He’d felt this way so many times before, but never like this, like his first time.
She was someone he had trusted with his very life and well-being. He’d known her all his life. He would do anything for her, anything, just to make her happy.
And she told him that she was happy, whenever they did things together. They could have been riding in the car, just talking. Or talking over dinner. Or watching movies together. Or discussing homework. She loved to talk, and he loved to listen.
He loved the sound of her voice. He held nothing back from her. And then, when the time came, when he realized what he was and what would happen to him during puberty, she was there.
She was there to help him through that horrible time, two years of sheer terror and fear. She was a light in that darkness. She guided him through it. They talked more, more intensely. But most of all, they touched. He loved her touch, her kisses, her gentle way about him. And he learned to be gentle with her also. He listened to her tutelage and grew, knew what she liked and what he liked. He learned romance from her. He learned to be patient. He learned to hold back when necessary, and when he could let go.
Then he found out it was all so very wrong…