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Andre still remembered that day.
The phone call
Cal's mother was weeping, as if she were the one who found Cal's dead lifeless body, his brain matter splattered across his bed and walls.
No, of course it was his little brother who found him. Now that little shits gonna be as fucked up and insane as his older brother.
Andre always knew Cal was dangerous to other people, even Cal himself. It was basically a fact for Andre. He just didn't know it'd be that quick.
Andre and his family were invited to go to Cal's funeral, but they declined because they had some appointments that day, much the the brunettes hatred. He wanted to say goodbye to Cal, but why did everything have to go south? Did this cruel god do this on purpose?
He didn't know. Nobody knows.
`He was such an innocent boy`, Andre fantasized what Cal's parents probably said about their adorable sunshine boy. He was far from innocent, as he usually smoked when they hung out, and mostly was the reason they got in trouble, Cal had weird and yet funny ideas of some things, Andre didn't even know if the blonde would even be joking at times.
As the brunette boy sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Cal. He was his only friend, it wasn't fair, why didn't he make any other friends? He always thought him and Cal would always be on the same page.
Andre contemplated shooting himself right then and there. He was not ready to face relentless bullying and torment from the jocks, not all by himself. He felt so empty. Knowing nobody would make him feel as seen as Cal did.
Andre had seen Rachel around school. He expected her to hate him eternally. She blamed him for almost everything, of course she would blame him for this-- but she didn't.
It was surreal. Was this a real universe? Was Andre really living this right now?
The brunette began to clean out his closet. For the third time this week. It was how he coped with this sudden and abrupt loss. Until he saw a shirt he did not recognize.
'What the hell?' He thought. From all the times he cleaned his room, he never saw this particular clothing before.
Then it hit him
'Cals shirt!' Andre exclaimed, in his head. Cleaning was supposed to distract him from his grief, but now it just came flooding in like a tsunami.
He couldn't think before he started to silently sob, his tears warming up stripes of his cheeks. Leaving a moist stain as they went as well. Seriously, what did he do to make god hate him?
He hugged the shirt and cried into it, acting as if the shirt was Cal himself. He blew his snot into it and cradled it.
He really looked like a woman who just gotten her first stillborn trying to convince herself the baby was not dead.
It felt like hours had passed, when really it had been 3 minutes of him sobbing into cotton. All until he no longer had much tears for his departed friend. He could try crying later tonight.
He knew this was not just some sad, sad, dream. This was real life, it happened, a lot of things could happen, actually.
He just didn't know it could happen to him.
It had been a few months already. Everyone though Andre had taken the suicide well, but he really hadn't. He would go to his room to sniff and cry into the shirt. Venting to it like a depressed sissy
It was nighttime, the moon shined brightly, and the stars were just visible enough to be seen by anybody. It would have been a beautiful, peaceful night. But it wasnt for Andre.
He cried into the shirt again. At this point the shirt was more than worn out. It had odd dried patches and stains on them. Andre's whole being was now drawn to this shirt. As if it had an odd power of some sort. Luring him in.
It had dried blood on it too, from when Andre cut himself and used the shirt to clean himself off. It was an odd stain, it didnt do much to alter the appearance of the black shirt.
Should he do this? The brunette wondered as he grabbed the cloth and begin to rub it's worn out fabric. He had came to the realization he had always loved Cal in the gay way and so why not act on it huh?
Hesitantly, he pulled his boxers off. He could feel his length getting harder and harder the more he thought of it. God, he was so sick for this..
He took Cals shift and sheathed it over his erection. His mind began to reel. It felt so good... As he started pumping his hand up and down, he shut his eyes, visualizing his dead friend, on him. He couldnt help but shed a few tears.
This was wrong. Unhealthy and wrong. But he missed Cal too much to care. He began to sob as he masturbated into Cal's filthy shirt. Andre sniffles as he whispered apologies, moans, pleads to nobody, and unintelligible blabbering.
"This is disgusting..." He whispered to himself, pumping faster. His tears blurring his sight. He felt some precum emerge from his tip. Making him stroke himself quicker. But this worsened how he felt. Is he really getting off on this?
Andre's free hand gripped the sheets as he felt himself nearing the end of this unholy special interaction. He was now full on crying. Crying for how we wish Cal were still alive. He goes faster with his strokes. The rough fabric of the blondes shirt burnt Andre's dick a bit, but he didnt care. He actually liked it.
Andre came into Cal's shirt. His face was stained with tears. Full of shame and regret. Post nut despair had always been a thing for Andre, but this was far worse than watching two lesbos going at it. He just came into his dead best friends fucking shirt.
Andre let go of his shaft. Any physival sensation on his crotch now made him feel miserable and irritated.
That night, Andre burnt the shirt. He knew he couldnt hold onto it forever. It was not healthy.
Besides he was planning to join Cal after school tommorow anyway.