I am going to start making sets for a short story I've been writing, and here is part one. Like I said, SHORT story, so the parts are pretty damn short. If you find any interest, leave me a comment and I will tag you in the story sets:) I hope I attract a reader or two . . . Also, follow the hashtag #youdonthavetobeoldtobewise after I add more stuff . . . ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS!!!! :)

#damianmcginty #cameronmitchell #vintage #story #boots #food #youdonthavetobeoldtobewise

I couldn't live without my boys. The way other people lived off of attention, thrills, literature and alcohol, I lived off of Cameron and Damian's presence. It was the smells I associated with them: musky sweat, cotton shirts, woody cologne and heady soap. It was their smiles, cheesy and all at once showing amusement, disdain, hilarity, and love. It was the way I needed them at 2 AM because I had been lying twisted in my sheets when the epiphany of a lifetime hit me, and I couldn't rest until we were all seated together, inhaling dumpy diner air and working away at a mess of greasy fries. That happened more than once a month, to be honest.
Somehow I never had the strength to make it romantic with one of them. My boys were my boys, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing so infinitesimally less. I could barely imagine a pair of us without the other member of our trio, but one day that changed with less warning than a storm.
Cameron had moved himself into a top floor apartment in the city, and though I hated the drive in there on Friday nights, I made it that one evening because I knew I had to. Cameron was going to be leaving in a few hours for Texas, and if I wanted to get my fill of his witty comebacks and profane honesty, it would have to be then.
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