• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Gay Male
  • /
  • What a Difference a Year Makes

What a Difference a Year Makes

1234

Andrew was nearing the end of his fifteen hour drive from Gainesville to Dallas and knew he should be feeling exhausted, but his excitement and anticipation at seeing Chris again after their year apart was keeping him wide awake. After all, he thought, Chris was his best friend...well, more than that... his non-sexual life partner. Wait that sounded too depressing. He thought harder: non-romantic soulmate? Whatever they were to each other, he had missed Chris more than he had ever missed another living human, and Andrew couldn't wait to see him again.

He had originally meant to stop and spend the night at a cheap motel in route, but he was too eager to get to Dallas and to Chris. In fact, he had promised the night in the motel as the only way to get his mother to quit protesting about his leaving at 3:00 p.m. directly after his last shift at work instead of waiting for the next morning. After all, he argued, everything but the work clothes he had on had been packed, much of it at least a week ago.

"Fine," she said, resigned but smiling. "I guess you are an adult...:"

"Damn right," Andrew interrupted her with a grin. "And don't you forget it."

Ignoring his outburst, and as a mother of five, Rachel Conners had plenty of practice at ignoring her children's interruptions, she continued, "...besides you're so worked up about going and seeing Chris again that you wouldn't get a lick of sleep if you stayed here anyway."

She reached over and briefly touched her oldest son's cheek, her smile widening. "Sometimes I swear you act like you're 13 instead of 23."

Andrew, had pulled her into a quick hug, kissing her cheek her cheek before running upstairs to grab a shower. "Of course, I'm excited," he thought, pulling off his sweat and dirt stained work clothes before jumping in the shower, "my life is finally ready to start."

*******

Andrew and Chris had met a couple of years earlier during the last half of their junior year at the university they both attended in a small town in north Louisiana. It was a blind date; their mutual friends had insisted separately to both that they were perfect for each and had so much in common. Considering the size of the university (10,000 students) and the correspondingly small number of out gay students, it was surprising that they hadn't met before. Finally succumbing to unrelenting pressure, Andrew had called Chris and discovered during an initial phone conversation that lasted for hours that they did share many common interests. In fact after talking to him, Andrew had been really excited to meet Chris.

Waiting at the door to Chris's dorm room, Andrew was nervous. He had no idea what Chris looked like. For some reason, that he could never really remember later, they had agreed that it would be much more exciting and romantic to meet for the first time without exchanging pictures. Besides, both had been assured that the other was cute and "just your type." Sadly though, Andrew had to admit disappointment when Chris opened the door after a nervous knock. Not that Chris wasn't cute...he was. He was clean shaven and with a smooth body, judging by his arms and the glimpse of hairless chest above the low v-neck of his t-shirt, lightly tanned, with blond hair and blue eyes. It's that Andrew's friends had been wrong, Chris just wasn't Andrew's type. Internally, Andrew acknowledged that this was kind of ironic, considering the fact that Chris looked an awful lot like Andrew himself, who was also blond and blue eyed. To be fair, Andrew's blond hair came from a bottle (he later found out Chris's did as well) and his blue eyes were the result of tinted contacts unlike Chris. They were about the same height, 5'10", and both of average build, though Chris was thinner. They also apparently shared the same taste in clothes, since both Andrew and Chris were wearing basically identical outfits: blue v-necked t-shirts, black jeans, and black Converse tennis shoes.

Before Andrew could say anything, Chris uttered an expletive.

"Shit," he said looking at Andrew's outfit, then looking down at his. "I guess I need to change."

"Forget it," Andrew said, grinning as he realized the potential fun in the situation. "Keep it on. We'll pretend we're brothers and freak people out."

"Sounds like a plan," Chris agreed, stepping forward and closing his door behind him. He grabbed Andrew's hand and pulled him toward the exit. " Let's go."

To keep things low key for their first date, they had decided to meet up with friends at one of the gay bars in Shreveport, about an hour's drive away. The ride over wasn't awkward as Andrew had feared. He had been a little nervous about such a long drive with a stranger, but the two boys had so much fun joking and laughing on the trip, that Andrew was actually surprised when they arrived at the outskirts of the city. He couldn't remember the last time an hour had passed so quickly. After arriving at the club, they quickly spot their group of friends and settled into a night of fun and dancing, punctuated with various members of their group pulling the two of them aside privately to quiz them on what they thought of each.

"Well," said Susan, the one who had pressed Andrew most heavily to contact Chris. "What do you think?"

"He seems really nice, and he's a lot of fun to be around."

"And..." she said expectantly, raising her eyebrows.

"What else do you want me to say."

"Don't you think Chris is cute?"

"Sure," Andrew shrugged. "I guess."

Susan seemed a little disappointed at his answers, but quit the interrogation with one last comment. "He really is a great guy."

Andrew flashed her a smile, "That I can tell," he said and turned to rejoin Chris and the others.

Andrew hadn't really thought that people would think they were related, much less brothers. Honestly, he had said it to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, as he didn't care to sit around wasting time in a strange dorm room while Chris put together a new outfit. After all, their resemblance was pretty superficial: the same coloring and similar outfits. However, after only 30 minutes or so of being inside the bar, an older guy, swaying slightly approached them.

"Are y'all twins?" he said, slurring ever so slightly.

Before Chris could speak, Andrew answered "Of course we are. Do you think he's hot?" He gestured to Chris.

"Yes, he's very cute," the guy said.

"I think he's really hot," said Andrew, turning to Chris and grabbing his face in his hands. Andrew kissed him deeply.

"Y'all are just nasty," the older guy said with a look of horror as he backed away quickly.

Andrew pulled away from Chris who looked at his date with a shocked expression before they both burst into laughter. They pulled the gag a couple of more times before their friends begged them to stop.

All in all, Andrew had a great time, and for most of the drive back, the conversation continued to flow easily, but as they neared the university the talking gradually stopped, and he began to get anxious. Andrew kept glancing over at Chris, who was driving, wondering what he was thinking. Chris was so nice, and as the night had gone on, Andrew had also noticed that he was very attractive and had a great ass, not to mention being a great kisser, even if the kisses weren't for real. But, and didn't there always seems to be a "but", Andrew didn't really feel "that" way about him; however, he didn't want to hurt Chris's feelings if the other boy felt differently. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of Andrew's dorm, he was a nervous wreck. What would he do if Chris tried to kiss him for real? He didn't want to lead Chris on or hurt him, and he definitely wanted to be friends. " Why must dating be so complicated?", Andrew thought as the car pulled to a stop.

Chris, a complete gentleman, got out, and walked around to open Andrew's door before he had a chance to do it himself.. "I'll walk you to your door," he said.

"Thanks," said Andrew. It was late, almost 4 am, so the parking lot was deserted. Once they got to the door, they stood there for a moment, looking at each other without speaking.

"I had a great time," Chris finally broke the silence.

"Me, too." Again, they stood looking earnestly at each other without speaking. Finally Andrew broke. "Look, you're a great guy, but...you're not my type."

Almost immediately, Chris responded, "You're not my type, either."

Startled by their mutual outbursts, they stared at each other with open mouths before bursting into laughter. "We are going to disappoint so many people," Andrew said when he finally stopped laughing.

"I know Susan has started planning the wedding."

"Friends?," Andrew asked, sticking out his hand.

"Forever," Chris replied, ignoring the outstretched hand and pulling Andrew into a great bear hug.

Susan was greatly disappointed that her matchmaking didn't work. However, she was glad that she had a hand in Andrew and Chris becoming good friends; by the end of the quarter, the boys were practically inseparable. They enjoyed each other's company so much that they decided to live together off campus their senior year.

Living together was fun for both of them. They found an apartment in a crumbling duplex built around 1910. It was huge and had 10 foot ceilings, a window seat in the master bedroom, rotting floors and horrible drafts. Since it was in such bad condition, their landlady gave them carte blanche when it came to decorating, and they spent hours choosing paint colors and thrift store furniture to create their perfect bohemian hellhole. Their parties became legendary among their friends, but the best times they had there were the times it was just the two of them.

Neither dated much their senior year. As they lamented, there wasn't exactly a huge dating pool at the school, especially if you had no interest in helping closeted frat boys get off or in hooking up for a quick Grindr fuck, so they usually spent their free nights together, splitting a bottle of cheap wine and talking about their plans for after college, including the husbands they hoped to find. Besides, Andrew thought often, no lame date was as much fun as sitting around with Chris and conducting their own gay version of Mystery Science Theater 3000, mocking bad movies. One of their favorites to mock was Love Story, especially the line, "Love means never having to say you're sorry."

"Really," Andrew snorted in disgust, before pausing to pour another glass of Rex Goliath wine for each of them. "Because I have to say, even with my somewhat limited relationship experience, love means having to say you're sorry all the fucking time."

"Amen, preacher man," Chris, huddled up on the sofa next to him, clinked his glass with Andrew's.

That night was the first they slept together; that unusually cold winter they learned that the downside to their apartment's bohemian charms was drafty windows and lackluster heating. In fact, during this, the first major cold snap of the year, the gas heaters refused to work. They had stayed huddled together under layers of blankets on the sofa and drinking cheap red wine to stay warm as long as they could before they finally decided to go to sleep.

At the top of the stairs, they hugged goodnight and parted. Chris, who had the larger bedroom, was shivering under his covers cursing the fact that he had ever seen the ad for this apartment when he heard the knock on the door.

"Yes," he said.

"Are you decent? Can I come in?"

" Of course, I'm decent. If I tried to pull my dick out in this weather, I'm afraid it would freeze off."

Andrew giggled at Chris's response as he opened the door and came in, dragging his comforter behind him. "Look, I figured, let's pool our resources. I figure two comforters and some body warmth is better than going solo."

"That's a great idea," Chris said, adjusting the covers so Andrew could crawl in bed with him."

Andrew threw his comforter over Chris's and crawled in beside him. Naturally and automatically, Chris pulled Andrew to him, groaning as he finally felt warmth returning to his body.

"Goodnight," they both whispered as they fell asleep. During the rest of the cold snap until the heaters could be fixed, they snuggled together at night. Afterwards, they returned to sleeping in their own rooms, but whenever one of them had a particularly shitty day or just needed comforting, he would drag his comforter to the other's bed, like a kid after a nightmare.

During the nine months they lived together, Andrew came to appreciate what a great guy Chris was more and more. He was just genuinely nice, sweet, generous. For example, since he had claimed the bigger bedroom which was significantly larger than the one Andrew had, he insisted on paying ⅔ of the rent instead of half. After a long argument, one of the few they ever had, Andrew gave in. He knew, however, that Chris was paying more rent not because he thought it was fair; it was because he knew that Andrew was on a tight budget. Andrew's father was an accountant and made decent money, but with 5 children, including an "oops" toddler that had been conceived during Andrew's senior year in high school, money in the Conner household was tight. Andrew had earned an excellent scholarship that covered most of his school expenses, and his parents sent what extra they could, but he paid for most of his living expenses by working at a coffee shop. Chris, on the other hand, came from a well to do family, and had a generous monthly allowance-hence his insisting on paying a larger share of rent to ease Andrew's burden. Chris also helped in other ways; even though he rarely ate anything but salads, smoothies, and Lean Cuisine in an unrelenting effort to keep off the 40 pounds he had lost since graduating from high school, every time he went grocery shopping, he came back loaded down with Andrew's favorite foods-snacks that Chris refused to touch and that Andrew couldn't really afford to indulge in often. In addition, he did most of their housework without complaining, including the laundry, since Andrew had such little free time between school and work.

Andrew had to admit that it was so nice to walk into their apartment after a long shift and find dinner in the oven (even if it was a frozen low-fat lasagna), a clean house, and fresh laundry folded on your bed. On one such evening, he walked in to find the scent of frozen pizza in the air and Chris curled up on the sofa drinking red wine from a box. After a quick shower, Andrew walked back into the living room.

"Thanks for doing the laundry, Chris. I know you don't have to do that, and I really appreciate it. I guess 'love means washing the skid marks out of someone else's underpants.'"

"That is so disgusting. And I can assure you that if I ever discover skid marks on your underpants, the laundry service is ending. Besides, " Chris said as he got up and went to the kitchen, returning with another glass. "Love really means giving your roommate the last glass of boxed wine."

Eventually though, graduation and the end of living together neared. Andrew had definite plans for after graduating with his degree in Landscape Architecture; he was moving to Dallas to work for his uncle who owned a large nursery and landscaping business. In fact, his Uncle Bob designed the landscaping and maintained the plants for some of the most impressive hotels and corporate complexes in the Dallas area. It was vacations spent with his Uncle Bob at his house with its beautiful gardens that had instilled a love of plants and gardening in Andrew. Chris's future was much more uncertain; he was receiving a business degree, but had no definite plans for it. All he really knew, is that he didn't want to return home to Baton Rouge after graduating. He wanted to live someplace different.

One night, toward the end of their last quarter, the two roommates were sitting side by side on the sofa, drinking Maker's Mark, and reminiscing about their time together.

"I'm going to miss you, Scarecrow, most of all," Andrew said, looking at his friend.

"Asshole," Chris replied, shooting him the bird.

"Seriously, " Andrew said, snuggling closer to his friend, and laying his head on Chris's shoulder. "I'm really going to miss living with you." Chris maneuvered his arm from between them and put it around Andrew's shoulder, pulling him closer to him.

"What if we could keep on living together? Would you like that?

Andrew pulled away, put his drink on the cocktail table, and turned to look at Chris. "What do you mean? How?"

"Well," Chris said, looking uncertainly at Andrew. "My mother and I convinced my father to bankroll me for six months while I look for a job. And I thought...why not in Dallas? The job market is decent there, plus if I had you for a roomie, it would cost less. What do you think?"

" What do I think?" Andrew said jumping up, pulling Chris with him and crushing him in a hug. "I think that's the best idea I ever heard."

After that, the rest of the quarter flew by. They started looking for apartments online, and Andrew started hounding Chris about sending out resumes. They also started packing up what few items they were taking from the apartment. Most of it was thrift store furniture and hand me downs they planned on leaving behind for their friends who were taking over the apartment. Andrew and Chris were both so excited about moving to a big city and starting their lives together, but, in the end, their plans were derailed.

Andrew's bad news came just a week before graduation. He came home to find Chris on the sofa, looking sad and frightened. On the table before him was a bottle of bourbon and two partially filled glasses. Andrew swallowed; Chris was drinking straight bourbon, this was not going to be good. Looking up as he heard Andrew enter, Chris gestured for him to sit down and handed him a glass. "You might want to take a sip," he said.

Scared, Andrew did just that, then said, "What happened?"

"Your dad called. Your mother's been in a car accident. Wait," Chris said as Andrew jumped up, ashen faced. "She's alive and stable. She's going to make it."

Andrew sat down and mechanically took another sip of bourbon. "But," he said. "There's a 'but', isn't there?"

Chris swallowed, and gulped the last of his bourbon. "Yes. She's definitely going to make it, but she's very badly injured. They're not sure if she's going to be able to walk again."

Andrew dropped his glass as he threw himself into Chris's arms, sobbing. He loved his mother dearly, and the thought of that active, vibrant women in a wheelchair tore at his heart like nothing had ever before. Chris held his crying friend with one arm, soothing his hair with his other hand. After calming down, Andrew called his father for more news. His first instinct had been to rush home, but his father insisted he stay to finish his finals.

"There's nothing you can do here, right now," Mr. Conner said. "She's going to be in intensive care for weeks. You need to finish your finals, earn your diploma. Then come home. That's what she wants, I can assure you."

Andrew protested, but his father finally prevailed. Without Chris though, Andrew didn't think he would have managed that final week of school without going insane. As Andrew went mechanically through the motions of studying for finals and finishing project, Chris hovered over him like a mother hen. He forced Andrew to eat, to shower, to study. He even packed Andrew's car for him so that Andrew could leave the instant his last test was over.

"I'm so sorry that I won't be moving to Dallas with you, but I think my family is going to need me for a while," Andrew said during his last conversation with Chris before leaving for home.

"Don't worry about that, " Chris said. "Once you're mom is fine, we can start our plan over. Look at it this way...when you finally get there, I'll have a head start. I'll have the town all figured out, and I promise I'll even start scouting for a decent husband for you...after I find my own, of course."

1234
  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Gay Male
  • /
  • What a Difference a Year Makes

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 56 milliseconds