full moon party

The bedroom is the only place that shows Saxon lives here. There are weights stacked in the corner and the sheets are gray, neutral leaning masculine. The bed is neatly made and seems sterile. Lochlan wonders if Saxon talks about that in counseling. If he misses sex that feels like this: fueled by need instead of obligation.

Lochlan whimpers and pushes up against his covers. He doesn’t remember learning much about orgasms from sex ed. Men and women have a special hug, then they feel really, really good, like warm all over, and somehow that’s supposed to make a baby. That’s the message he gets from church, too, minus the “feeling good” part. Sex is only to make babies. Nothing else. And boys can’t make babies with other boys, so that’s why it’s wrong.

Saxon says it’s wrong, too, but then he wants to kiss again. He also looks scared all the time, especially when he gets too close to Lochlan. Is he afraid of feeling good?

Saxon goes back to school not long after and doesn’t come to church services with them for a while. Lochlan guesses that Saxon is probably just busy, but he can’t shake the feeling that Saxon is avoiding him. This only exacerbates his guilt over his bad thoughts leading to bad actions, and his fear that he drove his brother away because of them.

Saxon comes back on a Sunday. Well, someone named Saxon. This person is like no version of his brother that Lochlan has ever met. Before New Horizons, Saxon was loud; confident. Now the light he used to have is gone. He’s subdued, as if some essential part of himself has been taken out and reprogrammed.

He keeps thinking about Lochy’s body: how sensitive her neck is; her little tits in her bikini top. She’d been so happy talking to those other guys. Awkward, yeah, but like she was starting to figure things out, like she was learning how to play the game. Why the fuck would he be angry? And is he mad at himself, or at her? He’s the one who’s been encouraging Lochy to have sex after all.

Lochlan is watching Saxon and his friend now more than the tv. He puts his own hand on his thigh, which is silly, but he’s imagining touching Saxon like that and wants to get some idea of what it’d feel like. Saxon’s thighs are thick; Lochlan wouldn’t be able to get his whole hand around one. But Saxon could cover Lochlan’s thighs. Could spread them open so easily. But that’s a wrong thought, a bad thought: Lochlan hears that almost every Sunday from their pastor.