he hated the rain.

Starbucks appeared around the corner and he glanced down at his wristwatch, deciding that there was just enough time to get his coffee. He'd be no good if he didn't get some caffeine anyway and at least this way one thing is his day would be going right. He had a feeling already that by the end of it all he'd need that small bit of reassurance.

His head was still down, huddled against the wind that had blown in with the storm, as he pushed quickly through the glass door to Starbucks. Apparently, he wasn't the only person not watching where he was going.

"Oof!" The door swung back at him immediately and Ryder caught it before it knocked him over. Looking up, he saw that he'd managed to collide with someone else who was leaving the coffee shop just as he was coming in. The same someone who was now covered in some frothy, brown concoction, standing just inside the door and dabbing at his once-white Oxford shirt to no avail. Ryder pushed the door again and came in to apologize to the stranger.

"Sorry chap, I must not have been looking . . . I didn't see you. Looks like quite the mess you got there," he tried to sound apologetic even as his mind ran through his morning schedule, mentally juggling things about to account for this new obstacle. This was, perhaps, the reason that it took him a bit longer to recognize the man in front of him.

"It's alright, as much my fault as yours, I suspect," the dark-haired man conceded. "Besides, it'll wash out." He looked up then, finally giving up on the mess and seeing Ryder before him for the first time. "No hard feeling--" He stopped in mid sentence as recognition washed over his dark features. "Oh, um . . ."

It seemed to take a second longer for everything to hit Ryder but, when it did, his reaction was similar. "Uh . . . I'm, um . . . I didn't know it was, uh . . . hey, Hamilton," he finally stuttered out.

"God, Ryder . . ." Hamilton Fleming said in disbelief. "Wow, how weird is all this, huh? I mean, it's been what? Ten years?"

"Ten and a half," Ryder corrected him, then mentally berated himself for the comment.

"Too long," Hamilton said with a wistful smile. "So, you live here in Chicago now?"

"Uh, yeah. For two years now," Ryder told him. "You?"

"I've been here a month."

"So . . ." they both started at once, then both amended with, "You first." They laughed together, then Ryder said, "You were gonna say?"

"Oh, um . . . no, nothing. I just . . . how've you been? How are . . . things?"

"Fine, things are fine," he assured Hamilton.

"I'm glad to hear that," Hamilton replied; though Ryder could tell by his voice that the younger man didn't really believe his words.

"Well, I should go. I'm late for work as it is and . . . well. Um, it was . . . good running into you. I mean, not running into you, but . . . well, you know what I mean," he fumbled. "Uh, sorry again about your shirt. You can, uh, send me the bill for the cleaning if you want. I'm in the book."

"Good to know," Hamilton said with a nod and watched as Ryder turned to leave, his coffee now forgotten as he hurried away from the Starbucks and, moreover, from the eyes of Hamilton Fleming, the first man he'd ever loved.

* * * * *

It had all happened pretty quickly, actually. At the time, things had seemed to move in slow motion between them, but when he thought back on it years later Ryder had only then realized how quickly he and Hamilton had gone from enemies to friends to something else . . . and then back. Only, he was sure they'd never really been friends again. What had happened that last year that he'd been at Rawley had forever changed things between himself and Hamilton. It wasn't the kind of thing a person just got over. He knew that those days would stay in his memory forever.

At the start, they really didn't get along. Ryder wasn't the nicest person in the world anyway and Hamilton had been such an easy target. The Dean's son, finally a part of the school he'd lived at forever, and almost immediately dating another *male* student. It was too scandalous to leave be. Of course, had Ryder been able to predict the ending, he was sure that he never would have even spoken to Hamilton Fleming. It would have saved him so much grief in the long run.

But they had spoken and that couldn't be undone. Ryder had teased and tormented the younger man, getting half the school in on his nefarious plans. And all along Ryder had believed the rumors that he was perpetuating; that Hamilton and his "friend" Jake Pratt were actually gay and carrying on a relationship in plain sight. It was ludicrous that they wouldn't even try to hide it. They were just *asking* for trouble, weren't they? But then, it was the confident way they carried on that caught Ryder's attention the most.

Though he had never admitted it to anyone at Rawley up until that year, Ryder Forrest had known for a long time that he was gay. He had also known that people wouldn't take kindly to knowing that, so he had hidden his true self from the world for a very long time. He dated girls, messed around with them enough to keep rumors from flying, and generally remained unhappy in everything because the life that he was living was just one big lie. And then here were two boys who were younger than he, with a lot more to lose considering one was the Dean's son, and they didn't let anyone scare them into hiding who they really were. It made Ryder furious . . . and also completely envious.

That was probably at the root of his initial attraction to Hamilton; envy. He wanted what Hamilton had, and then he just wanted Hamilton. And it scared him to death.

It had all gotten a hell of a lot scarier when it became clear that Hamilton wanted him in return. That was one that Ryder hadn't seen coming at all.

It was mid fall and they had managed to get teamed up for a science project. Hamilton was a grade ahead of where he should have been because his mother had made him learn more about biology than any human being really should and Ryder was a grade behind because he'd skipped too often the year before. So fate, or Mrs. Fleming and her overzealous home-schooling, or Ryder and his bad attitude and faulty alarm clock, or whatever else had thrown the two boys together for an afternoon of collecting water samples from the lake. It was a Saturday and not many other students were around so the spot behind the boathouse where they were working was fairly deserted.

"So, where's your boyfriend today, Hammie?" Ryder had teased as he skipped a few rocks over the calm, cool water. It would be frozen over soon enough so they needed to be sure they got all of the necessary samples today.

Hamilton sneered at the comment as he scraped algae into a vial and sealed it. "You really are an asshole, Ryder."

"I try, love," he replied with a wink.

"Let's just get this finished so I can stop spending time with you, okay?"

"Hey, fine by me. Not like this was my idea of a wonderful Saturday afternoon either."

They worked on in silence for a bit more, then out of the blue Hamilton said, "I don't have a boyfriend. I'm not . . . I mean, you know."

"Sure, okay, whatever," Ryder said, thinking that he didn't really want to discuss this anyway.

"If you knew anything at all . . ." Hamilton started. "Ugh, forget it," he said with a wave of his hand.

"I know a hell of a lot more than you think I know," Ryder shot back angrily. He had edged closer to Hamilton somehow and they were now toe to toe, staring one another down. "You think you're so damned high and mighty," Ryder sneered at him. "Ha!"

"High and . . . Oh, fuck you! You don't even know what you're talking about! You just enjoy tormenting people. Maybe if you were half as worried about your own sex life as you seem to be with *mine* . . . maybe then you'd be getting laid and you'd stay out of my business!" The last part was said so quickly that the words just tumbled out and Hamilton immediately froze, wondering how hard the punch that followed would actually be.

The punch didn't turn out to be a punch at all.

Ryder couldn't remember what had been going on in his mind that day. All he remembered was that one second he was ready to tell Hamilton to go to hell and the next Hamilton was laying into him with more fervor than he thought possible in the younger man. And then it happened. He hadn't planned it or even considered it, really. Ryder had just leaned forward . . . and kissed him. And then the whole world seemed to stop. Neither of them spoke for an endless second.

It was Ryder who finally broke the silence. "Um, uh . . . look, I didn't mean . . . I mean, I don't . . . I'm not sure why I did that," he stammered.

Hamilton just looked at him, slack-jawed and speechless, his fingertips brushing over his own lips as if he couldn't wrap his mind around what had just happened.

"Uh . . . I should . . . go," Ryder managed. "I . . . sorry, I mean, I'm sorry." He'd hurried away after that, practically sprinting until he was back safely inside his dorm room.

He figured later that he probably should have stuck around and made up some excuse for the kiss, but in that instant all that Ryder could think of was getting as far away from Hamilton Fleming as possible. He was terrified; not because he thought he'd get beat up or anything, but because Hamilton knew his deepest secret. He knew the one thing that Ryder hid away so deep that he almost forgot it was there at times. And that was more frightening than any fight could ever be.

He ended up sitting in the dark for hours wondering why in the *hell* he had kissed Hamilton Fleming. He'd fucked up bad this time. The knock at his door had been unexpected. When he'd opened the door to see who'd been knocking, it became that much more unexpected.

"H-hamilton?" Ryder stammered. "Look, I . . . it was . . ."

"No, don't," Hamilton said as he pushed past Ryder into the dark bedroom. "I came to talk about it, not to fight. But let me talk first, please." Ryder nodded mutely and sat down on the bed. "I don't have a boyfriend. I never have. I've never . . . well, I can't say that it has never occurred to me, it just ended up being something other than what I thought.

"I know this sounds confusing as hell and I'm sorry. I'm confused as hell right now so . . . well, anyway, today when you, uh, kissed me. I, I didn't say anything because . . . well, not because I was angry but because I didn't really know what to say. I guess I was just . . . surprised. Anyway, I guess what I came to say is that I'm sorry. About the whole thing. That's, uh, that's all, I guess." He looked at Ryder expectantly under the faint light from the desk lamp he'd flicked on as he spoke and now Hamilton wished for more light, wanted a clearer view of the other boy's features as he took in his words.

"Um . . . I, I don't know why . . . I just, something made me, um . . ." Ryder trailed off, not sure what to say. Admit he was gay? Admit that he liked Hamilton? That he wanted to be like him and be with him? But why was Hamilton still denying being gay? Why when he obviously wasn't going to use this against Ryder and now that they shared a sort of secret, why still lie about the whole thing? "Aren't you with Jake?" he blurted.

Hamilton looked away, then nodded a yes to the question.

"Forgive me here, but how does that make you not gay?"

He felt Hamilton's hesitation in answering and it only heightened his curiosity. Finally, Hamilton said, "Look, Ryder, can you keep a secret?"

Ryder snorted with laughter, then forced himself to calm and nodded. "Of course."

"God, what am I thinking?" Hamilton said under his breath. "Alright, well, Jake and I are together. But, we're not gay. We're, um . . . he's a . . . a she."

"He's a--" Ryder repeated the words to himself, letting them settle into his brain before his eyes grew wide and he said, "You're serious?"

Hamilton nodded. "Please, please don't say anything. I mean, I shouldn't have said anything but . . . well, after what happened today I thought that maybe you'd . . . well, I dunno what I thought exactly. But it's really important that no one else find out about this."

"A girl," Ryder muttered to himself. "All this time and she's a damned girl. Here I was thinking . . . and you're both straight. God, I'm an idiot," he berated himself.

"Um, Ryder . . . you aren't, are you?" Hamilton asked then, hoping he wasn't asking too much. It just seemed okay to ask somehow.

"Not?"

"Straight."

"Oh. No."

"I'm . . . it's cool. I mean, I won't tell anyone. I, I thought so though. That you weren't, I mean," he admitted.

Did he seem obvious, Ryder wondered to himself. But then he knew he didn't, really. But Hamilton had suspected before the kiss.

"I should, uh. Go." Hamilton turned towards the door and Ryder followed him. "It's been a weird day," he said as he prepared to open the door and leave.

"Yeah," Ryder agreed.

"Okay, well, see ya." Then he was gone.

Ryder walked back to the bed and slumped down again. What had just happened? Hamilton Fleming had told him that Jake Pratt wasn't really a guy at all. The whole thing was a sham. And then Ryder had come out to him. What the?

Weird day, indeed.

If he'd only known then that it would only get weirder from that point on.

* * * * *

Days passed and the weather grew increasingly colder. The lake was icing over and the leaves were all gone from the trees. Winter was settling over New Rawley, and Ryder had never felt colder.

Until that day in his room with Hamilton at least he hadn't felt so alone in all of this. Sure, he was technically as alone now as he had been then. But before he knew the truth about Jake and Hamilton at least he wasn't the only one. Someone else was going through what he was going through. And they were winning the battle. There was hope; there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Now, there was only cold.

Hamilton had surprised him, though. They'd actually become, if not friends, at least no longer enemies. Hamilton would glance his way in class and almost smile; he'd say hello in study hall when neither of them had any of their friends around to overhear. It was weird, being secretly aligned to someone he'd spent so much time antagonizing in the past. But it wasn't so weird that he didn't want it to continue. Sometimes their almost-friendship was the only thing keeping him going.

It was nearly a month after the kiss when they actually had another conversation. Christmas Break and almost everyone had fled New Rawley for parts unknown to celebrate. No one wanted to hang around school when they could be on vacation some place. Even Will Krudski and Bella Banks had managed to get a few towns over for a holiday gathering with family. And of course, Hamilton was stuck at Rawley with his parents, bored without his friends and girlfriend. No one he knew was staying through the holidays. At least he hadn't thought so . . . until he ran into Ryder sitting in the deserted library one afternoon a few days after everyone had gone.

"Um . . . I didn't know you were still here," Hamilton said as he sat across the table from the other boy.

"Yeah, my mum was going to the Bahamas with that prick of a husband of hers and I wasn't too big on spending my vacation with them so . . ."

"What about your dad?" Hamilton asked.

"Oh, he's . . . we don't get along, really," Ryder said quietly as he looked back down at the book he'd been reading.

"Sorry."

"Eh . . ."

"So, what are you doing on Thursday?" Hamilton asked.

"I dunno, maybe reading Moby Dick," Ryder said with a roll of his eyes. "Might as well get it over with while I'm bored to tears."

"But, Thursday is Christmas."

"Yeah, I know. But, I mean . . . can't do much else. Everything in town will be closed and no one else is here really so . . . It won't be the first time I've spent the holidays on my own."

"Well, not this year. My mom would kill me if I let you do that. You're eating with us." He made it sound so final that Ryder didn't really want to protest; still, he knew he should.

"I can't do that. It's a family deal. I'd be in the way."

"Whatever," Hamilton said with a wave of his hand. "We eat at 3 o'clock. Come early and we can hang out or something. Well, look I gotta go. I came over here to get a book my mom wanted so I need to get back."

"Yeah, okay," Ryder nodded.

"Don't forget. Thursday, 3 o'clock," he repeated. Ryder nodded and watched as Hamilton left wondering what he was setting himself up for.

* * * * *

Sitting in his office, Ryder couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. He'd missed the board meeting that morning, fumbled through his presentation that afternoon and was now staring at a stack of unfinished paperwork that he didn't foresee getting completed anytime soon. Hamilton Fleming; he couldn't focus on anything else.

As he sat there staring blankly at the papers scattered in front of him, Ryder thought back to that Christmas with the Flemings. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. In some ways maybe it had. All he knew was that he'd never had a better Christmas until that year, and he had yet to enjoy the holidays as much since.

* * * * *

He had his initial doubts, but in the end Ryder decided he might as well spend Christmas with the Flemings. After all, he *did* dread spending the day alone watching a bunch of utterly boring American football games in the dorms. And the thought of spending a day with Hamilton wasn't totally unappealing either. Whatever the reason, it seemed easier to go along than to fight a plan he really wanted to agree with anyway. He'd been invited, after all.

Of course, it became very clear to Ryder when Kate Fleming answered the front door at a little after 1 o'clock that if Hamilton had mentioned he was having a dinner guest then he certainly hadn't mentioned *who* that guest might be.

"Oh, um . . . Ryder," she said in obvious surprise as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "You're here for . . ."

"Hamilton invited me," he told her, then quickly added, "I hope that's okay?" He had already been looking forward to this since he had finally convinced himself to come. Being uninvited at that point would really suck.

"No, no . . . I mean, of course, sure. Please, come in." Kate stepped back and waved Ryder into the foyer.

"Thank you. It's very nice of you to let me join you for Christmas dinner," he told her.

She smiled, he thought, genuinely. "Our pleasure." Starting back down the corridor to the kitchen, Kate motioned for Ryder to follow. "So, why didn't you return to England for the holidays this year? I'd think getting out of New Rawley for a bit would appeal to just about everyone. I know Hamilton certainly moans and groans enough about staying on here through the holidays. But, you know, it's home so . . ."

Ryder nodded, then answered, "My mum took a trip with my stepfather lasting through the first of the year. I just wasn't up for the beach at Christmas I suppose."

"Understandably so, I think," Kate told him. "Christmas without snow is just . . . I can't imagine."

"Yeah, it's kinda nice," he agreed, all the while thinking how strange and yet not awful it felt to talk to Hamilton's mother this way. "Uh, so is there anything I can maybe help you with since Hamilton, um . . ." he started uncertainly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so caught up in cooking this meal that I didn't think about it. Hamilton went out to collect some firewood. He should be back in a few minutes. But, if you're serious about that offer to help I would really appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure. What can I do?" he asked.

She looked around, spotting something and nodding towards it. "That bag of potatoes. You can scrub them in the sink and start peeling the skins off. Just grab the big, orange bowl in the first cabinet, fill it with cold water and as you finish peeling the potatoes leave them to soak in the water. Got all that?"

"No problem," Ryder assured her as he moved across the room to start the task.

Twenty minutes later, Ryder was getting the hang of vegetable peeling and had half the bowl filled with skinned potatoes. As he reached for another potato, the back door finally opened. It was Hamilton, carrying several logs and his skin just a bit chapped from the cold.

"Ryder, hey!" he said as he spotted their guest. "I was just out getting wood. Have you been here long?"

"Long enough for me to put him to work," Kate said with a smile.

Hamilton chuckled. "Sorry, man."

"Oh, no . . . I like helping out, actually," he replied.

"Next thing you know she'll have you baking cakes, dude," Hamilton chuckled. "Just watch out, I'm tellin' ya."

"Oh Hamilton, stop," his mother chided good-naturedly. She glanced over at the potatoes Ryder was working on and nodded. "That looks like plenty. Why don't you two go watch a football game or something and let me finish up here? You father should be in soon, dear." Hamilton nodded to his mom as Ryder quickly washed his hands, then the two disappeared together into the den.

"Your mum is really nice," Ryder said as they sat on opposite ends of the couch, Hamilton flipping channels to find something that interested them both. He just nodded his response and kept his eyes on the television. "She didn't know I was the one you invited over," Ryder continued. "I could tell that she was more than a little surprised. But she was nice about it and that was cool."

"She's pretty cool, as parents go," Hamilton agreed.

"I wish my mom was half as cool."

Hamilton shrugged and added, "Well, she still has her moments, though, when I wish she'd sent me to live with wolves as a baby."

Ryder snorted. "Yeah, I could see that happening. Hamilton Fleming: Lord of the Jungle."

Hamilton laughed along, saying, "Well, I don't think wolves live in the jungle, but close enough." He had found a game they could both agree on and, for a while, they sat together in companionable silence as they watched. Then, Ryder spoke.

"Why'd you ask me here?"

Hamilton turned, looking surprised by the question. After taking a moment to process things, he replied, "Um, it seemed like the right thing to do."

"But . . . well, why even bother?" he asked softly. "I mean, after all that happened that day by the lake and--"

"That's over with," Hamilton assured him quickly.

"No, not really. Not for me," Ryder insisted. "I . . . that's my life. What we talked about that day in the dorms . . . it hasn't changed. And it won't. Ever."

"Well, I wouldn't expect that it would."

"And . . . you're okay with that?" Ryder asked, stunned. "I mean, why aren't you freaked out by it or at least a little wary of me? We were never friends before so why . . . it just doesn't really make sense."

"You're right, it doesn't," Hamilton agreed. "And I wish I could explain it but, really, I don't understand all of this myself. It just feels like we should be friends. Or, at least, not hate each other."

Ryder wasn't sure how to reply, so he decided to just let the conversation go at that. He certainly didn't want to risk offending Hamilton and making dinner that much more awkward. It would no doubt be interesting enough when the dean arrived and saw that Ryder was their dinner guest. Ryder just hoped that things would go better than he was expecting.

* * * * *

In the end, dinner hadn't turned out so bad. The dean had been pretty surprised to see Ryder, but he'd handled it well, engaging the young man in conversation throughout the meal and doing his best to make Ryder feel welcome at their table. It was certainly nothing like Ryder had envisioned.

"I actually had a good time talking to your parents tonight, Ham. They're really . . . nice," Ryder said as the boys walked across campus together against the wind and darkness. Hamilton had discovered that Ryder had the new video game system that Jake had gotten for Christmas and he wanted to practice before she returned home so they'd decided to go back to the dorms to play a few games before calling it a night.

"Don't sound too shocked," Hamilton told the older boy. "I mean, I know it's hard to believe sometimes at school, but the dean and his wife are just regular people underneath it all. Trust me, I know more about how human they are than I probably ever wanted to."

"Oh, I didn't mean that," Ryder said. "It's just . . . they were a lot friendlier to me than I had a right to expect them to be, that's all."

"Ryder, you aren't such a bad person. You have your faults, but so does everyone else. I think my parents can see that as well as anyone."

Ryder shrugged and replied, "I guess sometimes it just feels like I've got more than my fair share."

"Or you want people to believe that, at least," Hamilton returned.

"Could be that, too, I suppose."

They arrived at the dorms and hurried inside and out of the cold. "Damn it's freezing out there," Ryder said as he went to the thermostat to check the heat.

"Give it a second; it'll warm up," Hamilton told him as he sat down on the bed.

Ryder looked over at him and suddenly wondered what he'd been thinking inviting him here. Now he was all alone in his room with a guy he couldn't deny having a thing for and who was totally off limits. Not the world's best combination, to say the least.

"So, uh . . . the game is over here," Ryder said, hoping that would take his mind off of the situation.

"Cool," Hamilton said as they sat together in the floor. "What should we play first?" Ryder held up a cartridge and Hamilton nodded. "Jake has that one, too. Says it's the best she's played so far." They put the game in and in no time at all over two hours had passed.

"Dammit! Bloody hell, guess you win again," Ryder said after he'd lost yet another round.

"Winner and still champion," Hamilton replied with a grin.

"Smug bastard," Ryder chuckled. "Alright," he said as he tossed aside his controller. "I give. You bested me and I am surrendering." He climbed onto the rumpled bed and propped up with his hands behind his head.

"So, what should we do now?" Hamilton asked as he came to sit on the edge of the mattress.

"Um . . ." Ryder hadn't really been expecting there to be more. He figured that Hamilton would just leave after they'd played the game. "Well, I suppose we could watch a movie or something."

"What do you have?"

"Hmm, nothing really. I have a few Monty Python videos but this guy Chad borrowed them over the holidays. Think there'd be anything on TV?"

"On Christmas night? Not unless you want to watch A Christmas Story or Its A Wonderful Life."

"Ugh."

"We could, um . . . talk, or something. If you wanted, ya know . . ."

"Uh, yeah, sure. About what?" Ryder asked.

"Well, anything. Sorta get to know each other. Just ask me a question," Hamilton suggested.

Ryder thought this over for a second and was sure it would end up being a bad idea . . . but he also didn't really care. At least it was something.

"Are you sleeping with Jake Pratt?"

Hamilton nearly choked on the soda he was drinking, then replied, "Wow, you believe in jumping right in, don't you? Um, well, actually, yes. We have been for a few months." Ryder nodded, unsure of how he felt about that answer. "Okay, my turn," Hamilton said. "Have you ever kissed a guy? Other than me, of course."

Ryder reddened slightly and looked down at his hands, but answered, "Yeah, a few."

"What's . . . um, what's it like?"

"That's two questions," Ryder said.

"It's a two-parter."

"Um . . . why do you want to know?" he asked.

"Just . . . curious, I guess," Hamilton shrugged, but Ryder got the feeling that wasn't the whole truth. He decided to answer anyway.

"It's different. I mean, depending on the person. It's just like kissing a girl; every time you do it it's unique. The first guy was when I was fifteen; Newton James. It was . . . well, pretty bad actually. I think we were both too freaked out to really enjoy it. Then there was Stuart Smithe the next summer. That one was better; I was staying with my aunt in Wales for the holiday and Stuart's family lives a few miles down the road. We saw each other secretly until I left in the fall but . . . we decided not to continue things after that. Neither of us really wanted to be . . . you know, different." Ryder was staring at the wall behind Hamilton, finding it easier to focus there than on another face as he revealed some of the deepest parts of his soul.

"Who was next?" Hamilton asked, sure that there must be others in the last two and a half years. After all, Ryder was pretty confident that he was gay so he had to have a fair amount of experience, right?

"Um . . ." he fidgeted uncomfortably as he thought about how to answer, then finally just told the truth. "You."

Hamilton sat there for a while, saying nothing, a look of surprise on his face. "You mean . . . no one else? In over two years? But then how can you be sure . . ."

"That I'm still gay?" Ryder asked, sounding almost amused at the thought. "Trust me Ham, it's not something that you grow out of. I tried to for years before finally giving in to who I really am."

"But, you can know from just once or twice? I mean, I figured you need to, uh . . ."

"Practice?" Ryder offered; his lips curved into a smirk this time.

"Well, not exactly the word I was looking for but . . ."

"It's okay, I thought the same thing at first. How can you really know if you haven't really done anything. But, the truth is I realized after a while that I was just as gay before I had ever kissed a guy as I was afterwards. And, even though I've never had sex with a guy, that doesn't make me less gay. It just makes me less experienced. It's just like it doesn't mean you just started being straight after you slept with Jake the first time. Same principle, basically."

Hamilton nodded, but still seemed to be thinking about the whole thing. "So . . . what made you realize? I mean, did you just always know that you were into guys or what?"

"Eh, yes and no. I always knew there was something there, but it took me a long time to actually figure out what it was," Ryder explained. "At first I ignored it, then I denied it. I didn't want it to be true. And girls . . . well, I tried hard to like them. I've dated a lot of them and not always as a cover. For a long time I thought I could force myself to feel the way I should about a girl if she was the right one."

Hamilton was nodding as Ryder spoke, his eyes taking on a look somewhere between fear and understanding.

"You've been asking all the questions . . . mind if I have another go?" Ryder asked.

"Uh, yeah," Hamilton replied.

"Why are you asking me all of this? I mean, I can understand curiosity and all that but . . . is that all this is? Or is there something more to it?" He looked at the younger man perched on the bed beside him and got his answer as Hamilton turned his head to stare at the floor.

"A . . . a little something, uh, more, I guess," he admitted softly.

"You, uh . . . you have doubts?" Ryder asked cautiously. The thought that Hamilton could be doubting his sexuality gave him a bit of hope, but it also made him feel terrible, as if it were all his fault for all that had happened.

"I love Jake, I really do," Hamilton said in a choked voice. "It's just . . ." His voice broke as a sob rose in his throat and Ryder didn't think about it first when he moved closer and put an arm around his companion. "Sometimes," Hamilton continued in a whisper, "I just . . . I feel like she feels differently than I do. Like she wants this more and I'm not living up to my end of the bargain. Does that make any sense at all?"

"You're confused; it's okay to feel that way," Ryder assured him as he tightened his arm around the other boy's shoulder in a half-hug. "It doesn't mean that you're gay just because you're confused about the first girl you've ever slept with."

"It's just . . ." Hamilton trailed off, leaning back against Ryder as he fought with himself not to cry anymore. "I'm . . . I feel like I'm going in the wrong direction. I mean, I always felt like there was something different about me, but I was so isolated from people when I was a kid; growing up at Rawley when everyone else was so much older . . . it was hard to make friends at all and even harder to belong. But then Jake came along and I thought that finally I had someone I could trust. Here was this guy who seemed to have so much in common with me . . . and I liked him. I liked him in the way that I knew would make my father angry and my mother cry. I liked him in a way that I shouldn't.

"I worried and debated and thought and rethought and finally decided to hell with it. I shouldn't hide what I was feeling just because the whole world might not approve. I should just go with my heart. So, I kissed Jake. And for a second I felt perfect, like I had come out of a dark room for the first time in my entire life. I could finally see the sun above me. But then . . . then she tells me her secret . . . that she's a girl, and . . . things didn't seem so perfect anymore. I mean, I was still attracted to her and liked spending time with her, it was just . . . different. I thought it was because things would be so hard for us. What if she got caught? What if I had to be away from her because of my father and how would I deal with that? But then after that day by the lake with you . . . I dunno. I've just felt more connected to you somehow. I feel like you understand what I'm feeling more than anyone else I know could."

Ryder looked at Hamilton, unsure how he was supposed to answer to all that he'd just heard. Should he try to convince Hamilton that he was only reading into the situation between them because he knew about Ryder and he was afraid of how fast things were going in his own relationship with Jake? Or should he encourage Hamilton to explore the feelings that he was having to see where they would lead? Either way there would be plenty of ups and downs. Finally, he decided that it just wasn't his place to do either one.

"I think this is something I can't really tell you how to handle. You have to do that yourself," Ryder told him.

"Yeah," Hamilton nodded, "I know. I just . . . I needed to say it all outloud. I needed someone to hear it."

"Well, anytime you want to talk, I'll be here," Ryder assured him.

Hamilton turned then, Ryder's arm falling away from his shoulder as he did. Now face to face, Hamilton smiled. "I really appreciate it." He got up and said, "I should probably get going before my mom starts getting worried."

"Yeah, sure, okay," Ryder said with a nod as he got up to follow Hamilton to the door.

"Thanks again," Hamilton said as he shrugged into his heavy winter coat.

"No problem; thanks for inviting me over today. I had fun."

"Me too. We'll have to do it again."

"Yeah," Ryder nodded as he opened the door. He watched Hamilton walk down the hallway, hoping that again would come soon.

* * * * *

They had ended up spending practically every minute together until New Years Eve. School started back up on January 2nd so most of the students would be back sometime on the 1st. New Years Eve was their last night of solitude; the last night that they could be friends without anyone asking too many questions. They had decided to spend it in Ryder's room.

"So," Hamilton said from his position lying on the bed as he sipped on one of the beers that Ryder had managed to acquire for the occasion, "what's your resolution this year?" Ryder was lying beside him, his hands folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling while Hamilton propped up on one elbow to his right. Dick Clark was on the television screen behind them, the volume so low that his voice was barely a whisper into their conversation.

"I'm not sure," Ryder said as he took a long swallow from his own brown, glass bottle. "Last year it was to come out to my mom, but then she married Jonathan-the-dick-with-ears so I don't think that'll happen anytime soon."

"Maybe to your dad then?" Hamilton suggested.

Ryder's eyes darkened as he shook his head. "Never." He was feeling a little tipsy, but not far gone enough to consider that possibility.

"Are you ever gonna tell me the story on that?" Hamilton asked his friend gently. They'd spent the last week getting to know each other better than either could have ever imagined, and yet Ryder still refused to say so much as two words about the man he called father.

"Someday . . . just not now. I can't talk about it tonight," Ryder told him. "I've had too much beer to get into all that crap." Together they had almost killed a twelve pack in about an hour.

"Fair enough," Hamilton nodded. "So, your resolution, then. What'll it be?"

"Uh . . . to graduate? That'd be good. To get into Oxford. To stop wishing a slow and painful death on Jonathan. That should be enough to keep me occupied for a year, dontcha think?"

Hamilton laughed. "Plenty, I'd say."

"So, what about you? What's yours?"

"Actually," he said softly, "I was hoping to get in one more for this year before I start over."

"Oh? And what might you possibly have time to do in the next ten minutes?" Ryder asked with a smile. His smile vanished as Hamilton leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ryder's. The flavor of beer and Hamilton invaded his mouth and, for a moment, he returned the kiss, never wanting it to end. But then he knew he had to stop it. This wasn't right. Hamilton was confused and this shouldn't be happening. It wasn't good for either of them. So he pushed Hamilton away.

The younger man sat up quickly, looking hurt and confused. "What? Was I wrong? I thought you liked me."

"I . . . I do, Ham. That's just it," Ryder told him. "I like you . . . and I think it'd be bad for both of us if we let something happen. Especially in the name of experimenting. Besides, your girlfriend will be back tomorrow, remember?" His sharp tone at that last part had surprised even him a little.

"Yeah, I remember," Hamilton said bitterly. "But this has nothing to do with her. It has everything to do with you and me. It's not an experiment, either. At least, not anymore than any other relationship is in the beginning. I like you . . . a lot. I'd like to see where that goes."

"And where could that possibly be, Ham? I mean, after tomorrow I'm not sure if we're even friends anymore. What will Will and Scout and Bella say? Not to mention Jake. I'm just not sure that any of this was a good idea in the first place." He sighed, looking over at the bright lights and smiling faces on the television screen. They seemed about a million miles away from him right then.

"Ryder . . ." Hamilton started, inching closer to him on the bed and placing a hand on Ryder's shoulder. "We are friends. No matter what the others say. And if it makes it easier then they don't even have to know about any of it. It's not about them; it really isn't."

"It's just . . . I kiss you on a whim one day, then you spend a few weeks forced to hang around with me because everyone else is gone and suddenly you think you're gay or something? I don't buy that at all, Ham."

"It's not like that and you know it," Hamilton told him. "First off, I haven't been hanging out with you for lack of something better to do. If I weren't enjoying the last few weeks then I would have just stayed away. Trust me, I'm a master at the art of hanging out on my own. I've been doing it all my life." He smirked a little, then continued. "And secondly, the whole guys thing . . . well, let's just say that it's not exactly a new thought for me, ya know?"

Ryder looked up at his friend then, his brow creased as he processed this information. "Really?" He sounded disbelieving.

Hamilton shrugged, then said, "Well, the whole Jake thing . . . I mean, I was freaked at first because it was like, shit, all this time I've denied to myself that I felt this way. I'd sit in the woods and watch crew practice and feel guilty for liking what I saw, but I told myself that it was nothing . . . a phase. Then Jake comes along and for the first time it's not a concept; it's a person. And, even worse, it's a really nice, really cute guy who makes my stomach lurch when I see him and who seems to feel the same way about me and all of the sudden I really might be gay. It's not a phase anymore and that freaks me out more than anything." Hamilton looked at his hands as he spoke and Ryder watched his down-turned face, listening intently.

"It took me weeks to get up the courage to kiss him. But then I finally did, thinking that I was finally coming out, like, to myself, ya know? But then Jake tells me the truth about who she is and everything is all confused again. I mean, was I attracted to Jake the guy, or Jake the girl? The more I think about it, though, the more I think it was probably both. It's not that I don't like girls. I do; I gawk at the pictures in my mom's Cosmo and stop flipping channels when I come to Baywatch. It's just . . . sometimes I'm looking at the guys in those ads and on the TV, too. It's not so much one or the other as it is both. And I think it's always been that way; I'm just starting to realize it, I guess."

"So, what you're trying to say is that you're bi?" Ryder clarified.

"I guess . . . if you wanted to slap a label on it, that would be correct."

"And now you think you . . . well, that I'm, uh . . . that we . . ." he stumbled over the words, not knowing quite what to say.

"I like you. I think you like me. That's all I'm saying," Hamilton offered.

Ryder met Hamilton's eyes as the younger boy finally looked up at him. "That's enough?" he asked.

"For now," Hamilton replied with a nod. "Yeah, for me. Is it enough for you?" he asked.

Ryder thought about it for a second, then finally nodded as well. "I suppose, yeah."

Hamilton regarded Ryder with a smile, then asked, "Can I ask one more question?"

Ryder shrugged and said, "I don't see why not."

"How come you're so nice to me?"

"Nice?"

"Yeah, you know, so un-Ryder-like. I have to say that the entire time I've known you, even before I became a student here and the object of your tormenting, I haven't ever really seen you be nice to anyone. It's like you're always on the defense or something."

Ryder shrugged again and replied, "Maybe I don't feel like I have to be on the defense anymore." His voice was soft, vulnerable, and Hamilton smiled. Nothing else really needed to be said after that.

Turning to look back at the television, they saw numbers counting down at the bottom of the screen showing that they were about ten seconds from midnight. He turned back to Ryder. "Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . ."

Ryder joined him in counting down, his eyes staying on Hamilton rather than the screen behind them. "Six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . ."

"Two," Hamilton said, moving so close he was almost touching Ryder, but not quite. His breath was warm against Ryder's lips. "One," he whispered and then they were kissing again. This time neither of them stopped it, just falling back together and touching, tasting, letting go of their doubts and giving in to what they both wanted.

For both of them, it was like finding something vital that they hadn't even known they were looking for until that moment. And there was no turning back.

* * * * *

The first day of the New Year had dawned very differently than Ryder ever would have expected. He figured he would greet this year just as he had greeted every other before. Alone. But, this time, that wasn't the case. He smiled softly as he looked at Hamilton, curled up against him and the two of them wound around one another tightly. He was sure that this was what waking up was supposed to feel like. He hadn't ever even realized what he'd been missing.

It was still early, the sun just barely high enough to peek into the window of Ryder's dorm, and the morning light that entered with it seemed to bathe the room in an ethereal glow. Ryder's eyes focused on the face of the boy curled against him and his breath caught at what he saw. Hamilton Fleming . . . was beautiful.

Certainly this wasn't a new realization on Ryder's part. His secret crush on the younger boy was now almost to the point where he could call it long-standing. And any idiot could see that Hamilton was gorgeous, crush or no. Still, in that instant when Ryder looked down on that perfect face slackened in sleep and resting against Ryder's chest, Hamilton looked so exquisite, so flawless, more like an angel than a real person. Ryder wasn't even sure in that moment that he wasn't looking at the face of an angel. He struggled to find his breath as his vision was momentarily blurred with unexpected tears. Blinking them back, Ryder closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss Hamilton's forehead softly. He was in love.

The concept of love had never really appealed to Ryder. It didn't seem to do much other than cause problems for people eventually and, really, who needed that? Besides, he was sure that love was highly overrated. Probably something those blasted Hallmark people had fabricated to sell schmaltzy greeting cards and stale chocolates. Definitely not anything worth fooling with.

But then, he'd woken up with the sun on the first day of yet another year and the light had hit Hamilton's face just so and suddenly his heart ached and his whole body tingled and nothing else in the world would ever be as important to him as it once had been. For the first time in his life, Ryder Forrest was in love.

He closed his eyes, hoping that the whole world wouldn't change again while he slept.

* * * * *

It was much later when Ryder woke up the second time, and this time Hamilton was already awake. And, apparently, watching him.

"Uh, morning," Ryder greeted him blearily as he opened his eyes to find himself staring up into the clear blue of Hamilton's.

"Morning," Hamilton replied, his lips twisting into a half smile. He had his head propped in his hand, his elbow digging into his pillow and his other arm draped loosely about Ryder's waist.

"What time is it?" Ryder asked him with a yawn as he shifted a little, but not so much that he slid from Hamilton's touch.

"Early," was the reply he received. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Nah, I'm up," Ryder assured him. "You been awake long?" he asked.

"'While."

"How'd you sleep?"

Hamilton's smile broadened and Ryder felt his fingertips ghost over the smooth skin of his bare back. "Really good. You?"

"Yeah, pretty good," he smiled back. They were both silent for a long moment, both watching each other closely. After a while, it started to make Ryder nervous. "Uh, so, about last night . . ."

"That sounds like a line from a bad eighties movie," Hamilton grinned as he interrupted.

"I happen to like that movie," Ryder countered, but grinned back. He didn't feel it necessary to admit that his affection for the film stemmed mostly from a nude scene by Rob Lowe. "Anyway, about it . . . are we, ya know, whatever?"

"Whatever?" Hamilton repeated.

"Yeah, I mean, like, are we . . . I dunno. Things are, uh, different . . . right?"

"Some things are," Hamilton agreed. "I wouldn't say all things, but yeah, some."

Ryder nodded, seemed to ponder that, then said, "Which things, exactly?"

"Well, I'd say the fact that we had sex last night changes the dynamic of our relationship a little," Hamilton said, his voice even but his eyes revealing so many emotions that it was hard for Ryder to keep up with them.

"Sex? We didn't really . . ." Ryder started because they hadn't *actually* had *actual* sex, although Hamilton's mouth had touched a part of his body that no one else's ever had. Still . . .

"Close enough," Hamilton told him. Ryder just nodded.

"I . . . I guess what I'm asking then is, well, how do you feel about that? Are you, uh, well . . . sorry? 'Cause you could tell me that," he added quickly. "I'd . . . it would be okay. I just want the truth, really." Without thinking about it, Ryder held his breath as he waited on a response.

Hamilton chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, not speaking immediately but obviously turning his reply over in his mind before actually giving it voice. Finally, he nodded his head just slightly and said, "Yeah, I think . . . I think that's probably something we should talk about. I mean, I'm not. Sorry. I just . . . it's new. And I haven't. But I know you haven't. Hadn't. I . . . I want us to be okay."

"Are we?"

"I want us to be."

"I want us to be, too."

"Can you stay? For a while at least? I don't want to let go yet." The statement sounded so needy and vulnerable that Ryder almost cringed, but then it should shouldn't it? He did need this. Maybe more than he had ever needed anything in his entire life.

"I can stay a little longer," Hamilton told him and his hand on Ryder's back shifted until he was cupping his hip beneath his palm, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the warm skin there. "I'd like to stay."

I love you. It was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say it so badly that his stomach burned and his fingers trembled. But he couldn't. The words refused to come out. Ryder just couldn't get his mouth to say them, even though he meant them right then more than he had ever meant anything. Ever.

Years later he would wonder if that had been the single, defining moment when he had allowed everything to slip through his fingers. He had spent too many nights staring at his bedroom ceiling and worrying that it probably was.

* * * * *

The end took longer to arrive than he had thought it would and came sooner than he had ever imagined. It was still winter, still cold, barely February and still bitter and unforgiving in New England. Over a month had passed since that first night with Hamilton and it hadn't been the only night. Neither of them had been stupid enough to think that it would be anything but a secret that only they shared, but they still managed to sneak in a few secret meetings and stolen moments. It wasn't enough for Ryder, but it was what he had and he would make it enough for as long as he could.

But then February came. And everything changed.

Looking back, he wasn't sure if either of them had changed. Or if both of them had. Or, perhaps, it hadn't been them but the world that had suddenly become different. Whatever the reason, suddenly the air felt heavy, foreboding, like the creep of a wild animal upon him. He was sure that at any moment he would be under attack before he even had a chance to realize what was happening.

The first step was the winter formal. "Are you going?" Hamilton had asked one day after class when Jake thought he was working on a paper with someone from his history class and his mother thought he was in town with friends and really he was lying on the bed in Ryder's dorm room with his head on Ryder's chest and his shoes off and checking his watch every five minutes to make sure they weren't in danger of getting caught.

"Why would I go?" Ryder asked as he skimmed his hand under the bottom hem of Hamilton's shirt to feel the warm skin of his lower back against his palm.

"I'm going," Hamilton offered.

"With your girlfriend," Ryder reminded him.

"I'm going stag; so is Jake," Hamilton informed him.

"Yeah, sure," Ryder muttered.

He felt Hamilton stiffen at his comment and the younger man said accusingly, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ryder sighed. He hadn't wanted to get into this. Not today, anyway. The afternoon had gone really well so far and starting a fight hadn't been on his agenda. "I didn't mean anything," he told Hamilton, trying to stop things before they went too far. By the look on Hamilton's face as he sat up, it was clear that it was already too late for that.

"You meant something," he said, his thick eyebrows knitting together sullenly.

Fine, if Hamilton really wanted to get into this now then they would. "Everyone knows, Ham. You're not fooling anyone."

"What . . ." Did he really sound surprised? Ryder couldn't imagine that Hamilton was really that dense.

"It's not like I was the only one talking about you and Jake before, you know. I was just the only one with balls enough to say it to your face. Everyone thinks the same thing I did before I found out the truth about Jake. They all know you two are together. They all talk about you behind your back. You must have known that, come on now."

Hamilton was still sitting up, propped on one arm and looking down as he picked at a loose thread on the blanket they were laying on. He shrugged, "I guess. I mean, I know some people say things . . . but it's not like it matters."

"Yeah, not like it matters," Ryder repeated under his breath. He could feel his anger rising, already knowing that this wasn't going to end well but at the same time unable to just let the whole thing go. This conversation had been building for a month and now that he'd started it, he knew he had to finish.

Hamilton looked up to meet Ryder's gaze and saw something there that made him stop. "You're mad at me," he said matter-of-factly. "You're mad at me about Jake? About the fact that people talk? How is that my fault, Ryder? How?"

"Ugh, you're so fucking clueless!" Ryder bellowed as he, too, sat up. "It's always about you, Hamilton. You never see anything but your side. Did it ever occur to you that everyone talking about you and Jake, that it might affect me, too?"

"How could that possibly affect you?"

"They all think you're gay, Hamilton. The whole school, the teachers, the students, and probably your parents . . . they all think that already. And here we are doing this," he waved his hand in the general direction of the bed they sat on, "and you can't even bring yourself to look in my direction unless no one else is around. Do you even have any clue how that makes me feel?"

"So, suddenly you're mad at me because everyone is spreading rumors about me and you aren't a part of them? Yeah, that makes a lot of fucking sense, Ryder."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"What? What do you want me to do?" Hamilton yelled back.

"I want . . . God, I want you to at least not be ashamed to be seen with me! Is that too much to ask?" Ryder suddenly felt like a whiny girlfriend the more this outburst went on, but he couldn't stop now.

"Ashamed? Who ever said I was ashamed? I thought we agreed that it would be better to keep this between us? Not to tell anyone else about it?"

"No, *you* agreed," he said.

"What would make you happy here, Ryder? Should I stand up at the next assembly and announce to the world that we're fucking? Or, better yet, let's just pick a prime spot on campus and go at it where everyone is sure to see. Would that do it?"

"You're a bastard," Ryder muttered, shaking his head. He hated this, hated feeling this. Why did he ever let himself get involved with Hamilton in the first place? He knew that it would only end up this way eventually.

Hamilton watched him for a moment, seeming to realize that Ryder really was upset about this whole thing. Sighing, he touched the other boy's arm and said softly, "Look, I don't know what you want me to do. I'm sorry. This is just . . . complicated. We both knew it would be."

When Ryder answered his voice sounded raw. "I just wish . . . I dunno, I wish that we could at least be friends. We hide *everything*. It just makes me feel like what we're doing is wrong. Like I'm a bad person. I'm tired of feeling that way, Ham, I really am."

Hamilton sighed again and moved closer, curling himself around Ryder. His fingers sifted through the other boy's unruly blonde hair and he placed a kiss on his temple. "You're not a bad person," he whispered.

"Tell your friends about me," Ryder said softly, his voice muffled against Hamilton's chest.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Will and Bella and Scout and Jake," Ryder clarified as he sat up to meet Hamilton's blue, blue eyes. "Tell them about me, about us. They've kept enough secrets for you, what's one more?"

"Ryder . . . I can't do that," Hamilton told him.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because. Because, what about Jake? I'm still with her, ya know? I can't just tell her that we've been . . . whatever. I can't do that to her."

"But you're willing to do that to me," he said flatly.

"When we started this you knew that I was with Jake. You knew that," Hamilton reminded him.

"Yeah," Ryder nodded. "Yeah, I guess maybe I just thought this was more than 'whatever' now. I guess I was wrong." He pulled away from Hamilton as he said that, afraid that if he didn't then he might cry and he was *not* going to cry. No way.

"It's complicated, Ryder, you know that." He tried to reach out to Ryder again but the older boy just shrugged him off.

"Just go," he said, his back now turned to Hamilton.

"But . . ."

"Go!" he yelled. "Just . . . God dammit, just get the fuck out!"

Hamilton looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I should go. This is . . . I should go." He got up and slid his shoes back on, looking back at Ryder one last time as he stood by the door. "I'm sorry, Ryder," he said, then Ryder heard the door open and close and he knew that Hamilton was gone. Something inside him knew, too, that he wouldn't be coming back.

Without turning around, Ryder finally let himself cry.

Part Two