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Thank you all so much for your reads and comments! I've been staying up late, watching the World Series, so I managed to get this chapter done early. I still plan to have the next part done over the weekend. Not that any of you lovely people would ever judge me for it, but personally, I am appalled at some of the typos I left in the first part (incorrect pluralization of proper nouns - yikes!), but I'm sure this one isn't any better. Baseball is stressful, folks :) 

Happy reading!

****

For the first few weeks of the school year, Hunter and Cayden had functionally ignored each other. Hunter had promised the baby-faced young man that they didn’t have to be friends, but they both seem to have interpreted that vow as “We don’t even have to speak to each other.” It’s not that they disliked each other; they just both acted as if the other didn’t exist.

            Which presented a conundrum for Hunter when he saw Cayden wet himself. Hunter wasn’t exactly gregarious, but he was kind. He had six younger siblings back home, so his older-brother instinct had gone into overdrive upon seeing the smaller boy crying in front of the sink.

            But Cayden wasn’t Hunter’s younger brother. For all intents and purposes, the two were strangers. Cayden certainly hadn’t asked for Hunter’s help, and he didn’t seem sick or in dire need of help. So Hunter had stayed in bed, trying to breathe as quietly as possible until Cayden finally left. Knowing he didn’t have class until 11, Hunter had tried to fall back asleep, so as not to embarrass Cayden, but he ended up just lying in bed with his eyes closed until Cayden was gone for the day.

            Hunter had been mystified; he’d watched Cayden closely for the rest of the day, but Cayden didn’t say a word. Hunter thought he looked stressed, but maybe he always looked stressed. Hunter wouldn’t know. So he kept his mouth shut and kept a bit more of an eye on his roommate in the following weeks.

            Cayden, of course, assumed that his accident was a secret. He’d gone to class that day still shaken, but confident that Hunter had slept through the entire debacle. They had different class schedules that day, and Hunter worked at the dining hall, so the two boys weren’t back in the room together until after dark. By that time, Cayden had unconsciously decided to act as if the whole thing had never happened. No one had seen him, he’d put his soiled clothes and towel through the laundry, and it was obviously just a fluke, anyway.

            And so the roommates continued their mostly silent orbit around one another – Hunter growing increasingly comfortable with his collegiate habits, and Cayden growing increasingly distressed.

            If Cayden had at least an average level of introspective skill, he would have realized that he was getting more and more irritated with numerous aspects of college life: the quality of the food in the dining hall, the general noise of the dorm hallway, the various demands placed on him by his archaic, heartless professors. But Cayden wasn’t introspective. Cayden was just annoyed.

            Hunter observed silently as Cayden’s footsteps fell a bit harder, his typing grew a bit more forceful. He’d huff at homework problems, snort at tangled headphones, and whine when his alarm went off in the morning. A lifelong non-complainer, Hunter was somewhat put off by Cayden’s consistent storming, but he didn’t bother calling him out or asking what was wrong.

            After all, they weren’t friends.

***

            Two weeks after Cayden’s wet morning, the boys were both inundated with midterms. For Hunter, who was used to organization and hard work, albeit of a slightly different kind, the midterms were a challenge, an absolutely necessary, character-building exercise on the way to earning his degree. To Cayden, the midterms were pointless, barbaric hazing rituals, used by sadistic professors to toy with overburdened students.

            The roommates kept up their practice of avoidance as they studied for their respective exams, but Hunter kept sneaking glances at Cayden. The smaller boy barely slept; Hunter could hear him tossing and turning in the bottom bunk. Still, Hunter didn’t say anything. He reasoned that Cayden was an adult, and it wasn’t Hunter’s job to take care of him.

            As they approached the final midterm in a very long week – their shared Economics exam on Thursday – Hunter found himself starting to pity his roommate. Yes, Cayden was huffy and grating, but mostly, he just seemed lost, like he truly had no clue how to handle being in college.

            The night before the econ exam, Hunter looked toward Cayden sitting sideways at his desk. “Hey, man,” he suggested, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wanna review for Edwin’s test tomorrow?”

            Cayden looked up, startled, as if he hadn’t even been aware that Hunter was in the room. “Oh, uhhhh…” Cayden blinked. “No, I’m…almost…done…”

            Hunter just nodded; he hadn’t really expected Cayden to agree. “OK. Good luck.”

            The next afternoon, Hunter walked into the giant gymnasium that housed the exams for all sections of Econ simultaneously. Cayden was already ensconced in a desk near the side of the room, about two-thirds of the way back. He was hunched over the tiny desk, jiggling his leg. Hunter considered greeting him as he walked by, but Cayden didn’t look up. Hunter sighed and took a seat behind him and to his right.         

            It wasn’t just that Cayden didn’t notice his roommate; he didn’t really notice any of the hundreds of other students filing into the desk-filled gym. He was staring at his notes, sweating, trying to force every last bit of information into his oversaturated brain.

            The clock flipped to 2:00, and a half-dozen TAs circulated around the room, passing out the exam booklets. Cayden’s hand was shaking as he grabbed the sheaf of paper.

            The exam was long and thorough. Cayden’s stomach clenched each time he couldn’t think of the next step of an answer instantly.

            His breathing sped up, and he could feel beads of sweat dripping off his forehead as he bent over his exam, scribbling frantic answers. There was still an hour left, but Cayden felt rushed, constricted.

            This was stupid. So stupid. Who needed economics, anyway? How ridiculous that they made all students take it. He wasn’t a business major; why would he need it? These questions were so pedantic; surely this exam didn’t measure real learning. It was so stupid.

            Turning the page, Cayden raised his head to look at some of the other students around him. None of them looked nearly as stressed as Cayden felt. What was the deal? Had they been given a different study guide? This exam was for econ students from all different sections, so they probably just had a better professor. Cayden knew Dr. Edwin was an idiot, and this proved it. The students from other professors were all better prepared. It was clearly Dr. Edwin’s fault.

            Cayden didn’t realize that he was actually doing fairly well on the exam; his manic studying wasn’t exactly healthy, but it had been effective. The answers that he was angrily scribbling were largely accurate, if not particularly nuanced or well-written. He was easily on track to finish the exam in time.

            With about 20 minutes left, Cadyen was working on the final, multi-part essay question. The fact that it had five different components nearly had the boy in tears from frustration. What business did the university even have, framing give different questions as a single problem? And on the very last page, too. That was deceptive. How were students supposed to leave enough time to answer properly?

            Kneading the inside of his lip between his teeth, Cayden frowned. He wanted to whine or yell or crumple his test into a ball and throw it across the room. He was so annoyed and overwhelmed that he could barely think straight. He just wanted to be done. He didn’t even care what he was writing anymore; he just wanted to put enough down for the final question to finish the exam and turn it in.

            Cayden was hunched over his desk, writing furiously. He didn’t notice the beads of sweat dripping sporadically onto his paper. He didn’t notice the increasingly frequent shuffles of students getting up to turn in their exams.

            He didn’t notice he was wetting himself.

            Cayden hadn’t been desperate or really even aware of any fullness, but his bladder released just as he was writing out the final words of his answer. Urine seeped into his lap, darkening his wrinkled khakis.

            Obvious for at least a few seconds, Cayden crossed the last ‘t,’ put down his pencil, and sighed with relief at having finished the test. He craned his neck, finally returning his body to some movement after being bent over his desk for so long.

            Then he froze.

            Oh no. No no no no no…

            It was only a trickle, but Cayden cut it off immediately. Unconsciously, he gripped the edges of the desk. He hadn’t even felt anything; how could he have wet himself?

            After a few seconds of fearful hesitation, Cayden flicked his gaze downward to examine the damage. Nothing was dripping off the chair, thank goodness, but there was an absolutely noticeable dark patch on his lap, reaching almost to his knees.

            Cayden’s breath hitched. Why did he have to wear khakis today? Why didn’t he feel anything? Why did the damn test have to take so long, anyway?

            There were only 15 minutes left in the exam; about half of the students were already gone, but that still left over 200 freshman and sophomores scattered in desks throughout the gym. Yes, most of them had their eyes on their own papers, but there was really no way Cayden could hope to leave without being noticed.

            Cayden was paralyzed with indecision. He was trapped. He leaned forward a bit, arms on the desk, hoping that his pose would shield his lap. He also tried to convince himself that no one would be looking, anyway. Who looked at the crotch of other students as they walked by? Perverts.

            Two rows back and one desk over, Hunter finished up his own test. He’d been more nervous for econ than for his other midterms, but he was reasonably satisfied with his responses. Mostly, he was just pleased to have made it through the week of tests. Brought back to reality after the consuming focus of writing an exam, Hunter peeked up to see if Cayden was still there.

            Cayden was definitely still there, but he wasn’t writing. Hunter furrowed his brow a bit; had Cayden fallen asleep? No, he seemed to be shifting too much to be sleeping.

            I should just go, Hunter thought. He was done with his exam; there was no reason for him to stay. Cayden was probably just thinking. It was none of Hunter’s business…

            But Hunter stayed. He tried to look busy, checking over his own exam, sporadically looking up to see if Cayden had moved. The minutes ticked by, and the gymnasium slowly emptied. Finally, with about 20 students left, the proctor called time. The TAs started weaving through the desks, prodding the stragglers to give up their exam booklets.

But Cayden still didn’t move. Hunter stood slowly, concerned. He didn’t want Cayden to get in trouble, and he certainly didn’t want the boy to get in a fight with some unsuspecting TA who tried to take his exam. Cautiously, Hunter walked up behind Cayden, holding his own exam.

            Cayden heard the final call, but he couldn’t stand. His wet pants pressed uncomfortably against his thighs. What could he do? Cayden’s head spun with the injustice of it all.

            Then a hand reached down and slid Cayden’s exam off his desk. Before he could stop himself, Cayden looked up, automatically dropping his hand into his lap in a reflexive effort to cover the stain.

            Hunter was already walking away, heading toward the proctor’s desk to submit their exams. Cayden’s mouth hung open, breathing audibly. The TA’s had completed their circuit of the room and were heading back to the front; by taking his Cayden’s test for him, Hunter had spared the boy at least a couple more minutes of possibly being seen.

            Cayden blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes from filling with tears. He was so frustrated and ashamed, he couldn’t be grateful. Instead, he felt irritated at Hunter. Was he rubbing it in? Stupid, skinny farm boy. Who did he think he was? Cayden didn’t need his help…except he did.

            Approaching the proctor’s desk, Hunter was trying to keep his face neutral. Cayden had wet himself again, this time in the middle of an exam. Hunter had never seen someone older than the age of 6 pee their pants, and now his 19-year-old roommate had done it twice in the span of a couple weeks. What was going on?

            Hunter set his exam and Cayden’s on top of the pile, then turned back to get the backpack that he’d left at his desk. The room was all but empty now – even the proctor was packing up – but Cayden was still seated, looking very shaken and very young.

            Again, Hunter thought of his younger siblings. He’d always worked so hard to protect and take care of them; maybe Cayden needed someone to take care of him. Or at least help him a little. No man is an island, and all that.

            So Hunter picked up his backpack and turned back to his roommate.

            “Hey,” he whispered, even though the gym was now empty, so being quiet didn’t really matter.

            Cayden looked up, frowning defensively.

            “Let’s go, man,” Hunter continued, gently. “You can’t stay here.”

            Cayden’s frown deepened. “I…I can’t…”

            Hunter shook his head, trying to dismiss Cayden’s unspoken concerns. “It’s no big deal,” he promised, unconvincingly.

            “It…” Cayden sputtered, reddening. “It was a really long test. It’s not my fault.”

            Hunter recoiled slightly at the boy’s response. The test had been 90 minutes; it wasn’t nearly long enough to justify a loss of bladder control.

            He set his mouth. “Cayden, come one. It’s time to go.”

            Cayden seemed to melt a bit at the more forceful command. “What if people see me?” he asked, his voice small.

            Hunter had already thought of that. He was used to solving problems (not this problem, exactly, but problems in general), so he’d started considering possible escape scenarios as soon as he’d seen the stain on Cayden’s pants.

            “It’s fine. There’s no one here, so just hold your backpack in front of you and get to the bathrooms out in the hall, then I’ll go back to the dorm and get you clean clothes.”

            Cayden stuck out his lower lip at the (totally justified) language, but he didn’t argue. It was a solid plan, and, though he wouldn’t admit it, he was really grateful for Hunter’s offer.

            “OK,” he whispered.

            Refraining from reaching out a hand to help, Hunter watched as his roommate finally got to his feet. The stain somehow looked more incriminating from this position, but Cayden quickly grabbed his bag and held it awkwardly in front of his thighs. Satisfied that Cayden was finally moving, Hunter started walking down the aisle toward the door to the hallway.

            At the door, Hunter quickly peeked out, making sure the hallway was unpopulated enough for Cayden to make the 20-foot trek to the restrooms. There was a small cluster of students down at the far end, but even if they’d been paying attention, Hunter figured they were too far away to really see anything. He gestured slightly at Cayden, signaling that it was OK to move.

            Cayden barely nodded in response. When he’d stood, he’d felt a tug at his bladder, so now, he just wanted to get to a toilet before he soiled himself any further.

            With Hunter as the advance guard, Cayden shuffled quickly into the men’s restroom and ducked unceremoniously into one of the stalls.

            “OK…” Hunter drawled. “I’ll just go get your stuff. I’ll be back in 15 minutes, OK?”

            Cayden hummed his assent, already grabbing between his legs and shuffling. Luckily, Hunter accepted that response, and Cayden heard the door shut.

            Finally, Cayden let out a whine as he tugged at his zipper. Simply being in such close proximity to a toilet had amplified his need, and he felt new warmth against his hand before he was able to finally position himself properly and finish peeing in the toilet.

            Cayden hissed, wiping his wet hand on the back of his pants. Why was this happening? His pants were gross and itchy, and he really needed to wash his hands, but he didn’t dare to step out of the stall. And what was taking Hunter so long, anyway? The dorm wasn’t even that far away.

            Over the next 10 minutes – because, despite what Cayden’s irritation allowed him to believe, Hunter was actually going as fast as he could – Cayden built a solid rationale for his latest accident, one that, naturally, absolved him from all responsibility. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the implications of wetting himself twice in two weeks, or what he could have had to deal with if Hunter hadn’t offered to help this time, or how eerily similar this all felt to before…

            “Cayden?” To anyone else, Hunter’s voice would have sounded comfortingly gentle. To Cayden, it sounded annoying, even submissive.

            “Yeah,” he responded gruffly, indicating his presence in the same stall. Like he’d be anywhere else.

            Hunter didn’t acknowledge the impolite response. If he was going to picture Cayden as a younger sibling, he was going to have to accept some childish behavior. So he just slid the jeans and boxers he’d grabbed from Cayden’s dresser under the stall door.

            Cayden sighed, his relief temporarily overcoming his purposefully indignant attitude. He was safe. He was going to get out of this. He was fine. This was just…another fluke.

            Hunter wasn’t sure if he should go, so he stayed, but when Cayden finally emerged, the boy didn’t make eye contact. He has his backpack slung over his shoulder, presumably containing his wet pants, and he trudged to the sink to wash his hands.

            Hunter shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn’t expected effusive praise, but he definitely thought some kind of thanks was called for. Hunter just couldn’t get a read on the angry, self-righteous young man.

            Finally, Hunter cleared his throat. “All good?”

            Cayden blushed. On some level, he knew that he should thank his roommate, but he was too prideful to be anything but annoyed. “Yeah. I’m just going back to the room.”

            Hunter supposed that was all he could ask for. “I’m going to work, then. See you later.”

            Cayden mumbled an unintelligible response as he shouldered the bathroom door open. For all intents and purposes, he was already gone.

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Chapter 3! Hope you like it. As always, thanks for reading!

****************

            Hunter couldn’t stop thinking about his roommate. He’d never been in this kind of situation before, and he was so torn about what to do. He should probably do something, right? But how do you confront a 19-year-old about peeing himself on more than one occasion? Cayden had claimed that the Econ exam was just too long, but Hunter couldn’t bring himself to accept that explanation, and not just because he’d seen the same thing happen 2 weeks prior. It was just…college students didn’t wet themselves, did they? At least not while sober.

            Maybe Cayden had been drunk during the test…

            Meanwhile, Cayden’s completely unrealistic sense of denial was going strong. Without actively thinking it, he convinced himself that Hunter had totally bought his excuse, and that he therefore didn’t have to worry about his roommate’s opinion or interference. And he really didn’t need Hunter’s pity; he was fine. He was fine.

            As the days passed, Hunter swore that Cayden was becoming more unhinged – stomping around, huffing at every tiny annoyance, and he virtually never smiled anymore. Hunter knew that college stressed people out, but Cayden seemed to go out of his way to be miserable.

            But with their established pattern of avoidance, Hunter couldn’t figure out an opening to try to talk to Cayden. Not that he had any idea what he’d say; he just knew that there had to be something Cayden could do to make his own life a little easier.

            With midterms over, the general level of academic demand diminished, at least temporarily. Instead of spending extra time studying, Hunter found himself formulating scripts and scenarios that he could use to try to help Cayden, or at least understand what was going on with him.

            A week after the economics exam, Hunter walked back to the dorm after his shift at the dining hall. He’d decided that tonight, he was going to say something to Cayden. Just ask how things were going, offer to help, something. He just couldn’t live with himself without at least offering to support the boy somehow.

            Hunter opened the door to Room 135. Cayden was sitting sideways at his desk – he was left-handed, and rather than angle his arm sideways, he chose to turn his entire chair, so that he was facing out into the room – scribbling over what looked like statistics homework.

            He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his work, so Hunter hesitated. He didn’t really want to interrupt Cayden. Hunter quietly closed the door behind him, intending to sit at his own desk and fool around online until it looked like Cayden was taking a break.

            But as Hunter took another step into the room, he looked more closely at his roommate. Cayden was…shaking? Trembling?

            The smaller boy’s legs were practically vibrating, heels bouncing slightly but quickly on the floor. His thighs slid back and forth on the chair, rubbing against one another, but Cayden seemed entirely focused on his paper. It was almost like watching someone move around while dreaming.

            Hunter furrowed his brow. Under normal circumstances, he would have interpreted Cayden’s shifts as just nervous energy, discomfort from sitting too long. But these weren’t ordinary circumstances, and Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if Cayden had to use the bathroom. Hunter inhaled, pressing his lips together. Would it be really emasculating to suggest as much?

            But before Hunter could say a word, a tiny, dark stain bloomed in Cayden’s lap, growing slowly across his thighs.

            Hunter couldn’t hold back a gasp – Cayden was wetting himself.

            Again.

            Hunter’s gut tinged with anticipatory embarrassment; he expected Cayden to yelp, or grasp himself, and ultimately look up to see his roommate standing there.

            But Cayden did no such thing. With the same focused frown on his face, he kept penciling work onto his paper, like he wasn’t urinating through his jeans at that very moment.

            Hunter watched in horrified fascination as his roommate continued to obliviously wet his pants. He was utterly dumbfounded. He knew he should look away, or say something, but he could only blink as he watched Cayden’s accident spread out from his crotch. It was a terrible, illicit feeling; Hunter knew this was something he shouldn’t be seeing, but it was so novel, so inexplicable that he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

            And still, Cayden didn’t move. He kept his head down even as the wetness seeped past his knees, creating small trickles down the shins of his pants. After a minute, the stain seemed to stop spreading, but Cayden never once looked up from his homework.         

            Hunter was entirely unsure as to how someone – a practically grown man, nonetheless – could completely pee himself without noticing. Once the fog of his astonishment dissipated slightly, Hunter drew in a breath.

            “Uh…Cayden?” Hunter cleared his throat.

            Cayden’s head snapped up, an annoyed look on his face. Then, in the span of less than a second, he seemed to realize that his pants were drenched and dripping, and his irritated scowl flipped to a stunned, hurt mask.

            Hunter’s stomach clenched. “You ju-“

            “I spilled my drink,” Cayden interrupted, his voice squeaking. He was unsuccessfully trying to warp his face into a defensive glare. “I just…forgot…i-it’s nothing…”

            Hunter visibly recoiled at the wildly implausible explanation; he was so stunned by the lie that he didn’t even bother trying to frame his response gently.

            “You pissed yourself, man! I…saw you!” Hunter decided not to say “watched.” That sounded creepy.

            “No!” yelped Cayden, his voice approaching a petulant whine. “I didn’t, I didn’t…”

            “You did!” Hunter snapped. “You pissed yourself and you weren’t even gonna do anything about it. You just sat there!”

            Cayden’s eyes were filling with tears – tears of frustration, tears of fear, tears of shame. He felt trapped; he was sure that he’d been fine, that he didn’t have to worry about Hunter, but now, his bladder had betrayed him yet again, right in front of his roommate.

            Hunter exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. Yes, Cayden had lied and was being mind-numbingly obtuse, but the boy just looked so little and scared.

            “Look, man,” Hunter began softly. “I’m not mad, and I don’t want to, you know, butt into your life, but that’s –“ Hunter paused, quickly deciding how much to share. “-twice you’ve wet yourself now, and that’s not normal.”

            Cayden had been hanging his head ashamedly, but he bristled at Hunter’s last word. “I’m not…not normal,” he hissed. “I’m fine, it’s none of your business.” He was definitely whining now, a sullen toddler in over his head, but still insisting on unearned independence.

            Sighing, Hunter reframed his argument. “If you’re going to be pissing all over our room, it is my business,” he retorted. “The room’s gonna smell.”

            Cayden’s lower lip trembled. His entire defensive strategy was based on the idea that his problems were his alone (and not real problems, of course), but he couldn’t think of a good response to Hunter’s assertion.

            “Besides,” Hunter continued, more gently. “You already did it in class. What will you do if it happens again?”

            A pained whimper escaped Cayden’s throat, like a hurt animal. He didn’t want to think about that.

            “You didn’t even notice this time, man,” Hunter implored, his voice almost a whisper. “I just feel like…if you don’t try to do something about it, it’s gonna happen again, and maybe it won’t be in our room next time.”

            By this time, Cayden’s lower lip was sticking out, and he had his arms folded in front of him, but it seemed to be more a gesture of self-comfort than of defiance.

            Hunter watched for a moment to see if the other boy was going to respond. When he didn’t, Hunter went on. “Look, man. Like I said, I don’t want to butt in, but I want you to know that I’ll help if you need me to. If you’re sick or something, or if you need…something…” Hunter didn’t really know what Cayden could need that he could provide, but he was sincere in his offer. “…then I’ll do it. You don’t have to be embarrassed with me. I really don’t care, I promise.”

            He gazed at Cayden, almost beseechingly, but the other boy just sniffled. Hunter sighed, thinking he wasn’t going to get anything else for now. Slightly disappointed, he walked over to sit at his own desk, across from and perpendicular to Cayden’s.

            “I didn’t mean to.”

            Cayden’s voice was small and hesitant, but it was enough to whirl Hunter around. He faced the smaller boy, who still had his head down, but tilted sideways. Cayden flicked his teary gaze upward, briefly catching Hunter’s eye.

            “I know, man,” Hunter responded carefully, when Cayden didn’t continue. “I don’t think you did it on purpose.”

            Cayden sighed, oddly relieved that Hunter apparently understood his lack of control over the situation.

            “I just…” Cayden’s voice caught, and he swallowed hard. He’d never tried to explain this to someone to his own age.

            Hunter draped his arm across the back of his own desk chair, expectant but undemanding. He had no idea what Cayden was going to say, so he wasn’t sure how to encourage him.

            “I…” Cayden started again. His pants were so wet and heavy. He really should get cleaned up, but if Hunter was serious about wanting to help (he couldn’t help, there was nothing anyone could do), then at least Cayden could explain so Hunter would stop asking him about it.

            “I can’t feel it sometimes,” Cayden murmured. “I don’t know why. My parents don’t know why. The doctors said it’s stress, that when I get stressed, my brain blocks out my body’s signals, so I don’t know when I have to…go.”

            Cayden clenched his hands to try to keep them from shaking. “It happened last year,” he went on, his voice thickening with emotion. “I was at my other school, and it was hard, and my roommates were loud and not nice and everything was so hard, and then I started…having accidents.”

            Hunter was equally incredulous and concerned at his roommate’s story. He hadn’t known that stress could just do…that, but he had no reason to doubt Cayden’s nervous, heartfelt explanation.

            “I couldn’t help it,” Cayden confessed, tears now running down his face. “I tried to come up with excuses, but it happened again and again, and my roommates made fun of me, and then it happened in class, and the professor just told me to leave and everyone saw…”

            Cayden was now weeping openly; Hunter, who was very used to cuddling his younger siblings when they were hurt or sad, felt the urge to hug him. Instead, he softly prompted Cayden to continue. “So that’s why you switched schools?”

            Cayden nodded, sniffing deeply. “I withdrew after one semester and took online classes while my parents sent me to doctors and therapists. They all said the same things: stress, anxiety. But there was nothing they could give me to help, because the pills wouldn’t help my body. So we decided that a new school would help, since no one here knows me. And we thought I could get a room to myself…” he added in a whisper.

            Hunter twitched his jaw, thinking. He was a problem-solver, and even though Cayden had seen doctors, it didn’t really seem like he and his parents had done a whole lot to manage his issue.

            “So…” Hunter began carefully, “…are there any…strategies? Or things? You know, like stress-relieving stuff?”

            “I’m trying,” Cayden snapped. “I do go to the counseling center, and they told me stuff to do, and I’m trying, I am, but I just get so worried about my classes!”

            Hunter didn’t know a ton about counseling, but he’d had a fairly enlightened health teacher in high school who tried to teach the seniors about self-care and mental health management. Still, he’d pretty much expected that answer out of Cayden. Therapy took awhile to implement, and Cayden didn’t strike him as a person who valued incremental progress.

            “OK,” Hunter nodded, as if what Cayden had said made total sense. “Then let’s think about other things we can do while you’re learning to manage your stress.”

            Cayden clenched his teeth. “I’m not wearing diapers, Hunter. I’m not a toddler.”

            Fortunately for the credibility of Hunter’s reaction, he hadn’t actually considered diapers as a possibility, and thus could look sufficiently stunned by the idea. “No, dude, no!” he insisted. “That’s not even what I was thinking.”

            Cayden dipped his head, his eyebrows still drawn with suspicion, but he didn’t argue.

            “What if you just set a timer or something?” Hunter asked. “Use your phone or your watch to just remind you to go every 2 hours or something, so you never get too full.”

            Cayden frowned, considering. “But…what if I’m in class?”

            Hunter nodded again, thinking to himself that Cayden had clearly never had to figure out anything on his own. “You can make a schedule that fits around your classes. You know, make sure you go before or after, but then make sure it’s no more than 2 hours at a time when you’re not in class.”

            Cayden raised his eyebrows slowly, as if Hunter had just explained something revolutionary and enlightening. “Yeah…” he said slowly. “I could do that…”

            Hunter nearly sighed with relief. “No one would have to know but you and me. You could even set it up like your alarm is a phone call or something, so you’d have an excuse to leave if you’re with people.” Hunter really didn’t think Cayden socialized much – no more than he did, anyway – but he also figured that Cayden wouldn’t consider any contingencies.

            Cayden looked so hopeful, like a child standing in line to meet Santa Claus. “Yeah…” he breathed again. “That would work!”

            Finally, Hunter allowed himself a small smile. “Awesome. So you work out a schedule around your classes and pick an alarm. If you run into any problems, let me know, and we’ll work it out.”

            It was such a simple solution, but Cayden had grown up nothing if not coddled, so even simple solutions were beyond his capabilities. Relatedly, he had a tendency to catastrophize (or, as Hunter’s grandpa would say, “make a mountain out of a molehill”), which led to either freaking out or shutting down. He’d been trying for weeks to shut down and ignore his growing incontinence, but now! Now, it wasn’t going to be a problem anymore!

            Cayden beamed. “Thanks, Hunter,” he murmured, a bit timidly.

            “No problem, man,” Hunter replied, the corner of his mouth quirked up in response. He watched for another moment, then said, when Cayden stayed in his chair. “Now why don’t you get cleaned up?”

            Cayden at least had the presence of mind to blush at the reminder that he was still wearing urine-soaked jeans. He grimaced a bit as he stood, but ultimately left for the showers without any trouble.

            Hunter blew out his cheeks and sighed forcefully, clasping his hands behind his head. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that Cayden took so little initiative in his own life, but there was still room for growth, right? It might just take a lot of work on patience on Hunter’s part…

***

            For the first few days, Cayden’s system seemed to be working well. He didn’t exactly discuss his bathroom habits with Hunter, but he didn’t seem to be doing any extra laundry, and he would even grin shyly when Hunter got back from work at night.

            The following Tuesday, 5 days after Cayden’s second (third, really) accident, Hunter beamed as he walked back from his last class, basking in the unseasonably warm afternoon as he headed back to the dorm to change for work. The whole campus seemed to buzz, soaking in the pleasant weather.

            In the dorm, several freshman were holding a carpet hockey tournament in the hallway. Hunter grinned apologetically as he skirted past them to get to his room, breaking into a chuckle when the shirts team erupted in celebration after a score.

            Hunter was still laughing when he opened the door and stepped into the room, but stopped immediately when he saw Cayden.

            Cayden was hunched over next to the sink, hands shoved forcefully between his thighs, twisting frantically.

            Hunter quickly shut the door behind him. “What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low.

            Cayden didn’t even try to keep from whining. His face was crumpled. “I had my alarm set, I did, but I must’ve drunk too much since last time, because when I got up, I had to go really bad, and I had to hold it, but there are people outside, so I couldn’t go, because I had to hold it, and they’d see meeeeeeeee!”

            Hunter pressed his lips together, trying to swallow his exasperation. “Just go in the sink, then!”

            Cayden huffed, a bit hurt at the implication that he hadn’t already thought of that. “It’s too high! I’d splash on our toothbrushes!”

            If the situation hadn’t still been so tenuous, Hunter would’ve been proud that Cayden had actually thought of an alternate solution, and even come up with a viable reason to discount said solution.

            But the situation was tenuous. Collapsing, in fact.

            “I’m soooooorryyyyyyyy,” Cayden wailed quietly as he lost control. Streams of urine spilled out past his hand, darkening his pants with a speed that enforced just how full he’d been.

            Hunter slumped his shoulders. Cayden looked like a shamed child, like someone who actually understood that he was way too old to be peeing his pants. It was a stark contrast to the flustered defensiveness of his earlier accidents.

            “It’s OK, man, don’t worry about it,” Hunter murmured. “You set your alarm; you stuck to the schedule. It’s not your fault.”

            Cayden looked utterly pathetic, sniffling and standing in his own puddle. “What am I gonna do?” he asked miserably.

            “Just go shower,” Hunter sighed. “We’ll figure something out.”

            Cayden hung his head and disappeared behind the wardrobe to strip off his sopping pants. He emerged a minute later, wearing what had now become his post-wetting nylon shorts and carrying his bath towel. He wiped his eyes frantically, trying to hide any evidence he’d been crying before going out in the hallway with the hockey-playing freshman.

            When Cayden shut the door behind him, Hunter flopped into his desk chair, dropping his head into his hands. He knew he should probably wipe up Cayden’s puddle, but he was exhausted by the past few minutes. He knew he only had a little time to think of an acceptable solution to the sure-to-happen again eventuality of Cayden being too desperate to walk to the toilet without openly holding himself, or he risked Cayden giving up on the plan altogether.

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4th chapter! I think I only have one more in mind, so I hope to finish it next weekend. If not, I'll definitely get it up before Thanksgiving.

********

            Hunter’s solution to the circumstances surrounding Cayden’s latest accident was simple, intuitive, and easy to implement. It was borne of Hunter’s utilitarian childhood on the farm.

            It was a bucket.

            Cayden hated it.

            “I can’t just piss in a bucket,” he sputtered, the slightly crude language sounding weird from his privileged mouth.

            Hunter had anticipated his roommate’s reticence, though, and was ready for it. “I know it’s weird, but it’s better than the sink because you don’t have to worry about splashing on our stuff. It’s not like we’ll be using it for anything else.”

            Cayden fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “It’s weird,” he insisted. “I don’t want to just have a bucket of pee sitting in the room.”

            Hunter had thought of that, too. “It won’t be there for long,” he promised. “We can just dump it out the window into the bushes when no one’s around. I bought some bleach, too, so we can make sure the bucket doesn’t smell.”

            Cayden was still hanging his head, but Hunter correctly interpreted his discomfort as a product of the fact that he actually needed such a safeguard, rather than continued disagreement with the bucket itself.

            “Look, man,” Hunter lowered his voice, but tried not to sound too placating. “It’s just a last-resort thing. Just in case.”

            Cayden’s lower lip jutted out slightly eyed the bucket skeptically.

            “Just in case, man,” Hunter repeated. “I want you to have a backup if you can’t make it out in the hallway.”

            Hunter could tell that Cayden wasn’t entirely sold. He hadn’t wanted to, but he decided to play the alternative scenario card. “It’s better than having to do laundry.”

            Two months ago – two weeks ago, even – Cayden probably would have argued, denied, insisted that everything was fine. But four accidents (so far) in one semester had broken him down. Hunter had been kind and non-judgmental, but he couldn’t expect that from everyone, and he really didn’t want to find out just how unkind other students might be.

            “OK,” Cayden whispered, red-faced but chastened.

            Hunter felt himself physically relax a bit. Cayden, either sensing or deciding that the conversation was over, slumped into his desk chair and opened his laptop.

            Hunter watched the smaller boy for a minute; objectively, he knew that he was helping Cayden by providing strategies that the teen would’ve never thought of on his own, but he still felt insufficient. Yes, Cayden needed functional fixes to his problems, but he also needed comfort.

            And Hunter just didn’t know how to provide that.

***

            Still, despite Cayden’s shame and enduring feeling of juvenility, the combination of the bucket and timed bathroom reminders was working. As October morphed into November, Cayden’s response to the buzz of his phone alarm became automatic; he’d drop what he was doing and head to the nearest bathroom, no matter how un-full he felt.

            Only twice did Cayden make use of the “emergency bucket,” both times on weekends, when he slept in and woke up far too desperate to make it to the bathroom without keeping a tight grip between his legs. The first time, Cayden had been reluctant to actually use the bucket. He squirmed and fought, eyes welling with the humiliation of being unable to just use the toilet like a normal college student. It had only taken one substantial leak to shock him into action, though. The sound of urine hitting the empty plastic was horrible and demeaning, but certainly better than actually wetting his pants.

            Hunter hadn’t said a word at that point, and Cayden had impressed him by handling everything by himself. He’d waited until well after nightfall to empty the bucket and clean it out, but he did so without complaint.

            The second time, Cayden had looked uncomfortable, but he’d shuffled over to the bucket without hesitation. He still didn’t like the idea of peeing in a bucket like some backwoods savage, but the ensuing lack of wetness in his underwear and pajamas was a powerful motivator against any future misgivings.

            And so weeks passed without Cayden completely losing control. The prolonged period of relative dryness, combined with the continued lessons on stress management from the counseling center, had Cayden feeling more composed and less inept than ever. His classes still worried him, but not in a completely destabilizing way; he even started making small talk with Hunter in the room.

            Almost as if they were friends.

***

            Two weeks before Thanksgiving break, Hunter and Cayden were sitting through the end of their shared Economics class. Though the all-section midterm had been at 2 in the afternoon, the boys’ class was at 4 PM, their last of the day. They came to class from different places, but over the past few weeks, they’d started casually sitting next to each other and walking back to the dorm together.

            This particular day, the boys packed up together, preparing to walk out into the waning daylight. Cayden had spent so much of his time in college wrapped up in his own issues that he wasn’t used to noticing other people – especially not noticing other people noticing him.

            But Hunter noticed. Hunter saw the pair of girls approach him and his roommate, the taller of the two obviously the wingwoman.

            “Hi,” WIngwoman opened cheerfully. Cayden looked up, befuddled. Wingwoman didn’t seem to care. “You’re Cayden, right?”

            Cayden nodded dumbly. Hunter ducked his head, trying not to laugh.

            “You’re in our French class,” Wingwoman continued. “I’m Cat, and this is my friend Val.”

            The shorter girl, Val, smiled shyly. Hunter figured she had agreed to this scenario before letting Cat take the reins.

            Cayden still looked bemused, but he managed to find his voice. “Oh, yeah. You sit on the left side.”

            Cat beamed, clearly taking Cayden’s recognition as a positive sign. “We were just going to Lovett for dinner. You guys want to join us?”

            Start-of-semester Cayden probably would have blushed and spit out some lame excuse. Even late-October Cayden might have been suspicious and defensive. But present Cayden grinned. His confidence was growing. He could handle college, and going to the dining hall with cute girls was part of college.

            “Sure,” he said easily. “Hunter and I were just headed there, anyway. This is my roommate, by the way,” he added, introducing Hunter with a lie and a smoothness that Hunter wouldn’t have thought possible.

            Like any good wingwoman, Cat turned her attention to Hunter as the quartet exited the room, falling into step behind Cayden and Val.

            Similarly, Hunter understood his role of serving as character witness for his roommate. Cat wasted no time in garnering information.

            “Is he single?” she muttered to Hunter as they walked behind the target couple.

            “Pretty sure,” Hunter replied. He and Cayden still didn’t talk too much, but he figured he’d seen enough to determine that Cayden wasn’t seeing anyone, or, at least wasn’t a particularly devoted boyfriend.

            “Straight?” Cat continued bluntly.

            Hunter smiled slightly, appreciating the idea that Cayden’s sexuality was of secondary concern to his relationship status. “As far as I know. I’ve never asked him or anything.”

            Cat nodded, satisfied. Hunter’s answers and Cayden’s rapt attention to Val were enough to convince her to let the dinner go forward as proposed.

            As they reached the dining hall, Hunter glanced toward the bathrooms. Cayden’s schedule called for a visit after Economics, but Cayden was currently deep in conversation with Val.

            Hunter cleared his throat. “Cayden? Did you-“

             “Val and I were going to the Italian station for pizza,” Cayden interrupted, his eyes flashing pointedly at his roommate. “Should we meet you at the tables to the left of the salad bar?”

            “Sounds good,” Hunter replied amiably, but he kept his eyes on Cayden. The smaller boy gave the smallest of nods, presumably indicating that he was aware of the timing and felt OK about his decision to skip his scheduled bathroom break.

            Cayden returned his smile to Val, and they headed off to select their dinner. Understanding that he wasn’t invited, Hunter turned in the opposite direction. He didn’t bother seeing where Cat went.

            Hunter fluttered his fingers nervously as he stood in line at the grill. He tried to tell himself first that there was nothing to worry about; Cayden had been doing great for weeks now, and Hunter just had to trust him to know his own body. Of course, this was the same teen that would have sat in his own wet pants for who knows how long a few weeks prior, had Hunter not been there to notify him of his bladder’s release…

            Next, Hunter tried to tell himself that it wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t Cayden’s dad; he really had no place worrying about him like this. Cayden was an adult; Hunter couldn’t be freaking out over every little choice he made.

            “Hunter!” the student handing over orders from the grill, who knew Hunter from work, called to get his attention, shoving his plate across the counter. Hunter blinked himself back into the present moment, mumbled his thanks, and headed to the drink station.

            Out in the seating area, Hunter saw Cat waving at him from a table next to the salad bar. Cayden and Val were approaching from the opposite direction.

            Hunter hung back for a second, letting Cayden pick his seat. Val slid in next to Cat, leaving the boys to sit across from them. Naturally, Cayden chose the seat opposite Val, so Hunter faced Cat.

            Cayden had clearly gained Val’s trust, and the tiny girl chattered excitedly. For his part, Cayden proved to be a pretty good listener. He wasn’t the most natural conversationalist, but he smiled eagerly and nodded at all the right places. Cat stuck to her role as relationship facilitator, effortlessly filling in gaps in the conversation, talking up her friend and asking thoughtful yet uncontroversial questions to Cayden.

            Hunter, on the other hand, watched his roommate closely. On one hand, Cayden was doing great socially, displaying a comfort around Val that Hunter hadn’t seen before. On the other hand, the time was creeping further and further away from Cayden’s usual bathroom time, and he didn’t seem to be limiting his liquid intake.

            Hunter was torn. He didn’t want to embarrass Cayden unnecessarily, and, if he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure what was necessary. Weeks ago, he’d come up with the two-hour time limit arbitrarily. He had no idea how long Cayden could actually last, or how much his bodily awareness had improved over the past few weeks.

            A high-pitched burst of laughter jerked Hunter out of his second distracted trance of the evening. Val and Cat were giggling at some shared story, and Cayden was grinning dazedly, possibly overcome by how pretty Val looked when she laughed.

            Val continued with her part of the story, and Hunter tried to pay attention, not wanting to come off as antisocial. But as Val snickered her way through a description of the dorm mother in her building, Hunter saw Cayden twitch out of the corner of his eye.

            Doing his best not to draw any attention, Hunter slowly shifted his gaze toward his roommate. Cayden had frozen; he was still leaned toward the girls, but his back had stiffened, and his hand had clenched around his napkin.

            Hunter’s stomach dropped. Hesitantly, he flicked his gaze downward.

            Sure enough, a dark stain covered Cayden’s lap. Hunter didn’t look for very long – he certainly didn’t want to give anything away to the girls – but he was willing to bet that the stain was still growing.

            Next to him, Cayden was breathing hard. Hunter’s mind raced. Cayden was holding it together for now, and, thankfully, Val and Cat’s story seemed to be quite long, but Hunter knew he didn’t have much time.

            Glancing quickly at the girls to make sure they were paying more attention to each other than they were to him, Hunter grabbed his cup of Pepsi and threw it across Cayden’s legs.

            Predictably, Cayden yelped as the iced-filled liquid landed in his lap, shoving his chair back from the table.

            “What the hell?” Cat cried, more irritated at having her and Val’s story interrupted than by any inconvenience to Cayden.

            Hunter felt his heart beating wildly, but kept his voice calm. “So sorry, man,” he apologized. “I don’t know what happened. I was just reaching for it, but I must’ve had it too close to the edge.”

            Distractedly, Cayden dabbed his napkin in his lap. “Shhhhit, dude,” he hissed. He didn’t seem able to say any more.

            Hunter turned to the girls, putting on his best charming smile, the one he used with teachers back home. “My bad, Cat, Val. I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I feel so stupid.”

            Cat eyed Hunter suspiciously, but Val just looked blank, stunned that the meal, which had been going so well, could be so indecorously interrupted.

            Hunter turned back to his roommate, slipping easily into take-charge mode. “Really sorry, man. I’m a spaz. We should probably go, though. It’s getting cold out, and it’s gonna be a bitch to walk back.”

            “Yeah…” Cayden mumbled, then, in an effort to save face, repeated “Shit.”

            Hunter shrugged apologetically, but was already standing up. “Sorry, girls,” he said. “Didn’t mean to cut dinner short. See you in econ?”

            Cat glared, but Val looked hopefully toward Cayden. “Yeah,” she agreed. “See you later, Cayden?” The last part was a question.

            Cayden forced a smile, but Hunter could see him trembling. “Definitely.”

            He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t. It was taking all his effort not to freak out, and he knew that freaking out in the middle of the dining hall couldn’t possibly end well.

            Hunter was walking quickly, implicitly urging Cayden to follow. He kept up a steady, apologetic narrative, describing how clumsy he’d been and how sorry he was for potentially blowing Cayden’s chances with a pretty girl. In the tiny part of his mind not occupied with terror and shock, Cayden realized that Hunter was trying to make sure that anyone who saw them thought that the wetness down Cayden’s legs was purely from Hunter’s drink.

            The roommates stepped outside, and Cayden shuddered in the cold. Briefly, he glanced down at the damage. Yes, there was a substantial dark path down the front of his pants, but the wetness also spread sideways around his legs and up his shirt – not a typical pants-wetting pattern.

            Hunter had aimed well.

            In the cool darkness of the quad, Cayden’s breath started to hitch, and he felt his eyes fill with tears. What the hell had he just done?

            “Keep it together, Cay,” Hunter’s voice was low and bracing beside him. “Nobody knows, but we’ve gotta get back to the dorm. You don’t want anyone to see you crying.”

            Cayden sniffed, but nodded in agreement. Hunter had saved him from humiliation in front of the girls; the least he could do in return was not be a big baby in the middle of the sidewalk.

            The boys didn’t say another word until they got back to the dorm. Hunter had his ID card out and ready to swipe them in, but led Cayden around to the far door, so they’d have a shorter distance to walk down the hall to their room.

            Inside 135, Hunter exhaled deeply, but Cayden stood dumbly, wrapping his arms around his torso. His emotions were too numerous and too tangled to handle.

            Hunter looked on, concerned. “Cayden? Do you want to-“

            “You can say it,” Cayden snipped, his voice thick. “You can say ‘I told you so.’”

            Hunter’s face fell. He knew this was hard, but he’d kind of hoped that Cayden wouldn’t revert to angry defensiveness. “I wasn’t thinking that,” Hunter insisted softly.

            “Why not?” Cayden snarled. “I would. You were right. You tried to get me to go to the bathroom, and I didn’t and I pissed myself.” His voice caught slightly on the last two words, so he cut off his bitter rant.

            “It…” Hunter felt useless. Ultimately, what Cayden said was true, but Hunter didn’t want him to get discouraged. “It happens, man,” he tried. “We fixed it; no one knew what happened.”

            You fixed it!” Cayden cried out, shame and fear overtaking his anger. “You fixed it, because you have to fix everything. I can’t even go to the dining hall without pissing my pants, and you have to rescue me because I just. Can’t. Do. Anything!

            “Cayden…” Hunter murmured ineffectively. This was the part he couldn’t do. He could give Cayden advice and offer suggestions on how to fix things, but he truly didn’t know how to make the boy feel better.

            Openly weeping now, Cayden clutched his arms tightly, hugging himself. “I thought I was fine,” he sobbed. “I was happy, I was…I felt like I was back in high school, talking to a cute girl for the first time. All fluttery and excited. Better than I’ve felt all semester.”

            Hunter’s chest felt tight. He didn’t want to make Cayden feel stupid, but…

            “That’s still stress, man,” Hunter explained, shrugging. “I mean, it’s happy stress, but it’s still your adrenaline going and stuff. So, you know, your body…”

            Cayden’s shoulders slumped, and bitterness crept back into his voice. “Great,” he growled. “Just awesome. So it’s not just about work and classes and worrying about grades. Now, I can’t even get happy without peeing everywhere like a hyperactive chihuahua.”

            “Cayden, come on,” Hunter pleaded. “It was just a mistake. You’ll do better next time.”

            “You don’t know that!” Cayden snapped. “And neither do I,” he continued in a much smaller voice. “I…what if I can’t stop?”

            The teen finally looked up at Hunter, scared and unsure. “What if I can’t stop?” he repeated.

            “You will,” Hunter replied, soft but insistent. “It’s going to be OK.”

            Cayden scoffed, but the hurt and fear still shone in his eyes. “You can’t say that. You don’t know how it feels. I just peed my pants in the middle of a college dining hall in front of a cute girl. I just peed my pants, period. I’m 19 years old, and I can’t stop wetting myself.”

            Hunter stared, his expression guarded.

            Cayden broke eye contact. He wasn’t really mad at Hunter; he knew that. He just didn’t have the capacity to deal with everything in a reasonable way right now. He knew he should apologize. Hell, he should be falling over himself, thanking Hunter for saving his ass and his dignity. But he was mad. He was scared. He was so disgusted with himself, he could barely stand to think about it.

            With a halfhearted snort, Cayden disappeared behind the wardrobe to peel off his wet clothes and get ready to shower. He hung his head, not even looking at Hunter as he shuffled out the door.

            Still standing in the same spot, Hunter stared after his roommate. He didn’t have any solutions this time.

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Guest tholepin

Good story, good writing! If you start Outlining, you'll begin to see conflicts and logical avenues of action your protag. Keep the father figure as an ally - he's delightfully flawed and mommy loves it. Don't even tell me you don't like to outline either. :}

 

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On 10/30/2016 at 8:49 AM, RebelRebel said:

I can't wait to read more of this! I always love all of your characters!

Thank you so much! Tbh, these guys are kind of an amalgamation of a bunch of different characters/mini stories I've thought of over the past few years. I'm glad they aren't reading too unrealistic!

On 11/1/2016 at 0:12 AM, classified43 said:

Great characters and an interesting dynamic to the story. Looking forward to more!

Thank you! I hope you're still enjoying it!

On 11/9/2016 at 11:39 AM, nappyboy97 said:

This is brilliant. Keep going please

Thank you so much for commenting! I don't have quite enough focus to write stories much longer than 4 or 5 chapters, but I have a couple more ideas for this one.

On 11/14/2016 at 2:00 AM, bazinga said:

Absolutely brilliant. Can't wait for the next update!

You are so generous and sweet! People are going to think I made you up to compliment my own stories :D

On 11/14/2016 at 7:36 AM, Sylveon54 said:

This was amazing liked it a lot. 

I'm so glad! Thank you for commenting!

On 11/14/2016 at 8:36 AM, tholepin said:

Good story, good writing! If you start Outlining, you'll begin to see conflicts and logical avenues of action your protag. Keep the father figure as an ally - he's delightfully flawed and mommy loves it. Don't even tell me you don't like to outline either. :}

 

Why, thank you! LOL at the outlining, though. I'm *so* lazy and disorganized about writing, as evidenced by all the typos! I literally just realized yesterday that I gave Cayden the same name as the dorm :/ I think of ideas and scenes when I'm daydreaming, but when it comes to writing, I just sit down and type. It's why I keep writing as a hobby :)

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Just finished what you've got here. Lovely <3 I have to say Cayden's cute with his tendency to cry, but he does it a little *too* easily. I'd expect him to do it in front of Hunter only as a sort of tipping point of trying to keep everything (all but literally) bottled up, after which things are a little better because he's not completely alone with his struggles.

Check your profile if you didn't see my message to you on there. Otherwise I'll be watching this one. :D

Edited by AliasnameTO (see edit history)
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Yikes. This one got a little out of hand :/ I have at least one more chapter planned, which I'll post either this weekend or early next week. Enjoy!

*****

            In Hunter’s opinion, Cayden had already made great strides during the semester. He certainly wasn’t the spoiled, overprotected child that Hunter had thought he was when they first met. In just a few short months, Cayden had started taking care of himself, listening to advice, and generally not being completely self-absorbed.

            And then Cayden had wet himself in the dining hall, and things changed.

            He hadn’t reverted to his former habits of denial and whining, which Hunter supposed was a good thing, but looking at his roommate now, Hunter couldn’t be pleased with the way Cayden was acting.

            Hunter had pretty much expected that Cayden would be upset for a while. That night, when he got back from showering, Cayden hadn’t said a word. The next morning, he’d left for class, equally silent, and Hunter couldn’t blame him. But now, it had been a week, and Cayden was still…unhappy.

            Professor Edwin dismissed the students from the class at the end of econ. Hunter gathered his things and turned toward his roommate.

            “Hey, man, want to grab some dinner? I was gonna stop by Subway at the student center,” Hunter suggested casually.

            “No thanks,” Cayden replied, politely but dismissively, not making eye contact. “I have some leftovers back in the room.”

            Hunter frowned; he couldn’t quite put his finger on Cayden’s mood, and, without specifics, he didn’t know how to fix it. Or if there was even something that really warranted fixing.

            Before Hunter could say anything else, Val and Cat sidled up alongside them.

            “Hey, Cayden,” Val greeted him with a shy smile. “Cat and I were just on our way to the dining hall, and we thought we’d see if you and Hunter wanted to join us.”

            Hunter held his breath expectantly. As far as he knew, Cayden hadn’t set foot in the dining hall since his accident, but he and Val had gotten along really well, so that might just be enough enticement to get him to go.

            But Cayden didn’t even hesitate. “No, thanks,” he answered, not quite smiling, but not glaring, either. “I have some work to do on my history essay.”

            “Oh.” Val’s face fell, but she tried to recover quickly. “Maybe another time?”

            A ghost of a smile flashed across Cayden’s face, but Hunter could tell it was more out of obligation than hope. “Sure,” he said simply before turning to leave.

            Hunter didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t force Cayden to go out, and maybe he didn’t like Val that much, anyway, but the flat-out refusal to go to dinner, combined with Cayden’s robotic silence of the past week, struck Hunter as…well, wrong, somehow.

            It’s not your responsibility, Hunter told himself as he walked to the student center, the brisk autumn air biting his cheeks. Cayden can do whatever he wants.

            But Hunter couldn’t let it go. He’d let himself get in too deep, and he found himself caring for the other boy. Without realizing when it happened, Hunter had started thinking of them as a team, almost, actually working together to make it through college.

            Almost as if they were friends.

            After getting his food to go, Hunter grimaced as he walked back to the dorm. He knew he was being stupid; he had no right to tell Cayden to do anything, and he surely had no right to demand a certain standard of emotion from him. Hunter knew all this. He also knew that he’d already made up his mind.

            Cayden was sitting at his desk when Hunter got back to the room. Hunter was moderately surprised to see that he did, in fact, have a container of some sort of leftovers open in front of him.

            “Hey,” Hunter said, setting his food down on his own desk. Cayden murmured an acknowledgement of his presence, but didn’t look up.

            “Cayden,” Hunter called, louder, but still gently.

            Cayden raised his head warily, but didn’t respond.

            Not knowing where to start, Hunter dove right in. “Come on, man,” he pleaded. “I know you’ve had a rough semester, but…” Hunter paused, but Cayden just blinked, not giving anything away. “It’s gonna be OK!” Hunter tried, well aware of how insufficient he sounded. “There’s no reason to just give up on everything.”

            “I’m not giving up,” Cayden replied evenly, his expression still blank.

            Hunter flopped into his own desk chair so Cayden wouldn’t have to look up at him. “No, I know…” he amended, “…I mean, there’s no reason to get so down. We…you’ve still got a lot of college left, and-“

            “Yes,” Cayden interrupted shortly. “I do.”

            Hunter’s eyebrows drew in. Was mild annoyance better than automaton-like silence?

            “I have a lot of college left,” Cayden echoed. “And I don’t want to screw it up. First, I was ignorant of the severity of my…issues, and then, I was just lazy. Now, I know what I have to do, and I’m doing it. It’s fine.”

            Hunter fought the urge to pity his roommate. “What do you mean, ‘it’s fine’?” he asked. “I don’t understand how being mad all the time is what you have to do.”

            “I’m not mad,” Cayden refuted, and his measured tone supported the claim. “I’m just being careful. I’m clearly not developed enough to carry out a daily life without building my entire schedule around going to the bathroom, so that has to be my primary focus now. I can’t go out; I can’t be spontaneous. If I want to-“ Cayden’s voice hitched the tiniest bit, but he continued, “-keep myself from having accidents, then staying on schedule has to be my priority.”

            “Cayden…” Hunter sighed. What Cayden said made sense, but…”it doesn’t have to be one way or the other. You don’t have to be a hermit.”

            “Don’t exaggerate,” Cayden admonished, his tone taking on some of the condescension that Hunter had first experienced at the hands of Cayden’s parents.

            Hunter bristled at the accusation. “Fine, but you know I’m not wrong,” he insisted, knowing he was likely treading on thin ice. “You’re isolating yourself, and you don’t have to. It’s going to be OK.”

            Cayden snorted, the most emotion he’d shown in a week. “I don’t think I agree with your definition of ‘OK,’” he sneered.

            “Cayden!” Hunter cried, exasperated. “I know this isn’t how you probably pictured college, but it’s not the worst thing in the world!”

            Cayden clenched his jaw, now glowering at Hunter. “That’s easy for you to say,” he hissed. “Yeah, ‘it’s not the worst thing in the world,’ people are dying, people are starving, why would a college sophomore possibly be worried about an insignificant little thing like pissing himself?”

            Hunter sat back slightly, cowed by the vehemence of Cayden’s response. “I’m not saying it’s insignificant,” he insisted apologetically. “It’s just not as bad as you think.”

            “It is,” Cayden asserted. For the briefest moment, a look of sadness flickered over his features, only to be replaced by stubborn resentment. “It’s disgusting. It’s juvenile, infantile, even. There’s no excuse for a nineteen-year-old not to have control over his bladder. It’s completely unacceptable, and I won’t let it happen again.”

            Hunter’s eyes were wide. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, frozen at Cayden’s harsh description.

            Cayden inhaled, suddenly aware that he was almost shaking with emotion. Hunter looked so stricken, and Cayden regretted the intensity of his self-castigation. “Look,” he said, pacifyingly, “I didn’t mean to be so rude to you. Believe me, I know how much you’ve done for me, and I’m grateful, and I don’t want to ruin your semester with my sulking.”

            Hunter opened his mouth to refute that point, but Cayden went on. “I’ll try not to be so angsty,” he promised, feebly attempting a smile. “But this is how I have to handle things. For now.”

            Hunter opened his mouth again, then shut it. He started to turn back to his desk, then stopped.

            “Yeah,” he said finally. “I get it. Sorry for butting in.”

            From anyone else, it might have sounded petulant and pouty, but Cayden had learned that Hunter was nothing if not honest. He still felt bad for snapping at his roommate, but Cayden was secure in his beliefs. Wetting himself was gross; it had to stop.

            And this was the only way how.

***

            As Thanksgiving break approached, Cayden did his best to maintain an image of calm, rather than discontent. He still stuck to his bathroom schedule militantly, but he made more of an effort to smile and chat with Hunter. Mentally, he told himself that this was the right thing to do. It wasn’t punishment; it was necessity, like a diabetic testing their blood sugar.

            Cayden’s efforts seemed to pay off, as Hunter looked less worried. Of course, part of that could have been the general excitement of their first real break from classes. The university didn’t give students a full fall break; instead, they got the entire week of Thanksgiving off. Cayden was planning on driving home; Hunter didn’t have the money for multiple trips, so he was going to stay on campus over Thanksgiving, then take a bus home for Christmas.

            The whole campus buzzed with cabin fever. Students were excitedly sharing travel plans, and even professors were letting classes out a bit earlier than usual.

            In econ, the Thursday before Thanksgiving, Val and Cat approached Cayden (and, by extension, Hunter) yet again.

            This time, it was Cat that spoke first. “There’s a party at the old Litchfield house outside of town,” she announced without prelude. “A bunch of sophomore guys are living there this year, and they’re having a big thing tonight, before everyone leaves for break. Val and I are going. Are you in?” She looked Hunter in the eye as she made her rather pointed invitation, as if to say that she was actually asking him to come on his own merit, not just as Cayden’s friend.

            Hunter started to shrug; he didn’t have a car, and he’d certainly never been to a giant house party before, but Cayden put a hand on his shoulder before he got a chance to respond.

            “Sounds cool,” Cayden replied, much to Hunter’s surprise. “We’ll try to make it.”

            Cat looked skeptical at the vague language, but Val lit up. “Great!” she all but squealed. “We’ll see you there!”

            Cayden half-smiled and nodded, letting Cat pull Val out of the classroom.

            “Wow,” Hunter quipped, falling into step beside Cayden. “I did not see that coming. Do you really want to go?” He tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice; yes, it would be good for Cayden to finally get out of the room, but Hunter was practically elated at the idea of getting to attend a real party. He thought it was an essential part of college, but he really hadn’t had any clue how one actually earned an invite.

            But the smile had fallen off Cayden’s lips, leaving him looking more wistful than anything. “I won’t,” he shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t know how…it’d be too risky for me. I wouldn’t have any fun. But you should go,” he added, sensing Hunter’s disappointment.

            “Oh, no,” Hunter replied, subconsciously matching Cayden’s artificially carefree tone. “I wouldn’t know anyone. I just thought if you wanted to go…”

            “I heard some guys in the dorm talking about it. Pedro and Artie from down the hall are going, I think, and Harrison Morris from the dorm council,” Cayden stated casually. He looked over at Hunter. “You should go. I can drive you. That way, you won’t have to worry about drinking, and I can have the room free to pack for break.”

            Hunter rolled his shoulder up, unsure, but Cayden pressed on. “I mean it, man. It’ll be fun. I’ll take you, and we can pick a time for me to come back, or you can just text me when you’re ready to go.”  

            Cayden gazed sincerely up at Hunter as they walked. Thinking rapidly, Hunter supposed that Cayden’s recent take-everything-seriously mentality could extend into an awareness of actually doing nice things for other people. The way he proposed it – Hunter gets a seminal social experience, Cayden gets a bit of time to himself before break – did seem like a win-win…

            “Yeah, OK,” Hunter replied, a grin creeping across his face. “Cool.”

            Cayden genuinely beamed. As rough as his own interpersonal skills were, even he knew that Hunter deserved to branch out a bit. “Cool,” he parroted.

            Hours later, well after dark, Hunter followed Cayden out to the latter’s car, parked in the remote student lot, a solid 10-minute walk from their dorm. It was after 9:30, meaning it would be at least 10 PM before they reached Litchfield, an old farmhouse long ago co-opted as off-campus housing beyond the outskirts of the college town.

            “So what do you think?” Cayden asked as they climbed into his BMW. “Do you just want to text me when you’re ready to go?”

            “It’s pretty far,” Hunter reasoned, accurately. “Why don’t we just plan on you being there at 1…is that too late?”

            Cayden shook his head. “That’s fine. I’ll definitely still be up by then, and I wasn’t planning on leaving early tomorrow.”

            Hunter nodded – one o’clock, it was. The boys remained mostly quiet for the rest of the drive. Although the town itself was reasonably well-appointed, having grown to adapt the needs of the thousands of students, it wasn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis. Fifteen minutes in any direction from campus was farmland and open spaces. Unwilling to put up with the rising costs of living associated with a college town, many local homeowners had long since started renting out their houses to groups of students. The big farmhouses were not only cost-efficient for students (more roommates to split rent), but they made for magnificent party venues – out of the way, no close neighbors to complain about noise, and lots of space.

            Soon enough, Cayden pulled down the dirt road that led to Litchfield. Bright lights lined the long driveway, which was littered with cars in semi-straight lines along the side. Cayden pulled up to the front door, not even bothering to put the car in park. “Later, man,” he dismissed Hunter as the taller boy unfolded himself out of the passenger’s seat. Hunter looked back and waved before he shut the door; Cayden nodded once, then pulled away.

            Cayden exhaled deeply as he turned out of the driveway. Part of him was truly glad that Hunter had taken him up on his offer to go to the party; he shouldn’t be confined to campus just because Cayden couldn’t be trusted to control his bladder in public settings. Still, Cayden felt a pang of loneliness. Hunter was easily Cayden’s closest friend on campus, and it stung to think of him being taken away by other acquaintances. Ones who, presumably, weren’t incontinent.

            Cayden straightened his shoulders, trying to shake off the looming bitterness. It wasn’t Hunter’s fault; he deserved to have fun.

            It was Cayden’s fault. All his.

            Back at the party, Hunter relaxed visibly as he walked in the door. The farmhouse setting, despite being hundreds of miles away from his hometown, was familiar and comforting. Hunter might not have any experience with “college parties,” but he’d certainly been to farm parties before, and this looked an awful lot like a good, old-fashioned farm party. Kids everywhere, happy, drinking, socializing.

            Hunter could do this.

            “Hunter!” Before he got halfway down the hall, Val was at his side, Cat close behind. “Is Cayden here?”

            Hunter cringed, but he’d prepared for this. “He decided not to come. Big parties aren’t really his thing. Sorry,” he apologized, watching Val visibly deflate.

            Cat put an arm around her friend, eyeing Hunter appraisingly. “There’s a bar in the kitchen,” she informed him in her usual, straightforward manner. “Timmy, one of the guys that lives here, makes a hell of a whiskey sour. We’re going to be in the den with the rowing team.”

            Correctly interpreting that series of statements as a set of directives, Hunter nodded. “You want me to bring you one, too?”

            Cat grinned slyly. “None for me; I’m driving. But Val will take a double.”

            Hunter smiled in response, then headed off to find the bar. The hallways and rooms were lined with students. Hunter recognized a few girls from his stats class, and waved.

            In the kitchen, Timmy, presumably, stood behind the bar, flipping bottles like a pro. “What’ll it be, man?” the boy asked, affably.

            “A double whiskey sour for my friend, and…” Hunter trailed off. He’d never really drank before.

            “Might I recommend my patented Farmhouse Iced Tea?” Timmy suggested, beaming. “Perfect for newcomers!”

            Hunter nodded agreeably. “Sure. Sounds good. You got a tip jar or something?”

            Timmy shook his head, already pouring what was almost certainly more than a double shot of whiskey into a glass. “Nah, bro. We’re well-funded out here, and we like to pass that onto our fellow revelers!”

            Hunter bobbed his head appreciatively as Timmy handed over the first glass. “Thanks, man.”

            “No worries!” Timmy replied, pouring ingredients into another glass faster than Hunter could categorize. “We aim to please at Casa Litchfield!”

            Hunter gratefully took the second glass from Timmy. “Can you tell me where the den is?”

            Timmy gestured back out to the hallway. “Take a left down the hall, and it’s the last room on your right, with the little steps down into it. Have a great time, my man!”

            Hunter nodded his thanks and took the glasses out into the hall to find Val and Cat. The girls were snuggled in a recliner in the den, Val curled against Cat, who was perched on the arm of the chair. Hunter benevolently handed over the whiskey sour, which Val took a gulp of straightaway.

            Hunter leaned against the back of the chair, behind Cat, and took a sip of his own drink. He had no idea what a “Farmhouse Iced Tea” was supposed to be, but it didn’t taste too bad. Pretty quenching, actually.

            He relaxed even more, sipping and listening to the group conversation. He didn’t feel a particular need to join in just yet; Hunter had always been OK with being an observer rather than a conversational participant.

            The minutes flowed smoothly into one another; the students in the room were friendly and non-combative. Twice within the first hour, Cat gestured to Hunter to get a refill for Val’s drink. Under Timmy’s recommendation, Hunter didn’t bring her any more doubles, but came back with a drink for himself each time, too, and the second time, a soda for Cat.

            With his third drink in hand, Hunter had no problem slipping into easy conversation with Cat. Her statement-based communication style softened in the den environment, and Hunter enjoyed listening to her stories. She would periodically turn to check on Val, who was chatting animatedly with a small group of girls around the fireplace, seemingly over the disappointment of Cayden’s absence.

            As the night wore on, someone produced a guitar, because someone always has a guitar at college parties. At that point, around midnight, Hunter was five drinks in, and it only took a teasing request from Cat – and her subsequent look of surprised delight – to convince Hunter to pick up the instrument.

            Hunter’s farm-bred knowledge of Jake Owen, Luke Bryan, and Blake Shelton, along with some classic Garth Brooks, was a welcome break from the usual college renditions of Wonderwall and Hotel California. He held court around the fireplace for over a half hour, strumming and letting his gleeful audience sing along. One overeager girl brought him another drink, earning an icy glare from Cat.

            By the time he finally gave up the guitar to a hesitant-looking blonde, Hunter was practically exhilarated. People were complimenting him, Cat was biting her lip with satisfaction, and he was feeling more content than he could remember feeling in a long time.

            The feeling of contentment didn’t abate as he stood from the hearth, but his head spun a bit. He glanced down at his watch; it was almost 12:30. He briefly considered texting Cayden to ask for a bit more time, but decided against it. Handing his unfinished drink to Cat, Hunter made his way out into the hall to find a bathroom, only stumbling slightly.

            The noises of the party were muffled inside the bathroom, and Hunter took stock of just how drunk he was. Not that he had any real comparison, but he determined that he actually was drunk, not just buzzed or tipsy. It was a good kind of drunk, though. He was having a great time, and he still felt definitely in control of all his actions. He wasn’t blacked out, he was being belligerent, and he wasn’t sick.

            Yeah. This was the good kind of drunk.

            Hunter ambled back to the den, where Cat had his drink waiting. He grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders; she responded by slipping her arm easily around his waist.

            “I have to go soon,” he said into her ear. The room was loud, but not piercing, so he didn’t feel the need to yell. “Cayden’s coming to get me at 1.”

            Cat nodded, seemingly unperturbed at having their cuddle cut short. “What’s his deal, anyway?” she asked. “Val’s not the most outgoing girl, but she’s nice, and she doesn’t deserve to be blown off.”

            Hunter was careful in his response. “Cayden’s a good guy,” he replied. “He just gets nervous that he’ll do something wrong.”

            Cat sighed and leaned into Hunter’s shoulder. She knew that couldn’t be the full story, but it was late, and it was break, and she didn’t feel like fighting for more.

            They stayed like that for the remainder of Hunter’s time at the party, settled against each other in the comfortable embrace of the unselfconscious – Cat naturally, and Hunter via alcohol. The party showed no real signs of abatement; half of the attendees would end up sleeping at the farmhouse, anyway.

            A little before 1, Cat nudged Hunter to indicate the time. He nodded, thought for a second, then kissed her temple as a good-bye. Cat closed her eyes and smiled in response, squeezing her arm a little tighter around his waist before letting him go.

            Hunter strolled back into the hallway, a lazy smile on his face. Through his fog of pleasure, he noticed a tug from his bladder, so he stopped by the bathroom again.

            Standing in front of the toilet, Hunter wondered for a second how he could have to pee again after only a half hour. He’d only finished his drink, which hadn’t been that much.

            The question was easily overshadowed by a general feeling of mystic wonderment. This was it, Hunter thought. This was college. Going to parties, snuggling with a pretty girl, drinking just enough to feel good…this was the real college experience.

            Stepping out the front door, Hunter noticed, but wasn’t bothered by the cold. His timing was perfect; Cayden pulled up just seconds later.

            “Have a good time?” he asked as Hunter collapsed into the front seat and closed the door.

            Hunter smiled, but didn’t rave. “It was nice,” he answered, mindful of Cayden’s feelings. Even drunk, Hunter wanted to make sure that Cayden didn’t feel bad. Really, Hunter had had such a wonderful time, he was convinced that everything was right in the world, and Cayden would get better, and then they’d go to parties together, and it would be great!

            “So how drunk are you?” Cayden asked, interrupting Hunter’s pleasant daydream.

            Hunter turned, but Cayden’s smile was congenial, not accusatory. “Pretty drunk, I guess,” he drawled. “I’ve never really drank before, so I don’t really have a comparison.”

            “Neither have I,” Cayden admitted, though Hunter could have suspected as much. “You don’t sound that bad, though. Just don’t get sick in my car,” he teased, grinning to let Hunter know that he was joking.

            Leaning against the headrest, Hunter smirked. “No way, man. This car is worth more than my life!”

            Hunter shut his eyes and relaxed, but Cayden cringed. He’d figured by now that Hunter didn’t come from money, but he never wanted the boy to feel uncomfortable. Cayden never really thought he was flaunting his own (well, his parents’) wealth, but, much like Hunter’s drinking, he didn’t have much of a barometer for comparison.

            For the next few minutes, the boys rode in silence, Hunter in easy bliss, and Cayden in mild unease. But then Cayden stopped rather suddenly at a red light, and the seat belt dug into Hunter’s waist.

            His eyes flew open as he sat up, choking down a gasp.

            “Sorry, man,” Cayden apologized from the driver’s seat. “I thought all the lights would be flashing by now.”

            “It’s fine,” Hunter responded, flat-out lying to Cayden for the first time. “Just wasn’t paying attention.”

            The second part was true; Hunter hadn’t been paying attention. The first part wasn’t; he wasn’t fine.

            What was going on? He’d just peed literally less than 10 minutes ago; there’s no way he should have to go again so soon!

            But he did have to go. Quite badly, actually. Slowly, Hunter pressed his legs together, trying to calm down and gain a sense of restraint. Suddenly, his pleasant, drunken haze was an unnerving lack of control.

            Hunter started to sweat. He figured they were about 15 minutes away from campus, and 15 minutes should be nothing, but he was drunk, and he’d never been drunk before, and now, he didn’t trust his body.

            The minutes crept by, and Hunter was actively clenching his thighs. There was virtually no traffic on the road, but the trip was still taking far too long for Hunter’s liking.

            Cayden made a somewhat sharp turn (was there any other kind in a BMW?), and Hunter hissed as the change in pressure heightened his desperation.

            “Hunter?” Cayden queried, a bit concerned. “You gonna be sick, man?”

            Hunter wriggled, ashamed. “No…” he murmured.

            “You sure?” Cayden pushed. He really didn’t mind stopping, but he did not want to clean puke out of his car.

            Hunter felt terrible. “I…I have to pee,” he whispered.

            “O-kaaaaaaaay,” Cayden drew out the word, trying to process what he’d just heard. It made sense, of course; if Hunter had drunk enough to be intoxicated, then obviously, that booze would reach his bladder eventually. It was just that drunk, unsure Hunter was so different than the rational, problem-solving Hunter Cayden had some to know.

            Hunter saw the befuddled look on Cayden’s face and hung his head. Being drunk wasn’t fun anymore. This wasn’t the good kind of drunk, this was the obnoxious, stupid, burden-to-your-roommate kind of drunk.

            “We’re almost there,” Cayden was saying. “Just ten more minutes.” He couldn’t bring himself to ask if Hunter could make it.

            Nodding, Hunter drew in a big breath and twisted his legs together tightly. He was sure he didn’t actually have to go that bad – it was just the intoxicated haze interfering with his perception of control.

            Cayden didn’t know what else to do, so he just kept driving. He sped up a tiny bit, but not enough to get pulled over. Luckily, the streets were clear, so he didn’t have to worry about inclement conditions.

            Beside him, Hunter gazed out the window, his head reeling. He thought about leaning his head against the glass, but then decided against it; he didn’t want to smudge up Cayden’s car. Of course, a forehead print on the window would be nothing compared to…

            Hunter shuddered at the thought. He heard Cayden’s voice in his head…juvenile…no excuse…unacceptable…

            Clenching his teeth together, Hunter finally shoved a hand between his legs. Cayden’s eyes flicked over, and Hunter’s face flamed in response, but anything was better than losing control all over his seat.

            Finally, finally, the student parking lot came into view. Hunter almost whined with relief; he wasn’t going to pee in Cayden’s car.

            Cayden parked, and Hunter opened the door as gently as possible in his aggrieved state.

            “We’re almost-“ Cayden was repeating, but Hunter wasn’t listening.

            Standing was the last straw. Hunter had a death grip on his cock, but he still felt a burning, miserable leak when he pushed himself out of the car. There was no way he was going to make it back to the dorm, even if he would have been OK with the idea of stumbling across campus with his hands in his crotch.

            Before Cayden could say another word, Hunter limp-jogged straight into the woods at the edge of the parking lot. Not nearly as far in as he would have preferred, he staggered behind a tree and fumbled with his zipper. He had no semblance of control anymore, and he was peeing well before he got himself free.

            Aimed at the tree at last, Hunter let out a tremulous groan. All the joy of the party was forgotten; he felt stupid, weak, annoying. He was just another one of those stupid, neophyte college students who couldn’t hold their liquor.

            Hunter stood for a few more seconds after he was finished, trying to push out every last bit of urine from his useless, inebriated body. He grimaced as he tucked himself back into his pants, feeling the wetness on the fabric. Hunched over, defeated, Hunter shuffled back toward the parking lot.

            Cayden was still standing stiffly by his car, looking a bit bewildered, which made Hunter feel even worse.

            “You didn’t have to wait for me,” he muttered.

            Cayden tilted his head slightly. “I’m not about to let my drunk roommate go wandering around campus by himself.”

            Hunter felt his stomach twist at Cayden’s words. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have drank so much.”

            Cayden gazed at the skinny boy as they started back toward the dorm. He didn’t quite understand how Hunter had gone from sunny to miserable so quickly. Was it really all because he’d had to pee? Awkwardly, Cayden glanced down at Hunter’s pants. They were black, so he couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t look like he’d had an accident, so what was wrong?

            The walk back to the dorm seemed to take forever to Hunter. He stumbled once, but righted himself and brushed off Cayden’s hand.

            “I’m fine,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s…” Cayden trailed off. Yes, it was fine, but…what was fine? What was Hunter even apologizing for? Not that Cayden had much experience personally, but he’d seen people way drunker than this. Heck, one of his roommates back at his previous university had gotten trashed the first night of orientation and vomited all over the common room.

            When they reached the dorm, Hunter groped for his ID, but Cayden was already swiping them in. Similarly, he had his key out to get them into their room.

            Cayden flicked on the lights, and Hunter winced. He looked positively ashen.

            “Are you sure you’re OK, man?” Cayden asked seriously. “Do you want to sleep on the bottom bunk tonight? Or the futon?”

            Hunter frowned wretchedly, but tried to stand up a bit straighter. “I’m fine, I promise,” he swore. He met Cayden’s eyes for emphasis. “I’m not going to be sick.”

            He looked tormented, but Cayden wasn’t sure what else he could do.

            “OK,” Cayden finally said, shrugging. “I’m just gonna go to bed, then.”

            Simultaneously grateful and remorseful, Hunter pulled his pajamas off the top bunk and took them to the bathroom to change. He definitely wanted to pee again before he got into bed.

            By the time he got back to the room, Cayden was already under the covers. Hunter balled up his damp pants, mentally promising to do a load of laundry the next day. He flipped off the light and climbed to into the top bunk.

            Ashamed, humiliated, Hunter curled into his pillow. He couldn’t believe what he’d done, what he’d let happen, especially knowing how much Cayden hated it.

            He never should have gone to the party. He was a terrible roommate. He was a terrible friend.

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Ooh, sounds like the tables may soon turn on Mr. Fix-it. :D Your writing is as beautiful and inspiring as in the previous sections. Who says you don't have the time to write? I'd say make it!

Although on that note, I do have a negative critique in this segment. After awhile I noticed your dialogue tags, and how they tend to be "said book-isms." They took me out of the immersion because I saw like five in a row that seemed like varying degrees of reaching to avoid saying "said." Despite the advice of school teachers, using "said" is not the worst thing in the world. You can generally consider it an invisible tag that's a good fallback for when you don't need something like "announced." Or other times you don't need anything if it's clear who's speaking.

Just some thoughts. Because if you find yourself using "hissed," for someone talking, think really hard about it. :p

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Final chapter! Final chapters are for sure one of my weak points, and this one might be hokier than most, but it's the end of the semester, and I promised a commission for someone, so I had to get it done. Thank you all for reading!

***

            Cayden woke around 10 the next morning. He didn’t have any classes on Friday, but was in no particular rush to drive home for the week-long Thanksgiving break. Plus, a small part of him acknowledged that he should probably stick around to make sure Hunter wasn’t too hungover or anything.

            If he’d been prone to social consideration, Cayden would’ve still been a bit perturbed at Hunter’s behavior the night before. It was highly unlike the teen to be so deliberately withdrawn. However, despite his considerable personal development over the course of the semester, Cayden still hadn’t reached the point of a particularly high emotional intelligence yet. He hadn’t really thought much more about Hunter, and if he had, he would’ve simply written everything off as drunkenness. Drunk people act weird, right?

            Cayden had been sitting quietly on his computer for about a half hour when he heard Hunter start to stir. He didn’t think much of it – he was going to wait until Hunter got up, then ask if he was feeling OK – but the noises coming from the top bunk sounded a bit…off.

            Instead of making usual, growly wake-up noises, Hunter was breathing erratically, panting almost. Cayden stood halfway, wondering if Hunter was going to be sick. 

            But then he heard a whimper.

            Hunter wasn’t going to throw up – Hunter sounded scared.

            Now on his feet, Cayden paused. Hunter probably just had a nightmare, but – despite his own bouts of tears – dealing with a crying roommate was well beyond Cayden’s current level of comfort with social interaction. Still, he knew that he owed Hunter for the boy’s constant support, so Cayden inched toward the beds.

            “Hunter?” he called softly.

            Hunter didn’t answer; he was shaking, sitting sideways on the bed, his back to Cayden’s desk. He was breathing so hard, he almost seemed to be rocking back and forth.

            “Hunter?” Cayden repeated. He was starting to get genuinely worried; Hunter looked like he was possessed or something.

            Cautiously, Cayden crept to the other side of the bed, then stopped short.

            Hunter’s pants were drenched, and moisture glistened on the industrial dorm mattress. The tangled sheets around his legs also bore giant patches of dark wetness.

            Cayden was frozen. It’s not that Hunter wetting the bed was entirely ridiculous – he had been drunk, after all – but once again, his reaction seemed totally disproportionate and out of character.

            “Hey…” Cayden tried again to get his roommate’s attention. It was like Hunter was in some sort of a daze. “Hunter!” he snapped, finally.

            Hunter jerked backwards, as if he’d been abruptly woken. He glanced briefly at Cayden before averting his eyes downward.

            “I-“ he stammered. “I’ll clean up.”

            “Okaaaaaay…” Cayden’s voice was simultaneously placating and confused. He always cleaned up after himself; he never figured that Hunter wouldn’t do the same. And Hunter had always been so cool about Cayden’s accidents...so why was he so bothered now?

            Cayden stumbled backward a bit as Hunter moved to get out of bed. He retreated to his desk as the taller boy awkwardly climbed down, wincing as the soaked pajama pants clung to his legs.

            Hunter cringed as he peeled off his wet pants behind the wardrobe, then cringed again when he opened his laundry bag and was reminded of his loss of control the previous night. Ashamed, he grabbed his shower caddy, wrapped a towel around his waist, and trudged out the door.

            In the shower, Cayden’s voice echoed in Hunter’s head: juvenile…infantile, even…no excuse…

            And then, the voice became his father’s, mired in disappointment: Again?...Still?...Why can’t you just wake up?

            Hunter’s hand was squeezing his washcloth to the point of tearing. His head pounded, and his chest constricted with the weight of his shame. Drinking had been a terrible idea. How could he have been so stupid?

            Hunter could’ve stayed under the hot water all day, but 19 years of don’t-waste-water mentality prevented him from staying longer than a few minutes. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel clean again, anyway.

            Room 135 was empty by the time Hunter got back. He wasn’t surprised; Cayden had planned on leaving anyway, and he certainly wasn’t going to stick around to hang out with a roommate who was so weak. Hunter tried to convince himself that he was relieved, but really, he was more than a little sad. He knew Cayden would be disappointed, disgusted, but part of him had secretly hoped that the boy would stick around, let him know that it was OK.

            But they weren’t really friends.

            Hunter couldn’t quite stop shaking internally as he stripped the soiled blankets from the top bunk. Thankfully, the dorm laundry room was empty; nearly everyone was gone for Thanksgiving already, and those that stayed weren’t starting their break by doing chores. The humiliation of washing several items of urine-stained laundry was bad enough, but at least he didn’t have to try to hide it from anyone.

            He didn’t bother returning to the room while the washer and then dryer were running. He just sat on the counter, knees pulled into his chest, letting himself feel terrible.

            He told himself that he was being reasonable in his self-judgments. It’s not like I’m completely worthless. I’m a hard worker, and I get good grades. I help out with my brothers and sisters. I’ll just be unlikely to develop close, long-term relationships or earn the full respect of anyone who knows…

            The two hours (blankets take a long time to dry) passed in a blur. The laundry room remained empty, and Hunter was able to stew in his own embarrassment. He was so lost in thought that his jumped when the dryer timer buzzed.

            He gathered the warm cloth and slung the laundry bag over his shoulder. He tried to take deep breaths, reasoning that there was no sense in moping all day. This was his life; it was his responsibility to deal with it.

            Back in the room, he dropped his bag behind the wardrobe and was going to sit at his desk when he heard a “Hey.”

            Hunter stumbled sideways, bumping into the dresser. He definitely hadn’t noticed Cayden sitting at his desk.

            “Hey,” Hunter replied softly, barely meeting Cayden’s eyes. He slid into his own desk chair. “I thought you were going home.”

            Cayden shrugged, the awkwardness of the situation already thickening around him. “It’s not a far drive. I don’t have to go right away.”

            “Oh.” Hunter had nothing else to say, though he correctly picked up on the fact that Cayden still wanted to talk.

            Cayden cleared his throat. “Look, man, I just…wanted to make sure you were OK.”

            Hunter’s stomach caved in, but he didn’t answer.

            Craning his neck to the side, Cayden pressed on. “Because, you know, you just…you seemed kinda freaked out. Like you were…sick or something…”

            “I’m fine,” Hunter mumbled, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. Then, dipping his head, he added “I’m sorry.”

            Cayden nearly threw his hands in the air. He hated not understanding things, and he was just baffled that Hunter was apologizing. “Why, dude?” he asked, letting his exasperation creep into his voice. “Seriously, what are you sorry for?”

            Hunter slumped further, misinterpreting Cayden’s question as a demand for a more detailed apology. “For getting drunk…for almost making a mess in your car, for you having to help me on the way back to the dorm…” He shuddered slightly. “…for wetting the bed.” He finished, barely above a whisper.

            Cayden drew his eyebrows together, still not close to understanding Hunter’s embarrassment. “But you’re always so cool with me when I…” he trailed off.

            Usually, finding out you have something in common with someone is an enjoyable thing, a bonding moment. However, there is no easy, comfortable way to discuss mutual bouts of incontinence between 19-year-olds.

            Hunter shrugged, his voice taking on a flat, affectless tone. “But you hate it. You said that it’s infantile and there’s no excuse, so…”

            “But…” Cayden had the decency to flush slightly, hearing how Hunter was using his words. “…but you were drunk! It’s different! It’s not like you-“ He cut himself off when Hunter raised his eyes, staring at Cayden with a gaze both dull and meaningful.

            Later, Hunter wouldn’t be able to recall exactly why he started talking at that point. Cayden hadn’t asked or guessed, but something about the lingering effects of alcohol and residual humiliation created a sort of ego vacuum, one devoid of any sense of self-preservation or dignity.

            “Yeah I have,” he said simply.

            Cayden just blinked. Nope, not an enjoyable bonding moment.

            “It was more when I was little,” Hunter continued quietly, monotonously. “But I never really stopped. If I had a long day or had a really hard job, I’d be so tired, I just…wouldn’t wake up. And my dad…”

            Cayden flinched involuntarily, anticipating a terrible end to that sentence.

            “…he just didn’t know what to do with it,” Hunter went on. “Like, he tried to be comforting when I was little, but as I got older…he just didn’t get why I kept doing it. He wouldn’t yell or anything, but he’d just look at me…like I could be a good son, and he could be proud of me, if I could just stop peeing the bed.”

            Cayden felt his heart beat in his chest. His own dad wasn’t what you’d call a pleasant man, but he never made Cayden feel like the wettings were his fault, or something he was doing wrong. On the contrary, he’d rage at and about anyone else he deemed wasn’t being helpful enough to his son.

            “So I get it,” Hunter murmured, though the tiny bit of pain leeching back into his voice suggested that his professed understanding was cognitive, not emotional. “It’s weird, and people aren’t OK with it, and that’s fine.” He inhaled shakily. “Like I said at the beginning of the year, I don’t expect us to be friends, and I promise I’ll clean up after myself if it happens again.”

            “Hunter…” Cayden finally spoke, picking at his fingernails nervously. “I don’t…I’m not mad or anything.”

            Hunter shrugged, trying to convey a lack of care whether or not his roommate was mad.

            “No, really!” Cayden insisted. “I…I just really wanted to make sure you were OK. You said you’d never been drunk before, and neither have I, so I didn’t know if you were sick or if you’d need my help or something.”

            “I don’t need your help,” Hunter whispered, looking down.

            “No, it’s…” Cayden was so not used to having this type of emotional conversation and definitely not used to being the comforter. How did Hunter do it all those times? Cayden took a deep breath and tried to emulate his roommate.

            “Look, man, you’ve been awesome this semester. No, I mean it,” he added, when Hunter couldn’t help but look up, scornfully. “I’ve pissed myself in front of other roommates, remember? And they weren’t helpful. They certainly weren’t nice about it. You never laughed at me or made fun of me, not once, and you actually helped me figure out how to not make such a fool of myself. You’re logical, you can solve problems, and you helped me solve mine.”

            Still embarrassed – and really thirsty; he really should drink something – Hunter couldn’t help but feel a tiny swell of pride at Cayden’s honest speech. Old Cayden never would have had the guts to put all those words together and talk so frankly about his issues.

            “I would never think you’re a baby or be grossed out by you wetting the bed or anything else,” Cayden promised earnestly. “I was saying those things about myself.”

            Ever the big brother, Hunter had to point out the obvious inconsistency in Cayden’s logic. “If you’re not gonna be upset with me about it, then you probably should go a little easier on yourself, don’t you think?”

            “I-“ Cayden’s mouth flopped open, then snapped shut. He looked at Hunter, who was gazing back at him, his eyes slowly taking on the gentle, encouraging look that he often adopted when trying to get Cayden to understand something.

            Cayden stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head bashfully. “Touché,” he conceded, then beamed as Hunter’s mouth finally twitched in the smallest of smiles.

            “You…” Hunter pressed his lips together, then started again. “You’re really not mad that I wet the bed?”

            “Dude, no, I promise,” Cayden swore. He may not have understood the depth of Hunter’s need for affirmation right then, but he did know the taller boy had no reason to feel bad. “I know I’m not the best with words, but I’m pretty sure I feel the same way you do about my…accidents.” Yep, still awkward to talk about. “I just don’t want you to be upset about it. It’s no big deal. We can handle it.”

            Hunter had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. We? He was feeling clear-headed enough now not to beg for clarification of Cayden’s meaning, but he was oddly touched by the monosyllabic indication of teamwork.

            “Thanks, man,” Hunter locked eyes with Cayden. “I really appreciate it.”

            Cayden smiled, looking, Hunter noted, rather pleased with himself. “No problem.”

            He eyed Hunter for a moment, checking to make sure that everything was really OK. Deciding that his job was done, and there was nothing more to be said, Cayden rose to his feet and slipped on his coat. “I’m gonna get on the road, then. See you after break?”

            Hunter nodded. “Definitely. You get back on Sunday?”   

            “Yeah,” Cayden concurred. It did cross his mind that inviting Hunter to come home with him for the break was something that a good roommate might do, but he hadn’t asked his parents, and he really wasn’t sure he and Hunter were at that point yet, anyway. So he just half-waved and walked out the door.

            Hunter sighed deeply after Cayden left, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t think they’d exactly had an epitome as roommates, but he was genuinely comforted to know that Cayden really wasn’t disgusted by him. No one outside of his family really knew about his occasional bedwetting (and he was pretty sure some of his youngest siblings still didn’t know), so the only reactions he’d ever experienced were his dad’s silent disappointment and his mom’s loving pity. Having Cayden’s positive reassurance meant more than even Hunter fully appreciated at the moment.

***

            The boys remained roommates throughout college. Hunter’s scholarship only covered shared accommodation, it turned out, and Cayden liked the comfort of having a trusted person around to help out in an emergency.

            Cayden’s wettings decreased dramatically, though he never let Hunter completely get rid of the safety bucket, and he was always a bit more at risk around finals. One particularly bad week at the end of junior year saw Hunter sneaking clean pants into the biology building, where Cayden had gotten too wrapped up in an intricate research project, only to find that the smaller boy had already had an accident hours before and then wet again in the old pair of safety coveralls he’d put on.

            Val’s interest in Cayden waned over that first spring, as Cayden never quite got over the fear of having an accident in front of her, and Cat and Hunter never had any other classes together, so had no reason to continue their flirtation from the night of the Litchfield party. The roommates had discussed girls on occasion, and Hunter briefly dated a fellow Agricultural Science major senior year, but neither of them had serious relationships. There would be time for that later in life.

            Hunter wet the bed a handful of times, though he never got drunk again. He never fully got over the shameful feeling, but Cayden never laughed. He hadn’t even gotten mad when Hunter had collapsed on the futon after a grueling day of fieldwork and fallen into a deep sleep, soaking the cushion. Of course, it was Hunter who ultimately came up with the plan to air out and dry it, but Cayden really hadn’t been bothered.

            It was an odd relationship between the young men. Neither was overly verbose, and they didn’t exactly go out and do things together, but they were fiercely loyal to one another and wouldn’t hesitate to come if the other called.

            Come graduation, Hunter was ready to move back home and continue farming, with a plan to consolidate some of the smaller plots around the county that older landowners couldn’t keep up with. Cayden was going to grad school; he planned to live alone, but try to keep up with an improve on his stress management techniques.

            They had each other’s phone numbers, obviously, but they knew they probably wouldn’t see each other very often at all. But they smiled after the end of the graduation ceremony and all the pictures, and wrapped into a tight, sincere hug.

            Because they weren’t just roommates.

            They were friends.

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On 11/24/2016 at 3:58 AM, AliasnameTO said:

Ooh, sounds like the tables may soon turn on Mr. Fix-it. :D Your writing is as beautiful and inspiring as in the previous sections. Who says you don't have the time to write? I'd say make it!

Although on that note, I do have a negative critique in this segment. After awhile I noticed your dialogue tags, and how they tend to be "said book-isms." They took me out of the immersion because I saw like five in a row that seemed like varying degrees of reaching to avoid saying "said." Despite the advice of school teachers, using "said" is not the worst thing in the world. You can generally consider it an invisible tag that's a good fallback for when you don't need something like "announced." Or other times you don't need anything if it's clear who's speaking.

Just some thoughts. Because if you find yourself using "hissed," for someone talking, think really hard about it. :p

Totally my personal preference, though of course it's also what tends to be taught in school. I feel like I repeat words often enough (it happens when you write about such a specific subject, I think), I just refuse to use "said" when something else will do. And plenty of my characters hiss. It's an angry whisper :) 

On 11/24/2016 at 3:19 PM, Sylveon54 said:

Oh this was really good poor boy for feeling ashamed.

Thank you! Yeah, Hunter's got some experiences.

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Guest tholepin

@Sapphire3619, I've read the entire (apparent) first draft and it certainly is a very good story. You've received many good, in-depth crits over the course of posting, and I wonder what revisions you've made to the manuscript. I wouldn't mind beta reading your re-write, and I'm sure other writers on Omo would as well. Get an editor - best 300. bucks you'll ever spend.

I suspect that many good writers have posted excellent tales here and on other sites, i.e. Literotica and others, then simply walked away as their work slides into the oblivion of page 107. Crafting a book to the Amazon platform is easy. Using a pseudonym is easy.  Take the plunge and go for it. 

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On 12/1/2016 at 10:24 AM, RebelRebel said:

Ahh my heart! That was a very beautiful final chapter (: 

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Since this one was more of an amalgamation of a bunch of scenario ideas, I didn't really have an ending in mind, so I'm glad it worked out :)

On 12/1/2016 at 3:04 PM, Espeon54 said:

That was brilliant for a last chapter at least they started to get along more.

Thank you so much!

On 12/2/2016 at 7:24 PM, bazinga said:

Such a sweet way to end the series! Thank you for sharing your writing with us, I always look forward to your stories x

You're so kind! I'm so incredibly grateful for all your comments, and I really am pleased that you enjoy my stories!

On 12/3/2016 at 6:55 PM, AliasnameTO said:

I think you meant "epiphany" instead of "epitome" in there, but really sweet way to end it. Shame you chose not to go into detail about later incidents, but I agree with the decision to gloss over them for the sake of the narrative.

*applauds* :D

Part of me feels compelled to claim that I'm really not as unintelligent as my typos would make me seem, but I've made so many mistakes far more basic and egregious than epiphany/epitome, so I have no real evidence for that claim :/ Thank you so much for reading and commenting; I really appreciate you taking the time!

12 hours ago, tholepin said:

@Sapphire3619, I've read the entire (apparent) first draft and it certainly is a very good story. You've received many good, in-depth crits over the course of posting, and I wonder what revisions you've made to the manuscript. I wouldn't mind beta reading your re-write, and I'm sure other writers on Omo would as well. Get an editor - best 300. bucks you'll ever spend.

I suspect that many good writers have posted excellent tales here and on other sites, i.e. Literotica and others, then simply walked away as their work slides into the oblivion of page 107. Crafting a book to the Amazon platform is easy. Using a pseudonym is easy.  Take the plunge and go for it. 

It's so kind of you to offer to beta-read. I'm quite flattered, but it would be such an exaggeration for me to label this as a manuscript. I just think of scenarios, then (quickly, sloppily) write out stories to get said scenarios out of my head. Members on this site have been exceptionally kind, and I'm grateful for it, but I'm far too lazy and self-centered to both trying for a wider audience :) 

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