Kip enjoyed having a room to himself and found to his surprise that he was actually seldom on his own. It had begun on the first night that David had left. The Wilson twins had come down with a cake to share. Kip went to make cups of tea for them all, slightly trepidacious that they would have heard about the note in his desk, but glad that they had come down to see him.

"No - just a cheer up Kip cake." Philip grinned at Kip passing him his third of the cake which, Kip mused, had probably had "Serves six" written on the box.

Kip was taken aback by the boys' obvious relief that Stone was no longer sharing a room with him but said that he didn't want to talk about Stone any more. Despite all that had happened between them, he found it hard to recreate the anger and hatred he had felt earlier that day.

For the rest of that first week Kip found himself with visitors every evening, many of them boys that he had always counted as friends but whom he had actually spent very little time with over the last few years. Nobody mentioned the note in the desk or the reason for his and David's falling out, and Kip felt a new strength and confidence as he spent more time in the company of boys who shared his interests in music and photography and with whom he seemed to have much more in common than he had ever had with David.

Late on Sunday evening Kip was in his bed alone, reading. He heard the school chapel bell chime ten o clock and then a knock at his door. Fisher opened the door. Kip put his book down and smiled.

"It's a bit early for lights out isn't it!" he grinned. Fisher came in and Kip drew his knees up to his chest under his duvet allowing Fisher room to sit on the end of his bed. Fisher sat down saying thanks. Kip looked at him and there was silence for a moment as the two gathered their thoughts. They smiled as they both spoke each others name at the same moment and Kip looked at Fisher waiting for him to carry on, slightly tense and guiltily excited by the possibilities that flashed through his mind.

"Kip..." Fisher looked at Kip seriously. "What you told me about why you and Stone fell out, about that boy in Spain..."

"I'm... I'm not into that sort of stuff, boys I mean. I don't understand it really, not that there's anything wrong about it or anything."

He looked at Kip who nodded. Kip recognised the name of another of the house prefects.

"Well, I talked to them about you, because they both are... you know... gay and stuff and I probably shouldn't have told them, but anyway, they won't tell anyone else, and if you ever need any help or advice sort of thing... well ... anyway they know and they said you shouldn't worry about talking to them if you want to any time."

Kip smiled at Fisher and looking briefly to make sure the door was closed leaned forward in his bed and hugged him. It wasn't what he had expected Fisher to say, maybe not even what he had hoped he would say, but he was, for some reason, incredibly glad that it was what he had said and he couldn't think of any words that could explain that, so he hugged him. He sat back down against his pillows.

"You're a good 'un Kip!" Fisher rubbed Kip's knees through the duvet. "Don't you ever let anyone get to you like Stone did again okay?"

Kip nodded and Fisher stood up to leave, the end of his first week on fourth form duty. It had been a good week.

As senior school and the term moved gently from nervous novelty to the comfortable security of routine, Kip settled into his room, and enjoyed choosing the posters he wanted to have on the walls, which music he played, and the solitary pleasures of the night that offered the relief if not the relationship that he hoped he would find this term. Steven had offered to come up to his room once, but Kip had chosen the toilets again rather than what he thought of as his own special space.

Kip enjoyed Sunday afternoons, even miserable grey October ones. The air was heavy with thin drizzle that seemed to blow in his face whichever direction he looked in as he walked across to the music block, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his hands in the pockets of his school blazer holding it tight around his body. Kip had started to play the piano when he had begun junior school and had enjoyed it ever since. He had made steady progress and now brought himself and occasionally others pleasure when he played. Closing out the weather behind him, Kip walked along the blue carpet tiles of the long corridor whose walls were broken at regular intervals by the doors into small practice rooms, each of which contained an upright piano, some good instruments and some seeing out their last days to minor scales and broken arpeggios. Kip walked towards the far end where the four best pianos were, hopeful of being able to take his pick as he could hear no sounds from any of them. As he reached to the handle of one of the doors, he paused as he did hear a sound from inside, some Bach, a piece he played in fact, but sounding very different from his own faltering renditions of what was a tricky prelude. Standing on tip-toe he could just get his eye to the spyglass that enabled a fish eyed view of the practice room interior, but the figure sat at the keyboard was impossible to recognise, distant and distorted as it appeared.

Kip listened for a moment more as the piece drew to to its conclusion and knocked gently at the door, intrigued to see who was playing. The door was open by a boy Kip recognised from a few classes that they shared but whom he had never spoken to directly. He knew his surname was Jackson but didn't know his first name.

"Hi," Kip fumbled for an excuse for his interruption. "Sorry... I was just wondering who it was."

"Get it right?" Kip smiled up at Jackson who was a couple of inches taller than him. "You should hear me play it. That's not 'getting it right eventually'."

"I have heard you playing it." Jackson replied, surprising Kip "You were in here yesterday evening! It sounded good to me."

"Can you play it again for me so I can hear it all?" Kip felt that he wanted to talk a bit more with Jackson. "It's one of my favourite pieces."

Kip thought for a moment but knew only of Glen Robinson in the fifth year who did not, so far as he knew, play at all.

Jackson's face lit up. "He's the best. You could come to my room this evening after chapel if you can get permission. I'll play you one of his CDs."

Kip flushed slightly at his misunderstanding which seemed to have gone unnoticed.

"Thanks - which house are you in" Kip knew it could not be Welstead or he would have known Jackson better, but there were another three boarding houses, and it was not unusual for boys in different houses to see very little of one another.

Jackson smiled and squeezed passed Kip who closed the door after him and sat at the piano, pleased to have met somebody else who liked Bach, pleased that it was somebody taller than him, pleased that he had black hair. He smiled to himself and began to idly practice some scales and the few pieces he knew by heart, rather than leave the cosiness of the small room that still smelled of, Kip inhaled deeply, still smelled of whatever Jackson smelled of.

Kip was excited and slightly worried as he walked the two minutes in the dark to Blenkin House. He knew from junior school that although the boarding houses were all part of the same school, they all had very individual and different characters. Welstead was generally regarded as an easy going house. Their house master had a very hands-off way of running things, preferring to leave most of the day to day running of the place in the hands of prefects whom he selected carefully. Blenkin was regarded as much stricter, but it always seemed to Kip that the boys who suited certain houses usually finished up being in them. Blenkin's house master headed the cadet force in the school, an ex-army man, Kip had heard, but he was well liked by the boys in Blenkin who saw a lot more of him than anyone saw of their housemaster in Welstead.

Kip entered Blenkin through a door at the rear that went straight into the changing rooms and asked one of the couple of boys that were in there where he would find the junior common room. One of them showed him the way, and he opened the door to find a large room with modern seating and tables, harshly lit by fluorescent tubes. A few boys were sat about chatting and two others were playing table tennis on the table that occupied one end of the room. It was not at all like the shabby old room that was his own familiar common room. Everything was too tidy and too new. He smiled as he saw Jackson who was getting up from the seat he had been sat on reading.

"Hi - come on." Jackson beckoned to Kip who followed him out of the common room and then up the large main staircase. Jackson's room was right at the end of a narrow corridor. He opened the door and stood waiting for Kip to go in.

Kip was surprised to find that Jackson had a single room but relieved that they would, he presumed, have no other company. It was lit only by a bedside lamp and the light on the desk and Kip immediately recognised the smell that had lingered so pleasantly in the music block earlier.

"Most of them are here, just a dozen or so doubles." Jackson said, not looking at Kip but at the impressively long shelf of CDs moving his finger along them.

"Ah, there we are. One day I'm going to sort these." He turned to Kip and smiled. Kip looked at him returning the smile. "Sorry, only the bed to sit on I'm afraid, or this." Jackson pointed at the chair in front of the desk, "which is bloody uncomfortable."

"Thanks." Kip stopped short of saying Jackson and wished he knew Jackson's first name.

"Just make yourself at home - won't be long." He left, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

Kip leant back, propping himself on his elbows and looking around the room. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring the smell again. He caught sight of his own reflection in a mirror on the desk and looked at it. "He's nice" he thought to his reflected self. "He really is very nice." He stood up to have a look at Jackson's CD collection. On the desk, Kip saw the red and white case of the CD that Jackson had taken from the shelf. The Bach preludes and fugues and a black and white photo of a young man Kip assumed to be the pianist. Kip recognised the photo and realised that it was the same one that hung on the wall as a large framed poster. "He must be real fan." He thought to himself. He also saw a large black ring binder on the desk with the words "Oliver Jackson - Stuff" written in elaborately decorative text on the front. Kip noted the first name and wondered if Jackson knew his.

The door pushed open and Jackson came in with two mugs in one hand and a packet of biscuits in the other. He gently pushed the door closed with his foot and handing one mug to Kip, sat down on his bed leaving plenty of room for Kip to sit down next to him.

"You know my first name! I only just found yours out - the file", Kip gestured to the desk.

"I only just found yours out too" he laughed "I had to ask Peterson, he knew you because of junior school."

Oliver opened the packet of biscuits and offered them to Kip, taking one himself.

Kip grinned, his mouth full of biscuit, happy enough just to be in the same room as Oliver with a cup of coffee. The two boys chatted about their piano playing as they drunk the coffee, pieces they had learned and teachers they had liked and disliked. Kip interrupted,

"Just down the corridor on the left, it's the doorway without a door, they're in there."

Kip left the room and went to the bathroom. As he came back out to the corridor he was surprised to see David coming out of one of the doors. He had almost forgotten that it was Blenkin that he had moved to, and in his happy and relaxed mood had also forgotten the stormy start to the term, smiling at David, for a moment genuinely pleased to see more of him than just his back stooped over his desk in class. David looked at him, but he didn't smile. He seemed confused, almost embarrassed, looking down at the ground and then turning and going back in to the room he had come out of. For a moment Kip thought of going and knocking on the door, but he wanted to get back to Oliver, and as the memory of the paper pinned in his desk resurfaced, he went back to Oliver's room, glad to re-enter the present.

"Do you like him?" Kip didn't know why he asked, he was sure Oliver would hardly know David, but there had been something about the look on David's face that had left Kip feeling that he was unhappy.

"Nobody likes him." Oliver said, with no hint of malice in his voice. "The fourth form all hate him because he spends all his time sucking up to Farrow and a couple of other fifth formers, and the fifth formers all despise him because he's a creep, except I don't know if he can see that."

Kip pondered David's situation for a moment, feeling sorry for anyone that everyone disliked, and particularly for David, his erstwhile friend, but his mind quickly returned to Oliver.

"Whenever you're ready" Oliver grinned at him. "Just press play, it's in already." Kip looked at the CD player and touched the back lit blue triangle. He sat down again next to Kip as the familiar notes of the C Major prelude started.

Both boys were quiet listening to the preludes and fugues. Kip lay his right hand down between him and Oliver and noticed that Oliver's left hand was already on the bed between them. He watched as Oliver's long and pale fingers seemed to be playing out the left hand of the music.

Oliver laughed "Yes, but not this quickly! I can just about work my way through all the preludes, but I'm still struggling with some of the fugues."

Kip felt his insides churning. Still looking at Oliver's hand, he laid his lightly on top, slotting his own fingers between Oliver's and waited for a reaction. He felt Oliver squeeze gently on his hand. The two boys looked at each other.

"Okay?" Kip almost whispered. Oliver smiled with a seriousness in his face, and nodded. Kip felt his heart beating inside his chest and a dryness in his mouth, a strange combination of fear and elation coursing through him that was perfectly matched by the warm and attentive gaze of Oliver's eyes.

"You?" Oliver's soft spoken reply needed no response. Kip still holding Oliver's hand leant awkwardly to his side as Oliver mirrored his movements and the boys kissed tentatively, trying the weight of each other's feelings through the closeness of their lips. Oliver stopped a moment as the B minor prelude that he had been playing that afternoon began. Kip looked at him for a moment and kissed him again, this time, less cautiously, their lips and tongues tasting, exploring the newness of one another. Kip felt Oliver's hand on his thigh, and he reached to hold Oliver's face close to his as their mouths locked together matching the sudden drama of the prelude with their own passion.

Kip drew back and looked at Oliver whose hand still gently stroked his thigh. He was aware of his cock, stiff in his trousers and balls that were already drawn tight in his scrotum. His mind raced with contradictions. He so wanted Oliver to be naked, to see his cock, to lick him, to taste him, but it had to be love, and he wanted Oliver to know that, that it was sex with him that he wanted, because he was beautiful, because he loved Bach because of his smell because of his perfect smile, he didn't just want sex.

Kip looked down and saw the obvious signs of Oliver's arousal, and knew that Oliver must be able to notice his own.

"We can't, not here now." Oliver spoke softly. "It's nearly nine and the duty prefect will be round soon."

"I have to be back in house anyway." Kip added, suddenly aware of how the time had passed.

"I'll see you out," and briefly clutching Kip's hand Oliver stood and the two boys left the room, both adjusting their erections in their trousers. Oliver led Kip back down through the now mostly deserted common room. Back through the changing rooms and Oliver pushed open the back door and stepped outside with Kip.

"You bet!" he said, and set of back to Welstead, looking back a moment later to see Oliver's silhouette in the door. He waved, unseen in the dark.

Back at Welstead, Kip decided on having a quick bath before bed. He went up to his room and grabbed a towel and his pyjamas and went along to the bathroom. The four large cast iron baths were separated from one another by dividing panels, all within a large room with its own door. There were a few other boys coming and going, sponge bags in hand, at the sinks outside, but the room with the baths in was empty. Kip pushed the door closed and choosing one of the cubicles turned both hot and cold taps on to full, a combination he had learned from experience quickly gave him a full bath at the temperature he liked. As the bath ran, he peeled off his clothes folding them roughly on the plastic topped stool that stood beside the bath, then standing naked with a cock still more than half erect, listened to the echoing roar of the water filling the bath. He turned off the taps and climbed in, lying back in the almost too warm water. The bath was deep enough to cover him to his shoulders and neck, and he looked down the length of his slim body as it stretched out in front of him, nearly floating, with just his ankles, buttocks and shoulders taking the little weight that the water wasn't supporting.

Kip smiled to himself remembering Oliver's kiss and watched as his erection grew, enjoying the sensation on the foreskin that covered the head of his cock where it broke the surface of the water. He flexed the muscles at the base of it, watching it move up and down, rippling the clear water. Reaching down with both hands, he gripped the head of his cock in one, fondling the balls that were tight and protected from the heat in his scrotum with the other. Confident of hearing anybody open the door of the bathroom, he began to wank, keeping his hips low in the water to avoid splashing and moving as little of his arm as possible. He breathed awkwardly, trying not to be too loud as the water made slapping sounds around the bath like the lapping of water on the side of a boat. His whole body was already excited from the kissing and contact with Oliver, and it was only a couple of moments before his legs stiffened and he drew in breath, exhaling as the white of his sperm flowed, seemingly in slow motion from his cock, eerily weightless in the water around him, threads of it becoming attached to the thin curls of his pubic hair, reminding him of documentaries he had seen of fish spawning. His cum was intense, the more so for the control he kept on his body as he fought the natural instinct to thrash and thrust in the water, and he struggled to breath quietly as his cock began to soften in his hand that still moved gently back and forward along its length under the water. Once soft, he carefully eased his foreskin back from the head, and reaching for the bar of soap on the wire rack that spanned the bath, stood up and cleaned his cock, his balls and the softness between the cheeks of his arse before sitting back in the water to see to the rest of his body.

He climbed from the bath, pulling the plug and quickly rubbed himself dry realising that he only had minutes before he should be back in his room. He slipped into the soft brushed cotton of his pyjamas and picking up his bundle of clothes and his towel walked quickly back to his room, feeling warm and contented inside. It was a few minutes later as he sat in his bed reading that he stopped to hope that the evidence of his activity had gone down the plug hole with the water. He giggled to himself, and turned off the light, lying on his side, his knees drawn up, thinking about Oliver and wondering, hoping that Oliver was lying in his bed thinking about him.

Kip saw less of Oliver during the week than he would have liked. The opportunities were limited for boys in different houses, but they had made time to see each other every day, often after games in the music block, sometimes during a lunchtime or the morning break. So Kip was excited as he waited in the main hallway of Welstead for Oliver, who had promised that he would come over straight after prep finished at eight. Friday and Saturday nights were generally much more relaxed, and fourth form boys were not expected back in house until ten meaning the he and Oliver would have nearly two hours together.

The rain was torrential outside and so Oliver was soaked when he arrived even after the thirty seconds or so it had taken to run from Blenkin. Kip saw him as he came in, his hair dripping and small trails of water running down his face which was red, from his run and from the cold outside.

"It's peeing it down!" he laughed at Kip who was gazing at him, seeing his beauty afresh, his black hair wet and shiny. "I ran all the way and I'm still bloody soaked."

Oliver followed Kip who was noticeably more relaxed in the familiar setting of his own house. He looked around him, noting the different atmosphere in Welstead. Everything was older and somehow more comfortably feeling. Climbing the stairs they met Fisher who greeted Kip by ruffling up his hair.

Kip wasn't sure, but he thought Fisher winked at him as he continued downstairs.

"Who's that?" Oliver asked, impressed that a sixth former should be on familiar enough terms with Kip to greet him like that.

"That's Fisher - he was fourth form prefect on our first week, he's on again next week."

Oliver was further surprised to hear that Fisher was a prefect and found it hard to imagine any of the prefects being so openly friendly with a fourth former in Blenkin.

"Why does he call you good 'un?" Oliver continued as Kip open the door of his room and showed him in.

"I had a shitty start to the term and he was very kind to me. He told me I was a good 'un once and he always calls me that now."

Oliver's face betrayed a question that he would never have asked. Kip answered anyway.

"He doesn't fancy me or anything!" he smiled "He's not interested, he told me, not interested in boys full stop, but he knows I like boys and he's okay about that."

Kip reached for his towel that was draped on the radiator. Oliver held out his hand for it but Kip walked up to him and started to gently wipe his head with the hot towel. Oliver just smiled, standing quietly as Kip dried his head and face.

"No one's done that to me since my Mum when I was little." Oliver said, closing his eyes, enjoying the evocation of the safety and security of home that the simple physical gesture was bringing. Kip stretched upward and softly kissed his lips. Oliver opened his eyes,

"And no one's done that to me since... ummm" he looked up apparently trying to remember "since break this morning!" He grinned at Kip.

"Take your blazer off." Kip instructed "I'll stick it on the radiator, it'll dry it out.

Oliver removed the blazer and passed it to Kip who laid it neatly along the length of the radiator, hanging the towel over one end.

"Coffee?" Oliver accepted and Kip left, returning a couple of minutes later with two mugs. Kip put on some music and the two boys sat down next to each other on Kip's bed, feeling the sexual tension between them as they remembered the previous Sunday in Oliver's room. Kip offered his hand between the two of them and Oliver took it holding it tight as he drunk the coffee. He looked at Kip, feeling unsure of himself.

"Yes." Kip nodded and, wondering about Oliver, asked him the same question. Oliver didn't speak, but shook his head.

Oliver's response was to release his hand and lay it gently on Kip's thigh. stroking gently and coming closer to his crotch each time. Kip leant back as Oliver's hand reached his cock which was pushing hard against the fabric of his trousers. Oliver used his fingers tracing up and down Kip's rigid member before moving his hand and pushing it down the front of Kip's trousers, feeling his way past his underpants and finding the soft wrinkled sac that held Kip's balls. Kip sighed as his body shivered with the pleasure of Oliver's warm hand caressing him.

Kip got up and pushed the rubber wedge that was normally used to hold the door open under it making it impossible to open it quickly.

He quickly got back on the bed and Oliver leant over unfastening the button at the top of Kip's trousers and pulling down the zip revealing his white briefs that outlined the shape of his cock below. Kip was hard, it felt as though he was harder than he had ever been, and even the ridge of the head of his cock sheathed in its foreskin was clearly visible through the white fabric the briefs. Oliver pulled the front of his briefs down and Kip raised his bum from the bed allowing Oliver to push both trousers and pants just below the cheeks of his backside. His cock bobbed up and down sensitive to every movement of Oliver's hand.

Oliver reached around it, fascinated by the warmth in his hand, by the subtle combination of iron like hardness and the delicate softness and heat of Kip's cock. Tentatively he gripped it more firmly and began to move his hand up and down, mimicking the motion that gave him such pleasure in bed at night. After a minute, Kip laid his hand on Oliver's holding it still, torn between the overpowering desire to experience the relief of orgasm and to hold back, prolonging the exquisite sensations that ran through his cock and that made his stomach and chest ripple in the radiating warmth of Oliver's touch.

Oliver stopped and smiled. "Do you want to touch mine?" he asked wanting only to please Kip, but aware of the hardness still restrained in his own trousers.

"You bet!" Kip needed no second invitation, and Oliver leant back on the bed undoing his own trousers and pulling them and his underpants to his knees. Kip reached for his cock holding it lightly so he could rub up and down its length without pulling back the foreskin that had already slipped back halfway down the deep fleshy purple of the head of Oliver's cock.

"It's beautiful" Kip said looking at Oliver who was staring down at his cock and Kip's hand on it, experiencing for the first time the disconnected touch of another boy. Kip ran his fingers in the thin black pubic hair that surrounded the base of the handsome shaft.

"Close your eyes," he whispered to Oliver who trustingly responded by tipping his head back and closing them as Kip began to fondle his balls that hung loose and relaxed in their hairless pouch. Kip leant forward and gently licked at the tip of Oliver's cock, tasting the mild saltiness of the seminal fluid that oozed in anticipation from the tip and then sunk his mouth over it, feeling the texture of the cock on his tongue as his nose buried itself in Oliver's pubis. Oliver was unable to restrain himself from crying out softly as Kip raised and lowered his head. Kip stopped to allow Oliver to regain control of his feelings. He looked up at him grinning.

"Lie down on your side" Kip whispered to him. Oliver lay down and Kip lay down facing him grasping the two cocks together in his hand, the head of his own above his fist, the head of Oliver's below it. He began to slowly wank the two cocks in unison as Oliver pulled Kip's head to his own and began to kiss his mouth, his tongue probing, entwining with Kip's. Both boy's moaned softly under the magic of Kip's slow wanking and began to thrust their hips at one another searching for the extra fraction of stimulation that would bring them to orgasm. It was Kip who spurted first followed within seconds by Oliver who had suddenly felt the warm slick of Kip's semen on his cock and pubic hair. He pumped his cock into the wet slipperiness of Kip's fist, aware of his balls disappearing up into his body as his cum spurted in rhythmic pulses jetting out and covering his own and Kip's cock. Kip felt the hot fluid of Oliver's sperm running down his balls, amazed at how much Oliver seemed able to produce. He stopped contributing any hand movement allowing Oliver to gently thrust until his tender cock could bear no more and he gripped Kip's body, pulling him tightly to him, his eyes welling with tears that seemed to come from nowhere but now poured, silent from his eyes as he hugged Kip.

Both boys were still and silent for minutes, neither boy wanting more or to loosen their embrace. It was Kip who eventually spoke.

"Look's like you need drying off again." Oliver giggled and rolled onto his back. Kip got up and grabbed the towel from the radiator wiping the sperm from Oliver first and then from his own body, reaching down between his legs to dry the area where Oliver's seed had covered him.

The boys pulled their trousers back up but remained lying on the bed next to each other. Kip rolled over, facing away from Oliver who cuddled up behind him, holding him tightly and unconsciously running his fingers through Kip's hair. Oliver felt emotional, overwhelmed by the physical newness of the experience and by the happiness he felt holding Kip close.

"Thank you Kip." he squeezed him harder for a moment. "I've wanted to be this close to you since I first heard you playing the prelude in the music block and waited at the end of the corridor to see who it was who came out."

"Uh huh," Oliver nodded "and when I saw you I just knew that I wanted to be with you."

Kip's fingers gently touched the skin of Oliver's cheeks and brushed against his lips as his face beamed the happiness he felt. Falling for Oliver the way he had was wonderful enough, but to find that Oliver had wanted him from the start seemed to make everything even better.

"I love you," he whispered, realising for the first time that whatever love might be to some people, this was love to him. Oliver was his boyfriend.

Oliver did not trust the steadiness of his own voice and just mouthed "I love you too" back at Kip and kissed him again.

December had arrived and the weather had turned bitterly cold but Kip still had the window open in his room which , as David had promised it would be, was always warm. Friday prep time was over and, well satisfied with the work he had done that evening, he was getting ready to go over to Oliver's room in Blenkin. Both Kip and Oliver were happy in the relationship between them, a happiness shared by many of their mutual friends who had quickly recognised and accepted Kip and Oliver as "an item". The Wilson twins seemed almost as happy as Kip and had visited his room regularly with "Kip fancies Oliver" cake "Kip's in love" cake and various other cakes, all chocolate and all designed for more people than the number that actually ate them.

Kip walked briskly in the cold and clear night to Blenkin and open the familiar rear door passing through the changing room and along the corridors that brought him to the Blenkin JCR. Kip saw Oliver and went to greet him. They usually made coffee together in the JCR before going upstairs now. Kip was pleasantly surprised to see David Stone chatting to another fourth form boy. Oliver filled the kettle and was stood waiting for it to boil when the comparative quiet of the room was disturbed by the arrival of three fifth form boys, including Richard Farrow. Oliver and Kip both looked away busying themselves with sorting out the coffee, but Farrow had seen them , and apparently aware of the closeness between them made a screeching wolf whistle and speaking loudly in a camp high pitched voice to his friends and the rest of the room said mockingly,

Kip felt his ears burning. Oliver whispered to him to just ignore it, but Kip saw Oliver's hands shaking as he put the sugar in his mug.

"What a sweet pair of fucking fudge packers. Why don't you piss off back to Welstead with the rest of the poofs."

Kip looked at Farrow, frightened but feeling protective of Oliver muttered unconvincingly, "Shut up."

"What did you say you little shirt lifter." Kip and Oliver did not even know the expression, but Farrow's intention to hurt was apparent enough. He started towards them.

Farrow looked at him not believing that he had heard a challenge to his presumed authority, especially from a creep like Stone and more especially in front of two of his friends.

"Leave them alone. They aren't hurting anyone, just fuck off and leave them." Even Stone was slightly taken aback by the vehemence of his voice. Kip and Oliver just stood, stunned to silence.

"Don't you tell me to fuck off." Farrow spat the words at David, but aware of the number of witnesses in the room just added, with all the threat he could muster. "You fucking wait Stone, just you fucking wait." He left the room closely followed by his two cohorts.

Kip walked over to Stone who was standing looking at the door that Farrow had left by.

"Thanks David." he said it quietly but clearly enough for everyone else in the room to hear.

Kip could have hugged David but too much had happened between them for that to be. David looked at Kip with the weary face of someone who had had enough.

"Forget it. He's a shit." and he turned around and left through one of the other doors.

Kip and Oliver sat in Oliver's room, holding hands and drinking their coffee. Glenn Gould was on the CD player again, and both boys were quiet, taking stock of where they were and what had happened, not just that evening but since they had met. Kip knew it was stupid, but somehow he felt responsible, as though it were he that had introduced Oliver to being in love with another boy. That maybe if he hadn't, Oliver would be "normal" and not have suffered Farrow's abuse. He felt tears in his eyes as he saw in his mind, Oliver's hand shaking as he had been putting the sugar in his coffee. Kip had carried the mugs upstairs, Oliver clearly shaking too much to hold them. Not that Kip was much better. That felt worse. He hadn't even been brave for Oliver, it was David Stone, of all people who had been brave.

Oliver looked at him and saw the soft droplets that ran from his eyes. He squeezed his hand tightly, but Kip seemed a million miles away in his own thoughts. Oliver gazed at his boyfriend's face. At the neatly cut blond hair that he stroked so often, the warm pink lips and the glistening green eyes now shiny with tears. Oliver thought he was the most beautiful person in the world.

Kip looked down at his lap, gravity diverting the course of the tears that now ran off the end of his nose dripping onto his lap.

But Kip wouldn't speak. Oliver sat next to him as the preludes and fugues played, holding his hand, wondering what else he could do. The B minor prelude began and Oliver looked at Kip hoping that may be the piece that for Oliver seemed to mark everything that was significant in his life, would shake Kip from his sadness.

"When I first heard Glenn Gould playing Bach", Oliver spoke softly at Kip, "it changed they way I heard music. I'd listened to the preludes and fugues so often and had to practice them, I had started to hate them, and then I heard him play them and all I wanted to do was to be able to play them like him because things that had seemed like a jumbled confusion in the fugues suddenly all made sense.

"But my favourite was always the B minor prelude, and I heard you in the music block playing it on a Saturday afternoon and I waited to see who it was playing and I saw you, and it was like hearing Glenn Gould all over again. You were beautiful and I loved you, all the jumbled notes started to make sense. All the times I had felt bad about fancying boys didn't seem bad anymore. Everything about you was right and being with you makes everything right. I love you Kip."

Kip reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose and Oliver smiled as he felt his hand gripped tightly. Kip turned to him,

"You're perfect. Do you know that?" He smiled and Oliver knew he had never been happier.

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Kip

Part 2

Written by Daniel Self