The Year of the Rat

by Nico Grey

Chapter 9

When Dylan appeared at my lair, I knew why he wanted to see me. It had been about a month since he last fed. We actually had decent weather for mid-December. The boys would be working that night. And so would I.

As we were walking to the park, Dylan brought me up to date on what was happening with Taryn and their crew. It seemed that there was trouble in Vampire World; trouble that I wasn't tapped into.

Taryn's boyfriend was being targeted by a new vampire in the city. Someone Dylan called Rage. The guy sounded like a real psycho. But oddly, it seemed that he wasn't much older than we were. And he was also fairly new to darkness.

I didn't understand how someone so inexperienced could be so dangerous. Dylan didn't seem to know much more about it than I did. He didn't get too involved in the V-drama. He just supported his friends and tried to be as decent to the world as he could.

While we talked, I asked him about his hunger pangs. I was trying to get a better sense of how to recognize when I needed to feed. He blushed and wouldn't meet my eye.

"It's almost been a month since last time," he informed me. "I'm not feeling anything yet. But I will soon. And it's a nice night to be out in the open."

I thought I got the message. I was sensing some emotional spillover from him. It was practical to hunt before hunger pangs started to control thoughts and actions. And Dylan liked the idea of us working in the open air. There were more possibilities.

I wasn't completely certain, but I thought that maybe he was also looking forward to watching a show.

Oddly, that didn't embarrass me. In fact, it felt rather flattering. Exciting even, if the stiffening in my pants was any indication.

I glanced subtly sideways and was amused to see that it wasn't just my pants that were tighter. I was actually feeling more energized about the evening ahead of us.

As I had suspected, the warmer winter weather brought out just about every pervert in Chicago. There was a decent crew working that night, too. But there was plenty of work to go around.

I ended up going back into the bushes six times. Sensing Dylan's focused interest as he watched me work actually added to my excitement this time.

I almost called off the night on my third customer. He was a real dirt bag with few redeeming qualities. But he never really abused the boys that he used. We had been so busy that I was sure I could find a more worthy candidate before the night was over. So I decided to give the guy a pass until a future encounter.

It was lucky that I wasn't required to contribute much of myself to the party. I mean, six times! I could never have done that! But most guys were content to have me get their rocks off. A few wanted me to do some show and tell. And touching. Lots of touching. It gave me an odd thrill.

Lucky customer number six was all Dylan's. I could read what he wanted from me as he approached. Six months ago, I would have started vomiting immediately. But after so many encounters with strangers, what I found most stimulating was the thrill of having an audience. In the back of my mind, I made a note that maybe my line of work was starting to mess up my thinking.

The guy asked the customary question about what I had on my menu. It was pretty broad by then. But it didn't include what I knew he wanted. And since Marco still hadn't returned to work with us, we weren't going to offer the guy what he wanted that night.

He chose me. Apparently I had a look that he liked. And I was willing to go right up to the threshold of his desires. Rimming, I had learned that it was called. What an odd name.

He also wanted the full floor show. Since it was a cold night — and because I had warned Dylan and knew that's where he would be waiting — I led him toward the copse of arborvitae.

I was getting better at planning these hunts. Our moves were better choreographed. Dylan was already deep in the glade, invisible, and positioned to get a great view. I could sense his anticipation. And I was pretty sure that it wasn't all for the hunt.

I had read the guy as we walked into the bushes. I knew he would be deserving of Dylan's attention. He was a bad guy with no redeeming qualities. I knew that he planned to become an even badder guy before we were through. And I had used what Taryn taught me to make sure there wasn't anything particularly unhealthy in his blood to trouble Dylan.

I ended up naked, my clothing scattered all around the glade. Some of it was even up into the trees. And after the guy had copped all the finger thrills he wanted, we got down to business.

I was on my hands and knees. The guy was kneeling behind me. He was still feeling me up with his hands, but his tongue had started to work its way down my crack and toward the rim.

When he got there, I almost sprang up into the air like a gazelle! He knew what he was doing. And he kept doing it. I was feeling better and better. I was even considering keeping him alive if he would spend the rest of his life dangling from the toilet roll holder in one of the church bathrooms.

In the back of my mind, I could sense Dylan's fascination. I was pretty sure that he had never seen anything like this before.

If it had gone on much longer, I might have climaxed, just from the attention my rim was getting. But lucky customer number six had other plans.

I could read those plans playing out in his mind. I could hear the subtle sound of a zipper being lowered surreptitiously, then something pushing through the fly opening. It sounded huge.

He was getting ready to pull the old switcheroo. I warned Dylan to be ready.

The instant his tongue withdrew, I was ready to move. I leaned left. The hand that was intended to grab my genitals and hold on firmly ended up sliding harmlessly off the back of my thigh.

The switcheroo itself almost found my hole. It glanced off my rim, slid up the inside of my crack, and finally ploughed across my right cheek and into thin air.

As the guy grabbed for me again, Dylan was on him. I think the guy had been so intent on his own ambush that it took him several seconds before he even realized that he had been ambushed. And by then, it was all over except for the satisfied sounds of Dylan draining the life from his body.

Most vampires take a minute or two to leave the moment behind after they feed. Not Dylan. His fangs were still impaling the guys neck, but he was looking at me with something approaching awe.

I should have been embarrassed. Not too long ago, when I had first set up a guy for Dylan's meal, I had been ashamed. Maybe that had something to do with the physical connection that remained inside me as that guy died, but I really didn't think so. I was worried that I was rapidly becoming completely comfortable with myself as a sexual creature. I was becoming so comfortable that I didn't mind sharing.

I resisted the urge to release my excitement right there, with Dylan watching. I actually kind of wanted to. I just wasn't sure what he would think if I did. His opinion of me mattered. Like, it really mattered. I understood that.

I scavenged around the copse for my clothing, then climbed into the trees to retrieve a couple of items that had ended up there. I could feel Dylan following me with his eyes. That produced some weird but exciting shivers.

When I was dressed, and after we had cleaned Dylan up a bit, we left the copse of arborvitae and headed for the street. Lucky customer number six remained behind for the slag hunters to find. There was one less predator on the street and Dylan was good for another month.

On our walk back toward the city center, Dylan raised the question of my next hunt. We knew that it was probably no more than two weeks away. He was concerned that we couldn't rely on having weather decent enough to use our current hunting tactics as we got deeper into winter.

I explained that I had been wondering about hunting the restrooms late at night. That required an explanation of how I had discovered that some sleazy sorts could be found in those restrooms.

I could see the light bulb turn on, then the gears working in his head. There were questions about how often anyone visited those bathrooms at that hour, and whether there was much risk that anyone might walk in on a scene of bloody mayhem.

I really wasn't sure. I had run into twelve guys during that first three hour wash session the previous week. Everyone wanted to do something to me. Every one of them. Most were willing to pay. Three took what they wanted. And there was nothing redeeming about any one of the three.

My second visit had resulted in less custom. I still ran into eight guys. At that hour, apparently the only guys that visited restrooms either wanted to do things to young kids, or were easily tempted to do so by the right circumstances. Again, three took what they wanted. One was a repeat customer.

I thought that we wouldn't have trouble finding a deserving victim. I thought that the frequency of visitors was probably low enough so there wouldn't be an unwelcome walk-in while we were engaged. I thought that the two of us could control the situation if there was a problem. I just wasn't sure yet.

Dylan contributed his own opinion. He was sure that his extra would make the odds of a quick hunt quite a bit better. He also suggested that he could help divert any unwelcome guests that we heard coming. He thought it would work.

He was eager.

"Can we?" he wanted to know.

Somehow or other, I just knew that we would.

I went shopping for Mike a couple of times each week. I had purchased the picnic cooler. Now Mike had more fresh food in his diet. I thought he sounded better as he slept.

I also took to leaving some cash behind. I hoped that he would use it to go out for a good meal occasionally. I don't know if he did. I slept during the day. But I do know that he wasn't leaving his lair at night.

I didn't always know what Mike was doing in his lair. I often sensed that concentration that told me he was probably drawing. I didn't understand how much he could actually see in that dim basement.

I wondered if I could find some decent lights for him. But without electricity in the building, I knew it wouldn't be easy. I thought that candles or kerosene lamps would provide some illumination. But they weren't a great source of steady light. I figured I'd have to learn more about lights that ran on batteries. I wasn't sure they would be that much better than candles.

I wouldn't have known that Christmas was coming except for the Salvation Army Santas that appeared on the streets and the holiday advertisement that were plastered in store windows. I guess Christmas decorations had been up for weeks, but somehow I hadn't even noticed them.

Growing up as I did, Christmas was never a really exciting holiday for me. But I understood that it was a special day for many. No one had said anything, but I suspected that it might be a special day for those few people that were close to me.

I tried to think about what might matter to people like Mike, Dylan and Taryn. It wasn't easy to come up with ideas. I didn't know much about what life was like for Dylan and Taryn. The whole vampire existence was so new to me. I couldn't imagine what they would need. I would have to think hard about what they might like.

It was easier to think of things Mike might need. And I guessed that art supplies were something that he would like. But I really wanted to do more.

I wanted to keep my friends safe.

It was a small gesture. But I hoped that it would provide a big reward. I recalled the golden light that had surrounded me during my visit to St. Peter's. It had made me feel so loved and protected. I knew that church was a special place.

When I had worked for Father Thomas, I overheard a fair amount of church business. I knew that Father prayed for all his parishioners. But I also knew that sometimes parishioners requested special prayers. They would ask father to say prayers or masses for their loved ones. That felt like a really caring thing to do.

I visited St. Peter's the next night. I was looking for that older priest, the one that had been so kind to me.

I don't know if he was the only priest at that church or if he just did the night shift for the others. He found me again, praying in front of the altar.

He seemed delighted to see me. He was touched by my request. But he found it very difficult to accept the money I offered for him to say masses for Mike, Dylan and Taryn.

It took a long time to assure him that I knew what I was doing, that I didn't need the money to stay alive, and that I understood the value of that amount of money. It was worth more to me if it was used to say prayers for my friends, than for anything else I could do with it.

He was kind to me. He did his best to treat me seriously. But I was only twelve. He couldn't fully understand everything I had gone through to get to that point in my life.

I left with Father's promise to say masses for my friends. He took the time to write everything down as I spelled their names carefully for him. He accepted the handful of twenties reluctantly, but he accepted it.

As he escorted me to the front door, he told me, "I hope you don't mind. But I'll be saying those masses for you, too, Rad."

I was so touched that I started crying on the spot. He patted me gently on the arm. He offered his blessing again when I stopped on the sidewalk to look back at him and that wonderful church.

I found warm clothing for Dylan and Taryn. It was the best I could do. I really didn't know what they needed. Warm clothes are good in Chicago, especially in winter. And I thought they would look good on my friends.

I found more pads of drawing paper for Mike. I bought him more pencils. I bought a selection of colored pencils. And I found a couple of solar powered lanterns. The lady in the store assured me that they gave good light — enough to read by comfortably. As long as they were left in sunlight during the day, they would produce at least a few hours of light every night.

I was feeling pretty good about myself. I felt like Santa Claus. And I thought I had saved the best present for Dylan. I was starting to feel hungry.

It must have been past two in the morning when we arrived in Grant Park. I had considered waiting until Christmas Eve. But I decided that I just couldn't be sure that anyone would be in the park that night, so we were there on the 23rd.

I had a plastic bag stuffed with everything I needed to clean myself and wash my clothes. I also had a clean change of clothes in the bag. I had thought ahead.

If I washed all my clothes, and they were still wet when the right prey showed up, it would be harder to leave the restrooms in a hurry. That increased the risk of some innocent pervert walking in on us with the remains of my meal still lying there.

So I pretended that all my clothes were being washed. I stripped off what I was wearing, dumped dirty clothes in a couple of sinks, and started washing. Then I hung the wet clothing to dry over the top of a couple of stalls and started washing myself. Dylan was wide-eyed as he took it all in.

Eventually, we had a visitor. Dylan just faded from view. I think he had also slipped into one of the empty stalls.

The first visitor was your typical, garden-variety pervert. I pretended to be embarrassed to be caught doing my laundry. He appreciated the opportunity. He wanted to do me. We conducted a business transaction. Then he left.

It took Dylan several minutes to appear again. He was still flushed. We chatted a bit. I resumed my ablutions. We waited for another visitor.

Someone new dropped by every twenty or thirty minutes. Most were decent enough. They had money. I had something that they wanted. We made a deal.

A couple weren't willing to deal. I had something that they wanted and they took it. Dylan's anxiety was going through the roof!

'This one? This one?!' he kept demanding. Each time, I put him off. I was sure that I could do better. Daylight was at least four hours away.

By now, I was completely used to being fondled and groped by hands and mouths. I didn't enjoy it, especially when it was simply taken from me, but I could tolerate it until the right one came along. Besides, despite his anxiety, I could sense that Dylan was really enjoying the show.

I almost missed it when the right moment came. If the guy hadn't been a repeat customer, I probably would have. But I did recognize him. I had been inside his mind. I knew that he was worthy, so I was cautious with him.

For some reason, I was having a hard time reading his intentions. Maybe I was getting tired. But while I was setting him up for a surprise, he was also setting me up.

He took what he wanted. I played along for a while, wanting Dylan to get the most out of it. I had also discovered that waiting for the prey's sexual energy to peak added something to the experience of feeding. That seemed like a little present I could give myself for Christmas.

While I was playing helpless victim, he bent me over the sink counter and started washing my backside. I never felt the shift in his mind that should have warned me. The next thing I knew, he was trying to push right up inside me!

I hadn't even the opportunity to send out a cry for help when the cavalry arrived.

"You leave my little brother alone!" Dylan demanded as the main door to the restroom was suddenly flung open.

He advanced on the pervert. The guy started to turn and face the threat. I had just enough time to reach out and determine that there was nobody except Dylan nearby. Then the pervert got what he had coming to him.

It really was an extra special experience. His blood was just sizzling with dark sexual energy. Aside from the shock and terror I had felt when he tried to enter me, it was my best hunt so far.

Maybe my shock and terror had even added to the experience. But I was pretty sure that it wouldn't be worth trying to replicate in the future. It had come too close to ending badly.

As I was coming down from the emotional high of feeding, I noticed that something else wasn't coming down. In fact, it was vibrating wildly. It was awfully close to exploding. I still wasn't sure that I should touch myself with Dylan watching. But I thought that with just a little replay of recent events in my mind...

Yeah! Merry Christmas, Dylan!

Afterward, I was a little embarrassed. I collected my belongings quickly and stuffed them into the plastic bag. Then I got dressed.

We cast about to make sure there was nobody in the area that might visit the restroom soon. Then we left the remains of my prey for the slag hunters.

I was full of energy on the walk home. So was Dylan... even if he kept glancing at me, blushing, then fading from sight.

Taryn teased me a bit when I delivered his Christmas present to him the following night. Apparently he had learned at least part of the story from Dylan. But he was kind. And he did appreciate my gift.

We talked for more than an hour that evening. Maybe it was because I had just fed. Maybe it was just my worry about Mike. Taryn got some emotional spillover from me.

He asked questions. I answered honestly. Taryn had been my guide as I learned about Vampire World. In a way, I suppose, he was my real sire. Maybe he hadn't contributed the chemicals, or sperm, or whatever, that created me. But he was doing what he could to raise me the right way.

Taryn was concerned when he learned that I had been leaving supplies for Mike. He reminded me of the risks involved with getting too close to a human. If our existence became common knowledge...

I knew this. Taryn pointed out that there wasn't just risk to vampires if humans knew about us. Many people would likely die in the mass hysteria that resulted if knowledge of more powerful beings became widespread. The Vampire Council and powerful humans would do what was necessary to prevent this from happening.

That meant that I would be in serious trouble — maybe even terminal trouble — if the risks I was taking became known. And Mike could be in serious trouble, too. He was just a street kid with almost no connection to anyone else. He wouldn't be missed. His disappearance might seem like an easy solution to a problem.

That last thought was devastating. I didn't read any threat in Taryn's eyes. I understood that he was just trying to inform me of a harsh reality. But it was a really, really harsh reality.

I acknowledged what Taryn was telling me. I admitted that I knew I was taking serious risks. I tried to explain that they were risks I simply had to take. Nobody had ever cared for me in the way that Mike had. No one had ever even thought about doing the things that Mike had done for me.

"It's Mike!" I tried to justify myself. I couldn't just leave Mike to become sicker and die. "I can't abandon him when he needs me. I love him!"

I could see Taryn's expression soften instantly. He was conflicted, I could tell. But my final argument? Maybe it had gained me an ally.

With Taryn's implicit consent, I delivered Mike's Christmas presents the following night, Christmas Eve. I brought more food and medicines, too. Then I sat there for more than an hour and just watched him sleep. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

I resisted the urge to get up and move around. Instead, I just took in, inhaled, tasted, and listened to the familiar sights, sounds, odors and feelings of my old home.

Mike was sleeping fairly peacefully. There must have been a full moon that night. The illumination from the basement window almost filled the room. The glow that surrounded his nest was almost angelic.

When the sky outside began to hint at sunrise, I knew it was time for me to go.

But I was reluctant. I stood over Mike in his nest. The rhythms of my body fell into sync with his shallow breathing.

I knew I was going to cry. So I bent down and kissed him. On the neck. It was just a light kiss on the neck.

Merry Christmas, Mike.

Then I fled to my lair.

Dylan and I visited the Grant Park restrooms six more times that winter. We both understood that it was a risky way to hunt, for a lot of reasons, but we thought the risks were manageable with two of us working together. Fortunately, we were never proved wrong. But we were eager for spring to arrive.

The pattern for those restroom hunts never changed. The setup was always me washing myself and my clothes — even though I had already purchased the camp stove and water basin that allowed me to wash at home.

The majority of the business transactions that took place on those nights were consensual. I always brought home a decent amount of money. But I could count on at least one or two people trying to take advantage of a naked twelve-year-old, alone in a restroom in the middle of the night. They might not have been the most nutritious, but they made for a decent supply of food.

Dylan made those hunts more enjoyable. I appreciated his companionship. I was slowly learning more about him and how he came to end up in darkness.

Dylan, I'm quite sure, also benefitted from those hunts. And not just because it made it easier for him to find an ethical source of food.

He had been brought up in a fairly religious household. His father apparently had some issues with non-traditional sexualities. And Dylan, he eventually intimated to me, had know from a fairly early age that he was more attracted to guys than he was to girls.

Life with his father was difficult. And complicated. Because Dylan was being force-fed a steady diet of indoctrination that told him his appetites were evil. It was enough to mess up anyone's mind.

That made it very hard for Dylan to understand his own sexuality, let alone acknowledge it publicly. But he eventually told me that he had a boyfriend. He and Dion, the young black kid I saw him and Taryn with occasionally, had been together for months.

It was hard for Dylan to be demonstrative, at least openly. But his blushes, his timid downward glances, and the way that he occasionally started to fade from view when he talked about Dion, were enough to tell me the most important parts of that story.

I'm pretty sure that the time he spent watching me work helped Dylan become more comfortable with his sexual feelings. I mean, I suppose it was a weird sort of sexual behavior, but I was no longer ashamed of it. It served an important purpose in my life and it was just something you could do with the human body. I think that helped Dylan realize that there was no reason to feel shame for what he felt and did.

The last time we hunted the Grant Park restrooms that winter, it was his turn to feed. We had completed about half of the walk to the park when I noticed that he hadn't brought a spare shirt or anything to clean up with.

He seemed surprised at his oversight, even a bit distressed. But we decided that we would carry on, instead of turning back. There was water and paper towels in the restroom for cleanup. It would work out.

Our routine that night hadn't changed. I started to wash my clothes. I hung them over the stall partitions to dry. Then I started to wash myself. When I finished washing myself, I washed myself again. When a customer was finished with me, I washed myself again.

In between customers, Dylan and I talked. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something anxious about his mood. It was an odd mix of anticipation and uncertainty. I wondered if he had waited a bit too long to hunt.

That was a long night. I earned quite a bit of money. I only had one visitor who didn't feel obligated to pay me. He arrived early. And aside from his ethics around business transactions, and a fondness for young guys, he hadn't been all that evil. I decided that we could wait and find a better meal for Dylan.

We were probably less than two hours from sunrise before I let the right one in. And I don't mean it like that! Although he did...

There was something repulsive about men that wanted to violate a young guy in that way, especially without even offering to pay. They generally had an array of serious character flaws. This guy was no exception.

Or maybe he was an exception. He took evil to a whole new level. He had turned pro.

After divining his intentions, I dug deeper into his mind and his history. What I saw in there terrified me! He wasn't just fond of stealing the virginity of a young guy. Sometimes he took more.

As I viewed me through his eyes, his intent focus on my body and his intention to use it in every way possible, I sensed that view was connected to something else in his memory.

When I followed that connection, I almost passed out.

As he made his plan for me, he was reliving a similar experience from just a few months ago. I could see that boy in his mind. I could see that boy's terror through this man's eyes, and the way he fed off of that terror. I could feel his excitement as he possessed that boy's body with hands, mouth, and finally with his sex organ.

I could feel his exultation as he thrust his penis deep into that boy's bottom, his joy as he continued to feed on the boy's terror, and then his satisfaction as he snapped that boy's neck!

And that, like nothing else before, brought home to me that I was in a very, very dangerous line of work!

I almost panicked and tried to run from the guy. It took all my self-control to stay there, naked and afraid, and pretend to watch him like a shy and ashamed boy caught in an embarrassing situation.

The man smirked. He didn't try to negotiate. He just sauntered up to me and took control of my body.

I knew that Dylan was nearby. He had been standing in front of one of the stalls when we realized the guy was approaching. I warned Dylan of the danger and pleaded with him to be ready to help.

I wasn't afraid that the guy might kill me. I was a vampire, after all. Vampires rarely died. But I really didn't want his penis in my butt!

The guy liked to toy with his prey. As I regained my composure, I appreciated the irony.

I feigned fear as he ran his hands up and down my body, prodding, pulling and pinching. As he continued his assault, I let my body respond to his stimulation, but I continued to radiate fear.

He continued to tease me. That gave me time to dig a little deeper into his mind. That boy he had killed triggered a memory; and a concern.

Rooting around in that dumpster, I discovered that he had raped many boys. He had killed more than once. I uncovered three more occasions. Each time I trembled when the face of his victim was revealed.

I was worried about Marco. I hadn't seen or heard of him in more than six months. And Marco had been so daring, so trusting that everyone would follow the rules of the game.

I was relieved that the faces of this guy's victims didn't look like Marco. I didn't recognize any of them. Each was some mother's son. None deserved what this monster had done to them. But at least I wasn't confronted with a sense of real personal loss. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I was relieved.

I sensed that the end of the game was drawing near. I warned Dylan.

The guy had become even more invasive as he took possession of my body. He worked me over completely. There was only one place left for him to go, and I knew that he was ready.

He bent me over the wash counter. I prepared to resist. I called for Dylan.

And suddenly the guy was just ripped off of my back! I couldn't believe it. He wasn't small. I knew vampires had superhuman strength, but I had never seen one of us demonstrate such raw physical power.

I didn't even see Dylan when I turned around. The guy was just struggling against an unseen force in the middle of the restroom. Whatever had him was attacking from behind.

Then I sensed the familiar sounds of a vampire feeding. And the satisfaction. I recognized Dylan's mind.

As I watched the guy slowly stop struggling, Dylan appeared behind him. I was so caught up in the guy's struggles that I didn't even notice at first. Dylan wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

It was beautiful.

Well, of course it was. Dylan was beautiful. But this image wasn't just beautiful for the obvious reason. It was beautiful because, just at that moment, he was looking directly into my eyes.

He knew what he was doing. Shy Dylan had chosen to share this moment with me. It was beautiful because he had chosen to share with a friend something that was so deeply personal to him; something that made him feel so vulnerable. I almost wept.

I saw him look down. So I did, too. I was beyond excited. But no more so than he was.

He kept feeding, but he couldn't look away from me. Then he pulsed. And he pulsed. And pulsed. Regular as a heartbeat. Twelve times in all!

I didn't think that was even possible. But it was.

It was beautiful. It was spectacular. It was intensely arousing.

So of course I returned the gesture. But only three times.

Dylan's prey collapsed to the floor. He was standing in the middle of the room and blushing furiously. Then he just disappeared.

I was starting to worry that we might have visitors before I finally managed to cajole him back to visibility again. We had to get cleaned up and on our way.

He let me wipe him down with damp paper towels. Then he insisted that he had to wipe me down. By the time we were dressed, packed, and on our way, the slag hunters had already arrived.

At first, I was concerned that they might be witnesses. But Dylan reassured me. Then he disappeared again. We chatted sporadically the entire way home, but I didn't see him very often.

Before I slipped into the church building, I couldn't help myself. I leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. I held that kiss for a long time.

He blushed. Then he kissed me back.

As we parted ways, I thought that I had never experienced anything as sublime as that simple exchange of kisses. It cemented a connection between us that felt destined to endure. I definitely had a friend that I would hold close in my heart forever.