What we’d learned was that we each had something to teach the other. We had fantasies to explore and simple lessons to learn. We were both capable of scaring the shit out of each other, and we were both capable of closing out the entire world and protecting the other. I don’t suppose we knew it at the time, but it was a rare gift. What we did know was that we were intrigued by each other. He had to know more and we were loving the process of learning. Even more important, we’d learned that we had respect for each other. It wasn’t just that I respected Misha’s strength, although I did. And it wasn’t just that he respected my understanding of a culture that he wanted so badly to become a part of, although he did. What was really important was that we had learned – in just one day – that we respected each other’s character. We’d learned to trust each other and, although in just a small way, to give ourselves up to each other. It felt good and we had to know more.

Before Misha fell asleep against me, we’d spend a good while just looking into each other’s eyes and talking about – I honestly don’t know what we talked about. I guess it was food and clothes and school, but I couldn’t honestly tell you what we said about them, nor could I say how long we talked. What mattered was spending time together and feeling our bodies touch and hearing each other laugh. I know it didn’t last long, probably less than a half hour, but it was a time that neither of us would ever forget. We’d found our first infatuation.

That month before school started was a fairy tale. We worked out in the morning, then ate lunch together, messed around with each other and then we both attended the School of American Pop Culture also known as Cable TV. I was having the best time explaining the conversations on Real World and Road Rules. Misha thought everyone on those shows was a big whiner. We laughed our asses off as we watched the morons on Jackass. Misha knew he could kick the ass of everyone on Tough Enough – including, of course, the actual professional wrestlers. We’d watch in my room, laying on top of each other, wearing just boxers – there wasn’t a moment when we weren’t in contact with each other. I always knew the hardness of his body and he always felt the heat radiating from mine. When one of us would get up to get something to drink or to pee, the other felt alone and diminished. We were impatient to come back together, like how a puppy misses you when you've gone out of the room for even just a minute.

We found ways to sleep together two or three nights a week, and that was when we slept best. When we were apart, we both were restless, anxious, and even sometimes worried. We knew that was stupid. We were safe in our own houses, but somehow we’d grown really protective of each other. Being a somewhat spoiled cali brat, I had my own phone line (it came with the computer!!!) Every now and then, Misha would call me in the middle of the night. Quite honestly, I didn’t like being woken up, but if I was ever in a bad mood, the sound of his voice instantly snapped me out of it.

Our workouts were great too. We’d gotten into a rhythm after about two weeks. I finally wasn’t totally sore and drained after each workout, and slowly Misha stopped being my trainer and started being my training partner. We pushed each other and reveled in each other’s gains. He was still superior to me. He had better genetics and that was all there was to it. He was starting to grow too, just as his father had predicted and his strength was increasing. But I was surprised at myself too. In that one month, I’d improved my lifts as much as I had during the previous ten weeks of the summer. As it turned out, my genetics were just as good as my brother’s – I just needed a good training partner to push me.

Of course we had great sex. We’d shower together after we worked out, and almost every day I’d suck Misha off. He didn’t give me blowjobs, and I wasn’t really sure why. I figured he wasn’t quite ready for that yet or something. He did jerk me off and found a few other ways to make me shoot, but when it came to one of us being on our knees, it was me in front of him. We were both cool with that.

As the start of school approached, we both started to get gradually more anxious. It was one thing for a senior and freshman to have a summer fling, but it was quite another to figure out how to handle a gay relationship at school. I’d done my best to clue him in on the attitudes toward homosexuality at school. The fact is, it was a total mixed bag. There were people who would go out of their way to know you and like you just because you were gay. Of course there were people who would also go out of their way to make your life a living hell – just because you were gay. Unfortunately, both the culture among the kids and the attitudes among the administrators allowed for both almost equally.

As much as I tried to explain this to Misha, and as much as he seemed to get it, I was fairly sure he really didn’t. I’d seen his temper with Shawn, and it definitely wasn’t pretty. What was going to happen when the first ‘wrong’ person figured out that Misha and I were a gay couple? I knew he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself – and if he couldn’t, we’d be outed in process.

Honestly, this was the one recurring, ugly, scary, terrifying thought that plagued me right until school started. Like it or not, the resolution to my fear wouldn’t be long in coming. About a week before school started, I decided to get my hair spiked and highlighted like I had at the end of the previous year. It was a little five minutes ago, but the look really suited me, and everyone had thought it was cool.

When the first day of school came, I called Misha and told him to meet me at the Jeep in five minutes so that we could go together. I walked out of the house and threw my pack in the back of the Jeep. In a few seconds, Misha came bounding out of his house. As I saw him, my head flopped backwards hitting the backrest of seat. He was wearing Nike sandals – exactly like mine; and kaki shorts – exactly like mine; and a gray tank – exactly like mine; and he’d gotten his hair spiked EXACTLY LIKE MINE! I couldn’t believe it. Where did he get the idea? How could he not have known – after all the time we spent trying to get him to understand our culture – what was he doing?!? And worse than all that, how was I going to tell him? It quickly dawned on me that in the process of introducing him to American culture, I’d created a clone of myself. Damn that was stupid, but it didn’t matter, I had to find a way to fix this.

There was only one way to do it. I was going to be completely blunt. It didn’t’ matter if he cried or beat my face in, we were not going to school dressed like perfect twins – particularly when the younger of the perfect twins is about twice as muscular as the older. The clothes we could fix, in fact it didn’t matter to me, I’d be happy to be the one to go in and change – but the hair. What were we going to do about the hair?

He’d finally arrived at the Jeep and had jumped into the passenger seat. He looked at me, and I turned and looked at him, the bright grin that was on his face immediately disappeared. “Aaron, what is the matter?”

“Misha!?!” I growled, “you and I look like twins!”

“I know – cool, huh?” he was grinning again.

“No it’s not cool. We look like fucking book ends – or like we belong on top of a cake or something. We can’t go to school like this.” I was pissed and I wasn’t mincing words – unfortunately, he didn’t understand my point and he wasn’t happy. I saw the disappointment in his face and knew I had to do something more than just tell him we couldn’t dress like twins. “Misha, look. I think it’s cool, but the kids at school won’t. They aren’t ready for this, they don’t know anything about our relationship. They’ll make fun of us. One of us just needs to change clothes, OK stud? Trust me on this, I know what I’m talking about.” He nodded and insisted that he go change clothes. He came back out with dark gray shorts and a white tank. We were still wearing the same shoes and of course we still had the same hair, but at least it wasn’t painfully obvious that we were a couple.

I thanked him and grabbed his hand promising that we were doing the right thing. He smiled at me and off we went. The drive to school was only about four miles. We cranked some tunes and enjoyed the warm morning of southern cali September day. We pulled into the school parking lot, grabbed our packs and headed into the school. As we walked toward the entrance, I pointed a few things out to him. We both had more or less forgotten the ordeal of the morning. As we left the parking lot and started walking across the grass to entrance I heard a voice call my name.

“Hey Sanders! Is that you, you pathetic little wuss?” I couldn’t believe it. What had I done to deserve this? It was Brandon Wick, the Junior who was going to take my spot on the wrestling team. He lived to taunt me, and now he was going to have his fun with Misha too. •