"It almost seems a shame to wake them... Oh Walker they just look so happy," crooned Diane as she and her husband looked over us as we slept, Tay behind me with his arm draped over my chest. It was true: we were both smiling in our sleep - not dreaming, but just feeling good knowing we had each other.

"Yeah, I know," smiled Walker. "To be honest I didn't quite know what to think about Tay being gay, but seeing him with Dean... It's as if they bring out the very best in each other, ya know?"

"Mmm," she smiled as she hugged her husband round the waist, feeling that same sense of security from him as we did from each other. "We'd better get them up to see their fans, though,"

Walker knelt down by the bed and shook us both gently to rouse us from the deep sleep we were both in. After a minute or so, we both yawned, groaned, scratched and stretched ourselves back into the land of the living.

"Morning, dad," smiled Tay as his blurred vision immediately recognised the fuzzy outline of his Father.

"Morning, Romeo," he teased. "You have some people outside wanting to talk to you."

"Ugh! Not the press again..."

"Err, no, actually - fans."

We looked at each other quizzically as Tay pulled himself out of bed and stumbled over to the window, not failing to trip over a stray rollerblade as he did so.

"Oh my GOD! Dean! Look at this!"

I too tripped out of bed and landed against Tay, using him as a support as my legs still hadn't quite decided that they were capable of supporting me just yet.

Outside was yet another crowd of people, but this time they were a whole lot younger than the media mob that was there yesterday, and in a stereotypical double take glance, noticed that the overwhelming majority was male!

"Go speak to your public," grinned Walker.

We both dived for our discarded clothes that were strewn around the room and pulled them on, just finding time to drag a brush through each other's hair before we trampled down the stairs and out of the front door.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

Now this was good - thirty-odd males in their mid-teens waving signs and Hanson merchandise, screaming at us. But it didn't sound quite right: amongst the "I LOVE YOU TAYLOR"s was something else... Something that sounded... Bloody hell! "I LOVE YOU DEAN!"

I looked over at Tay and he just shrugged back. "Can't say that I blame them... After you," he said, motioning towards the crowd with a sweep of his left arm. I was so nervous I practically tripped down the couple of steps onto the path. Within moments, we were completely surrounded by a frenzy of gay teenage lads, all scuffling to get something autographed, touched or, as seemed more the case, to touch us. It seemed so strange to have all these guys surrounding you, and to know that each and every one of them was either gay or bi. Tay had the upper hand here in that he was used to crowds of teenagers after his autograph and virginity (little did they know...), but the fact that they were all MALE was very, very new to him, so in that respect we were on level ground.

"Tay! Dean! Over here!" yelled a very pronounced voice from the edge of the crowd, so naturally we looked. A well built blonde kid and a cute red-head met our gaze, then grinned at each other, turned round and dropped their kegs to reveal a set of well-defined arse cheeks, the words "Mack and Spen" on one and "Taylor and Dean" on the other. We were slightly confused as to the meaning of this rather delightful show of clansmanship until the red-head produced a sign with a big "4" on it and held it between their arses.

Tay grinned at me and, borrowing a marker from one of the laughing crowd, ran up to them and promptly autographed a buttock each. This was too good to miss, so I followed suit and signed my name on the opposite cheek to Tay,

The two lads stood up again, now beet red, and smiled sheepishly at us as they deftly pulled their lower garments into their proper positions. None of us failed to notice the impressive tents in the front of their trousers either...

We decided to turn our attention back to the rest of the crowd who were now kicking themselves for lacking the initiative to scrawl a message over some other body parts, but just as we were moving away, Tay quickly whispered something into the blonde guy's ear creating a look of shock on his face. Tay smiled and bounded up to me, and we continued along the steady stream of nick nacks that were presented to us.

After a half hour or so and quite a few photos (again some others visibly kicking themselves for not bringing a camera) we decided to call it a day and head back into the solace of the house, but not before Tay addressed the crowd, simply bringing a finger to his lips to induce silence amongst them.

"OK, hands up who's had troubs finding a boyfriend for one reason or another... C'mon, we're all guys here," he grinned. Practically every hand in the crowd bar Mack and Spen's cautiously wavered into the air.

"Yup, thought so... Seeing as you're all here, may I suggest you swap phone numbers with a cute guy? You never know..." he smiled, and with that he threw his arm round my neck and we both disappeared back into the house.

"Now that was a good idea."

"What?"

"Getting those guys to swap numbers! I reckon you've just made at least six couples in as many seconds!"

"Yeah, well..."

"You know I'm convinced you could do a lot of good for other guys - hell, or girls - like us you know. Might actually give people the courage to be who they are rather than who society wants them to be."

"I guess so... But we're meeting a couple of people first,"

"Who?"

Tay just smiled.

"D'you think he really meant it?" asked the red-head as he and his blonde partner skulked rather suspiciously just out of sight of the reluctantly dispersing crowd, aided in their decision by a small security detachment.

"Mackie, the guy practically had his tongue in my ear when he said it! Believe me he meant it!" repeated Spencer's smooth adolescent voice. He couldn't remember why he was always referred to by his surname, but he was used to it, and Spen was certainly a lot easier to pronounce than Eugene.

"What do you think they'll be like?" enthused Macaulay, nearly shaking with anticipation now. He was another guy who had a contracted name, mainly due to the fact that he was named after, in his opinion, possibly one of the most obnoxious kids on the planet and was not eager to advertise the fact. Him looking not dissimilar to the Mr. Culkin in question did little to help matters either...

"I got no idea whatsoever! I just hope they're not all, like, rich and snobby..."

Both boys' heads snapped round as a shrill whistle pierced the air.

"Would you PLEASE give me just a little warning before you do that?" I said, making a big show of rubbing the ear nearest to Tay as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth.

He grinned back at me as we walked down the now fan-less street looking for Mack and Spen.

"You're just jealous because you can't do such a goddamn awesome whistle."

"Teach me, then."

"OK, get your thumb and pinkie..."

"My pinkie?"

"Your LITTLE FINGER, shove them in your mouth and, like, blow..."

"So I have to blow my pinkie?"

"You have a one track mind," he smiled.

"I'd much rather blow your pinkie,"

"Point proven! Perhaps you can," and with that he leapt onto my back, causing me to stagger sideways into a tree.

"OK, open your mush,"

I did so and he carefully inserted a couple of fingers on his right hand.

"OK, now blow... I said blow, not lick!"

"Sowwy,"

I blew over his fingers and, much to my surprise, a similar ear- drum-shattering whistle was hurled forth from my mouth.

"Now you just have to learn to do it with your own fingers!"

"Much more fun blowing your pinkie, though,"

Tay hugged me even tighter than he was already doing and kissed my neck. "Hey, there they are... GUYS!"

Two very nervous-looking lads appeared from round the corner and practically froze on the spot as we approached. I was stumbling from side to side as Tay desperately tried to overbalance us, and just as he reached them he managed it and sent us careering into them, finally coming to rest in a giggling heap on the sidewalk.

Tay and I picked ourselves up, then extended a hand each to our rather overcome guests who were still lying dazed on the concrete.

"OK, so who's who?" asked Tay.

"Uh, I'm Spen, and this is Mack," stammered Spen as the supporting hand turned into a handshake.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Tay and this is my stallion, Dean," he grinned.

"What were you saying about one-track minds?"

"What ever could you be referring to, Mr. Lidster? Come in, guys... Have you eaten?"

Both lads shook their heads no.

"Good, then you can join us."

Back in the house, Diane looked slightly disconcerted to see another pair of new faces having only just got used to us lot, but nevertheless managed to squeeze in another two places at the already overcrowded table.

Although distinctly nervous to begin with, the naturally exuberant and bubbly atmosphere that was the Hanson household soon had it's normal effect and brought Mack and Spen well and truly out of their shells, laughing and joking with the rest of us.

As it turned out, they were both from across town and went to the Bishop Kelley high school. They had met a month or so ago in detention: Spen for favouring football practice over homework and Mack?

"I'd rather be at school than at home right now... I'd rather be ANYWHERE than home."

It was as if someone had had hit the "mute" button, even Zac and Gareth falling silent.

"Whaddya mean, Mack," asked Tay, hastily swallowing his lump of toast.

"Uh, it's nothing, honest..."

"It doesn't sou..."

"It's NOTHING," interrupted Spen in a tone that was not to be argued with.

"Listen, we'd better get going. Thanks, Mrs. Hanson, Tay, Dean... This was really cool."

This wasn't right. If I had been in their position I'd have dropped ANYTHING to do what they were doing right now, only leaving when I was physically booted out the door, but here they were seeing themselves off. I was going to find out about this one way or another.

"Hey before you go, how about a photo?"

Tay had obviously been thinking along similar lines and wholeheartedly backed up the suggestion. The idea of having material evidence of our meeting soon penetrated the layer of concern that had fallen over Mack and Spen, a smile soon returning to their faces.

Subtly trying to get the others to stay at the breakfast table (no mean feat) we steered Mack and Spen down to the basement hoping that there being just the four of us may allow them to shed some light on what Mack had meant. Tay rummaged around in one of the cupboards and retrieved a battered Polaroid camera and set it on the edge of the steps and pushed the "self timer" button. He quickly jumped over the couple of beanbags to us and squeezed in so that he and I were in between Mack and Spen.

"OK, everyone say 'Cumsucker'" grinned Tay.

About half of the word passed their lips before shock set in as their brains actually realised what he'd said, the camera exposing the frame simultaneously producing a photo of two very surprised lads, and two pissing themselves with laughter between them.

We decided that that was rather unfair, so we took another couple just to make sure. The final frame involved Mack and Spen dropping their kegs once again to allow us to 'sign' their buttocks once more.

Tay gathered up the pile of Polaroids, flapping them to try and get them to develop more quickly before we signed them. He flipped one of them over and scribbled what I assumed to be his mobile number on the back.

"Look, Mack, I know it's not my job to pry but... Um... What did you mean by you'd rather be anywhere but home right now?"

Spen drew breath ready to interject at the direction Tay had steered the conversation in, but Mack suppressed his objection with an almost pleading look.

"I told my dad I was gay, and he..." Mack had to stop to sniff as the tears welled up inside him. "And he... he said he didn't want to know me any more..."

"Oh, Mack," sympathised Tay, hugging the now sobbing red-head to him. "I'm sorry... Is there anything we can do?"

"I don't think there's anything anyone can do... I guess I've just got to sit it out. I don't know what I'd do it Spen wasn't around - without him I guess I'd be on the street by now. I can only go home whenever dad isn't there coz if I do, he hits me and then my mom tries to stop him and then he hits her and... and..."

Spen looked at us with pleading eyes. "We can't afford to feed an extra mouth... My dad died before I was born and my mom has been ill recently. We didn't have any medical insurance so the hospital bills kinda cleared us out..."

He too was on the verge of breaking down into tears, obviously torn between the well being of his mother and that of his young lover. A choice no-one should ever be made to take...

"Stay here," said Tay, already half way up the stairs.

"Taylor, we can't just take in people like this... If we take one then we'd have to take everyone that turned up on our doorstep! Besides it's expensive to feed another kid... I'm sorry, son, but I have to say no."

"Oh, right, as if we can't afford it! Damn I forgot we could only just easily live off the royalties alone... Dad this is a fourteen- year-old kid we're on about here, not some bum who's messed his whole life up, although that's what he could turn into if we don't do anything..."

"Taylor..."

"Look, Dad, we get all this cash in from the music and we already have more than we could ever possibly need: This is a one-off, and it probably won't be long term. What harm can it do, huh?"

Walker sighed. "OK, OK, but you'd better not make this a habit, got it?"

Tay's smile virtually reached his ears as he ran and hugged his Father then legged it back down to the garage.

"How does that kid do that?"

"What's that, honey?" teased Diane.

"That! Ask a question where I say 'no' and then manage to squeeze a 'yes' out of me one way or another..."

"I'm not sure it is him... Perhaps you just care about people."

"I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I don't think I would unless it was for Tay. That kid's heart is made from solid gold... I'm gonna have a chat with a friend of mine - I have an idea that Tay should approve of."

"We can WHAT?!"

"You can stay here for as long as you need to, or want to as long as you don't tell my dad!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"I wouldn't joke about someone's dad beating the crap outta them,"

Mack flopped down onto the beanbag nearest to him, almost white with shock.

"Is there anything you need from home? I can get us a lift over there if you want,"

"Yeah, but my dad's home right now - I don't want to cause any trouble..."

"I have a good way of stopping trouble: Gimme a minute and then we'll get going."

The TransSport swung deftly into Mack's driveway on the other side of town with Will at the wheel.

Mack looked at Tay warily, not sure if he wanted to do this as the last time he'd been home at the same time as his father, he had felt insanely lucky to escape with all his bones still in tact.

"Don't worry, man - Will'll look after you."

Mack got out of the car with Will close behind him, us instructed to keep at a "safe distance". Mack retrieved his keychain from his pocket and pushed it into the lock, but it wouldn't turn.

"He's changed the locks,"

"FUCK OFF YOU PIECE OF QUEER HOMO SHIT!" yelled a voice from inside. Tay and I had to hold Spen in his seat to prevent him from speaking his mind.

"Sir, your son requires access to property that is rightfully his," stated Will to the unreasonable sod on the other side of the door.

"TELL HIM HE CAN GO GET FUCKED BY THAT PUSSY FRIEND OF HIS. NOW PISS OFF!"

"Stand back, son," said Will, backing up a few feet. He took a deep breath then literally fly-kicked the door, sending it smashing into the face of Mack's dad who landed in a crumpled heap against the wall.

"Woah!" both Spen and I exclaimed as the door yielded under Will's attack.

"I told you he didn't mess around..."

Will 'stood guard' over Mack's dad to allow him to retrieve all of his bits and pieces and as many clothes as he could squeeze into his rucksack and was just about to leave when he spotted the picture of him and Spen on his bedside cabinet. The glass had been smashed. Clenching his fists hard, he just stood for a few moments to let his anger subside. He bit his lip and shook the few remaining shards of glass from the frame, gently retrieving the photo and placing it in his bag. Why did his dad blame him for all this? They got along so well before he came out to him: Now it was as if he was the devil incarnate...

He walked slowly back to the front door to witness his Dad coming round. He seemed slightly flustered momentarily, but the snarl that must've been on his face when it connected with the door soon returned.

"You finally gonna leave us straights in peace?"

Mack nodded slowly.

"About fuckin' time. Go 'play' with your faggot friends."

"Dad, I..."

"Don't call me that. No freakin' way would any son of mine turn out to be some fudge-packin' homo!"

Any remaining determination that Macaulay had to reconcile with his father was completely smashed my this statement. As the person that was once his father said, he was no longer his son. He had been disowned.

The ride back to Fort Hanson was quiet to say the least: Mack could do nothing but sob quietly to himself with Spen doing his level best to comfort him, but it seemed as if there was nothing even he could do. From what we could gather, Mack had been very close to his father, spending many an hour with him and enjoying a stereotypically strong father-son bond. They spent so much time together, in fact, that his mother almost seemed like 'the other member of the family', his dad doing the majority of caring and worrying over him.

It was because of this unique closeness that Mack felt fairly uninhibited in telling his father that he was gay, if anything worrying about what his mother would think having always been told by his father that "no matter what you do, we'll always stand by you, son".

The emotional shock of his father doing a complete U-turn and considering him a waste of skin was, therefore, damning to say the least. Everything he had ever known to be true was brought into question, no longer being able to distinguish between the truths and the potentially huge number of lies his parents had told him.

Tay and I did our level best to try and help them in any way we could, but eventually decided that giving them time to themselves would probably be the best bet.

We mooched back into the bedroom, leaving Mack and Spen talking quietly in the Garage, and sat down on our (as it had now become) bed.

"Do you think they'll be OK?"

"We can but hope," replied a very concerned Taylor. "We can but hope..."

Mack looked at his watch in the hard orange glow of the street lamp. 1:23am. He dug his hand into his trouser pocket and retrieved a bashed-up ten-dollar bill, which he handed to the taxi driver. As the green and white cab sped off into the distance, Mack shivered as he felt the cold night air easily cutting through his thin shirt. He felt more alone now than he had ever done in his entire life.

He had been lying in the warm garage, unable to sleep as his mind churned over the events of the day. He simply could not come to terms with the way his father was treating him. Perhaps he was ill... Yeah, that must be it. He himself knew he never could make any sensible decisions when he was feeling off colour... Then again, his dad must've been feeling off colour for the last month and a half.

Pushing that flaw in his reasoning to the back of his mind, he walked towards the dimly lit porch of his house and rang the doorbell, knowing it would be useless to try his key. Not a lot happened for a couple of minutes and he was just about to give up when the landing light came on, and the thin form of his mother appeared silhouetted against the frosted glass a moment later. The bolt was pulled back and the door opened to reveal the weathered but kind face of his mom, her eyes ringed red from crying and a slight bruise on her cheek.

She looked at him disbelievingly for a moment as if it was not possible for him to be there, then hugged him close to her, kissing the top of his head.

"You have to go," she whispered, the tears still very close to the surface in her voice. "He'll go AWOL again if he sees you."

"I have to talk to him, mom," protested Mack, pushing himself back slightly, yet still in the reassuring grasp of his mother.

"Who is it, Irene?" slurred the voice of his obviously drunk father. "Well look at that, it's the faggot. What are you doing here faggot? How can you hold him, Irene? How can you even bare looking at him?"

"He's our son, Paul..."

"The fuck he is,"

"He's just a boy," she continued, walking over to her husband. "He needs us, Paul: We're his parents..."

"You're taking his side, aren't you? WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU! He's a FAG!" he yelled, lunging towards Mack.

"Paul!" Yelled Mack's mom, doing her best to hang on to her bulldozer of a husband as he tanked towards their thin son, now looking even younger and more susceptible than ever.

"Get OFFA ME!" he yelled, flinging the arm his wife was hanging on to backwards. His strength was such that she was thrown back too, and as she did so, she tripped on one of Paul's discarded shoes, falling backwards, her head just clipping the edge of the glass coffee table knocking her unconscious.

"MOM!" Yelled Mack, diving past his father to the inert form lying before him.

"Get away from her!" he slurred. "If you weren't here, none of this would have happened. It's all your fault..."

The rest of his sentence paled into insignificance as he noticed the well cared for Glock that had been on the coffee table lying by his mother's head. Without thinking, Mack picked it up and waved it at his father.

"Just SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO YOU, HUH? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO GODDAMN MUCH?" he yelled, the barrel shaking violently due to the immense amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Not taking his eyes off his ex-father for a moment, Mack stood up gently and picked up the phone and dialed 911.

"Police... Yeah my dad just assaulted my mom... She's unconscious..."

"That's right, go and rat on your old man like the little pussy you are..."

Mack dropped the phone and pointed the gun hard back at his father.

"What are you gonna do, pussyboy? Shoot me? Look in the mirror..."

A look of uncertainty flashed across Mack's face.

"Why don't you make life easy for all of us, huh? Do what we all want and shoot your friggin' self. It'd sure save me a job, your mom too... Yeah, she makes out like she 'loves' you, but she don't like queers either. You're just a pissant little queerboy who nobody loves, pretending he's good for something. You make me sick..."

"Spen loves me," mumbled Mack, the image of his good-looking boyfriend floating before his mind's eye.

"Yeah, right. The guy's probably a looser when it comes to girls so he decided to use you for a quick fuck whenever he wanted. He probably gets off on what a queer little shit you are and how you love to have your ass fucked by him, how you groan and moan and love every freakin' second of it..."

The rest of it was not heard. What if his dad was right? What if he was just a fuck toy? What if his mom did really hate him? He was just an all-round looser. He WAS just a waste of space...

Slowly, he turned the gun round so that it was facing him, it's black muzzle staring him in the face indifferently. Who would care if he wasn't there? Right now he knew he sure as hell wouldn't.

What was the point in perpetuating a lie: The lie he had been telling himself for the last six months or so - That he was loved, and that he was someone special. How could he possibly be? His own father, the man who supposedly loved him more than anyone else in the entire world thought he was worthless, and the thought of Spen using him just to get off made him wretch. He MUST be worthless to take that kinda crap and enjoy it...

He started to pull the trigger.

As the hammer reached full displacement and rolled over the cam that was lifting it, beginning it's rapid acceleration back towards the breach, Mack heard his mother's voice.

"NO!" it yelled. In that split second, he realised he was loved, and his father was simply lying to him again.

But it was too late. The hammer made contact with the back of the bullet, igniting the pre-charge in its base, shortly followed by the detonation of the main charge accompanied by an unbelievably loud bang.

Mack felt the impact of the sound followed by a searing white heat combined with a barrage of emotion, memories and sensations as the tip of the bullet pierced his temple, traveled through the two lobes of his brain and exited at the rear of his skull, continuing on it's trajectory as if nothing had been there.

He knew no more, his lifeless body slumping against the wall crowned by a perverse halo of radiated blood.

From outside the house, all that was heard of the entire event was a muffled gunshot, and a long, agonising scream of a middle-aged woman.


On to Chapter Thirty-Two

Back to Chapter Thirty

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The Exchange is © 1999 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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