Thom was furiously refreshing a webpage. Mouse clicks could be heard to the other room where Jonny was practising on his guitar.
"Stop doing that, will you? It's getting on my nerves!" he shouted, furrowing his brow, when he couldn’t stand it anymore.
"I … can … must NOT let this happen." Thom mumbled. It was loud enough for Jonny to hear him.
"Thom, what's going on?" Jonny entered the room and saw him sitting in front of the computer, or rather jumping off his chair, trying desperately to hide the image showing on the screen. "Okay, what's that?"
"What? Ummm … er … nothing!" he chirped. He moved his hand behind his back in attempt to press the return key on the keyboard. Unfortunately, the screen went black.
"Look what you're doing!" Jonny yelled and walked over to panicking Thom.
That shouldn’t have happened. He mustn’t see what I’m doing.
Jonny successfully managed to push Thom away from the computer. He wanted to check what had caused the computer screen go black. Thom could be so clumsy at times. To his surprise, there was nothing wrong with the screen, it was merely turned off.
Please, Jonny, don’t do it.
Jonny turned the screen on and blinked at it. He saw a picture of Carl and numbers from 1 to 10 above it. He had actually wondered if Thom liked him and now he finally had a confirmation of his suspicion. He then glanced to the right side of the screen and there he saw his own photo under which it said “Your rating: 1”.
“Thom, I need an explanation! Why the hell are you voting on this website and why the hell have you rated me as the worst?” he clamoured.
Thom stood silent. Nothing happened for a minute.
Or two.
Or three.
“Thom!!”
“Well sorry, Mr. Sexiest Male, I might not find you just as sexy as all those fangirls do!” he shouted back. “Plus, it’s not fair. I should win this award. I am the sexiest Radiohead member and we all know how embarrassed you’re going to be if you win. You better leave the award to me.”
“You could’ve told me at the beginning you wanted me under you.”
“Follow me right away, I want to claim my rightful award.”
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Denial
Sunlight is different in each season. If summer would switch to winter on a bright sunny day, you’d notice the difference in colour. Even the beginning of summer is different than the end. In June the sunrays are greenish, fresh, jumpy and eager to warm things up. In September they’re reddish and mellow, casting a glow on everything they can reach. Even the shadows are softer. This is the end of summer and I swear I can see the red. Right over there, near the hedge, where light turns to shadow. I’d tell you but you’d smile and nod, although I know you wouldn’t see. We’re sitting in your backyard, on the old blanket with the hole in it where I let the cigarette drop. That was six years ago. I’m good with placing things in time; I can always guess what time it is, too. Don’t like that, though. I wish I could live without time.
That day when I let the cigarette drop, that was a special day. A day I wish I could forget, some days, when I’m down and lonely. A day I’ll keep remembering, because of those few seconds. The day you tentatively put your hand on my leg and leaned in. The Day Our Lips Touched.
“Do you see a difference in the sunlight of summer and winter?”
You’re walking towards me, carrying a beer crate with some bottles of white wine on top, plus a plastic bag with what seem to be candles. You look thoughtful for a moment.
“Um. Yeeah. It’s brighter in the summer. The shadows are sharper. Why?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
You sit down in front of me, smiling. We pull out our acoustics from the cases and as you put yours under your arm, you sigh.
“It’s been way too long,” you say melancholily.
“It has, hasn’t it,” I agree.
As I open a bottle of beer, you grab the cork screw and with a skilled movement uncork the first bottle.
“This is a stash for like, three days,” I chuckle.
“At your rate?” you reply without missing a beat.
“Hey! I can control myself when I want to,” I say, feeling silly for defending myself.
“No need for that right now.”
Gah, don’t say that. But you’re raising your arm quickly and we clink bottles.
“To Radiohead,” I boast.
“To music,” you add. “And to us,” quietly. We look each other in the eye, like a proper toast, and your glance is playful while mine is searching.
“So what have you got?”
You’re first. Damnit.
“Uh. Not much. I mean, a lot, but I can’t make anything out of it.”
I lean over to grab my bag and pull out the crumpled pages, folded two times. There’s five of 'em, all full of words and scribbles. There’s almost no white left. Horror vacui. Fear of empty space.
I study them for a while, slowly shaking my head.
“Can I see?” Your hand has snatched them away already. You’re almost as eager as me, it seems. I’m a little nervous, but giddy because we’re finally doing something again. Music-wise, of course. Why am I nervous? I ask myself. Before I can think of an answer, your voice fills the late summer air.
“D’you have a pen?”
Sure, I nod, rummage through my stuff for a bit and fish out an old pen. It has bitemarks at the tip from chewing. Another one of my bad habits.
I watch you read, a frown of concentration on your face. You start circling things and I get more nervous so I take my guitar in my lap and start plucking a melody I don’t know yet. As soon as I’ve found a rhythm your foot is moving along. Now I notice you’re barefoot. I like your feet. I usually don’t like feet, but yours are long and slender. They don’t have weird angles or gross calluses, they’re not hairy (like mine, a bit) and your toenails are a healthy pink. I want to take my shoes off as well, but I’m too jealous of your feet and too ashamed of mine. After a minute I decide I’m being ridiculous, this is you, and I take them off anyway.
“I can offer free nose clips,” I say, somewhat unsure.
You look up and snort. I take a gulp from my beer and you do the same. Your bottle is almost halfway already. You keep scribbling and I scratch my neck. I hate waiting.
After a few more minutes I’m at my third beer and start complaining.
“Come on, Jon. Let’s start already. We’ll do lyrics later.”
“I’m done, I’m done.” You lift your head, make the last penstroke and give them back.
“So I have this riff...” but I’m not listening, just reading. You didn’t mark much.
dead from the neck up
nothing with the same glow ever again
it’s what you feel now
offer unconditionally
I love you but enough is enough
fingers in the blackbird pie
tingling tingling tingling
I can’t read on. My mind is turning every sentence into something it’s not. Or is it? I look at you but you’re busy playing. I look back at the words and try reading them objectively. There’s not much going on, but still. It’s the blackbird pie that does it. We were discussing it six years ago, on this very piece of cloth. The grossness of it. If you turn the blanket around you’ll find a purple stain of the blackberries that triggered the conversation.
You remember, then.
I look up and focus on your playing. The most beautiful riff is hanging in the air, waiting for my ears to pick it up. When they do, I’m speechless. I don’t look at the guitar, don’t look at your fingers. I don’t look at anything but your face. Your eyes are closed, lips slightly pouted. I realise I really missed this. If I were really honest I could say I missed you, but I’m not ready for that yet.
When you’re finished, I awake from my reverie. I hadn’t even realised I was gone. Other noises are seeping in again. Laughter from behind the brick wall on the far left. Your wife and kids, over at the neighbours. An uneasy feeling enters my stomach. But the smell of outside, of backyard, of freshly cut grass and flowers and warm air soothes it again.
I realise you’re looking at me, expectant.
“It’s... eh... I love it. It’s brilliant. I really love it.”
You duck your head and smile, and I involuntarily do the same.
“It needs some fleshing out, and-“
“It needs nothing,” I interrupt. “It needs lyrics.”
I take a fresh bottle out of the crate and open it. If I keep up at this rate I’ll be drunk in no time. I take a swig and my head starts spinning from the fast movement. I don’t care, though. I’d rather be drunk than painfully sober. I look at your bottle and see that it’s almost empty. What reason would you have for drinking so fast?
Part 2
The air is turning purple and chilly, and my bones shiver under my skin. We’ve been working on this song for two hours now, and we’re absolutely positive that it’s going to be brilliant. Admittedly, everything’s brilliant when you’re lit. Our spot is surrounded by empty bottles, my half of the circle with beer bottles, yours with two wine bottles. Over the years your body has become quite adjusted to alcohol, I must say. White wine, at least. I remember the time when you would drink two glasses when Coz wasn’t watching, and start swaying immediately. And giggling. Oh, the giggling. Six years ago you were giggling as well. Hand hiding a beautiful mouth with imperfect teeth. I had hoped that the urge to cover those lips with mine, to run my tongue over every imperfection of those teeth, the urge to make you feel as beautiful as you are, would fade away over the years. Well, nights like these sure don’t help the cause.
I shiver again. You notice and offer to move us to the back of the garden, to the fireplace spot. I blink for a moment, then remember.
“Fab idea, Jonjon,” I slur, and try to keep my balance whilst getting up. The guitar proves more than helpful. Together we throw everything that’s still useful in the blanket and drag it along the lawn to the back. When we arrive at the dark spot in the grass, you disappear into the shed. In an instant I’m alone with my thoughts. The mill in my head I can’t shut off. And I realize that this second, this very second, I am happy. Just being near you gives me enough endorphin to stay on a high for a week. Creating music together is the absolute summum. It’s the reason I survive our year long breaks in between tours and new studio time.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that all I need is right here and yet it won’t ever be completely mine. Maybe I’m just too greedy. It must be that. I’ve had way too much luck in my life for one person, so I have to compensate by having what I want the most just out of reach. I’ll probably have to learn and live with that. Actually, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for six years now. Longer. Nine, if I’m honest.
You come stumbling out of the shed, the door slamming against a flowerpot, and you cringe but your arms are full of firewood. You throw the pile onto the burnt spot and kneel down to set fire to the smallest branch. Meanwhile I just sit on our blanket, hugging my knees and drawing your silhouette with my eyes. My eyes, which only barely have adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly the silence between us is deafening. I start to think of something to say, but nothing comes up. This is ridiculous, I tell my brain, he’s my best friend, of course I can come up with something to say. But before I’ve found a subject, the fire breaks the silence with its crackling, growing both in size and loudness. You come and sit next to me on the blanket and throw the part we’re not sitting on over our shoulders. I’m painfully aware of the cotton being the only link between our bodies.
“Good job, boy scout,” I say, taking a swig from a fresh bottle of beer.
You rub at your nose as a form of a ‘meh, it’s not that hard, but thanks anyway’.
“I bet you could survive in a forest like it’s a four star hotel.”
“Five, if it has a lake,” you reply. “You can’t compare yourself to me, you don’t eat meat. You’d have to build a… soy plant or something.”
“You lost me at ‘build’. I’m too lazy to live in a forest.”
“What if you were forced to?”
This is an old game of ours. What if. We used to do this for hours. We used to go on and on, create an adventure where we’d be Roman galley slaves and overpower our captors by singing the Song That Never Ends in canon and driving them completely barmy. Or that one time when we created an entire parallel universe, where we were fleeing from alien invasions and you accidentally found out how to travel faster than light and we ended up in the Middle Ages.
“What if I were forced to… I’d make use of the universal rule of exile which allows me to take one object of choice with me.”
“And what object would that be? A fridge full of quorn burgers?”
“You, of course,” I say smugly, but as soon as they’re out of my mouth, the words gain weight I hadn’t meant to give them.
“Me?”
“Who else is going to make me a fire at night?”
Your laugh reverberates in the bottle at your lips. You take a swig.
“It’s easy, I can show you in a minute-“
“Once I’ve chosen you, you can’t go back. You have to come with me. And make me a fire every night.”
“Oh yeah? And what do I get in return?”
My belly tightens. At this moment the conversation can still go both ways- the light one, where we keep asking each other silly questions, or the other one, where we tease each other with double meanings and flirtatious remarks and end up basically stabbing each other in the heart. The heat of the fire burns in my face, but turning my head towards you would kill the casual mood of the conversation.
“I’ll play you a lullaby on the flute I made out of a branch.”
“Don’t bother, I have my own.”
Alright, you your way.
“I doubt the sounds it’d produce would be prettier than my piece of craftsmanship.”
“That would depend entirely on your own skills,” you reply without missing a beat.
I can’t help but snort.
“Payment in natura is so fifteenth century,” I say dismissively, waving my bottle, which starts foaming at the top. My reactions are so delayed that the bottle only reaches my mouth when the liquid has long started spilling on the grass. I see your head turning out of the corner of my eye, and an instant later your black, piercing gaze is burning a hole in my skin when I lap at the spilt beer.
“Since you spent your object wish on me and not money, trade in natura would be the only kind of trade,” you explain businesslike, but the timbre of your voice now different. “But I can’t imagine you objecting to that, now would you?” you add.
I close my eyes and make a decision that surprises even myself in this state.
“Jonny, stop.”
The request is simple, and you know what I mean by it. Your head turns to the fire again, but I don’t look to check the expression on your face. I know that by saying this I killed the mood, but I had to.
“I still think of you.”
Okay, that came out of nowhere. I open my mouth, then close it again. I have no idea what to say to this, except a repetition of my last answer.
“I still lie awake sometimes, thinking about what would’ve changed if I hadn’t been such a coward that day.”
“Jonny, please-“
“I need you to know this, Thom. If we’re going back to working together frequently, I need you to know that I haven’t changed a bit. I have to be honest with you about this, or I’ll go mad.”
“And you think by telling me this that everything’ll be better? That you can clear your conscience by confessing? Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t want to hear that?” I turn my head towards you now, but you keep staring into the fire, your irises orange and flashing.
“Thom, it’s been over a year and a half since we’ve been alone together. It’s obvious that time didn’t help us the least bit. I can’t- I’m just so tired.”
You bury your head into your hands and rub at your face. I can’t stand seeing you like this.
“Jon-“
“No, Thom, listen,” you sit up and look at me, “it’s been six fucking years since – I just… I love you, Thom. This isn’t some hobby of mine, it’s not a phase or anything, it’s there and it’s real. It can’t be anything other than real, ‘cause it makes me physically ache. It’s come to the point where I feel like Sharona is the affair, you know. I feel like such a cheater all the time. And I’m not even doing anything. Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life? I’d like you to tell me now, then.”
You try to keep your voice stern, but your eyebrows are already furrowing and I have to look away or I’ll start bawling. I take a deep breath and place my chin on my knees.
“I don’t know, Jon. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I made one promise to myself in my life. I would never ever leave the kids. That’s one promise that’s both keeping my life together, giving it a purpose, and making it fall apart, and I don’t know what to do. I really don’t. I can’t leave ‘em, Jon, I’m sorry, I can’t-“
A sob from you makes me bite my lower lip. I won’t cry, I won’t.
You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath.
“I just want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
I look at you again. God, I can’t take this. Your cheeks are wet and your eyes swollen. You look me straight in the eye, with a certain determination.
“Say how you feel about me. Please. Say it out loud.”
I swallow. I don’t think I’ve done that since That Day. Saying it would be admitting. Carving it in a tree. Spray-painting it across the house where my children are growing up. Where my wife is waiting for me. It would be admitting that for about a decade, my life has been a lie, a complete joke. I let out a deep sigh, look away and rest my weight on my wrists behind me. You’re still watching me. I don’t know what to do; I feel trapped.
Suddenly I’m flat on my back in the grass, your weight pinning me down by the hips. Your face is inches away from mine, and from the distant flickering of the fire I detect a furious expression.
“Fucking SAY IT, you coward!” you spit.
I close my eyes, but you grab my jaw and shake them back open.
“Say it,” you hiss.
And I give in. I don’t say anything, but only because I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you as if my life depended on it. You whimper and I respond by kissing you harder, pulling your head down by the neck and scraping your lips with my teeth. Your knees give in; your weight covers the entire length of my body, and I whimper just as helplessly as you just did. I roll you over so I’m on top and completely devour your mouth with mine. I would’ve eaten you if I could. By the time I come up for oxygen I’m crying so badly I can’t keep my shoulders still. I don’t look at you but get up and walk to the shed, closing the door behind me. As soon as it’s closed I start crying out loud. I don’t hold back anymore and let out long wails, alternated by hiccups and shaky intakes of breath, folding almost double with my arms pressing into my stomach. I don’t know anything at this moment other than that it hurts. Everything hurts.
It feels like I’ve been crying for two hours when you come in and wrap your arms around me from behind. I’m still crying so loudly, my chest pushing at your grip and my own arms wrapping around yours. You lay your cheek against mine and I hear that you’re crying too, softly. I realize how wrong this situation is, how unfair everything is when two people are in so much pain. This can’t be how it’s supposed to be.
Later, when I’ve calmed down and my breathing has more or less returned to normal, we go back to sit by the fire. We’re both remarkably sober, and I have the feeling that it must be quite late.
"I do, by the way," I say lamely.
"What?"
I take a breath.
"I love you. I'm in love with you."
You wrap an arm around my waist under the blanket and press your body against mine, and I know that I didn't lie. For the first time in a long, long while I told the truth.
When you press a light kiss at my temple, I turn my head towards you and our lips find each other again, this time slowly and softly.
"What do we do, Jon?" I whisper, and tuck my head under your chin.
"I don't know," you murmur.
"I can't leave 'em, I can't just go," I say apologetically.
"I know," you murmur.
A long time passes in silence, before your voice reaches my ears again.
"We could... see each other. They wouldn't have to know. Not yet."
I duck my head and sigh. Not the most brilliant option, is it?
"It wouldn't have to be... maybe just from time to time. To keep us over. You know. Until we're both ready."
I don't say anything for a while, letting it sink in.
After some time, I slide my arm around your waist. You crawl even closer to me.
"Yeah. Maybe we could work something out."
THE END
That day when I let the cigarette drop, that was a special day. A day I wish I could forget, some days, when I’m down and lonely. A day I’ll keep remembering, because of those few seconds. The day you tentatively put your hand on my leg and leaned in. The Day Our Lips Touched.
“Do you see a difference in the sunlight of summer and winter?”
You’re walking towards me, carrying a beer crate with some bottles of white wine on top, plus a plastic bag with what seem to be candles. You look thoughtful for a moment.
“Um. Yeeah. It’s brighter in the summer. The shadows are sharper. Why?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
You sit down in front of me, smiling. We pull out our acoustics from the cases and as you put yours under your arm, you sigh.
“It’s been way too long,” you say melancholily.
“It has, hasn’t it,” I agree.
As I open a bottle of beer, you grab the cork screw and with a skilled movement uncork the first bottle.
“This is a stash for like, three days,” I chuckle.
“At your rate?” you reply without missing a beat.
“Hey! I can control myself when I want to,” I say, feeling silly for defending myself.
“No need for that right now.”
Gah, don’t say that. But you’re raising your arm quickly and we clink bottles.
“To Radiohead,” I boast.
“To music,” you add. “And to us,” quietly. We look each other in the eye, like a proper toast, and your glance is playful while mine is searching.
“So what have you got?”
You’re first. Damnit.
“Uh. Not much. I mean, a lot, but I can’t make anything out of it.”
I lean over to grab my bag and pull out the crumpled pages, folded two times. There’s five of 'em, all full of words and scribbles. There’s almost no white left. Horror vacui. Fear of empty space.
I study them for a while, slowly shaking my head.
“Can I see?” Your hand has snatched them away already. You’re almost as eager as me, it seems. I’m a little nervous, but giddy because we’re finally doing something again. Music-wise, of course. Why am I nervous? I ask myself. Before I can think of an answer, your voice fills the late summer air.
“D’you have a pen?”
Sure, I nod, rummage through my stuff for a bit and fish out an old pen. It has bitemarks at the tip from chewing. Another one of my bad habits.
I watch you read, a frown of concentration on your face. You start circling things and I get more nervous so I take my guitar in my lap and start plucking a melody I don’t know yet. As soon as I’ve found a rhythm your foot is moving along. Now I notice you’re barefoot. I like your feet. I usually don’t like feet, but yours are long and slender. They don’t have weird angles or gross calluses, they’re not hairy (like mine, a bit) and your toenails are a healthy pink. I want to take my shoes off as well, but I’m too jealous of your feet and too ashamed of mine. After a minute I decide I’m being ridiculous, this is you, and I take them off anyway.
“I can offer free nose clips,” I say, somewhat unsure.
You look up and snort. I take a gulp from my beer and you do the same. Your bottle is almost halfway already. You keep scribbling and I scratch my neck. I hate waiting.
After a few more minutes I’m at my third beer and start complaining.
“Come on, Jon. Let’s start already. We’ll do lyrics later.”
“I’m done, I’m done.” You lift your head, make the last penstroke and give them back.
“So I have this riff...” but I’m not listening, just reading. You didn’t mark much.
dead from the neck up
nothing with the same glow ever again
it’s what you feel now
offer unconditionally
I love you but enough is enough
fingers in the blackbird pie
tingling tingling tingling
I can’t read on. My mind is turning every sentence into something it’s not. Or is it? I look at you but you’re busy playing. I look back at the words and try reading them objectively. There’s not much going on, but still. It’s the blackbird pie that does it. We were discussing it six years ago, on this very piece of cloth. The grossness of it. If you turn the blanket around you’ll find a purple stain of the blackberries that triggered the conversation.
You remember, then.
I look up and focus on your playing. The most beautiful riff is hanging in the air, waiting for my ears to pick it up. When they do, I’m speechless. I don’t look at the guitar, don’t look at your fingers. I don’t look at anything but your face. Your eyes are closed, lips slightly pouted. I realise I really missed this. If I were really honest I could say I missed you, but I’m not ready for that yet.
When you’re finished, I awake from my reverie. I hadn’t even realised I was gone. Other noises are seeping in again. Laughter from behind the brick wall on the far left. Your wife and kids, over at the neighbours. An uneasy feeling enters my stomach. But the smell of outside, of backyard, of freshly cut grass and flowers and warm air soothes it again.
I realise you’re looking at me, expectant.
“It’s... eh... I love it. It’s brilliant. I really love it.”
You duck your head and smile, and I involuntarily do the same.
“It needs some fleshing out, and-“
“It needs nothing,” I interrupt. “It needs lyrics.”
I take a fresh bottle out of the crate and open it. If I keep up at this rate I’ll be drunk in no time. I take a swig and my head starts spinning from the fast movement. I don’t care, though. I’d rather be drunk than painfully sober. I look at your bottle and see that it’s almost empty. What reason would you have for drinking so fast?
Part 2
The air is turning purple and chilly, and my bones shiver under my skin. We’ve been working on this song for two hours now, and we’re absolutely positive that it’s going to be brilliant. Admittedly, everything’s brilliant when you’re lit. Our spot is surrounded by empty bottles, my half of the circle with beer bottles, yours with two wine bottles. Over the years your body has become quite adjusted to alcohol, I must say. White wine, at least. I remember the time when you would drink two glasses when Coz wasn’t watching, and start swaying immediately. And giggling. Oh, the giggling. Six years ago you were giggling as well. Hand hiding a beautiful mouth with imperfect teeth. I had hoped that the urge to cover those lips with mine, to run my tongue over every imperfection of those teeth, the urge to make you feel as beautiful as you are, would fade away over the years. Well, nights like these sure don’t help the cause.
I shiver again. You notice and offer to move us to the back of the garden, to the fireplace spot. I blink for a moment, then remember.
“Fab idea, Jonjon,” I slur, and try to keep my balance whilst getting up. The guitar proves more than helpful. Together we throw everything that’s still useful in the blanket and drag it along the lawn to the back. When we arrive at the dark spot in the grass, you disappear into the shed. In an instant I’m alone with my thoughts. The mill in my head I can’t shut off. And I realize that this second, this very second, I am happy. Just being near you gives me enough endorphin to stay on a high for a week. Creating music together is the absolute summum. It’s the reason I survive our year long breaks in between tours and new studio time.
It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that all I need is right here and yet it won’t ever be completely mine. Maybe I’m just too greedy. It must be that. I’ve had way too much luck in my life for one person, so I have to compensate by having what I want the most just out of reach. I’ll probably have to learn and live with that. Actually, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing for six years now. Longer. Nine, if I’m honest.
You come stumbling out of the shed, the door slamming against a flowerpot, and you cringe but your arms are full of firewood. You throw the pile onto the burnt spot and kneel down to set fire to the smallest branch. Meanwhile I just sit on our blanket, hugging my knees and drawing your silhouette with my eyes. My eyes, which only barely have adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly the silence between us is deafening. I start to think of something to say, but nothing comes up. This is ridiculous, I tell my brain, he’s my best friend, of course I can come up with something to say. But before I’ve found a subject, the fire breaks the silence with its crackling, growing both in size and loudness. You come and sit next to me on the blanket and throw the part we’re not sitting on over our shoulders. I’m painfully aware of the cotton being the only link between our bodies.
“Good job, boy scout,” I say, taking a swig from a fresh bottle of beer.
You rub at your nose as a form of a ‘meh, it’s not that hard, but thanks anyway’.
“I bet you could survive in a forest like it’s a four star hotel.”
“Five, if it has a lake,” you reply. “You can’t compare yourself to me, you don’t eat meat. You’d have to build a… soy plant or something.”
“You lost me at ‘build’. I’m too lazy to live in a forest.”
“What if you were forced to?”
This is an old game of ours. What if. We used to do this for hours. We used to go on and on, create an adventure where we’d be Roman galley slaves and overpower our captors by singing the Song That Never Ends in canon and driving them completely barmy. Or that one time when we created an entire parallel universe, where we were fleeing from alien invasions and you accidentally found out how to travel faster than light and we ended up in the Middle Ages.
“What if I were forced to… I’d make use of the universal rule of exile which allows me to take one object of choice with me.”
“And what object would that be? A fridge full of quorn burgers?”
“You, of course,” I say smugly, but as soon as they’re out of my mouth, the words gain weight I hadn’t meant to give them.
“Me?”
“Who else is going to make me a fire at night?”
Your laugh reverberates in the bottle at your lips. You take a swig.
“It’s easy, I can show you in a minute-“
“Once I’ve chosen you, you can’t go back. You have to come with me. And make me a fire every night.”
“Oh yeah? And what do I get in return?”
My belly tightens. At this moment the conversation can still go both ways- the light one, where we keep asking each other silly questions, or the other one, where we tease each other with double meanings and flirtatious remarks and end up basically stabbing each other in the heart. The heat of the fire burns in my face, but turning my head towards you would kill the casual mood of the conversation.
“I’ll play you a lullaby on the flute I made out of a branch.”
“Don’t bother, I have my own.”
Alright, you your way.
“I doubt the sounds it’d produce would be prettier than my piece of craftsmanship.”
“That would depend entirely on your own skills,” you reply without missing a beat.
I can’t help but snort.
“Payment in natura is so fifteenth century,” I say dismissively, waving my bottle, which starts foaming at the top. My reactions are so delayed that the bottle only reaches my mouth when the liquid has long started spilling on the grass. I see your head turning out of the corner of my eye, and an instant later your black, piercing gaze is burning a hole in my skin when I lap at the spilt beer.
“Since you spent your object wish on me and not money, trade in natura would be the only kind of trade,” you explain businesslike, but the timbre of your voice now different. “But I can’t imagine you objecting to that, now would you?” you add.
I close my eyes and make a decision that surprises even myself in this state.
“Jonny, stop.”
The request is simple, and you know what I mean by it. Your head turns to the fire again, but I don’t look to check the expression on your face. I know that by saying this I killed the mood, but I had to.
“I still think of you.”
Okay, that came out of nowhere. I open my mouth, then close it again. I have no idea what to say to this, except a repetition of my last answer.
“I still lie awake sometimes, thinking about what would’ve changed if I hadn’t been such a coward that day.”
“Jonny, please-“
“I need you to know this, Thom. If we’re going back to working together frequently, I need you to know that I haven’t changed a bit. I have to be honest with you about this, or I’ll go mad.”
“And you think by telling me this that everything’ll be better? That you can clear your conscience by confessing? Did you ever consider that maybe I didn’t want to hear that?” I turn my head towards you now, but you keep staring into the fire, your irises orange and flashing.
“Thom, it’s been over a year and a half since we’ve been alone together. It’s obvious that time didn’t help us the least bit. I can’t- I’m just so tired.”
You bury your head into your hands and rub at your face. I can’t stand seeing you like this.
“Jon-“
“No, Thom, listen,” you sit up and look at me, “it’s been six fucking years since – I just… I love you, Thom. This isn’t some hobby of mine, it’s not a phase or anything, it’s there and it’s real. It can’t be anything other than real, ‘cause it makes me physically ache. It’s come to the point where I feel like Sharona is the affair, you know. I feel like such a cheater all the time. And I’m not even doing anything. Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life? I’d like you to tell me now, then.”
You try to keep your voice stern, but your eyebrows are already furrowing and I have to look away or I’ll start bawling. I take a deep breath and place my chin on my knees.
“I don’t know, Jon. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I made one promise to myself in my life. I would never ever leave the kids. That’s one promise that’s both keeping my life together, giving it a purpose, and making it fall apart, and I don’t know what to do. I really don’t. I can’t leave ‘em, Jon, I’m sorry, I can’t-“
A sob from you makes me bite my lower lip. I won’t cry, I won’t.
You wipe at your eyes and take a shaky breath.
“I just want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
I look at you again. God, I can’t take this. Your cheeks are wet and your eyes swollen. You look me straight in the eye, with a certain determination.
“Say how you feel about me. Please. Say it out loud.”
I swallow. I don’t think I’ve done that since That Day. Saying it would be admitting. Carving it in a tree. Spray-painting it across the house where my children are growing up. Where my wife is waiting for me. It would be admitting that for about a decade, my life has been a lie, a complete joke. I let out a deep sigh, look away and rest my weight on my wrists behind me. You’re still watching me. I don’t know what to do; I feel trapped.
Suddenly I’m flat on my back in the grass, your weight pinning me down by the hips. Your face is inches away from mine, and from the distant flickering of the fire I detect a furious expression.
“Fucking SAY IT, you coward!” you spit.
I close my eyes, but you grab my jaw and shake them back open.
“Say it,” you hiss.
And I give in. I don’t say anything, but only because I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you as if my life depended on it. You whimper and I respond by kissing you harder, pulling your head down by the neck and scraping your lips with my teeth. Your knees give in; your weight covers the entire length of my body, and I whimper just as helplessly as you just did. I roll you over so I’m on top and completely devour your mouth with mine. I would’ve eaten you if I could. By the time I come up for oxygen I’m crying so badly I can’t keep my shoulders still. I don’t look at you but get up and walk to the shed, closing the door behind me. As soon as it’s closed I start crying out loud. I don’t hold back anymore and let out long wails, alternated by hiccups and shaky intakes of breath, folding almost double with my arms pressing into my stomach. I don’t know anything at this moment other than that it hurts. Everything hurts.
It feels like I’ve been crying for two hours when you come in and wrap your arms around me from behind. I’m still crying so loudly, my chest pushing at your grip and my own arms wrapping around yours. You lay your cheek against mine and I hear that you’re crying too, softly. I realize how wrong this situation is, how unfair everything is when two people are in so much pain. This can’t be how it’s supposed to be.
Later, when I’ve calmed down and my breathing has more or less returned to normal, we go back to sit by the fire. We’re both remarkably sober, and I have the feeling that it must be quite late.
"I do, by the way," I say lamely.
"What?"
I take a breath.
"I love you. I'm in love with you."
You wrap an arm around my waist under the blanket and press your body against mine, and I know that I didn't lie. For the first time in a long, long while I told the truth.
When you press a light kiss at my temple, I turn my head towards you and our lips find each other again, this time slowly and softly.
"What do we do, Jon?" I whisper, and tuck my head under your chin.
"I don't know," you murmur.
"I can't leave 'em, I can't just go," I say apologetically.
"I know," you murmur.
A long time passes in silence, before your voice reaches my ears again.
"We could... see each other. They wouldn't have to know. Not yet."
I duck my head and sigh. Not the most brilliant option, is it?
"It wouldn't have to be... maybe just from time to time. To keep us over. You know. Until we're both ready."
I don't say anything for a while, letting it sink in.
After some time, I slide my arm around your waist. You crawl even closer to me.
"Yeah. Maybe we could work something out."
THE END
Friday, November 28, 2008
The scent of you
Ed woke up after a wild night with Colin. He turned around; wanting to kiss him, but the other half of the bed was empty. Ed touched the wrinkled sheet and sighed. He rose, and laid his head on his hands.
He couldn’t understand him. Colin was sometimes so passionate it hurt, and at times like now, he couldn’t stay near to Ed after a night spent together.
Nothing happened for a long time but Ed could scent someone right behind the door.
It was him.
“I’m ready for more,” he said when he entered and fell into Ed’s arms.
“Colin, the scent of you turns me on,” he replied and pulled him into a tight hug.
He couldn’t understand him. Colin was sometimes so passionate it hurt, and at times like now, he couldn’t stay near to Ed after a night spent together.
Nothing happened for a long time but Ed could scent someone right behind the door.
It was him.
“I’m ready for more,” he said when he entered and fell into Ed’s arms.
“Colin, the scent of you turns me on,” he replied and pulled him into a tight hug.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
I know you didn't puke
They heard familiar footsteps. Phil's footsteps. Thom just barely had the time to haphazardly pull his trousers back up. Three seconds later, Phil was confronted with the sight of two very flustered-looking men, their faces a couple of shades redder than usual, their clothes looking all frumpled and disorderly, their demeanour jumpy and awkward.
"It's time to go on, boys", Phil said matter-of-factly.
"Okay, just give us a minute", Thom stammered, his twitchy gaze avoiding Phil's kind eyes.
"What's that on your shirt, Jonny? You're going to have to change that if you don't want to look like a slob on stage."
"I...I think I ate something bad. I had to vomit just now..."
Phil tutted.
"I know you didn't puke, Jonathan."
He smiled broadly at both men.
"I have a feeling that tonight's show will be a very good one, indeed."
"It's time to go on, boys", Phil said matter-of-factly.
"Okay, just give us a minute", Thom stammered, his twitchy gaze avoiding Phil's kind eyes.
"What's that on your shirt, Jonny? You're going to have to change that if you don't want to look like a slob on stage."
"I...I think I ate something bad. I had to vomit just now..."
Phil tutted.
"I know you didn't puke, Jonathan."
He smiled broadly at both men.
"I have a feeling that tonight's show will be a very good one, indeed."
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Why I Ran
God, you're so blunt sometimes. When we're hammering out a song together and I do something you didn't want me to do and you're disproportionately disappointed with me and you start chastising me in that patronising tone of yours. When you make me feel like you're doubting whether we're still compatible as musicians. This time it was too much for me. I snapped. Just this one time I was absolutely done taking shit from you. Your high demands are insufferable to me sometimes - I'm insecure enough as it is. I called you a bastard, a jerk, a pathetic little tyrant. My tirade came to an abrupt stop when I saw tears welling up in your eyes. And for a moment I felt like punching you in the face for taking this one moment of righteous anger and triumphant insubordination away from me.
But that's not why I ran, Thom. I ran because if I'd stayed in that room with you and saw those tears making their way down your cheeks, I would've smothered you in kisses just to forget that I made you cry.
But that's not why I ran, Thom. I ran because if I'd stayed in that room with you and saw those tears making their way down your cheeks, I would've smothered you in kisses just to forget that I made you cry.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
"You're wrong"
Ed picked Thom up by the shoulders and, with one impressively virile gesture of his thick strong arms, threw him down on the table. Violently thrusting their crotches together, they began devouring each other's lips, finally giving in to the primitive lust that had been consuming them all this time. Thom was surprised at how rough Ed’s stubble felt brushing up against his cheeks and chin. He hadn’t experienced that sensation before - when more androgynous men were his lovers of choice.
A door opened. And little seconds later, a dumbfounded Colin could be seen looming at the threshold.
“What the...Thom? Ed!? You two are a terribly unlikely pairing!!”, he exclaimed in utter shock.
Thom’s answer was as succinct as it was appropriate for the situation. “It would appear, my dear Colin, that you are wrong.”
A door opened. And little seconds later, a dumbfounded Colin could be seen looming at the threshold.
“What the...Thom? Ed!? You two are a terribly unlikely pairing!!”, he exclaimed in utter shock.
Thom’s answer was as succinct as it was appropriate for the situation. “It would appear, my dear Colin, that you are wrong.”
A Silly Story
Part 1
“Bugger!” swore Thom as his hip knocked into the landing table and he watched the vase teeter back and forth. He scrambled to catch it but came up with air several times before connecting with the cool ceramic and knocking it decisively to the floor. The vase split into three neat pieces. “Fuck!” he swore. He stared blankly at the broken vase before continuing down the hall to the bathroom. Thom had woken from a dead drunk sleep desperate for a pee, his jeans tangled around his ankles as if he had passed out in the middle of taking them off. Still drunk, he had kicked them off sloppily and careened into the hall still very much pissed, and knocked into the table. Now in the bathroom, he relieved himself and considered his options for the vase. “Only three pieces” he thought, “I can fix that. Stanley must have glue in his room.” Grabbing the nearest towel off the rack, he giggled to himself as he noticed it was Jonny’s towel with the tigers on it. Thom wrapped the tiger towel around his waist and retraced his path back to the broken vase. Bending down to retrieve the pieces, Thom fell onto his knees with a thud, harder than he anticipated. The floor was closer than he thought. Steadying himself, he picked up the pieces and staggered upright. Stanley’s room was just down the hall. “I can do this” thought Thom, “I'm Indiana Thom returning the ancient vase of Janeeesea Seymourasee to its rightful place of worship.” He giggled again to himself.
Reaching Stanley’s room he eased open the door with the stealth of a drunken man wrapped in a tiger towel holding an armful of pottery shards. “No Stanley, that's a bit of luck” Thom thought. He spotted Stanley’s supplies spread out across the shelves of the bookcase across the room and he made his way over. Spying the distinctive crazy glue label on the pot on the top shelf, Thom gently placed the vase pieces on the rug and stretched up on his toes to get the glue.
Unfortunately, without his sneakers with the two inch soles (that he told everyone he wore because they were made by a fair trade company) he was too short to reach the glue on the top shelf. “Bugger!” Thom swore again “What would Tarzan do?” he asked himself … “Aha he'd use a tool! Brilliant!” Thom thought, his eyes spotting a ruler on the bottom shelf. With the ruler in hand, he once again reached up to slide the glue pot closer to the edge. Not quite there. He stood on his tiptoes again, his improvised loincloth loosening and falling to the floor. The pot edged closer finally tipping over the side of the shelf. For the second time that evening, Thom scrambled to catch a falling object, again feeling the smooth surface brush his fingertips which knocked the pot against his bare chest. In an instant the glue had spilled down his front.
Instinctively, Thom grabbed his crotch and was met with a sticky mess not of his own doing. He pulled but not soon enough as he realized his hand was stuck.
He pulled again in horror and hopped in pain as the glue pulled on the loose skin of his cock.
“Fuck!” he whimpered. There was a rustling at the open door and dark fringe and dark eyes barely peered around the door. “Stanley you alright?” Jonny asked trepidatiously. “It’s me, Jonny.” Thom replied resignedly. “What are you doing in Stanley’s room, Thom?” Oh!”Jonny gasped as he took in the sight of Thom leaning naked against the bookshelf, one hand on his cock and covered in a white substance. “I heard …. I’ll see you tomorrow” Jonny squeaked and turned to leave.
“Jonny, wait! I’m stuck!” Thom whispered urgently.
“Stuck? Oh!” Jonny looked more closely, his eyes widening as he looked more carefully at Thom’s hand, "Oh!"
Part 2
"You're stuck" Jonny repeated again with disbelief, "but how? ... why? ...I mmmean were you ... you know! I mean I've never gotten. Stuck."
"Was I what, Jonny?" asked Thom in mild annoyance with Jonny's failure to appreciate immediately his predicament.
"Wnkng" Jonny said quickly.
"What?"
"Wanking" Jonny said, studying the state of Stanley's laundry pile intently.
"For fucks sake! Do I look like I've been wanking?"
"Sortof."
"It's glue! I was getting the glue and it spilled and now my hand is stuck!" Thom rolled his eyes at Jonny and noticing that the room rolled too.
"Oh" said Jonny focusing his gaze sway from Stanley's dirty socks and back to Thom, not meeting his eyes. Jonny took in the white mess that began on Thom's chest and continued downward onto the floor at his feet. Comprehension dawned as Jonny recognized stanleys glue jar.
"That's Stanley's super glue. That sticks forever!"
"I've noticed" said Thom, sinking to sit on the floor.
His eyes involuntarily closing as he fought off sleep. His hand slid to the right and he reawoke with a gasp "Ow! Fuck. get me unstuck, Jonny."
"I'll go get Colin and Stanley", Jonny said, "maybe they'll know what to do."
"No" Thom said urgently, "It's bad enough you seen me like this ... you know Colin will tell Ed and I'll never hear the end of it! Then Phil will hear and he'll make me pay for the bloody vase." Thom nodded towards the three, no four, pieces, fuck!, of the vase, "just help me stand up and get back to the bathroom."
"Ok but I really think..."
"Jonny, just help me!"
Jonny approached Thom and took hold of his elbow. Unfortunately it was the arm attached to his cock.
"Ow! Don't pull on me, Jonny! It hurts like a sonofabitch!"
"Sorry sorry" he murmured and stepped to Thom's other side to take his free arm and help Thom to his feet.
"Hey is that my towel? What's it doing here?" Jonny exclaimed scooping it up.
"I borrowed it."
"What were you going to do with it?" Jonny asked with misgiving.
"I was Indiana Thom." Thom giggled.
Reaching the bathroom, Jonny inquired "what are we going to do now?"
"No idea. Maybe we can soak it away with really hot water."
Thom stepped carefully into the tub. "Start the water for me, Jonjon."
As the water filled the tub, Jonny studied the problem carefully. "Maybe if you shaved it would help" he suggested.
Thom regarded his tangle of sticky gnger pubic hair clumped together and stuck to his hand.
"S'pose it couldn't hurt" he replied "is there a razor in the medicine cabinet?"
Jonny investigated and came up with the razor he had seen Ed using on several occasions.
"Here" he said handing it to Thom and turning off the water. The back of Thoms hand just broke the surface of the water, his knuckles little islands.
"Thanks I need some soap."
Jonny handed him the bar which immediately slipped out of Thom's fingers into the water. He scrambled after it ineffectively. Jonny reached in and trapped the bar with both hands against Thom's shin.
"Well you're going to have to soap me, Jonny. I can't hold onto it with one hand" Thom whined.
"I can't!"
"C'mon Jonny!!!" Thom whined.
"Fine." Jonny declared flatly. He sudsed the bar between his hands and plunged his hands in the water vaguely in the direction of Thom's crotch, "but I'm not looking."
"Whatever." Thom whined again.
Jonny's fingertips made contact with Thom's thigh and he followed the downward slope until he made with contact with a hairy mat.
"Jonny! Will you pay attention? That's my knee."
Jonny looked down to see he was massaging the clump of curly hair right above Thom's right knee. "Sorry." With determination and flushed cheeks he reached between Thom's legs and
gently rubbed his fingers over Thom's bush. Intent on the problem neither noticed that Thom's hand was now breaching the water at an odd angle.
"Ok, here goes" said Thom.
Part 3
Thom angled the razor toward his crotch and swiped along the left side of his pubes. He was nowhere close to reaching the hair stuck to his right hand. He swiped again, stretching his left arm as far right as he could. No luck.
“Jonny, I can't reach. I can't do it with my left hand. Can you do it?” Thom pleaded.
“Me? No!” Jonny responded in alarm.
“Please, Jonny.” Thom said, looking unaccustomedly humbled.
“Ok” Jonny sighed, “NEVER tell Colin ok?!”
“Like I want to tell anyone ever” Thom scoffed and handed him the razor, “I need more soap.”
Jonny sighed and ran the bar of soap over Thom’s crotch. He studied the situation and gently rolled Thom’s right hand as far away from Thom’s body as it would go. Reaching in, he carefully stroked the razor over Thom’s pelvis. In a rhythymic pattern, leaning forward over the tub, he shaved Thom with the same intensity he usually applied to his Telecaster. Thom began to relax. The shaving was a pleasant feeling and it felt good to be ministered to. Jonny lost in concentration continued to shave until Thom’s right side was smooth and bare.
Soon loose reddish hairs began to float to the surface. Thom’s hand, while still stuck to his cock, was no longer stuck to his torso. Jonny ran his hand over the now smooth surface appreciating his handiwork. “How's that?” he asked.
“Better” Thom responded sleepily, “but I'm still stuck and my wrist hurts.”
“Huh?” Jonny looked into the tub and flushed cherry red. Thom’s hand was now perpendicular to the bottom of the tub.
“Bugger!” swore Thom as his hip knocked into the landing table and he watched the vase teeter back and forth. He scrambled to catch it but came up with air several times before connecting with the cool ceramic and knocking it decisively to the floor. The vase split into three neat pieces. “Fuck!” he swore. He stared blankly at the broken vase before continuing down the hall to the bathroom. Thom had woken from a dead drunk sleep desperate for a pee, his jeans tangled around his ankles as if he had passed out in the middle of taking them off. Still drunk, he had kicked them off sloppily and careened into the hall still very much pissed, and knocked into the table. Now in the bathroom, he relieved himself and considered his options for the vase. “Only three pieces” he thought, “I can fix that. Stanley must have glue in his room.” Grabbing the nearest towel off the rack, he giggled to himself as he noticed it was Jonny’s towel with the tigers on it. Thom wrapped the tiger towel around his waist and retraced his path back to the broken vase. Bending down to retrieve the pieces, Thom fell onto his knees with a thud, harder than he anticipated. The floor was closer than he thought. Steadying himself, he picked up the pieces and staggered upright. Stanley’s room was just down the hall. “I can do this” thought Thom, “I'm Indiana Thom returning the ancient vase of Janeeesea Seymourasee to its rightful place of worship.” He giggled again to himself.
Reaching Stanley’s room he eased open the door with the stealth of a drunken man wrapped in a tiger towel holding an armful of pottery shards. “No Stanley, that's a bit of luck” Thom thought. He spotted Stanley’s supplies spread out across the shelves of the bookcase across the room and he made his way over. Spying the distinctive crazy glue label on the pot on the top shelf, Thom gently placed the vase pieces on the rug and stretched up on his toes to get the glue.
Unfortunately, without his sneakers with the two inch soles (that he told everyone he wore because they were made by a fair trade company) he was too short to reach the glue on the top shelf. “Bugger!” Thom swore again “What would Tarzan do?” he asked himself … “Aha he'd use a tool! Brilliant!” Thom thought, his eyes spotting a ruler on the bottom shelf. With the ruler in hand, he once again reached up to slide the glue pot closer to the edge. Not quite there. He stood on his tiptoes again, his improvised loincloth loosening and falling to the floor. The pot edged closer finally tipping over the side of the shelf. For the second time that evening, Thom scrambled to catch a falling object, again feeling the smooth surface brush his fingertips which knocked the pot against his bare chest. In an instant the glue had spilled down his front.
Instinctively, Thom grabbed his crotch and was met with a sticky mess not of his own doing. He pulled but not soon enough as he realized his hand was stuck.
He pulled again in horror and hopped in pain as the glue pulled on the loose skin of his cock.
“Fuck!” he whimpered. There was a rustling at the open door and dark fringe and dark eyes barely peered around the door. “Stanley you alright?” Jonny asked trepidatiously. “It’s me, Jonny.” Thom replied resignedly. “What are you doing in Stanley’s room, Thom?” Oh!”Jonny gasped as he took in the sight of Thom leaning naked against the bookshelf, one hand on his cock and covered in a white substance. “I heard …. I’ll see you tomorrow” Jonny squeaked and turned to leave.
“Jonny, wait! I’m stuck!” Thom whispered urgently.
“Stuck? Oh!” Jonny looked more closely, his eyes widening as he looked more carefully at Thom’s hand, "Oh!"
Part 2
"You're stuck" Jonny repeated again with disbelief, "but how? ... why? ...I mmmean were you ... you know! I mean I've never gotten. Stuck."
"Was I what, Jonny?" asked Thom in mild annoyance with Jonny's failure to appreciate immediately his predicament.
"Wnkng" Jonny said quickly.
"What?"
"Wanking" Jonny said, studying the state of Stanley's laundry pile intently.
"For fucks sake! Do I look like I've been wanking?"
"Sortof."
"It's glue! I was getting the glue and it spilled and now my hand is stuck!" Thom rolled his eyes at Jonny and noticing that the room rolled too.
"Oh" said Jonny focusing his gaze sway from Stanley's dirty socks and back to Thom, not meeting his eyes. Jonny took in the white mess that began on Thom's chest and continued downward onto the floor at his feet. Comprehension dawned as Jonny recognized stanleys glue jar.
"That's Stanley's super glue. That sticks forever!"
"I've noticed" said Thom, sinking to sit on the floor.
His eyes involuntarily closing as he fought off sleep. His hand slid to the right and he reawoke with a gasp "Ow! Fuck. get me unstuck, Jonny."
"I'll go get Colin and Stanley", Jonny said, "maybe they'll know what to do."
"No" Thom said urgently, "It's bad enough you seen me like this ... you know Colin will tell Ed and I'll never hear the end of it! Then Phil will hear and he'll make me pay for the bloody vase." Thom nodded towards the three, no four, pieces, fuck!, of the vase, "just help me stand up and get back to the bathroom."
"Ok but I really think..."
"Jonny, just help me!"
Jonny approached Thom and took hold of his elbow. Unfortunately it was the arm attached to his cock.
"Ow! Don't pull on me, Jonny! It hurts like a sonofabitch!"
"Sorry sorry" he murmured and stepped to Thom's other side to take his free arm and help Thom to his feet.
"Hey is that my towel? What's it doing here?" Jonny exclaimed scooping it up.
"I borrowed it."
"What were you going to do with it?" Jonny asked with misgiving.
"I was Indiana Thom." Thom giggled.
Reaching the bathroom, Jonny inquired "what are we going to do now?"
"No idea. Maybe we can soak it away with really hot water."
Thom stepped carefully into the tub. "Start the water for me, Jonjon."
As the water filled the tub, Jonny studied the problem carefully. "Maybe if you shaved it would help" he suggested.
Thom regarded his tangle of sticky gnger pubic hair clumped together and stuck to his hand.
"S'pose it couldn't hurt" he replied "is there a razor in the medicine cabinet?"
Jonny investigated and came up with the razor he had seen Ed using on several occasions.
"Here" he said handing it to Thom and turning off the water. The back of Thoms hand just broke the surface of the water, his knuckles little islands.
"Thanks I need some soap."
Jonny handed him the bar which immediately slipped out of Thom's fingers into the water. He scrambled after it ineffectively. Jonny reached in and trapped the bar with both hands against Thom's shin.
"Well you're going to have to soap me, Jonny. I can't hold onto it with one hand" Thom whined.
"I can't!"
"C'mon Jonny!!!" Thom whined.
"Fine." Jonny declared flatly. He sudsed the bar between his hands and plunged his hands in the water vaguely in the direction of Thom's crotch, "but I'm not looking."
"Whatever." Thom whined again.
Jonny's fingertips made contact with Thom's thigh and he followed the downward slope until he made with contact with a hairy mat.
"Jonny! Will you pay attention? That's my knee."
Jonny looked down to see he was massaging the clump of curly hair right above Thom's right knee. "Sorry." With determination and flushed cheeks he reached between Thom's legs and
gently rubbed his fingers over Thom's bush. Intent on the problem neither noticed that Thom's hand was now breaching the water at an odd angle.
"Ok, here goes" said Thom.
Part 3
Thom angled the razor toward his crotch and swiped along the left side of his pubes. He was nowhere close to reaching the hair stuck to his right hand. He swiped again, stretching his left arm as far right as he could. No luck.
“Jonny, I can't reach. I can't do it with my left hand. Can you do it?” Thom pleaded.
“Me? No!” Jonny responded in alarm.
“Please, Jonny.” Thom said, looking unaccustomedly humbled.
“Ok” Jonny sighed, “NEVER tell Colin ok?!”
“Like I want to tell anyone ever” Thom scoffed and handed him the razor, “I need more soap.”
Jonny sighed and ran the bar of soap over Thom’s crotch. He studied the situation and gently rolled Thom’s right hand as far away from Thom’s body as it would go. Reaching in, he carefully stroked the razor over Thom’s pelvis. In a rhythymic pattern, leaning forward over the tub, he shaved Thom with the same intensity he usually applied to his Telecaster. Thom began to relax. The shaving was a pleasant feeling and it felt good to be ministered to. Jonny lost in concentration continued to shave until Thom’s right side was smooth and bare.
Soon loose reddish hairs began to float to the surface. Thom’s hand, while still stuck to his cock, was no longer stuck to his torso. Jonny ran his hand over the now smooth surface appreciating his handiwork. “How's that?” he asked.
“Better” Thom responded sleepily, “but I'm still stuck and my wrist hurts.”
“Huh?” Jonny looked into the tub and flushed cherry red. Thom’s hand was now perpendicular to the bottom of the tub.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Mole
Chapter 1
Part 1
Part 1
Ed was the first one to step out of the car. His face screwed up as he stretched his back, and he let out a tired sigh. A few limbs and bones snapped into place. When he started walking towards the house, a broad smile appeared. He whistled between his teeth.
“Alriiight. Good choice, Coz!” he yelled over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the building. In the backseat, Thom was clutching the last straws of his patience.
“Come on you two, get out, get out! I can’t fucking breathe anymore. Phil, wake the fuck up. Jon-nyy, stop teasing me and get your arse out of this fucking tin. I-”
“Need to take a piss, we know, Thom. You’ve been informing us every five miles for the last hour - stop shoving me!”
When Thom finally managed to climb out of the vehicle, he fell dramatically to the ground, audibly gulping air.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Thom, quit being such a drama queen,” Ed laughed at him from the porch.
“Easy for you to say; giants always get the passenger seat,” Thom retorted, reproachful.
“And midgets the middle seat,” Colin added matter-of-factly as he walked towards the door with the key ready in his hand.
“Shut up, Yorke, I had your guitar case pressed into my leg for three hours,” said Jonny, limping a bit. Phil, still sleepy-eyed and with a red spot on his head from leaning against the window pane, had already started unloading the boot of Colin’s station wagon. Soon backpacks and boxes of food and, more importantly, alcohol, were sprawled out over the drive.
The weather was nice in Haulmé, one of the most northern villages in France, and quite possibly the tiniest. Nice meaning that it wasn’t raining nor freezing, although the wind was blowing quite chilly at this altitude, even for November.
It had been Ed’s idea, actually, to spend a few days abroad to rekindle the band spirits. Since, however, Ed wasn’t the most practical of the bunch, Colin had accepted the task of looking for a place to stay. And booking it. And letting the others know where, when and how. And driving there.
“What the hell, Thom, did you really have to bring your entire wardrobe?” Jonny muttered as he threw Thom’s backpack over his shoulder along with his own. Thom, just back from the toilet and now struggling with two beer crates, rolled his eyes.
“Just take them inside, boy, and you might get a penny,” he replied in a low, commanding voice. He ignored the ‘tsk’ and dragged the tower of crates inside, leaving a trail behind in the crushed red bricks of the driveway.
Once inside, the five of them took their time to examine the place. Enthusiastic exclaims were heard throughout the entire house. Colin’s word of choice, ‘chalet’ was quickly replaced by ‘villa’, not in the least because it was more pronounceable. Despite six bedrooms, two bathrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, a fireplace and a sauna, the house lacked any form of communication with the outside world. No internet, no phone, no mobile range in the area, not even public transport within a mile.
“Not even a phone, Colin?” Thom asked, ready to go upstairs and claim a bedroom. “Is this your first attempt to sabotage the trip?”
Colin laughed.
“If you say so, Thom,” he responded mysteriously.
That had been Jonny’s idea. The whole sabotaging thing. He had heard of an American TV series (“Actually, I think the concept was Belgian”) called The Mole, where the contestants have to fulfil tasks together to earn as much money as possible. However, one of them is the mole and secretly tries to prevent the rest of the team from winning. At first, not everyone was down with it, claiming it would have the opposite effect on the group.
“That’s not how you rekindle a bond, Jonny, that’s how you break it apart,” Ed had snorted.
“Oh, come on,” Jonny had pleaded, “it’s just a bit of fun. I’m so tired of playing Assassin.”
And, agreeing that it’d be just for fun, they had decided to join in, dropping the money prize, obviously, and on a windy October night two weeks earlier they had drawn names. Instead of confessions in front of a camera, Phil had had the idea of making a box in which everyone would have to put a piece of paper with the name of the person they would accuse of being the mole, and what their clues were. The Confession Box, an old cookie jar with the lid firmly taped to the glass and a small opening in the cork, was reverently put next to the fireplace in the lounge.
The rest of the morning was spent in rather good spirits, some putting away the groceries they had brought along, others, like Jonny, taking a nap, despite Thom blasting M.I.A. through the house. Jonny wasn’t quite the morning person, so no one seemed to mind him not helping. After all, they had left Oxfordshire at four AM, piling into Colin’s car, and taken the ferry across the North Sea, car included.
By the time Jonny arrived downstairs again, his hair standing up at the back of his head and the tip of a sleeve rubbing against his eye, there was an impressive fire warming the living room, and the others were each occupying a couch, softer and louder voices blending into each other.
“Jonny!” Ed looked up, relieved. “Tell me, doesn’t it sound like a great idea to go climbing tomorrow?”
“In the sodding rain, absolutely brilliant idea,” Colin added snarkily, letting his back fall against the couch and crossing his arms. “Or did it seem like a good idea to –whoops- make people slip off rocks?”
“That’s right, try and get your way by making me sound suspicious,” Ed rolled his eyes and took a sip from his beer bottle.
“It’s going to rain for the rest of the week, I told you,” Phil jumped in, mumbling with a mouth full of crisps. “The warmest day will in fact be tomorrow.”
Jonny joined Thom on the two-seater and tried to avoid drawing attention to himself by mimicking Thom’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, wishing he had a book himself, but he should’ve known only Thom can get away with that. Everyone was looking at him expectantly.
“Er,” Jonny said, then shook his head.
“No no, I’m not deciding. You know I’m rubbish at deciding.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room. All eyes were still glued on Jonny.
“Fine! Let’s get this over with and go tomorrow,” he sighed, letting his head fall onto his propped-up knees.
Ed grabbed an invisible notebook and pretended to take notes, mumbling “Day one - Jonny – decides on climbing on Wednesday – tries not to raise suspicion by picking the majority’s side – is visibly planning mischief behind big innocent ey-“
The rest of the sentence was muffled by a pillow hitting Ed square in the face. Jonny couldn’t help but smile as the others burst out in laughter.
“You watch out, O’Brien,” he said darkly from behind his fringe.
It was the first time in fifteen minutes that Thom actually looked up.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Jonny, balloons and burthday cake
He slowly pushed the door open.
At first sight, it didn’t even look like he was there at all. The window partly open, curtains moving slightly in the autumn breeze. The garden behind it grey and misty.
The bed a pile of sheets, rumpled and pushed to the feet end.
But he could feel his presence, so he tentatively took a step forward on the carpet to further inspect the sheets. Even before he saw black hair poking out from the side, he heard a soft, steady breathing.
A mental smirk.
“Jonny.”
He was saying it so silently that his voice didn’t even bother. He cleared his throat and tried again, with sound this time.
“Jonny.”
“Mm.”
“You’re awake.”
Not a sound for a few moments.
“Mmno.”
He bent one knee and sat down sideways on the bed.
“Yes you are.”
A muffled sigh from somewhere, the shift of an arm.
“Prove it.”
Thom actually snorted at that. He thought for a moment.
“I… can’t.” He sounded surprised himself.
“But I can assure you you’ll feel very much awake once I give the sign for the others to come up and pounce on you,” he added smugly.
This time the pile of blankets actually moved, and a sleepy head with bed hair that didn’t even look like bed hair at all appeared from under them.
“You’re kidding.”
“Why don’t you ever have bed hair? I can’t go out the door if I haven’t showered in the morning, and you just look like you’ve had three people blowdry and spray your hair, for fuck’s sake.”
Jonny yawned, and despite Thom’s feigned distress his eyes crumpled at the corners. Jonny yawning was cuter than a kitten yawning.
“You promised you’d let me sleep first,” Jonny pouted, reproachful.
“I promised we’d let you sleep until noon. It’s two in the afternoon.”
“I have a valid excuse,” he retorted.
“Fucking six AM,” he mumbled, and fell back on the bed.
Thom laughed and blindly put his hands under the blankets, planning on tickling the birthday boy to death.
It was only when he felt Jonny start, eyes flying open, that he stopped.
“What? What was I –“ Thom lifted up the sheets to see what he was doing, and hastily let them drop again, a caught expression on his face.
“Since when do you sleep naked?”
Jonny rolled his eyes.
“The last thing I can remember from yesterday was Ed spilling an entire pint over my lap, so excuse me if I felt the need to shower before going to bed,” he said, exasperated.
“Since when do you tickle people on their inner thigh anyway? Wait, since when do you peek under people’s sheets, actually?”
“Er,” said Thom. Damn it, he was usually so quick with retorts. And why did he have to blush now?
Jonny sat up, his hands steadying himself behind him. The blanket fell off his chest.
“Er,” said Thom again. This wasn’t helping.
“What?” said Jonny, nudging Thom’s knee and smiling mischievously.
Thom flinched.
“What what?”
“You’re looking awfully uncomfortable, that’s what.”
“Well, you are naked under there.”
Jonny kept smiling.
“Then I guess you’ll have to let me change first,” he said, and looked Thom in the eye.
Thom looked back.
“I… guess.”
It didn’t really matter who started it, but Thom liked to believe Jonny did. The point was that suddenly there were lips on his, and a hand on the back of his neck pulling him close. It wasn’t extraordinarily great or anything, just exactly what he didn’t know he wanted. Thom kissed back with fire, not being able to decide whether to let out the moan he was holding back, but when Jonny let out the tiniest of whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself.
They drew apart, puffed lips and red faces and eyes wide, looking at each other. When Thom finally did something else than just stare and curled his lips into a smile, Jonny growled and lunged forward.
Thom was pushed onto his back on the mattress by Jonny’s weight, part of the blanket trapped in between them. They were kissing again, and this time Thom thought he probably was allowed to touch Jonny’s bare shoulders. Jonny’s own hands were meanwhile messing up his hair, one travelling down to his neck, and Thom felt a thumb trailing along his jawbone. It gave him the confidence to slide his hands lower.
It soon became apparent that Jonny had not only trapped the blanket in between their bodies, he had also managed to push off every other part of it.
Shit, Thom thought. What the hell am I doing?
Despite his moment of clarity, Thom’s hands did wander lower and traced the entire length of Jonny’s spine, any further movements made impossible by the bunch of sheets in between them. Jonny must’ve noticed, because in one movement he hunched himself forward and suddenly Thom’s hands were cupping firm ass cheeks.
Shit, Thom thought again. This is gay, right?
“This is gay, right?” he said again, this time out loud.
Jonny’s nose was buried into his neck, and the warm breath was giving him goosebumps.
“Do you care?” he panted. “Wait, don’t even answer that. Just stop thinking, Thom, come on,” he added, and kissed the skin behind Thom’s ear.
That actually wasn’t a bad idea.
“Alright,” he answered, and didn’t try to stop Jonny when he started pulling up Thom’s sweater.
Thom was becoming annoyed with the blanket in between them and tried to push it down so the skin of their chests could meet. Jonny took the hint and lifted himself up on one arm, pulling it away and over him.
“Cold,“ he apologised, whilst pressing his entire length down on Thom. They both gasped, and Thom became all too aware of what all this was doing to the both of them. Strangely enough, it wasn’t as appalling as he had thought it would’ve been. Sure, he had fantasised about men before. Alright, about Jonny. But he always thought that the real deal would be too weird. But it just felt… right. Everything about it. Everything about Jonny felt right, actually. So he did what the boy on top of him told him to do, and tried to shut out every further thought.
And just when he did, he remembered something.
He didn’t have a birthday gift yet.
In one movement, he pushed Jonny onto his back and crawled over him, knees in between his spread legs. Jonny was looking at him in surprise and anticipation, biting his lip, and when Thom seized him with his hand, his breath hitched. Thom, meanwhile, tried not to show his lack of experience and focused on the noises the boy under him was making. Not knowing where to start, he just closed his eyes and bowed his head.
A tentative lick earned a gasp, and lips enveloping the tip a squirm. When Thom started sucking lightly, the most beautiful, desperate moan escaped Jonny's throat, and Thom couldn't help but look up. Jonny's face was screwed up in concentration, his lips forming a pout. He might as well have been playing music, thought Thom. Encouraged, he went on and soon he had to hold Jonny's bony hips down, stroking an inner thigh lightly with one hand as he kept working. Thom realised that Jonny wasn't the only one enjoying this, actually. This felt great. Having him here, coming undone under his own hands, was better than he'd ever dared dreaming.
When he felt Jonny was ready to come, he made an extra effort and swallowed him whole, sucking hard. Jonny was now biting two lips and had one hand in Thom's hair, guiding him faster. With one last buck of his hips, Jonny climaxed.
Panting heavily, his head fell back to the mattress. He blindingly searched for Thom's hands and pulled him up on top of him. Limbs falling into place, Thom let his head rest under Jonny's chin.
"Well. Happy birthday, Jonjon," he murmured.
"Hope you liked your gift."
Jonny chuckled.
"I hope you mean this," and put his arms around Thom.
"You could put it like that," Thom smiled. "Next time I promise I'll wear balloons and jump out of a birthday cake."
"It's still my birthday for at least nine hours, so I suggest you start baking."
At first sight, it didn’t even look like he was there at all. The window partly open, curtains moving slightly in the autumn breeze. The garden behind it grey and misty.
The bed a pile of sheets, rumpled and pushed to the feet end.
But he could feel his presence, so he tentatively took a step forward on the carpet to further inspect the sheets. Even before he saw black hair poking out from the side, he heard a soft, steady breathing.
A mental smirk.
“Jonny.”
He was saying it so silently that his voice didn’t even bother. He cleared his throat and tried again, with sound this time.
“Jonny.”
“Mm.”
“You’re awake.”
Not a sound for a few moments.
“Mmno.”
He bent one knee and sat down sideways on the bed.
“Yes you are.”
A muffled sigh from somewhere, the shift of an arm.
“Prove it.”
Thom actually snorted at that. He thought for a moment.
“I… can’t.” He sounded surprised himself.
“But I can assure you you’ll feel very much awake once I give the sign for the others to come up and pounce on you,” he added smugly.
This time the pile of blankets actually moved, and a sleepy head with bed hair that didn’t even look like bed hair at all appeared from under them.
“You’re kidding.”
“Why don’t you ever have bed hair? I can’t go out the door if I haven’t showered in the morning, and you just look like you’ve had three people blowdry and spray your hair, for fuck’s sake.”
Jonny yawned, and despite Thom’s feigned distress his eyes crumpled at the corners. Jonny yawning was cuter than a kitten yawning.
“You promised you’d let me sleep first,” Jonny pouted, reproachful.
“I promised we’d let you sleep until noon. It’s two in the afternoon.”
“I have a valid excuse,” he retorted.
“Fucking six AM,” he mumbled, and fell back on the bed.
Thom laughed and blindly put his hands under the blankets, planning on tickling the birthday boy to death.
It was only when he felt Jonny start, eyes flying open, that he stopped.
“What? What was I –“ Thom lifted up the sheets to see what he was doing, and hastily let them drop again, a caught expression on his face.
“Since when do you sleep naked?”
Jonny rolled his eyes.
“The last thing I can remember from yesterday was Ed spilling an entire pint over my lap, so excuse me if I felt the need to shower before going to bed,” he said, exasperated.
“Since when do you tickle people on their inner thigh anyway? Wait, since when do you peek under people’s sheets, actually?”
“Er,” said Thom. Damn it, he was usually so quick with retorts. And why did he have to blush now?
Jonny sat up, his hands steadying himself behind him. The blanket fell off his chest.
“Er,” said Thom again. This wasn’t helping.
“What?” said Jonny, nudging Thom’s knee and smiling mischievously.
Thom flinched.
“What what?”
“You’re looking awfully uncomfortable, that’s what.”
“Well, you are naked under there.”
Jonny kept smiling.
“Then I guess you’ll have to let me change first,” he said, and looked Thom in the eye.
Thom looked back.
“I… guess.”
It didn’t really matter who started it, but Thom liked to believe Jonny did. The point was that suddenly there were lips on his, and a hand on the back of his neck pulling him close. It wasn’t extraordinarily great or anything, just exactly what he didn’t know he wanted. Thom kissed back with fire, not being able to decide whether to let out the moan he was holding back, but when Jonny let out the tiniest of whimpers, he couldn’t stop himself.
They drew apart, puffed lips and red faces and eyes wide, looking at each other. When Thom finally did something else than just stare and curled his lips into a smile, Jonny growled and lunged forward.
Thom was pushed onto his back on the mattress by Jonny’s weight, part of the blanket trapped in between them. They were kissing again, and this time Thom thought he probably was allowed to touch Jonny’s bare shoulders. Jonny’s own hands were meanwhile messing up his hair, one travelling down to his neck, and Thom felt a thumb trailing along his jawbone. It gave him the confidence to slide his hands lower.
It soon became apparent that Jonny had not only trapped the blanket in between their bodies, he had also managed to push off every other part of it.
Shit, Thom thought. What the hell am I doing?
Despite his moment of clarity, Thom’s hands did wander lower and traced the entire length of Jonny’s spine, any further movements made impossible by the bunch of sheets in between them. Jonny must’ve noticed, because in one movement he hunched himself forward and suddenly Thom’s hands were cupping firm ass cheeks.
Shit, Thom thought again. This is gay, right?
“This is gay, right?” he said again, this time out loud.
Jonny’s nose was buried into his neck, and the warm breath was giving him goosebumps.
“Do you care?” he panted. “Wait, don’t even answer that. Just stop thinking, Thom, come on,” he added, and kissed the skin behind Thom’s ear.
That actually wasn’t a bad idea.
“Alright,” he answered, and didn’t try to stop Jonny when he started pulling up Thom’s sweater.
Thom was becoming annoyed with the blanket in between them and tried to push it down so the skin of their chests could meet. Jonny took the hint and lifted himself up on one arm, pulling it away and over him.
“Cold,“ he apologised, whilst pressing his entire length down on Thom. They both gasped, and Thom became all too aware of what all this was doing to the both of them. Strangely enough, it wasn’t as appalling as he had thought it would’ve been. Sure, he had fantasised about men before. Alright, about Jonny. But he always thought that the real deal would be too weird. But it just felt… right. Everything about it. Everything about Jonny felt right, actually. So he did what the boy on top of him told him to do, and tried to shut out every further thought.
And just when he did, he remembered something.
He didn’t have a birthday gift yet.
In one movement, he pushed Jonny onto his back and crawled over him, knees in between his spread legs. Jonny was looking at him in surprise and anticipation, biting his lip, and when Thom seized him with his hand, his breath hitched. Thom, meanwhile, tried not to show his lack of experience and focused on the noises the boy under him was making. Not knowing where to start, he just closed his eyes and bowed his head.
A tentative lick earned a gasp, and lips enveloping the tip a squirm. When Thom started sucking lightly, the most beautiful, desperate moan escaped Jonny's throat, and Thom couldn't help but look up. Jonny's face was screwed up in concentration, his lips forming a pout. He might as well have been playing music, thought Thom. Encouraged, he went on and soon he had to hold Jonny's bony hips down, stroking an inner thigh lightly with one hand as he kept working. Thom realised that Jonny wasn't the only one enjoying this, actually. This felt great. Having him here, coming undone under his own hands, was better than he'd ever dared dreaming.
When he felt Jonny was ready to come, he made an extra effort and swallowed him whole, sucking hard. Jonny was now biting two lips and had one hand in Thom's hair, guiding him faster. With one last buck of his hips, Jonny climaxed.
Panting heavily, his head fell back to the mattress. He blindingly searched for Thom's hands and pulled him up on top of him. Limbs falling into place, Thom let his head rest under Jonny's chin.
"Well. Happy birthday, Jonjon," he murmured.
"Hope you liked your gift."
Jonny chuckled.
"I hope you mean this," and put his arms around Thom.
"You could put it like that," Thom smiled. "Next time I promise I'll wear balloons and jump out of a birthday cake."
"It's still my birthday for at least nine hours, so I suggest you start baking."
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Gagging Order II, chapters 6 -10
[part one]
Thom woke the next morning and Jonny was gone, only the blankets and the sheets under him containing a hint that he was ever even there at all. The boy left in the middle of the night, Thom had felt him tossing and turning beside him and eventually he slunk away, without giving him a kiss good-bye, without running a hand up the skin on his back, without even waking Thom to tell him he was going back home. Jonny just got up and left. He sighed and rubbed sleep from his eyes, pulling the blanket over exposed skin and blinking in the morning light leaking in from his open window.
He should have expected this, really. He should have known better. Jonny was only seventeen, for Christ’s sake. And if he was anything like Thom at that age, he had no idea what was going on in that mind of his and why it was making him feel the way he did. Thom should have talked to him instead of letting down his guard and letting this happen. He should have waited until the boy was older, maybe had more experience.
But he thought he had, didn’t he? Jonny told him he had slept with someone else. How was Thom supposed to know he had been lying?
People say a lot of things when they’re angry. Things they don’t mean. Things that may not even be the truth. All he had to do was pay attention and he could have seen through Jonny’s disguise. He was only pretending to be a teenager with a hard shell covering, when really he was soft and fragile and easily broken – and Thom seemed to have done a good job at that, if the emptiness of his bed was anything to go by.
He padded down the stairs, hopping into a pair of boxers and pulling a t-shirt over his head, the same one he had on yesterday. The same one that long slim fingers had pulled off hours earlier and tossed to the side like wrapping paper at Christmas. Thom put the kettle on and began digging around his cupboards for something to eat, stomach growling as he did so.
He found a pan and set it on the stove, turning the knobs and going to the fridge as he thought to himself that maybe he had allowed things to go too quickly, and that’s why Jonny had left. He shouldn’t have taken him to his room last night. He could have stopped it when things became too rushed and heated, could have told him to wait. Just wait a bit, we can keep going with this but just wait.
Thom cracked an egg on the edge of the counter and poured it onto the pan, the egg sizzling when it landed.
Maybe he went too hard; maybe he hurt him more than Jonny let on. It was a thought that made him feel sick to his stomach and he cracked another egg to distract himself.
Maybe Jonny didn’t even know what sex was. Thom shook the thought from his mind with a sharp laugh – of course he knew. He was seventeen, it’s not like a boy at seventeen has never found porn on the internet or bought condoms just to see what they’d feel like. The thought of Jonny doing normal, teenaged-boy things like that made his head hurt uneasily and he poked at his eggs in the pan. Jonny wasn’t like that. He read books and played music and – and he was smart, god damnit. He had no time for any of that.
Thom sat down at his kitchen table, pulling out a chair and setting down his food. He took a sip of his coffee and stared down at the newspaper, trying to let the words sink into his mind but instead all he could see was the boy underneath him, the boy with his eyes closed so dark lashes brushed his cheek, lips swollen, red and open to let out breathy moans. Thom ran his hands over his eyes, trying to will the images away. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, he should be thinking about why Jonny ran away in the middle of the night, tip-toeing past the bed and gathering his clothes in his arms. He should be thinking about how it was all his fault. He scared him off. He’s the adult, he should have known better.
With a sigh, he took another sip of his coffee and forced himself to read the first word on the page in front of him.
The next day wasn’t any easier. Thom cleaned his house a bit, putting things away and carrying boxes up to the attic. He dug out an unopened package of paintbrushes and took them back downstairs with him, setting them on the kitchen table and nibbling on his fingernails in thought.
It was 10am.
It was 12pm.
It was 3pm.
No sign of Jonny, and Thom had made another mess of his kitchen. He scrubbed paint off the wooden surface of the table, half grumbling to himself and half singing along to R.E.M. on the radio above the sink. The song changed, and it was that song. Thom stood up quickly, eyes shooting towards the radio before he leapt at it to switch the station, letting out a sigh of relief when he heard Led Zeppelin filtering through his fingers on the speakers. He couldn’t face it, not yet, not ever.
And for some reason, that gave him an idea.
Upstairs in the closet of his room was something that could make this all better, he thought. Something that would show Jonny he wasn’t just some teenaged boy who lived next door. Something that would show him that Thom actually cared about him, and wanted him around. Something that would show him Thom trusted him, and never meant to scare him off.
Now all he had to do was wait for Jonny to decide if he wanted to be shown at all.
When he tried thinking back on how he found himself sitting with those two idiots and playing music, Jonny realized that Ed and Colin never really asked for a permission to enter his room, they just sort of invited themselves in, carrying their instruments with them in a lazy summer lumbering.
"God," Ed started after a few minutes of mindless strumming, "I don't remember any summer being this boring. Has it always been this boring Coz?"
Colin ignored him.
"God...I can't take it anymore...God..."
"Ed!" Jonny snapped, his fingers stopping abruptly to produce a sour mess of tones form his guitar.
Ed just stared at him innocently, looking almost hurt. He lowered his head. "I can't believe she dumped me after two weeks."
"Well I told you she's just a bitch, Ed!" Colin woke up from his playing trance. Jonny and Ed both turned into his direction in surprise, raising their eyebrows.
"Well, I mean..." Colin's voice trailed, "I could tell tight away, I know how to read people. She was no good for you, Ed."
"But fuck it, Coz! I don't understand what it was I've done wrong, I mean..." He stopped for a moment, gazing at Jonny who looked curiously back at him. "She..." He kept staring at Jonny.
Jonny almost laughed – almost. "I'm not leaving, Ed, this is my room!"
Ed took a deep breathe and spoke with his secretive voice, his eyes widening and his head shaking. "She was, so, so so, so good in bed, she was just," he swallowed, "She was by far the best fuck I have ever had."
There was a tiny moment of silence before the sounds of laughter filled the room. "So that's why you're so depressed about it, Ed?" Colin barked at him in between giggles. "This is so...you."
Ed frowned. "You don't understand Coz, she was amaaaaazing, and Jesus, the way she used to scream..."
"Oh come on, Ed, you said the exact same thing about that girl, what was her name?"
"No, no, Colin! You don't understand, this was something else!"
"Was it Emily? Emma? What was it?"
"Fuck, she was flexible..."
"Something with an M for sure..."
"I'm so hard right now."
Ed managed to duck the shoe that flew swiftly in his direction, but Colin was probably too concentrated on trying to remember the girl's name, and the other shoe hit him right the forehead.
"Oi! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You two are brainless sods; get the fuck out of my room!"
Colin looked as if he was thinking about something very evil to say, something that would hurt, but Ed suddenly rubbed his chin thoughtfully and grinned wickedly, nodding his head. "Awww! I think I know what is wrong with our little Jon-Jon here..."
Colin's chain of thoughts was broken as he starred at Ed with a skeptical glance.
Ed continued, "I think our little Jon-Jon is a bit embarrassed when we talk about sex, because, well, because he's the only virgin in the room." He turned to Jonny's horror filled face, "I mean really, Jon, you're almost 18, it's about time."
Jonny's face exchanged at least 17 different types of red and Colin became rather red himself, but for a whole different reason. He was laughing like mad.
"Don't laugh you mean bastard! You used to be a virgin too!" Ed pointed out and placed his guitar on the carpet next to him. "Now let's think: who would be right for the job?"
Jonny was still unable to react, his mind too blank to come up with any coherent response.
"Oh! Coz, remember that brunette who gave you head at the back of that place we went to, she was pretty young now wasn't she? And pretty good looking!" Ed smiled cheerfully, looking as if he was in the process of a very important charity work.
Colin fell over and rolled on the carpet.
"What's so funny? Your brother can be so weird sometimes." Ed looked away from the gasping Colin, only to see that Jonny's expression hasn't changed.
"Are you alright? Come, on, it's not a shame you know, it's just the first time that's a little awkward, once you get past that...Well the second time could be pretty embarrassing too –"
"I'm not a virgin!"
Colin stopped laughing. Ed stopped talking. In a way, Jonny achieved what he wanted, so why was he really, really regretting it now?
They kept looking at him, Colin sitting up and tucking his hair behind his ears, Ed tilting his head.
"I...I...I already...had...sex." Shit, stop mumbling.
Ed smiled all of a sudden, and it was too late for Jonny to escape when he realized he was buried under the giant man, head-locked and hair-ruffled. "You beast you!" Ed was practically glowing with happiness. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"Ed, nnnaaarcht, get ooooff!" Jonny was struggling, his last powers going to waste in a useless battle.
"Why didn't you tell us? Who is she? Is it that bird from your class, the blond one? She's hot. Hell, I'd do her myself –"
"ED!"
Jonny was still catching his breath and straightening his shirt when he noticed Colin's strange glance, face still red and tears still drying in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly Jonny wished Colin was still laughing.
"So, who is she then?" Colin asked in a low voice that sent goose bumps across Jonny's skin. He hated lying to his brother; well, he used to hate it before he got so used to it.
"It's just...this girl, you guys don't know her."
"What's her name?" Colin spat.
"Annie!" Where did that come from?
"Where did you meet her?"
"A party."
"What party?"
"A...A party! What difference does it make?" Jonny felt like he lost some sort of a game, but Colin just narrowed his eyes, his face softening at last.
"How was it?" He said quietly, fidgeting a little with the strings.
"It was good," Jonny sighed, letting his hair drop in front of his eyes. "But I felt so...insecure..." He added quietly, feeling like he was about to cry all of a sudden.
"Well that's completely natural!" Ed emerged back into life, "My first time was absolutely horrifying!"
"Oh god, no Ed, you're not telling that story to my little brother!"
"But," Ed looked like he was about to say the most reasonable thing ever, "he's a grown up now!"
"No, Ed."
"Your brother's a bitch. I'm telling you later."
"No, you're not!"
"Yeah, fine, I'm not."
"I know where your stash is, Ed."
At this point Jonny just stopped listening. He dropped his head back on the carpet and slowly rubbed his eyes, feeling sick and tortured.
After two days and seven hours of fortification in his own room, Jonny started to feel better, like it wasn’t that bad after all, like he could actually make it. It was probably for the best, anyway, the reasonable part of his mind had told him.
It wasn’t really as if anything had actually changed: Thom probably already forgot about him anyway, moved on.
It hurt, Jonny will not deny that. It hurt like hell even; all he wanted was to get out of bed and find himself across the street again, touching that skin again, tracing his lips above soft flesh again.
But he just couldn’t do it once the ugly face of fear had revealed itself to Jonny at the very night he and Thom made love for the first time. His first time. He was still in Thom’s bed when it happened, when the doubts started flooding his heart and the realization that he would never really be able to satisfy Thom, not really, hit him.
He tossed and turned and finally just crept out of bed and found his way back to the comforting safety of his own bed, a bed that did not contain 30-something year old men with soft sandy hair and almost transparent eyelashes. A bed in which he could be just a teenaged boy again, who only fantasized about having sex with 30-something year old men.
What was Thom even supposed to do with him? He knew absolutely nothing, hell, he was almost surprised when Thom had pressed himself against him and pushed in, almost as if it really struck him for the first time, so this is how sex between two men is done.
Of course he already had a clue when he climbed over the older man and pushed his tongue down his throat. Of course he had a faint idea of what was expecting him when he climbed up the stairs and into Thom’s bedroom. But he never really imagined, not in his wildest ideas, that this is how it was going to feel.
And not that it was bad or anything, in fact, it was probably one of the best, most exciting things that Jonny had ever took part in. Took part in, he rolled his eyes at himself in the dark, snorting and pulling the blanket over his head. That was the problem exactly- he had no idea what he was doing and there was no fucking way that Thom didn’t notice that. A colorless image of Thom in a smoky pub, searching for someone his age to fix the impression Jonny left had crossed his sleep deprived mind and he blinked it away because it was still too much to bear.
It was then when Jonny noticed something in the outside world was happening, the world that was outside of his mind, his blanket and even his room- outside in the world where he had absolutely no sexual experience to offer. Something was hitting the glass of his bedroom window. Once, twice, three times, in a steady rhythm. Jonny’s body tensed as he rose up to sit in his bed, eying the only window in his room, trying to wish the sounds away, maybe if he just sat here and ignored them they would go away.
But they didn’t. Four times, five and six, in a steady rhythm that only a musician could execute. Seven, eight. Almost like a song. Jonny moved his familiar summer blanket away and stepped towards the window, still hesitating, still hoping that if he stalled long enough it would just go away. But it didn’t, nine, ten and eleven, and Jonny had to do something quick, before someone woke up.
He opened the window and the man was standing there, his right hand raised midway for another strike and his left hand occupying an amount of little stones that could last him for the rest of the night. As soon as he noticed Jonny he just froze in his place, a little smile on his face as he let go of the stones and clapped his little palms together to clean them up from dust. He then pointed to the direction of his own house, the house across from Jonny’s, and started slowly pacing in the direction of his pointing arm.
After a few moments he just turned and walked away, disappearing in the white glow of his entrance, leaving the door behind him half open.
What was he even doing there, he was supposed to be fucking someone who could actually fuck him back by now…Jonny sighed and without much thinking threw a shirt above his head and climbed outside of his window, the same window that was currently the only mean of communication between him and the man he was desperately trying not to think about for the last couple of days. He tried real hard now because he knew that if he did, he might just return to his own bed and blanket without facing Thom and as much as it seemed, well, comfortable, it wasn’t very fair.
Thom was sitting on his old couch when Jonny let himself in the house, both of his legs perched on the mess that used to be his living room table, trying to keep a smile on his face, although Jonny had noticed it was a real struggle for him. So Jonny just stood there, hugging himself, not knowing where to place his limbs or his entire body for that matter, wishing to disappear.
Thom stood up all of a sudden, so quickly that Jonny flinched, and he was standing right next to him now, not smiling at all anymore. It might have been the most difficult thing Jonny ever had to do, trying not to look away when Thom had fixed his mismatched eyes on him with a gaze that was both the most piercing and the most heartbreaking gaze that Jonny had ever seen.
“I’m sorry.”
It took Jonny a ridiculous amount of time to figure out that it wasn’t him that said those words, because he was just going to when Thom did and the confusion was probably showing on his pale face because Thom stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, a touch that was so blissful that Jonny nearly cried right there in Thom’s arms, only the constant voice in his head yelling at him to grow up already shutting the urge down.
“I missed you, where’d you go?” Soft lips and stubble scraped against his ear and he shuddered.
“Home,” he said and regretted it almost immediately because he was lying. This, right here, that was home.
“You can’t do that, you know, it’s… it’s not fair…” Thom’s voice was almost breaking in his throat and Jonny had to pull back and capture Thom’s lips with his own, not being able to hold it back anymore, not wanting to, cursing all of the vultures of doubt that circled his head even now.
“I’m sorry,” Thom was moaning again against his lips and he snapped, pulling further back so he could catch the same eyes he was trying to escape from just moments ago.
“What the fuck for?”
“For…scaring you like that, for using you like that, for…I had no right to…”
A hint of horror was clinging at Jonny’s stomach, making it twist and turn. “What are you talking about?”
Thom started to look just a little confused. “Well if…Why did you disappear like that, Jon?”
There it was. The question of two sleepless nights and a million unresolved thoughts.
“I…” a deep sigh, you can do this. There’s nothing you can’t tell him. There never was. ”I’m not…You’re too…I can’t do this…”
“Can’t do what?”
“This! You! Jesus fuck, Thom, I’m 17!”
Panic was covering Thom’s face, coloring it white. “Jonny, wait—“
“What the fuck do I even know about sex?”
Thom stopped mid-sentence, mid-move, mid- everything, just froze in his spot until Jonny started feeling the urge to search for his pulse. Then something utterly beautiful crept over his face, a smile that both confused and comforted Jonny and made him raise his eyebrows at Thom, which only made the smile bigger and broader, almost wicked now, exposing teeth and stretching skin and Jonny just couldn’t help but follow it with a smile of his own.
“Is that…is that why you just disappeared for two days, Jonathan?”
Thom never called him that. It was interesting. According to the stir in his groin it was even more than interesting.
“Yes” was all his dry mouth managed to produce before Thom grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him up the stairs.
“I want to show you something.”
Thom’s bed was still there, a fact that for some reason surprised him until he recalled having a dream where Thom was burning his bed right in the middle of their street. He shook his head and tried focusing on the fact that it was still there, same sheets and all, and something in him wanted to run as fast as he could, away from this bed and those sheets.
But he couldn’t, because Thom was still holding his hand, motioning him to sit down on the bad, that mocking bed and opening a small closet in the corner, producing from it a plastic CD case with no cover. He sat next to Jonny and handed him the CD.
“This is my past.” He said all of a sudden with a tired tone and a sigh.
Jonny just stared at the object between his hands. It said absolutely nothing to him. But luckily, Thom did.
“This is the reason I came here, to this neighborhood, it’s the reason we met. It’s a…song. A song you probably know. Yes, you most certainly know it, but you don’t know I wrote it. Nobody does. I would actually take the first plane to…Australia if someone was ever to find out I wrote that song.”
In Jonny’s hands, the little plastic case didn’t seem all that heavy.
“Remember I told you about that boyfriend of mine? Well, we were in a band together, we used to make music together and…one day I came to him and I gave him a CD just like this one, with that song on it. A song I had all of my powers and talent invested in. He loved it, he said it was brilliant, he said it’ll make us famous, and then…” Thom stopped and rubbed his face with his palm. “…and then he went, and sold it to this, this company. A company that…takes water from the ground and bottles it in plastic, and sells it, and they took my song and used it as their own because…well…it was their own, they bought it, they paid for it…and then…then he came to me with a check. A big fat check and told me, ‘We did it baby, we finally did it. We’re rich.’”
For some strange reason Jonny knew right away what song Thom was talking about, he had no doubt about it. He opened and closed the plastic case on his lap as the song played through his mind and didn’t know exactly what to say until Thom spoke again.
“The reason I just told you something I never even told my brother is that…I want you to know I trust you, completely and fully and I don’t see you as a…as a boy, like you might sometimes see yourself. I see you as a friend, an equal friend, someone I could trust, I see you as a mature enough person to hear the deepest of my thoughts, dreams…secrets, I am already open to you like I’ve never been to anyone, you’ve become my best friend and…And now my lover too. There’s no difference there Jonny, never even dare thinking that you’re not good enough for me, because that would hurt my feelings. We both have things we could teach each other, you know.”
Thom picked up the CD case that was now forgotten between Jonny’s hands and smiled as he placed it on the night stand. “Oh, and I needed an excuse to bring you up here again.”
Jonny was still trying to understand, to fully comprehend Thom’s words when Thom pulled him gently by the hem of his shirt into a kiss.
Friend, lover, secrets, feelings. He would think about that later, right now he had to capture Thom’s lip in his teeth and use his tongue to suck, right now he has to get rid of those annoying pieces of fabric separating their skin, right now he must trace the little dimples at the small of Thom’s back with his fingers because they were calling him again and again, not letting him sleep, not letting him think or function, not giving him a rest.
As Thom was removing his boxers away Jonny realized he wasn’t even nervous anymore, it just felt right being here in this bed, among those sheets, baby-bird haired man with almost-freckles tracing an invisible line with his stubby finger from his lips to his neck and then following the route with red kiss-swollen lips and ginger stubble.
The anticipation was at his throat when he followed Thom’s hand with his eyes, reaching for the little drawer at the night stand for the little bottle Jonny already knew the purpose of. But he wasn’t at all prepared for Thom placing that bottle in his palm, not breaking their kiss all along, smiling against him when Jonny stopped responding in shock. He then picked himself up on an elbow and said, in a voice that nearly made Jonny pass out,
“I want you to fuck me, Jonathan.”
It took Jonny a few moments to regain consciousness after that, to function again. He rose up to close the gap between them and kissed Thom with such hunger it almost hurt. He knew this was it, his chance, his turn to prove that everything Thom said before was true, that he was equal, that he was capable of being everything that Thom saw in him.
He positioned himself on top of the older man and took in a deep breath, letting the familiar Thom-scent take control over his senses, make him high, give him the courage he needed to open the little bottle and use it just like he knew he was supposed to.
Thom had to help him find the right angle but he did it with a reassuring smile, and Jonny didn’t let himself linger on the thought as he pushed himself inside, into what appeared to be the most amazing place he ever visited.
When he was all the way in he stopped, opened his eyes and gazed down at the man that had his palms rubbing at his back, the sight of his flushed cheeks and closed eyes causing Jonny to moan involuntarily and he dove down, into those parted lips and the endless comfort they offered. He started moving his hips in slow measured thrusts because he was too scared to lose himself completely in the man that had just called him his ‘Lover’.
But then a whisper in his ear, one that he could barely hear and comprehend, but one that threatened to push him completely over the edge.
“Just let go.”
So he did, he just let this knot in his stomach untie itself and take control over his entire body, and then it was all a part of the movement: Starting from the tip of his toes and continuing at his no longer aching knees and his not-anymore shaking hips, each and every part of him was pushing inside, further inside, stronger each time, like his body was trying to dissolve into Thom’s body and no longer be separate forms, never having to separate again.
For a moment his control was returned to him but it was only because his body wanted him to see, to hear the man under him who had his eyes shut violently, who was moaning loudly, almost too loudly, covered with sweat and lust, who’s nails were digging holes in Jonny’s chest and that image only caused Jonny’s control to give itself away completely to his body until every origin inside him was vibrating in a dance of madness, because it was him, he was the one causing those moans, he was making those eyes to shut so firmly.
At some point Jonny thought he heard his name thrown in the air, but not in pleasure but in an almost protesting manner that almost brought him back to reality but he brushed it away, not yet, he was almost there, he was so close now, he was…
Struggling like mad with the man he was fucking, as if he was fighting for his life, pants and gasps of effort thrown out of his lungs, hair sticking to his face and sweat burning in his eyes, why was he struggling? Why was there blood in his nails? Why was Thom biting his lip as he finally took control over him and held firmly both of his wrists above his head?
Jonny was waking up from whatever it was that possessed him, the image of Thom’s neck and collarbones covered with blue marks slowly creeping through the back of his mind, the notion of what he had just done aiming to numb his entire body and disable him. They were both gasping for air, sweaty and wide eyed. Jonny felt sick all of a sudden, he managed to do it, it was almost impossible for him but he did it, destroyed everything that was built those last weeks, destroy what he and Thom had, everything, the friendship, the trust, the…
It wasn’t until Thom had started moving up and then down Jonny’s shaft in an agonizing pace that Jonny realized to his very surprise that he was still inside Thom, that the contact between them was never broken, that he was still fucking Thom, only now, Thom was the one in control.
It could have lasted even longer if Jonny would have been able to tear his eyes away from the man riding him, but he just couldn’t give up the beautiful image of Thom above him, his back arched and every single muscle under his skin stretching as he moved ever so slowly, his endless blue eyes gazing directly into Jonny’s own eyes in a message of control and reassurance, bids of sweat still hanging at his sharp features, the apple in his throat raising with each and every soothing moan, soothing, because they made Jonny understand that everything was still alright.
It could have lasted longer if Thom’s fingers weren’t wrapping around his own cock all of a sudden, some of his other fingers invading Jonny’s mouth as he had nothing else to do but to suck on them, closing his eyes, no longer able to bare the sight of Thom touching himself right above him.
An almost ridiculous form of ecstasy started forming itself in Jonny’s body, darting under his skin in all directions as he started coming, a feeling that he was never even aware was possible, almost unbearable in its intensity flooded him as he was having the longest orgasm he had ever had in his life.
After that he could only remember Thom collapsing on top of him in exhaustion, the weight of his body, warmly pressed against his and the dampness of his uneven breathes at his neck as he lay there, following each and every one of them until they became stable and small and all Jonny had the force to do was to place both his arms around the small body above him, and let himself drift away.
“What’s that?”
The voice came from behind the tree he was leaning on and he turned, startled, to search for the source of it. He frowned when Jonas stepped into view, shoulders up in readied defense and hands shoved roughly into his trouser pockets. His hair had grown out a bit since the end of school and a few strands poked at his eyes. He shook them away and Jonny went back to his book.
“Jurassic Park,” he said quietly and the other boy plopped down beside him, stretching out his legs.
“Oh. Cool.”
“Mmm,” Jonny agreed, turning the page of his book. Jonas picked a stick from off the ground and used it to flick dirt between his shoes.
“I got into the football league at my university,” he said after a few moments, gauging Jonny’s reaction before he continued. “I was at the top of the class.”
“Congratulations,” he said without a trace of emotion. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening and he didn’t want to look too far into Jonas’s sudden good nature. The boy was eying him in a curious way and he sighed, placing his book on his lap.
“Do you need something, or what?” he asked. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
The other boy shrugged and looked off into the field.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Are you sure?” Jonny asked, uncertain. Jonas nodded.
“Yeah. I mean, well, I guess I just wanted to apologize, really. For the way I treated you. You don’t deserve that.”
Jonny frowned.
“I mean, you’re kind of weird though,” Jonas muttered and Jonny laughed, the other boy glancing at him before breaking into a smile.
“Thanks, I think,” he said after a moment of silence. “Good luck with your football thing.”
“Thanks, Jon,” the other boy grinned, pushing himself up off the ground and scratching at the back of his leg with his opposite foot. “Anyway, I have to meet my girlfriend. Let me know how the music thing goes, yeah?”
“Alright, sure,” Jonny agreed and with a wave he watched the other boy wander away, shaking his head before turning back to his book.
“It was weird,” Jonny put his empty cup back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. They were sitting in Thom’s kitchen, the older man painting and Jonny attempting to write a letter for a program he wanted to take at college, but he was far too distracted with the day’s events to get past for the first sentence.
“Jonas has never been nice to me in my entire life and then all of a sudden he comes out of nowhere and apologizes for being a twat.”
Thom chuckled, turning the canvas in his hands over and dropping his paintbrush into his cup of water before scratching his chin in thought.
“He wants to fuck you,” he said finally, picking up another paintbrush and dabbing it in a bit of red paint. Jonny snorted, said nothing for a moment and then frowned.
“You think?”
Thom tossed him a grin, “I know.”
Jonny tapped the end of his pen on the table in thought.
“He has a girlfriend.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He plays football.”
“Again,” Thom smeared the paint on the canvas. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Jonny continued to frown.
“Either that or he’s been abducted by aliens and they switched his soul with someone else’s. Or maybe he got a message from God that if he doesn’t start being nice to people he’s going to go to hell – or break his ankle and never be able to kick a ball again,” Thom cocked his head to the side to look at his painting. “Or, maybe he just felt bad.”
“I guess,” Jonny shrugged, going back to his paper. “It’s still weird though.”
“Teenagers are,” Thom smiled and Jonny threw a crumbled up napkin at him.
“I’m not weird,” he stated. The older man raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not!”
“Sure, Jonathan,” Thom went back to his painting and the boy sighed, flipping through the dictionary in front of him absentmindedly.
“Even if I am, you like it.”
Thom continued to grin, “Well duh.”
Looking back, Jonny could not explain to himself, or to anyone, why he chose the front door rather than climbing up the improvised ladder up to his room like he always did when he was coming back from places he wasn't even supposed to be going.
He might have been distracted by the thoughts of what he and Thom had just done. It might have been the words that Thom just not long ago whispered in his ear, rushing back to his mind and flooding him with emotion, with blush and with other silly things that fluttered around in his body.
Those might also have been the reasons he didn't even notice Colin, not even after his big brother called his name.
Jonny.
Jonny kept walking up the stairs, not fully accepting the fact that it was now Colin's voice ringing through his head.
Jonny!
This time Jonny froze in his spot, all of the butterflies leaving him alone and something else, something heavy, creeping in to replace them.
"Uhm?" He tried to make it sound casual.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Colin was never the one to dance around the matter.
Jonny didn't even know what time it was. 'None of your business' was the first thing that came up in his mind as a response but he scratched it out as soon as it came, feeling that this sort of a statement will only sink him further in the mud.
"I, I er..." But then he had to stop because the light was there, and Colin was there, and the both of them were just so misplaced for him at this very moment that the words just died on his tongue.
Colin was standing near him now, seeing him for the first time.
"Is that...is that a hickey?!" He heard Colin saying in surprise, as if a hickey on Jonny's skin was the most unique phenomena Colin has ever encountered.
Jonny touched his neck self consciously. "What...I don't know, maybe."
"Jonny, where have you been?"
Jonny had two paths to choose from, which was a good thing because it was better than not having any choice at all. He could just keep walking that same direction he was on; make up a complex lie, a cover story that would be so convincing that Colin would never doubt him again.
But somehow Jonny knew that there was really only one path and that he had to change direction, for many reasons, the main one being that he was really already sick of lying to his big brother, that it became harder each time and that he always knew he would have to tell him at some point.
And apparently, he had just reached that point.
"Just tell me."
"You have to promise."
"What?"
"Not to tell anyone. Anyone, Coz, I mean it."
"Fine."
"I trust you."
"Fine! Come on!"
"I was..." Jonny stopped and swallowed and looked back at the road behind him, at the last chance to regret and go back.
Hell, this was his brother, the person who taught him how to place a needle on a record.
"I was at Thom's house."
Colin wasn't reacting like Jonny thought he would react. If fact, he wasn't reacting at all.
"Mr Yorke." Jonny added, understanding all of a sudden.
Colin became very pale and very numb.
Well now that was more like it.
Colin clenched his hand on the banister. Then unclenched. Then he looked at Jonny's neck again and then he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Then, for a second, he looked terrified but soon enough this expression was replaced into something blank again.
Jonny watched all of that in preparedness, feeling that every moment he might have to jump, or duck, or run or –
Protect his face from Colin's approaching palm. And then protect it from Colin's other palm. And then, a silent struggle between two brothers that didn't want to wake their mother, gasping for air without voice and mixing the air between them. And then being pinned down beneath the person who taught him how to restring his guitar and then two piercing dark eyes and then nothing.
But silence and guilt, hard and sharp breathes and nails, digging into his shoulders.
"You're hurting me" Jonny whispered.
Colin let go of Jonny in slow measured movements, as if to let him know that he was still the one in charge. This is how they found themselves sitting on the floor, disheveled and flushed, Jonny touching a scratch on his arm with the tip of his fingers and Colin holding his head between his hands, looking for words.
But not finding them.
So Jonny figured he should say something, instead. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before...I just, I don't know. I was scared. But, but...it's alright Coz! really, it's-"
"Don't fucking tell me it's alright," Colin wasn't raising his voice or talking sharply. His voice was a monotonic whisper, which only made it so much worse. "It's not alright, it's wrong. It's very wrong."
"Colin, listen-"
Colin wasn't listening or even trying to listen anymore. He kept talking in that low, calm tone that made Jonny squirm and shiver. "It's wrong and – and it should have never happened."
"It's not like it –"
"And it will stop."
"—just happened out of...Wait, what?"
"You're going to put an end to...whatever this is. Right?"
"Wait..."
"Soon. Tomorrow. I can come with you if you want, do you want me to come?" It was a question, but Colin wasn't really asking.
"What? Where...Colin what are talking about?"
"We can...we can go to the police Jonny, this is serious."
Now it was Jonny's turn to panic. "Poli...Colin, you don't understand!"
But Colin was talking to his knees now. "I mean, I don't know exactly what he did to you, I don't think I can handle it, but you have to tell them everything. We'll have to tell Mum too."
Jonny felt like this was the time for something radical. So he grabbed Colin's face with two hands and leaned very close, rubbing their noses together. It was working, because Colin finally looked at Jonny rather then staring at some vague point.
"Now listen to me. You will not tell Mum, or the police, or anyone, and nothing is going to change. I wanted this. Did you hear me? I wanted this just like he did, and I'm happy and I'm not going to let you ruin this for me."
Colin's eyes widened with every word, as if he was only now realizing for the first time that this was more than an act or a game – that it was happening for real.
"You don't...mean that Jonny..."
"Yes, I do. I never meant anything like I mean that."
"This is...not right. He's old enough to be your dad..." Colin blinked and shook his head out of Jonny's grip. "He's using you Jonny! He's..."
Jonny felt like this was the time for something really radical.
"I just came back from fucking him."
Colin shook his head again and grew silent.
"Yes, I just spent half of the night fucking his brains out, so don't fucking tell me he's using me! I'm not a child anymore, Colin, and I don't need to be rescued. So if you can't handle this just fuck off!"
Looking back, Jonny could not explain to himself, or to anyone, why he said those things to his brother. It could have been the desperate urge to make him shut up, to make him realize how wrong he was. It didn't matter now when Jonny was left alone on the floor, the image of his brother's gaze, the person who taught him how to smoke, all full of anger and disgust still possessing his mind.
Probably will for a while.
"Will you calm down?"
"No! No I will not fucking calm down!"
"Jesus..."
"He won't look at me Thom! I'm his brother and he can't even look at me, I mean, does he really hate me that much?"
Thom was smiling. For a strange a reason, he enjoyed listening to Jonny rant about his brother. It made him realize that in many ways Jonny was still a boy, a teenager, and that filled his heart with distant memories and emotions that he long ago left behind.
"Well, Jonny," He stretched his body on the cool grass of his back yard, looking at Jonny with affection. "You kinda threw it right in his face, now didn't you?"
Jonny growled. "Well, I don't wanna talk about it anymore."
Thom laughed and covered his face. "You're impossible."
"I need a distraction. Give me that."
Thom looked around him in confusion. "What? That? That's..." He looked at the front of the crumpled copy of the 'Sunday Mirror' that was lying untouched for as long as Thom could remember near the base of the old tree at Thom's garden. "Four months old, Jonny."
"I don't care, give it!"
"Fine." He handed the paper to the nervous boy slouched next to him on the grass, not even trying to hide his amusement.
"Let's see," Jonny tore the newspaper open and it nearly crumbled between his long fingers. He sighed and started reading. "Britney Spears' bounce-back bikini diet secrets."
Thom broke out in fits of laughter, this laughter, the one that never failed to make Jonny smile.
"The troubled star has bounced back, losing a stone and showing off a new sexy body. Here's how you can shape up too..."
Thom smiled and rolled over to his stomach, leaning up on his elbows and fluttering his eyelids theatrically. "Go on Jonny! I wanna hear allll about it!"
"After one of the most public meltdowns in celeb history, Britney Spears is getting her life back on track."
"Oh thank goodness!" Thom brushed the back of his palm against his forehead.
"The pop princess was pictured last week looking fit, trim and healthy in a stunning white bikini..."
Thom started playing with the thin fabric of the bottom of Jonny's shirt, losing interest all of a sudden in the article.
"— a far cry from her bloated, disheveled appearance of past Mon –" Thom's hand found its way beneath this fabric and up Jonny's torso, causing the boy to gasp in surprise.
"Oh, go on. Jonathan, don't let me distract you from your distraction."
Jonny swallowed and smiled, raising the paper up in determination. "Britney is said to have shed a stone in weight after ditching junk foo..."
Thom's stubby fingers found a nipple and squeezed gently. "Food, making regular visits to the gym and limiting boozy nights out."
Thom was now lifting the shirt up, positioning himself above Jonny and lowering his head down to let his tongue meet the warm skin of Jonny's chest.
"Not only does she look more like her old...self but her career is shaping uhhh-up, too." Jonny was already trying to cling into the words for dear life, his heavy breathing not doing anything to help.
"This is all in sharp contrast to the Britney we saw in the laaaaah..." Thom had his tongue in Jonny's navel. "The...The last 12 months, stumbling from one crisis to another." Jonny took a deep breath and concentrated on the yellowing paper in his hands.
"After a messy split from her husband – what are doing?!" Thom was now hovering above Jonny's waistband, slowly and calmly undoing the buttons of his jeans. Thom looked up, surprised almost.
"Wha? Nothing Jonny, just keep reading, okay?" And he was pulling them down, not forgetting to duck his head and let his short stubble scrape against the delicate skin right above Jonny's crotch.
"Thom! We're outside!" Jonny was saying that as if was really revealing something new to the older man, who just laughed lightly and slowly stroked Jonny's stomach, causing him to involuntarily close his eyes in pleasure.
"I know where we are Jonny, no one can see us here. Now please, get to the tips already cause I have been carrying some extra weight from the winter time with me." As soon as he finished speaking his lips were already busy huffing hot air onto the tip of Jonny's erection through the fabric of his boxers.
Jonny didn't really care anymore where they were, it felt too good to care. "Britney, snapped last week horse-riding on a Mexican beach, has also, huuuh, been heading to Bally's Total Fitness gym..."
Thom's hands sneaked under Jonny's boxes along his inner tights, one of them finding the base of his erection, wrapping around it and the other playing lightly with his balls, causing him the clench the paper in his fingers.
"She has been seen...Oh god... pounding the treadmill there, with ehh, her personal trainer..."
Thom got rid of Jonny's boxers and was now slowly spreading open his thighs, starting to lick his way up Jonny's cock hungrily, causing the boy to moan and throw aside what was left of the old paper as his hand desperately grope the grass on his sided instead.
He could almost see himself from outside of his body when Thom took him all the way in and sucked, because he found it hard to believe this was happening to him. Of course, he knew it existed, he heard about it, he tried imagining how it felt. And failed miserably, apparently.
When Thom's fingers found his opening and started playfully teasing it, Jonny had to lock his hand into a fist and bite on it, hard, because as safe ad they were in Thom's fenced garden, the moans that threatened escaping his mouth would have probably made their way into the wrong ears. He used his other hand to slightly lift his head so he could watch the older man sucking him with such skill, as if he was only doing another daily chore around the house.
Thom was finding rhythms and losing them, using his experience and tongue and teeth to make Jonny squirm under him helplessly. Every time Jonny thought that this was it Thom would slow down and let his skin relax before attacking it again lustily, laughter and wickedness in his eyes as he watched the boy twist and dig his teeth into his own fist.
Jonny was possessed by him, and Thom felt as if he could do anything to the eager boy, enjoying the way Jonny didn't dare disturbing him as he worked.
Eventually Jonny let his head fall back on the grass, his hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he muffled his last cries with his hands, thrusting his hips up into the warmness of Thom's mouth, noticing in his orgasm hazed mind that, for his surprise, Thom was drinking him up completely, not letting any drop escape his lips.
Thom wiping his mouth with the back of his hand might have been the sexiest thing Jonny has ever seen. Thom climbing along Jonny's exhausted body and nesting down in his grip in a purr of please and satisfaction wasn't all that bad, either.
He was about to thank Thom when the older man sent his arm above their heads in a search, returning it with a smile and a piece of cheap paper. He shuffled through the pages and smiled again when he finally found what he was looking for.
"Ah!" He triumphantly said, greening manically "Look what it says here," He pointed at a little paragraph at the bottom of the page to the still panting Jonny. "Make time for cardio exercise - brisk walking, cycling or swimming - a minimum of three times a week. I think we can consider this as a cardio exercise, don't you?"
It took a few days of Colin brewing in his own anger for him to snap. He watched Jonny pass his bedroom door to go into his own room, hair messed and cheeks flushed, top buttons of his shirt undone, feeling the raw hatred bubble and grow into something cancerous, something harmful. He wished it away, he clenched his eyes shut and punched the wall and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. Colin wasn’t a violent person; he didn’t want to feel this way. But anyone who was Thom’s age that was hanging out with someone like Jonny was not good news.
It was for his protection, Colin decided, that something must be done. One afternoon, after their mum had left to go to a Book Club meeting, Jonny crept down the stairs and out the front door. Colin was sure if he listened closely enough with his bedroom window open he’d be able to hear his brother’s footsteps on the neighbor’s porch, his fist knocking on the front door which would click open and shut quietly again and all noises would stop.
He waited, trying to gather his thoughts, pacing back and forth in his room telling himself to leave them alone. Jonny was happy, right? He came home everyday with a smile on his lips. He stopped complaining about the boys his age beating him up and teasing him. He stopped talking to Colin, period. It might have been this fact that made Colin so angry. He wanted his baby brother back, he wanted him to talk to him again, tell him his problems. He wanted to sit down with him and help him through his math homework, but now Jonny wanted nothing to do with him. He had a life of his own, outside of the house, outside of Colin. He didn’t want to sit and watch Ed and him struggle through playing a song they heard on the radio, throwing his head back and laughing when one of them hit a wrong note and they lost their time as the real song played on, volume turned down just loud enough to hear it but not to block themselves out. Jonny was growing up, Jonny was drifting away and it was all because of that man.
Colin just wanted to talk, to get something straight. Jonny was his brother. Sure, they may have been drifting apart in the last few months, what with Jonny’s odd behavior, but they were still family and Colin did not want some middle-aged man coming in between them; especially after hearing all the rumors that had been going around. He wandered through the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and gulping it down quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to calm down, he wasn’t thinking straight. The glint from one of the kitchen knives caught his eye and he reached out, grabbing the handle and shoving the thing into his jeans, using his over-sized t-shirt to cover it up. Just for protection, he told himself. He didn’t know what would happen and he didn’t want to risk anything.
The grass was still fresh under his feet, the heat of the summer hadn’t yet dried it to a crisp. One of the residences of the neighborhood was mowing her lawn, the sickly sweet smelling mingling in with the breeze and causing Colin to sneeze. Shaking his head, he pressed on, creeping over the hedge that separated Mr Yorke’s yard from the Greenwood’s. Colin noticed Mr Yorke’s side wasn’t as well trimmed as theirs, a few branches of cedar stuck out here and there. He rolled his eyes and tip-toed his way to the side of the house, dropping down onto his hands and knees and crawling under the open window. There are voices from inside leaking through the screen and he stops, trying to clear the pounding of his heart in his hears so he can listen.
It’s them.
It’s them, and they’re arguing. He can hear his brother’s voice, high-pitched in defense and Mr Yorke’s quiet, calm. Colin lets out a shaky breath.
“You’re being ridiculous, Jonny,” Mr Yorke’s voice said. Even without seeing his expression Colin could tell he was losing his patience.
Jonny snapped right back, “Don’t call me ridiculous!”
“I didn’t say you’re ridiculous, I said you’re being ridiculous, there’s a difference.”
“Whatever,” Jonny sniffed. There was an exasperated sigh and Colin pushed himself closer to the building, swatting away a bee that was flying too close.
“Look, Jonny. I understand why you’re upset –”
“Ha!” Jonny barked.
“No, really, I do. I understand. But you have to take a moment and step into his shoes. Try and feel what he’s feeling. He’s just worried about you and he’s trying to protect you, and frankly I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”
Colin felt his cheeks burn. Were they talking about him?
“What are you saying?”
“I’m nearly twice your age, Jonathan! We’ve been through this. People, they aren’t used to things like this happening. Half the people in this community think being gay is a sin, anyway, so it doesn’t matter what age you are, to them it’s still wrong.”
Colin swallowed thickly. He had always suspected about his brother, but there was a part of him that denied it. Jonny was just feminine, that’s all. Their sister’s friends used to dress him up like a girl when he was just a toddler and he always thought some part of it came from that. Even when Jonny told him about his relationship with Mr Yorke he denied it, that Jonny might ever be…that way. But hearing it out loud put everything in perspective, and the haze that was over Colin’s mind was starting to evaporate.
It would explain a lot, he thought. Why Jonny’s classmates teased him. Why he acted out and disobeyed and ran away from home. Why he stopped talking to Colin. He didn’t know how he couldn’t have seen it before, why he had spent all time denying it when he should have just embraced it, embraced Jonny for what he was. Maybe then none of this would have happened.
“It’s none of their fucking business!” Jonny was shouting. “And it’s none of my brother’s, either!”
“Then why did you tell him?” The calm voice was closer to the window this time and Colin grabbed his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible should anyone look outside.
“I made a mistake,” Jonny huffed. “I shouldn’t have told him. I thought he’d understand, but I guess I was wrong.”
“That’s a lot to take in, don’t you think?” Mr Yorke asked, unable to hide a hint of amusement. “He didn’t know about you to begin with. Not only is he finding out his little brother is gay, he’s also got a boyfriend twice his age. That’s kind of a shocker.”
“Are you defending him?”
There was a brief pause in which Colin held his breath, heart beating quickly in his chest.
“Kind of, yeah,” Mr Yorke said eventually. Colin felt the breath he was holding in leak out of him in a shudder, a heat raising up from under the collar of his t-shirt and into his face. There were footsteps, loud and hurried towards the front door and he panicked, but Mr Yorke’s voice stopped them just before the door swung open.
“Look, I’m sorry. I understand, I have a younger brother. It was hard for him to accept me, too.”
Jonny remained silent and Mr Yorke continued.
“He didn’t speak to me for weeks. We weren’t even as close as you and Colin are. I thought he hated me for who I was.”
“So, what happened?” Jonny asked, all shouting ceased.
“It was hard for him to understand, but eventually he just stopped trying to and accepted it. Accepted me. We started talking again, playing jokes and everything. Maybe it didn’t go back to the way it was before, but it was close enough. Just give Colin time, Jon. He’s your brother and he loves you. He’ll come around, you’ll see.”
Colin sniffed defiantly at this from under the window, though knew, somewhere deep in his heart, Mr Yorke was right. There was no way he couldn’t forgive his brother. He hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with.
Jonny sighed, “I hope you’re right.”
“When am I not?”
Jonny laughed, “Wanker.”
More footsteps, and a sigh. Colin arched his neck to hear better.
“I think you owe me an apology,” Mr Yorke said quietly. “For shouting in my house.”
“I shout in your house all the time, Thomas.”
“That’s different,” Mr Yorke laughed now, too. Colin listened to Jonny apologize, voice muffled like he had pressed his mouth to something, the front of a t-shirt or the skin on a neck.
Abandoning his original idea to confront the man he thought was taking his brother away, Colin crept back along the side of the house and finally back over the hedge into the Greenwood’s backyard. There, he straightened himself up, knees sore from kneeling and dusting the back of his trousers before going through the back door into the kitchen, putting the knife he had taken back into its rightful place. With one last look out the kitchen window, he climbed the stairs to his room.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
Despite the day’s activities, sleep wasn’t coming easy for Jonny. He had spent a good hour tossing and turning in his bed before he gave up with a huff and kicked the covers down onto the floor, sitting up and running a hand over his face, turning on his bedside lamp.
He was getting tired of constantly getting glares from his brother when they bumped into one another – though it didn’t happen often, with Colin being at work most days. Their mother had asked him what was going on but he had no answer for her, merely shrugged and walked away, wishing he could do the same with this situation. Wishing he could do the same to his brother.
His argument with Thom wasn’t helping sleep find him, either. After thinking about it for hours he felt guilty for the way he acted. He still had so much to learn, he was still so young and didn’t understand the world and the life that had been thrust upon him. Though, when he really thought about it, he wasn’t quite sure if anyone did.
Thom had a good idea, he thought. Thom seemed to know things about life. Thom was wise and patient. Sometimes Jonny wished he could be angry at him for being right all the bloody time, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t easy to be angry at a man whose eyes sparkled when he smiled at him. Who laughed like a child, playful and with abandon. Who forgave so easily and held his heart on his sleeve.
Who was sleeping right next door and had spent most of the day teaching Jonny a thing or two about life and love and everything in general, and the boy felt he should repay him for putting up with him all the time.
He glanced at his alarm clock and felt his heart flutter in his chest at the ideas that were coming to him, and his eyes wandered to his open window.
It would be easy, he thought. It would be so easy; all he would have to do is climb up the side of the other house and topple into the room without sound. He could do it, Jonny knew he could. He had been quiet all his life. This wouldn’t be a hard feat to overcome.
Before he knew it he was crossing his yard, grass cool between his toes as he climbed over the wooden fence and landed heavily on the other side, cursing under his breath when his elbow met the ground rather painfully. He straightened himself up and glanced back at his house to make sure no lights had flicked on in his absence. Satisfied, he began to climb. He knew his footing well, Thom’s house had the same sort of decoration on the side that could be used as a make-shift ladder that his did and within a few minutes he was gently lowering himself to the hardwood floor of Thom’s bedroom.
Just as he hoped, Thom was fast asleep in his bed, the blanket pulled just over his hips, chest rising and falling gently in the moonlight. He tip-toed soundlessly to the foot of the bed, hesitated a moment and finally lifted up the blanket, crawling his way under it, hands and knees pressed against the mattress. Had he been religious, he would have looked up to the ceiling (or in this case, the blanket) and thanked God for making Thom Yorke the type of person that slept in the nude.
Admittedly, Jonny had no idea what he was doing. It was hot and stuffy and almost completely black under the light blanket, he could just make out a sharp hipbone and a trail of hair over a smooth stomach. He remembered what Thom had done to him earlier under the shade of the tree. It didn’t seem that difficult.
He licked his lips as his hands moved soft thighs apart tenderly, listening with held breath for any rustle or movement or sign that the body was waking. When nothing happened he bent forward and placed a timid kiss on the inside of the right thigh, dragging it out and slowly creeping closer to the spot he was so nervously trying to get to.
Jonny let his hands come to rest on the soft stomach, which was beginning to move a bit quicker, the skin under his lips tightening and starting to strain at the attention it was getting and a quiet noise came from the top of the bed, on the other side of the thin blanket. Gaining confidence, he let Thom slip between his lips and let out a shaking breath through his nose, the air brushing against exposed skin and causing the body around him to squirm.
There was a grunt, shifting and finally blue moonlight being cast upon him. He looked up through dark hair to see mismatched eyes looking back, shocked and disoriented and flooding with relief when they met Jonny’s.
“Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing here, Jonathan?” He asked in a whisper, expression softening.
“What does it look like?” The boy asked, cheeky grin on his lips as he ducked down to capture Thom’s growing erection, cheeks burning at the strained noise that emitted from the older man’s throat. He was thankful Thom had woken and pushed the blanket off of him, the mixture of his breath and body heat was causing a thin layer of sweat to break out over his skin and he welcomed the fresh air of the room gratefully.
After a few moments of lipping and kissing, he sat up, pulling a whimper from Thom’s throat and he nibbled on his bottom lip, suddenly nervous.
“What?” he panted. “What is it?”
“I…I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Jonny admitted, feeling embarrassed. Thom was silent for six seconds (Jonny counted) before breaking into a fit of laughter.
“You’re doing fine,” Thom assured him. “You can’t really go wrong, just as long as you don’t bite too hard.”
“Too hard?” Jonny asked, bewildered and Thom flashed him a wicked grin.
“I’m not telling you what I like,” he informed him. “I want you to figure that out on your own.”
Jonny sniffed, breaking their eye contact to bend down and attempt to figure out just how to go about doing this.
In the end he realized Thom wasn’t much different than his guitar or his radio – certain spots, certain movements of his tongue, certain pressures would produce different reactions, different noises. He learned that when he flicked his tongue against the head of his cock, Thom’s breath would come in sharp and quick. When he took him in whole, fingers grasping at his hips, the breath would come out shaking and his stomach would tense under Jonny’s palms. When he let his teeth gently, barely touch the skin on the underside of him, he would claw at the sheets and clench his eyes closed and Jonny would smile around him, eyes never leaving the flushing face.
He began to wonder, feeling small hands tangle into his hair and send shivers down his spine, just how long he could keep this up before Thom would grab a hold of him and force himself to the back of his throat. He wondered just what would cause Thom’s thin thread of control to break, and he let his hair brush across sharp hipbones, lips hovering though not quite touching. The whimpering noises sounding from the top of the bed caused his fingertips to tingle and he thought to himself, he could do this forever.
Thom, on the other hand, was beginning to doubt he’d ever be able to last that long.
“Jonathan, Christ. Please…” he panted and Jonny giggled against his thigh, the tips of his fingers trailing down the other.
He was struggling to keep himself composed, the boy could tell. He just needed to push him a little further, and he let out a small sigh, lips pressed to the tip of Thom’s skin and fingers moving up slowly to the base. All it took was a quick squeeze and the hands in his hair tightened and hips thrust upwards, sending the whole of him into Jonny’s mouth. He coughed and Thom whimpered out an apology, as best as he could as he picked up a steady rhythm, moaning loudly when Jonny let out a hum, swooning at the noises and the taste and everything that was suddenly surrounding him.
Thom finished with a cry a few minutes later, collapsing onto his mattress as Jonny swallowed him down before rising from his spot and stretching himself over the small body below him, surprised when Thom pressed a heated kiss to his lips and a small hand pushed between their stomachs, pulling at the strings of his pajama bottoms, sinking into the fabric and giving a few quick strokes before the boy was coming into his palm.
A kiss against his cheek woke him, however long after he wasn’t sure. Jonny wiped his eyes and frowned down at the man below him, feeling satiated and lazy, not wanting to leave. Thom smiled back, running a hand through his hair.
“You alright?” he asked and the boy nodded with a yawn.
“Mmm, yeah. You?”
“Perfect.”
“I have to go home,” Jonny said sadly, and Thom nodded.
“I know.”
“I just wanted to thank you. I couldn’t sleep because of what happened earlier. I feel like such a brat.”
Thom laughed, “You are a brat, Jon.”
Jonny frowned.
“And I think that’s what made me fall for you in the first place.”
If Jonny had to describe his emotions for the past week or so, he would call it a salad, a toss salad, to be exact. Each hour brought something new, sadness or happiness or anger and they all left as quickly as they appeared. Dinner was awkward; he crept into the kitchen and gathered a plate, tossing his brother a hopeless look, a plea for him to reconsider but it always went ignored, or he only got a glare in return. His mother watched as her two boys darted out of the room, Colin usually taking up post on the living room couch and Jonny darting up to his bedroom.
The odd time he was angry, and these were the times he lamented to Thom as they were laying about not doing anything in particular. The older man listened, a frown on his lips and his head nodding, but when he spoke his words often chased the anger away, making Jonny realize how ridiculous he was being. Giving his brother time did not mean a day or two, he realized one afternoon. He would have to wait and be patient, something that did not come easy for him.
The truth behind all this was that he missed his older brother. He missed him before this mess even began, and now he was suffering the consequences of pushing him away the way he did. Once Thom had gotten fed up with him and had told him with anger in his eyes that he had done it to himself, and to stop being an immature brat about it. Jonny had left in a rush, realizing he was only angry because he knew Thom had been right. He had done it to himself, and that was why it hurt so much. Luckily for him the man was there that same evening with open arms and kind words and apologies for getting mad, though Jonny had brushed them off, knowing it was what he really needed to hear all along.
Mrs Greenwood noticed something, and watched with worry when the two brothers avoided each other blatantly. The glaring and the sad looks and the running from the room when the other stumbled in only lasted about a week, and after that Jonny had gone to her to ask if he could do Colin’s chores for him, and that was when she knew something was up – something big.
It was obvious Colin noticed at that point that his brother was desperate to get his attention back, desperate for them to talk again and it was only then that the anger in his stomach melted away into guilt. Ed had noticed one evening that he wasn’t being himself, he wasn’t shooting off at the mouth as he normally did and instead had sat in complete silence as Ed went on about some girl he had met at a party. Colin had shrugged when Ed asked him what was wrong, mumbling something about he and Jonny not talking and his friend had frowned and told him that Jonny needed him probably more than he ever let on.
Colin knew this was true. He knew this all along, and that was why he was standing outside his younger brother’s bedroom door, fist poised at the ready to knock on the wood. He let out a shaking breath and knocked, Jonny’s mumbled voice coming from the other side of the door.
The boy was sitting at his desk, frowning at a sheet of paper with books spread open around him, cluttering his space and making it difficult for him to write whatever it was he was glaring at. Jonny looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw that it was Colin sheepishly creeping into his room and not their mother with a load of clean laundry as he had suspected.
“Hi,” the older boy said and Jonny closed the book in front of him, turning in his chair to give his brother the whole of his attention.
“Hi,” he repeated back and the older boy sat down at the foot of his bed, hands clasped in front of him.
“I wanted to talk to you about, well…you know.”
Jonny fiddled with the pen between his fingers.
“It was just a bit of a shock,” Colin explained, glancing into his brother’s eyes. “I mean, I’ve always had my suspicions that maybe you didn’t like girls, you know, but…I never thought you’d go for someone that much older than you.”
“Neither did I,” Jonny admitted. “It just sort of happened. I think it’s like when you fancy a teacher, you know. Deep down you know it’s just a silly little crush and it’ll go away, that it could never, ever happen. I never really expected anything to come out of it.”
Colin nodded, understanding.
“But something did,” he said and the younger boy shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess something did. I mean, there was a point where I realized this wasn’t just a silly little crush anymore.”
“Are you happy?” Colin asked suddenly, taking his brother by surprise. Jonny’s eyebrows arched and he opened his mouth to speak, only to lose the words before they could fall from his lips. He considered the question for a moment.
“No,” he said finally. “I’m not.”
Colin frowned, “Why not?”
“I want my brother back, that’s why,” he said. “I miss you, Coz. I know I’ve been a monster lately, but I know why that is now. I realize that’s no excuse for how I acted towards you, but some part of me is hoping you’ll forgive me.”
“You idiot,” Colin snapped. “Of course I forgive you.” He gave him a punch in the arm and Jonny rubbed at the sore spot, a grin spreading on his lips and the two boys laughed, Colin pulling his brother into a hug and playfully mussing his hair.
“I haven’t told anyone, you know,” Colin said a while later when he had finished reading over the letter Jonny had been struggling with. “Not even Ed.”
“I never thought you would,” Jonny smiled. “I trust you.”
“I know, Jon,” Colin frowned. “That’s why I felt so bad about ignoring you.”
The younger boy shrugged, “I should have understood better than I did, really. I should have realized you would need time to process it.”
“It’s a lot to process,” Colin mused. “But whatever it is you have going on with Mr Yorke – Thom – makes you happy, then who am I to judge?”
Jonny smiled, his heart swooping when the older boy returned it. Whoever had said he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too, was dead wrong. Or, at the very least, Jonny imagined he was the luckiest cake-lover out there.
Colin was hiding something.
Although she was happy that her sons had seemed to come to an agreement and end whatever dispute they had been having, the air around them had changed. They shot each other knowing looks over the dinner table. Colin had stopped making fun of his little brother and Jonny had stopped snapping at him.
To anyone else, this would look as though whatever had happened between the two of them was solved, a thing of the past. But she knew better, and she could tell when they had shared something she wasn’t supposed to find out about. They had the same guilty looks painted on their features as they did the time she found them smoking pot in the backyard. They same expression they had when Colin had given his brother a few cookies from the cookie jar even after she had told them to wait until after supper.
Jonny had been out and about lately, returning home with rumbled clothing and a sort of calmness surrounding him that made him almost pleasant to deal with. He listened better, did as he was told in a sort of daze, one she had seen years before when he was a little boy and walked to school with his head in the clouds.
She had her suspicions. Jonny didn’t have any friends from school that she was aware of, the only one he had ever had over to their house had moved away during the middle of the school year. He spent some of his days in the backyard with Ed and Colin, but most of the time he was gone.
“Colin, dear,” she asked from behind the couch where the older boy was stretched out, eyes glued to the television screen. “Where is your brother?”
He was silent for a moment, and then he pretended he hadn’t heard her.
“What?”
“Your brother,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Where is he?”
“At the park,” Colin said quickly, turning back to the television. “I think he went with that Percy kid, you know. The really skinny one.”
She was not convinced, but left him be.
Jonny returned home two hours later with a grin on his lips and she watched from the kitchen as he jumped onto the couch where Colin was still laying, the two of them laughing and struggling to push the other off onto the floor. Colin grabbed him in a headlock, the younger boy screeching and struggling to wriggle from his grasp.
“Did you have fun reading, Jon-boy?” he asked and Jonny straightened himself up.
“You know it,” he grinned wickedly and plucked the pillow off the floor that had fallen in their struggle. “It’s always a pleasure when…books are involved.”
“Uhg, Jonny.”
The boy giggled and Colin pushed him away playfully.
The next day Jonny returned home with his forums filled out for college and his letter written, words circled with a red pen and someone else’s writing that didn’t belong to anyone in the Greenwood family. She found it on the kitchen table, left with the book Jonny had been reading for weeks now, its bookmark in the same place as it had been then.
She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had taken another book with him to the park – though the facts didn’t add up in her mind and she shook the thoughts from her head. No, it wasn’t that.
Colin was lying to her.
She cornered him in his bedroom that evening, eyes burning angrily and Colin avoided looking up at her, much like he did when he was younger and had spilt his drink on the carpet and tried to hide it with a pillow. She thought he was past this, she thought they were both past this – gaining up on her and pulling fast ones. That was years ago, when their father died and she didn’t know how to deal.
But not now.
“Colin,” she said, her voice shaking. “Why did you lie to me about Jonny going to the park?”
Her son shuffled awkwardly, playing with a pen between his fingers.
“I – I don’t know. He…he’s been hanging out with that Jonas kid, you know. The one who beat him up at the end of the year? They’re getting along fine but he thought if we said something about him you’d get worried and…do something.”
She softened slightly, and Colin dropped his defenses.
“Are you telling me the truth?” She asked.
No. “Yes. What else would he be doing, mum?” he challenged and she frowned, shaking her head.
“Nothing, nothing. I don’t know. Sorry,” she muttered, and closed the door behind her before she could hear Colin’s sigh of relief as he turned back to his desk.
They were good, she had to admit it. Before, a few years ago, their stories never matched up. Colin would say he was going to Ed’s for the night, and when she asked Jonny the younger boy had told her Colin had to work the late shift and wouldn’t be home until early morning.
Now, however, now they had planned this before hand. They had discussed what they were going to say. She had sat Jonny down at the kitchen table and pointed to the forums and to the letter he had written, asking whose writing was on his work and Jonny, quick to the whim, told her it was Jonas’. The boy who used to punch him and kick him was now helping him fill out his college forms.
And it didn’t make any sense, but maybe she would just have to believe they were telling the truth, no matter what her heart was telling her.
Jonny was nervous. He had straightened his room three times in the past hour, moving things around and hiding anything that would give away evidence of him being anything but a mature adult. He could handle this, he could. Really, it was just Thom. They same Thom he saw yesterday and the day before, the same Thom who threw grass in his hair playfully and pulled his t-shirt up to kiss his stomach under the shade of a tree. He was the same Thom who trusted him, who told him his secrets, who whispered to him as they were lying together in damp sheets, the CD they had left playing downstairs repeating itself endlessly as the hours passed by.
But this was different. Thom was coming here, to Jonny’s house. Thom had never been there before, he had never set foot on their property (well, except to drop off Jonny’s notebook when he forgot it one time before school ended.) Jonny paced down the front hallway, stopping to check his reflection and letting out a sigh which sent strands of his hair away from his face. He had nothing to be nervous about, Thom knew him. Thom knew him better than anyone else did, and he had the entire house to himself for the whole night, what with Colin being out with Ed and Mrs Greenwood was working late and had decided to book a hotel room for the night instead of making the drive home.
A knock on the door cut into these thoughts and he yanked it open, unable to hold back a grin when he saw Thom standing awkwardly on the front step, hands in his pockets and attention towards someone walking their dog further down the street.
“Hey,” he said, pulling the older man inside and shutting the door behind him. Thom kicked off his boots and turned his attention towards a photo hung up on the wall.
“Is that Colin?”
“Yes, that’s the bugger himself,” Jonny came to stand beside him.
“He looks like an owl,” Thom observed and the boy burst into a fit of laughter.
“I suppose he does,” Jonny shrugged. “But anyway, I didn’t invite you over here to make fun of my brother – although that’s not a bad idea.”
“Hey now,” Thom ruffled his hair playfully. “You don’t mean that.”
Jonny bent down to give him a kiss, running hands down his back and when they broke apart their breath was coming out in small pants, eyes closed and noses pressing together in the orange light of the hallway.
“I want you in my bed,” Jonny whispered. “I’ve thought about it so much, I’ve dreamt about it even.”
“Hmmm,” Thom hummed. “Your mother –”
“Not coming home tonight,” Jonny assured him. “Besides, I found my school tie while I was cleaning up earlier. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to tie me down with it and fuck the hell out of me the first time I ran into you on my way to school. I saw you eyeing it.”
Thom feigned being offended, eyes widening and mouth gaping open, “I would never!”
“Sure,” Jonny sniffed, pressing another kiss to his lips. “It’s alright you know, I wanted you to.”
“Minx,” Thom muttered and the boy grinned against his neck.
It was odd having Thom in his room. He watched from his bed, turning on music and playing with the volume on his CD player as the man wandered the edge of the carpet, eyes trailing up the walls to take in the posters he had hung years ago. He moved slowly, taking everything in, stopping at his desk to glance down at the book he was reading and poke at the glass of his fish tank, smiling to himself when the fish inside followed his finger around the water.
Eventually, Jonny became impatient and pulled Thom away from his keyboard, tugging him down onto his bed and laughing when he collapsed on top of him, breath warm in his hair and eyelashes brushing his skin. Thom rolled off, sitting with his back against the wall so he could regard the space at the end of Jonny’s bed, the wall directly ahead home to a chart of guitar chords and a mobile airplane hanging in front of his closet.
“I like it,” he stated suddenly. “Reminds me of my room when I was your age.”
“Though I bet you didn’t have thirty-two year old men sitting in your bed with you,” Jonny said conspiratorially in a hushed voice. Without warning he rose, wriggling his way over to the body beside him and straddling small hips, hands running over sandy hair and lips landing amongst stubble on a chin.
“You know,” Jonny whispered. “The first time I touched myself to thoughts of you I was in this very bed.”
Thom tensed underneath him and he continued.
“That thing you said, about having a boyfriend, it really got to me. It wouldn’t leave my mind for days. I tried to picture you with some anonymous, faceless man but eventually he just became me and before I knew it I was dreaming about you, about your hands and your lips.”
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” Thom muttered, turning his head into the boy’s kisses which were drawing closer and closer to his lips. “I felt so stupid afterwards, I thought for sure you’d run away.”
“Never,” Jonny shook his head and whimpered when small hands found the skin on his back between his t-shirt and his jeans. He rocked his hips gently and together they gasped, boy’s lips faltering and fingers tightening on his bones.
“So, uh,” Thom cleared his throat. “Where’s that school tie of yours?”
“Mmm, I’ll get it,” Jonny smiled, hands clinging onto sharp cheekbones and he gave him one last kiss, lips parting and a soft sigh escaping his throat. One of the hands on his hips moved into his hair and teeth pulled on his bottom lip, not willing to let him go just yet.
He barely registered the sound of his door swinging open, but the stream of light leaking into his room from the hallway was enough to send him stumbling backwards, away from Thom’s hands and lips and teeth as though he had been burnt, Thom looking dumbfounded and unsure what to do as Jonny pressed himself against the wall, trying to hide the bulge in his jeans as his mother stood in the doorway, paralyzed in shock.
“What,” she said, her voice shaking and her finger pointing in Thom’s general direction. “What are you doing in my house?”
“I-I can explain,” Thom moved to get off the bed, hands held up in defense.
“How dare you!” She shouted and Jonny felt like a little boy again, listening to his parents arguments with his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut. This time he didn’t move to block out the sound, he just watched as Thom opened his mouth to speak, thought otherwise and closed it, cheeks blushing with guilt. “After I told you I didn’t want you near my son, I come in here and I – you…”
“Mum, please,” Jonny felt the words slip out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “It’s not his fault, it was me. I asked him to come over here –”
“Jon,” Thom warned in a whisper and Mrs Greenwood shook her head, hands in her hair. “Look. It’s not Jonny’s fault, alright? Don’t get mad at him. Can we please just discuss this in a calm and –”
“Calm?” she laughed. “You ask me to be calm, Mr Yorke? I walk in here and find you…find you…with my son and you expect me to be calm?”
“Mum, please,” Jonny whimpered. He had tears in his eyes and she shot him a harsh look, silencing him.
“You’re right, it was a poor choice of words,” Thom agreed. “Look, Jonny is old enough – mature enough to make his own decisions. I can’t really stop him.”
“You can!” she snapped. “You can stop him! I told you to, do you not remember? I didn’t want you anywhere near my son and you –”
“What?” Jonny asked, eyes moving from Thom to his mother. He knew his mother didn’t want him and Thom talking to one another but he never imagined she would go out of her way to ask him to keep away from him. He felt a bubble of anger burst in his stomach and he bit back a few choice words, glaring at her as she stared down the older man with hate in her eyes.
“Alright,” Thom said, defeated. “Fine. I didn’t want to, how is that? There’s your truth, lady. I didn’t want to, because I wanted it just as much as he did. I knew it was wrong, I knew that I should stay away. I thought he was too young, but he proved me wrong in the end.”
Mrs Greenwood shook her head again, a grimace on her expression as she pointed to the front end of the house.
“Get out.”
“Mum –”
“Get out, or I call the cops,” she threatened and Thom turned to Jonny. When their eyes met Jonny understood. He let out a quiet sob as he watched the older man slink his way out of his bedroom, glaring at Jonny’s mum as he passed her, mumbling to her that she should listen to her son once in a while, because he had things to say. She tossed him a quick glance before turning back to Thom who was walking down the stairs. They both listened with held breathing for the front door to shut and once it finally the fight visibly dropped from her body, her shoulders sinking and her eyes filling with tears.
“Jonathan,” she started and he hugged himself tighter. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
The boy whimpered something into the fabric of his jeans and she tensed, unsure if she heard correctly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I love him!” Jonny shouted. “And there’s nothing you, or Colin, or this god damn neighborhood can do about it!”
Her breath shook and she closed her eyes, “How long has this been going on?”
Jonny shrugged, “A month, I don’t know. Not long.”
She hesitated a moment, thoughts turning behind her eyes, “And – I mean, you haven’t…er…have you?”
“Yes,” his voice came out cracked and barely audible. She nodded, slow and uneasy. Her grip on the doorframe had tightened as she watched him wipe at his eyes.
“Does Colin know?”
He hesitated for a moment and looked down at his socks.
“No,” he lied.
“Please…please tell me that you – you’ve been safe.”
When he didn’t say anything she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and shook her head.
“Jonathan…”
“I know, Mum. Okay? I know,” he snapped. “But now you can stop with all that marriage shite, right? You can stop telling me to meet some nice girl and grow up and have a family with, because that’s not going to happen. Your son’s a pouf and he’s getting shagged by your thirty-two year old neighbor. Go ahead and tell that to your bloody book club, or are you worried it’ll ruin your image?”
He watched her detach herself from the wooden frame, watch her lips tremble and watched her swallow thickly before turning on her heels and marching down the hallway, her door slamming shut seconds later and he toppled to the floor in a mess, letting go everything he was holding back before. He should have known this was going to happen eventually. They called him the dreamer back in school, didn’t they? He always had his head in the clouds; he never paid much attention to anything other than the instrument he held in his hands – or in this case, the thin body of another man.
He should have known this wasn’t going to last forever, this safety net he had put up around him and Thom, even his brother. He had cut a hole in the fabric, meant just for the three of them but he had cut it too big and the one person he wanted to keep out the most had managed to find her way inside, and now he wasn’t sure what was going to happen.
The morning light was blaring down at him and he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head to hide himself from the daytime, his room a disgusting temperature despite the window being open. He had slept on the hard floor, pulling his pillow down with him and rolling into his blanket, making himself a make-shift cocoon in which he could hide away from everything.
His eyes were sore, his back was sore, his arms and his legs and his heart was sore, and he didn’t want to get up, even when Colin crouched down beside him with a cup of tea in his hands.
“Jon,” he whispered. “You should get up, mate. I made you tea. You know, with lemon? The way you like it.”
He was about to refuse, wanting to curl away from the attention but the sadness and concern in his brother’s eyes made him reach for the mug and take a light sip, eyelids fluttering shut at the taste and he let out a sigh.
“Thanks, Coz.”
“Mmm,” the older boy set his own mug aside and sat cross-legged, studying the mess of blankets.
“Mum told you what happened?” Jonny asked, his voice muffled from the pillow. Colin frowned.
“No, she just said you weren’t feeling well.”
Jonny tutted and took another sip of his tea, trying to keep his composure but failing and he felt new tears slide down his cheeks. Colin shuffled a few things away, books and paper and a baggie of guitar picks so he could lie down next to his brother, arms folded under his chin and eyes searching.
“What’s going on?” he asked calmly and Jonny shook his head.
“She – she didn’t knock.”
“Knock? Knock what – oh, the door…Oh,” Colin’s cheeks turned a light shade of red. “Er…”
“We weren’t doing anything serious,” Jonny sniffled. “I mean, well. We still had our clothes on.”
“Oh…so…he was here, then.”
“Yes, Colin, he was here,” Jonny hugged himself under the blanket. “I thought she was staying in town and, and I just wanted him here, you know? So he came over and we were in my room and I was kissing him and I guess she got off work early because she walked in a few minutes later and yelled at him to get out or she’d phone the police,” he said hurriedly and wiped at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Colin whispered, brushing dark hair from his brother’s eyes.
“S-she said she had told him to stay away from me, Colin. She actually went over there and told him to stay away from me. He didn’t do anything, he’s my friend!”
Colin couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at this, “I think he’s a little bit more than your friend, Jon.”
“Shut up,” Jonny groaned. “You know what I mean.”
Colin nodded and the younger boy pulled the blanket closer to his body, despite the heat of the room causing him to feel sick to his stomach. He pulled a tissue from off his dresser and blew his nose quietly and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whimpered. “What should I do, Colin?”
“I-I don’t know, Jon,” the older boy shook his head. “I really don’t know.”
“What would you do, if it were you?”
“Something stupid, I’m sure,” Colin said with a sad smile and Jonny gave a light laugh.
“You’re probably right,” he agreed and his brother nudged him with his elbow.
“Well, I’ll tell you what you should do for now. You should get off the damn floor and come into town with me. I’ll buy you some ice cream, if you’d like. My treat, you look like you could use one.”
“Okay,” Jonny nodded, squirming out of the blanket. “Thanks, Coz.”
“And in the future, Jon, might I suggest against bringing your thirty-two year old boyfriend home?”
The younger boy rolled his eyes and heaved himself off the floor. He could do this. He could walk from the safety of his bedroom and downstairs. He could face the outside world again, especially with his brother an arm’s length away. He knew he could do it, because he had done it before.
He knew if he tripped and fell down, there was a little man next door that would help him back on his feet again, and there was nothing his mother could do to stop that.
Thom’s fingers were shaking as he flipped through the Yellow Pages, tears still drying on his cheeks.
For a man his age, Thom cried often, at least that’s what he thought as his sore eyes darted through the numbers and letters, his mind forgetting for a second what it was supposed to be looking for.
But then it came back, oh, yeah.
The events that led him that precise moment started when he gave up, gave in, let down the delicate guard that was keeping him from doing what seemed at the time as a huge, ridicules mistake.
But it turned out that the mistake wasn't all that bad. It had black strands of silk for hair and two full moons that sometimes lit up and shined for eyes. The mistake was so beautiful that sometimes Thom wondered why it picked to happen to him, of all people.
The mistake knew how to give and how to receive in more than one manner, always eager to learn and in its eyes Thom re found his passion for music, re found his desire and lust, re found the old form of himself, the one that has been destroyed by betrayal and ignorance.
Jonny was Thom's sweet mistake and Thom never stopped thanking whatever powers out there that brought him to take that wrong way, to be so very irresponsible almost to an absurdity, to let himself fall in love with a boy.
Jonny was a boy, no matter how hard he sometimes tried to hide it. He was eager to learn anything that Thom could teach him, soon enough mastering the skill to a level that usually left Thom wide eyed and speechless. Sometimes Thom would sit and watch Jonny's fingers swift across strings for hours, not being able to take his eyes off that beauty.
Slowly, they built themselves a protected world where only they existed, where it made perfect sense for a teenaged boy and a fully grown man to spend hours in bed together, exploring each other until there wasn't an inch of skin that wasn't owned and conquered by their passion.
A world where they could understand each other with a single nod or a smile, where sometimes the only connection they had for hours was through the strums of a guitar or the humming of Thom's old piano.
A world where they both could ignore the wrongness of what they did, the danger that laid upon the chance of the wrong person finding out about them. They pushed that danger out of their minds and almost forgot about it, until it was too late and their little world was shattered with one swing of a door.
But Thom wasn't really willing to let it happen just yet. He was too happy to let some reality mess with his delicate fantasy. He would make this right, he would make it all better, he just had to think how.
He wasn’t really surprised early in the morning after his visit to the Greenwood's residence when Mrs Greenwood stood in his living room for the second time in their short history. He was expecting her to come, anticipating her visit even. This time, he thought, she would be calmer and more reasonable and they would be able to discuss this like two adults over a cup of tea.
“I don’t want a bloody cup of tea!” Mrs Greenwood’s eyes fell sharply on Thom, anger bubbling in them like lava.
“Fine.” Thom shrugged, something inside him tightening all of a sudden in fear of what was about to happen.
“The reason I haven’t phoned the police yet,” She started after a moment of silence, “Is that I know that for some reason Jonny has some feelings for you.” Her voice became hoarse as she forced those words out of her throat. “Or at least he thinks he does, and to be honest, I don’t need him hating me for the rest of his life because of some stranger being put behind bars.”
Thom didn’t replay. Not because he had nothing to say but because he was shocked, Mrs Greenwood’s words still hitting all of the hidden places in his mind, those he tried to repress and hide from himself and from Jonny ever since he had kissed the younger boy back all those nights ago.
“Believe me, I would have loved to see you get what you deserve.” She continued with her business like voice, cold and calculated. “But not only that I don’t want Jonny to resent me, I also don’t want to cause a scene, for his sake. The entire neighborhood knowing that he…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her nails. “That he was with you, is not a smart idea. Jonny is about to start his mature life and I won’t let this misfortunate escapade ruin it for him.”
Thom opened his mouth to speak but Mrs Greenwood was sharp enough to stop him before he even began. “The way I see it,” She raised her voice and looked straight into his eyes. “We have two ways of dealing with this.”
“Now liste…”
“I will not listen to you!" She snapped, almost shouting now. "You lost every right to be listened to when you molested my premature son! If there is any common sense left in that head of yours you will be wise enough to shut up and let me speak now!”
Thom couldn’t really argue with that.
Mrs Greenwood composed herself, the storm in her expression melting away, giving way to the hard, determined form it was wearing before. “Like I said, we have two ways of dealing with this; I hope you’ll be wise enough to pick the right one.”
“I’m listening.” Thom said quietly, even though he doubted he was about to like anything that would soon come out of Mrs Greenwood’s mouth.
“The first option is that you stay here, in this house and in this neighborhood while I will send Jonny away, far away. Away from his brother and his friends and everything he knows. And if you’ll even consider setting foot near him you’ll find yourself in the back of a police car faster than you can even imagine.”
Thom paled. He had to admit that the woman in front of him could be pretty intimidating when she wanted. “You…You can’t do that, you can’t punish him, it’s not his fault…” He barely even heard his own voice until Jonny’s mother cut through it again.
“That’s why I think you should listen to the second option, Mr Yorke. Because that’s the reasonable option, the one that doesn’t include Jonny being ripped away from everything he ever knew.”
But she didn’t really had to say it, Thom knew what she wanted and he covered his face with the palm of his hand, realizing. “You…You want me to…”
“Disappear. Vanish. I don’t care where you go as long as Jonny will never be able to find you.”
Thom was cornered, and the corner was dirty and dark. “You can’t…Do that…” He mumbled without even believing his own words.
“Yes I can, and I am.” She stood up, now towering the wrecked man. “I know you don’t want to see Jonathan getting hurt, so I trust you’re about to make the right decision. You have until tomorrow morning to disappear and then I’m sending Jonny away. I have it all organized, one phone call and Jonny is on his way to a new place.”
“To…Tomorrow morning?!” Thom moaned in defeat.
“Yes. And believe me, you do not want to test me, if you’ll even try contacting Jonny by then I’ll only send him away faster. He’ll be on that train before even having the time to adjust to the idea. Don't forget that rebellious as he may seem, Jonny is still under my legal custody."
Thom blinked in realization, his little house of cards tumbling down on him in a blaze, leaving him shocked and naked, unable to respond to the attack.
Mrs Greenwood was walking towards the door, not before stopping and turning to look at the man, a sense of finality in her gaze and in her speech. "Jonny won’t be home until tonight, you should use that time to act.”
“Don’t do that, please, let’s talk…”
But Mrs Greenwood was already with her back to him, not bothering to give him another look. “I’m done talking to you.”
“No…” Thom felt the tears swelling up his throat, his voice breaking and betraying him as he tried clinging on to the last strands of hope he might still be able to change it, to fix it. “No, please…I'm asking you to...” Is all he managed to say before Mrs Greenwood opened the door and stood there, still with her back to Thom.
“Goodbye Mr Yorke, I hope to never to hear from you again,” she spat and slammed the door behind her, leaving Thom a destroyed shadow of himself.
And now when he remembered what he was looking for in the Yellow Pages he cringed, wishing the tears back but not being able to find them anymore. When he could no longer cry he knew it was done. There was no way he could fix this. He knew he was sinking deep into place where not feeling anything is better then the constant pain in his chest, a pain he had to somehow protect himself from.
When he couldn’t cry it meant the pain was too much to bear.
He lifted the phone slowly and dialed the numbers almost mechanically, not leaving himself time to regret. He had to do this, there was no other way, really.
“Hello”, he mumbled, fighting himself into forming the words, his voice shaking harder with every syllable. “I need a truck. H...How soon can you be here?”
Wait, that might have been just a dream.
Jonny has been dreaming a lot that night, short dreams, plot-less and vague, about two arms embracing him close to a chest, a beating heart inside it. About running his fingers through soft hair and over delicate skin. About comfort.
But then there was the familiar sound of a truck and Jonny jerked out of sleep, or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure, because why would there be a truck near Thom’s house? And why would there be people coming out of Thom’s house, carrying boxes and loading them into the back of the truck?
Jonny was awake. He knew that, because the feeling of comfort from his dreams has faded away almost instantly and he was left with the feeling of fear that lingered in his bones ever since his mother saw him straddling their older neighbor.
As Jonny stood by his bedroom window and digested what he saw, the fear quickly turned into panic. Boxes, truck, unfamiliar people, Jonny threw on the first shirt that he stumbled upon and rushed down the stairs and out of the house, running across their front lawn and stopping only when he found himself standing, puzzled, in the half-empty living room of his neighbor, a place where he spent some of the happiest hours of his life.
No one was paying much attention to Jonny and he started moving through the rooms, searching, calling Thom’s name, his hands touching in disbelief the spot on the wall where a picture used to be, his bare feet standing where the kitchen table used to stand, his eyes darting helplessly from one box to another until he found himself back in the living room, staring at two huge men who begun lifting Thom’s piano and dragging it outside.
And that’s when Jonny truly snapped.
“What the fuck are you doing? Who are you? Where’s Thom?” He stood in their way and screamed at the two annoyed looking men.
“Hey, boy, we’re just doing our job,” one of them said and walked passed Jonny like he wasn’t even there, like this was all just a strange nightmare, one of those nightmares where nothing makes sense and you try to scream but no one can hear you, because maybe you’re not really screaming, maybe there’s no voice coming out of your throat.
“Thom?!” Jonny tried again, tossing the word into the bare walls and hearing them echo back to him through the almost empty room.
“Are you looking for the owner? He’s not here, he already left.”
Jonny shook his head in horror, hoping somehow that the man with the big stack of papers and the pen behind his ear was only joking with him, was only sent there by Thom to prank him, that Thom was standing behind the door and laughing his lungs out at Jonny’s expression.
But the man only took the pen from behind his ear and wrote something down, looking around him while other men kept taking boxes out of the house, boxes filled with stuff, Thom’s stuff, emptying it from Thom and his presence and from Jonny’s memories and from anything that ever made sense and felt safe.
“Where did he…Where did he go?” Jonny heard himself asking the man that seemed in charge.
“I have no idea, we were just told to bring all of this into storage.” And as he said that, he just walked into another room, losing interest in Jonny and his pale face and confused mumbles.
Jonny walked slowly up the stairs and into Thom’s empty bedroom, and through his tears he could see the dust and dirt that hid behind where Thom’s bed used to lay. The bed where Jonny felt himself unite with another person for the first time in his life, the bed where he let all of his guards down completely and let himself be naked, really naked.
And now it was gone.
Jonny stood with his back against the wall, slowly sliding down into the floor. He hugged his knees and watched as his tears fell on the floor, creating tiny puddles of mud in the empty space.
It took forever for him to make that step out the front door and onto the pavement of the walk way. It took him even longer to take the second step forward onto the grass of Thom’s lawn, thoughts swimming through his head and fighting one another for his attention.
Thom was gone.
He was gone, and he didn’t even tell Jonny where he was going, or if he’d be back, or that he was leaving at all. When he glanced up into the kitchen window of his own house he felt something brew inside him. Something dark, and angry, and threatening to escape at any moment. Whatever it was, it gave him strength to walk the rest of the way across the yard and up the steps of the front porch.
Jonny slammed the front door shut with more force than he intended. He didn’t bother to kick off his shoes once he spotted his mother sitting at the kitchen table with her glasses on, going over the month’s bills. He stomped into the room and Mrs Greenwood didn’t even look up when Jonny placed his hands on the table and leaned in, glaring all the while. She hadn’t looked at him, or even spoken to him for that matter, since the night she walked in and Jonny was demanding to be heard.
“Where is he?” He growled and his mother tossed an envelope aside, pulling a calculator to her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about!” Jonny shouted, pulling some of the papers away from her roughly in hopes to get her attention. She looked up then, eyes focusing on his with a stern expression.
“Thom,” he continued. “He’s gone. All his stuff is gone. He wouldn’t just up and leave without telling me.”
“Well, apparently that’s exactly what he’s done, Jonathan,” she said quietly, going back to her work. Jonny stood up, shaking his head and looking away from her as he tried to gain some control of his thoughts.
“Where is he?” he asked again through clenched teeth. With a sigh Mrs Greenwood put down her paperwork, pulling off her glasses and setting them aside to fix her son with a hard look and the boy felt something shift uncomfortably in his insides.
“Mr Yorke left,” she stated calmly. “He packed up all of his things and left. He’s moved out of the neighborhood. He said it would be better if he wasn’t here, that it’d be best if he just left. The whole place is a mess, Jonathan. This is the one noble thing he’s done.”
“Noble?” The boy laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t just leave without telling me, he’s not like that!”
“Jonathan, he’s moved on,” Mrs Greenwood said firmly. “You honestly didn’t expect him to wait around here forever, did you? He’s a full grown man and you’re just a child! How long did you think this was going to last? How long did you think it would take before he got bored of you?”
Jonny felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he backed away from the table. He had to admit there had been times he would think about just that, despite how many times he tried to push the thoughts away. It was always his number one fear, that Thom would one day get bored of him and leave.
“Jonathan, listen –”
“No,” he shook his head again, back pressing against the doorframe of the kitchen. His vision blurred, his body shaking with the useless effort to keep calm he pointed a shaking finger at her. “Fuck you.”
Without a second thought, Jonny ran.
Much to his relief the park was almost completely empty when he arrived. Though it shouldn’t have come to much of a surprise, it was past ten in the evening and most of the families took their children home before six to make supper and catch the evening news. There was a small group of teenagers hanging around one of the fire pits, their voices loud with intoxication, laughter drifting through the air. It made Jonny’s stomach hurt.
A little away from the play structure, away from the park bench old couples sat to watch their dogs run through the grass, away from the large tree he always sat against whenever he was reading was an odd, raised platform of rocks that had been built before he was born. It was a bit of a climb up, and at the top there was a fair sized group of trees, thick branches twisting together to make a sort of canopy, yet still leaving spaces for one to star-gaze if they were to lay on the grass.
Jonny remembered this place quite fondly, he and Colin used to play games in the small woods, using sticks for swords and pulling the hoods of their rain jackets over their heads for knight helmets. There was a bit of a path from teenagers picking their way over the low branches, and a small clearing with empty beer cans and the permanent, sweet smell of marijuana. This was Jonny’s favourite place in the whole park, and he pushed apart a thick patch of leaves and tree limbs, toppling into the small clearing with a thud. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and placing one at his lips, gaze pointed towards the stars.
He wished he could just leave, he wished someone would come and take him away from here. He lit the tip of his cigarette and inhaled. More than anything, he wanted Thom to come back and whisk him away to wherever he was. There was a pang in his chest when he realized he could be anywhere, he could have taken the next flight out of the country for all Jonny knew.
He would never forgive his mother. She had something to do with Thom’s sudden disappearance, he knew she did. If she was capable of scaring Thom away from him once before he had no doubt in his mind that she could do it again.
Jonny exhaled, releasing smoke rings into the air. He liked to think that Thom had ran away to the beach, found himself a little house by the coast and in the afternoon he would sit by the water and paint pictures or play the songs they had written together. He liked to think that he was just waiting for Jonny to turn eighteen and he would be back again, pulling the boy into his arms and telling him he was sorry, he was so sorry for leaving.
It was then that the thought occurred to him that maybe Thom wasn’t sorry. Maybe he had been looking for an excuse to leave; maybe this life wasn’t the life he wanted. Maybe he had grown tired of Jonny’s immaturity and lack of experience. Perhaps he had grown tired of Jonny, period. He allowed the thoughts to come, of Thom meeting someone else and telling them he just had to find a way to dump his seventeen year-old boyfriend and then he’d be free to do as he pleased.
Jonny was holding him back, he realized. Thom was smart and talented and was going to go places, and Jonny was his quick fix. Some form of distraction, of entertainment. Jonny was young, he had energy, and that was exactly what the older man needed. Someone who could keep up with him until he found someone better. Jonny laughed bitterly to himself for ever thinking Thom wanted to settle down with him, that they would live happily ever after like some stupid fucking fairytale.
He got off from the ground angrily, kicking a stone away with his shoe. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, grinding the ashes into the dirt and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, head bent down as he pushed his way through the leaves again. He had no intention of sleeping in the grass for the night, yet he knew he couldn’t go home – not now, anyway. Not after what happened.
No, he best find someplace to sleep. Some place covered to keep out any rain and wind. As he walks he glances towards the plastic tunnel stretching from one side of the play structure to the other, the swings moving gently with the light breeze, their chains squeaking. It looks good, he thinks. Good enough, anyway. There’s not much else he can think of, and he steps up onto the rickety wood covered in sand.
Until he sees a figure moving down the pathway. It’s a far, but Jonny can still make out the distinctive walk, the hair blowing in the summer wind. The nose and his name being called.
Colin.
His mother must have sent him out to look for him and bring him home, he thought. This definitely wasn’t the first time it happened. He needed to get out of there, fast. His brother was always good at getting people to do what he wanted and he jumped off the platform into the sand, turning around and walking quickly the rest of the pathway until he reached the woods and was well hidden by trees, Colin nowhere to be seen. He would search the whole park up and down before he would give up and go home. That could take hours.
There was one place he wouldn’t look, though. Not because it was clever, or well hidden, but because it was so simple that Colin would never think of it. With a sigh and a sad look in the direction of home, Jonny pulled his hood over his head and pressed forward, twigs cracking under his shoes.
Jonny stood at the door, his hands curled into a fist with hesitation before he made the decision to knock. When no one seemed to be opening the door, he rang the bell. Mrs O’Brien answered the door just when Jonny was about to give up and leave, probably back to the park, to find a nice bench to spend the night on.
“Jonathan!” She called in surprise, still drying her hair with a yellow towel. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was taking a shower and Ed is in his room listening to music and…oh I’m going on and on, come in!”
Jonny never before came to Ed’s house without his bigger brother and he could tell that Mrs O’Brien was already sensing something was wrong. “Are you alright, you seem upset?”
“I’m…I’m okay. So, Ed is upstairs then?” Jonny didn’t mean to be rude but Ed’s mum and her worried expression made him feel sick and he decided it was better if he stayed away from mums for the night.
“Yes, would you like to drink something? You’re so pale…”
“No, no, s’alright, really” He mumbled as he ran up the stairs two at a time, not looking back.
Ed was just as surprised to see Jonny there without the older version of himself. He took off the large set of headphones from his head and looked up at Jonny and then to the door behind him, as if he was waiting for Colin to follow.
“Hey, Ed.”
“Hullo Jonny. How are you?”
“I’m…I need a favor. It’s kind of a huge one.”
Ed didn’t even take a second to think before replying with a cheerful “Sure” that left Jonny grateful and nervous at the same time at the boy’s kindness. Jonny might have never met anyone as compassionate as Ed.
“I…I need a place to crash for a while…A…And I…”
“Sure thing Jon! It’ll be fun, we can call Cozzie and watch movies and have a smoke and —”
“Well that’s the thing,” Jonny cut through Ed’s sentence and left him with a dumb stare. “You can’t tell Colin that I’m here, or my mum. You have to promise!”
“Oh…er…” Ed stopped for a second and rubbed his scruffy cheeks. “Alright.”
“What?”
“Okay. I promise. I won’t tell them.”
“Wha…you mean…really?”
“Yes.”
And that was it, no questions and no conditions, just a quick smile and a nod of understanding that made Jonny feel like he came to the right place, a sense of relief flooding him for the first time since he left his bed so many lifetimes ago, when everything still made sense and Thom was still his neighbor.
Thom.
Jonny felt dizzy and tired, the events of the day still washing over his confused mind. He was still trying to put things into place, to figure out what exactly happened and in what order but none of it made any sense.
“Jonny, what’s wrong?”
Before he knew it Jonny was nearly choking in a bear hug given to him by a huge man, only then he noticed that his cheeks were damp and his nose was runny and he shifted in Ed’s arms, sighing deeply when Ed loosened his grip by only a little.
“It’s all wrong…” He mumbled when Ed finally let go of him and sat beside him on the bed, eyeing him silently.
“…and it hurts so much.” Jonny sniffed and lowered his head. “It hurts so much I just feel like digging a hole in the ground and crawling into it.”
Ed didn’t say anything. He pulled Jonny into another hug and whispered soothing words in his ear, not really knowing what demons he’s trying to fight against, giving the younger boy the option to tell him or to keep it all to himself.
Jonny just needed shoulder to cry on and even though Ed’s curiosity was threatening to get the best of him he restrained himself from trying to push Jonny into telling him more.
Jonny refused to eat or to take a shower that evening, in fact, he refused to leave the room or to accept anything that Ed had to offer him. At some point he just climbed into Ed’s bed, exhausted and red-eyed, and curled into a ball under the thin blanket, weeping quietly against the pillow.
Ed was already drifting away in the improvised nest he sat up for himself on the carpet when he heard a little voice coming from his bed.
“I’m gay.”
He thought he was already asleep and had to rub his eyes in confusion to realize he wasn’t.
“Oh.”
“And I slept with Mr Yorke, our neighbor. More than once. A lot actually. I don’t even know how many times. I could try and count them but…”
“Wait. What?”
“Well it wasn’t only that, I fell in love with him too.”
“Wait –”
“I think he might have loved me back. Well, I thought he did, I don’t know anymore.”
“Jonny!” Ed was sitting up now, searching for the little lamp by his bad in the dark.
“He left.”
“He left?”
“Yes.” And Ed could already hear the tears climbing up Jonny’s throat.
“W…Why did…Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He never even said he was gonna leave. He just got up and left.” Somehow Jonny’s voice became stable with those words, something different taking control over it, something hollow and almost monotonic.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all Ed could think about as he gave up finding the lamp and returned to his place on the carpet.
Ed lay there for hours in the dark, listening to Jonny’s long breathes of sleep and thinking about digging people out of holes in the ground.
Ed’s toes curled in his sleep.
Jonny watched this with an odd interest, listening to his friend’s snores from the other end of the bed, the random snorts and grumbles and shuffling of the blankets whenever he moved on his mattress. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was dreaming about, and tried to suppress a laugh when the image of Ed running through a green thicket happily came to mind. Colin had always told him his friend reminded him of a dog – not just because he was loyal, but because the smallest, simplest things in life seemed to make him happy.
Jonny tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the thought of Colin. He missed him. It had been days since they spoken and they had been getting along so well, now that everything was out in the open between them. Ed and his family were lovely, of course. They welcomed Jonny with open arms and best of all, without question. Ed, despite the frowns and worried glances towards him, respected his wishes not to tell Colin where he was should he phone. Jonny was secretly disappointed when there hadn’t been a single phone call for Ed since he arrived, and he began to wonder if his brother missed him.
Ed giggled in his sleep and the sound caused the corners of Jonny’s lips to curl up in his own smile. The boy was funny, he had to admit. He understood why Colin was so fond of him. Ed gave Jonny plenty of room, gesturing to the study and telling him to use it whenever he felt like getting away. He let him take showers first, and told his mum what meals Jonny liked so she would make them for him. Mr O’Brien often spoke fondly of Colin at dinner, and Jonny realized the two were very much alike. He often found Ed’s father sitting in the living room with his nose in a book and he grinned at the younger boy whenever he walked past after fiddling with his guitar outside.
Ed was very much like his mother in most cases. Surprisingly patient and very laid back. Once he found the two of them sharing a joint together and laughed behind his hand, thinking it was peculiar for a mother and a son to do such a thing. When she asked if Jonny would like some, he shrugged his shoulders and joined the two of them under the shade of an elm tree in their backyard.
“My mother would never let me get away with this,” he mused, passing the joint to Ed. “She almost killed Cozzie when she found his stash.”
“I remember that,” Ed grinned almost fondly. “Your brother was distraught for weeks.”
“Yeah,” Jonny said a little sadly, looking down at his shoes. Mrs O’Brien coughed out a puff of smoke and the boys laughed.
“I should head inside,” she announced. “Your father will have a fit if I don’t get supper started. Where is he, anyway?”
“In the study, I think,” Ed cracked a kink in his neck and his mother grimaced at the noise.
“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” she waved a finger under his nose. “You’ll get a humpback.”
“Will not,” Ed argued. She pinched him on her way back into the house and Ed rubbed at the spot with a glare.
“You’re mum is wicked,” Jonny laughed and Ed shrugged.
“I guess, I don’t know. She can be harsh sometimes, when she works late. I guess she just gets tired, though.”
“Mmm,” Jonny agreed.
That night Ed and Jonny crept up to Ed’s bedroom with their dinner to plunk down on his bed and watch old spy movies, sipping from their cans of pop silently and eyes glued on the flashing images. Ed made a comment every now and then and Jonny responded with a laugh or a groan, the latter causing the other boy to break into a broad grin and a snicker.
“You’re alright, Jonny,” he elbowed him. “For a pouf.”
“Shut up,” he snapped back, and nearly choked when the bedroom door swung open, Ed’s eyes bulging when the figured stepped into the room.
“Colin!”
“Jesus fuck, Jonny!” Colin cried, moving forward in a blur and the younger boy thought for sure he was going to receive a punch or a slap across the face. Instead two arms wound their way around his neck, knocking him back against the wall roughly and causing him to yelp out in pain.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Colin sat up abruptly, hands still on his brother’s shoulders. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Coz,” Jonny touched his head to make sure it wasn’t bleeding and the worry in the older boy’s eyes turned into anger.
“I was worried sick!” He shouted. “You could have called, you know! You could have told me where you were going, at least! I wouldn’t have told mum if that’s what you were worried about. Fuck, Jonathan.”
Ed pressed himself into the corner, trying not to be noticed but Colin rounded on him.
“You,” he pointed. “You should have told me.”
“Coz, he asked me not to,” Ed held up his hands in defense. “Please, mate. I had no idea what was going on, he practically got on his knees and begged me not to phone you.”
“It’s true,” Jonny nodded and Colin tossed him a sharp look, silencing him.
“You’re my friend, Edward. You know how much Jonny means to me, I-I was…I thought…”
“I’m sorry,” the other boy whimpered and Colin sighed, running a hand over his face before letting it fall to his side.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “Jonny is fine, that’s all that matters. Bugger, I should have known he was here, how was I so stupid?”
“It was too obvious for you, Colin,” the younger boy explained. “I knew you wouldn’t figure it out for a while yet. You had to get through all those ridiculously thought-out plots of me digging my way to China and building forts in trees with coconut radios and what not.”
“Quiet, you,” Colin sniffed and together they grinned in the flashing light of the television.
“Well, anyway,” Ed moved his plate off the bed onto the floor. “While you’re here, Coz, why not watch the rest of this with us?”
Colin took the DVD case from his friend’s hands, studied it and turned to the TV. When he turned back he was grinning from ear-to-ear and plopped himself between his brother and his friend.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Jonny spent the rest of the movie trying to survive Colin’s death-grip on him.
They tried their best to conceal their noises – their shoes squeaking up the front steps of the porch and the door grinding closed when Jonny pulled a little too hard on the handle. The two of them froze instantly, ducked low and eyes locked on each other’s in the dark of the hallway. After a moment passed with no noise, they let out equal sighs of relief and stood up, Jonny flicking the lock closed and his brother leaning against the wall to tug off his boots.
The living room light clicked on and Colin fell sideways, managing to gather himself before toppling onto the floor as Mrs Greenwood rounded the corner and grabbed her youngest son by the shoulders.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “I was so worried, Jonathan! Christ, your brother and I, we both thought something terrible had happened to you. How can you do that to us?”
She had tears running down her eyes when she hugged him, his arms held stiffly by his sides. She held him out again at arm’s length and searched his face curiously.
“We’re your family, Jonathan, you don’t do that to family.”
“Funny,” he said through gritted teeth. “There are a lot of things you’ve done that you don’t do to family, either.”
Colin wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, not wanting to be any part of this argument. Mrs Greenwood straightened herself to her full height, Jonny still towering over her, despite being slumped against the wall.
“I was protecting you,” she explained, her voice oddly soft and calm. Jonny fought to keep his the same.
“I don’t need your protection.”
Colin reappeared a moment later with a peanut butter sandwich in hand. He swallowed thickly at the apparent showdown going on in the front hallway, but neither his mother nor brother made the next blow. After a long moment of silence, Jonny pulled himself from the wall and marched up the stairs, Colin calling after him and following suit.
Mrs Greenwood let out a shaking breath and leaned against the opposite wall, pulling at a strand of dark hair and watching Jonny’s bedroom slam shut in the upstairs landing.
Jonny was already crying again when he heard someone knocking on his door. He was getting used to it, to crying, he already knew exactly how long it would take before a certain tear would fall off the corner of his eye, how long it will take it to roll down his cheek, exactly what it would taste like when he will flick his tongue across the corner of his lips.
"Go away," He mumbled from under the blanket, not really caring whether it was loud enough for the person outside of his door to hear.
"Jon, can I come in? It's important." He heard his big brother calling with a hint of despair in his voice.
"No." Jonny said more to himself than to anyone else before he heard the door click open and his brother's footsteps on the carpet, and then the weight of his body on the mattress and his hand in Jonny's hair, stroking delicately.
Colin sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, and Jonny tried figuring out what he was apologizing for. "I should have known better, I should have protected you."
Jonny looked at Colin for the first time since he entered the room, wiping his nose as he chuckled. "C'mon Coz, you can't really believe that, right?"
"Well, I mean, I don't know...I feel like I should have predicted it." Colin fidgeted in his sit.
"No one could, Colin, it was very...unpredictable. Or maybe it was really obvious, I don't know anymore. Either way, it's definitely not your fault."
Jonny sat up and ran his fingers through his fringe, staring at some random spot before he could hear his brother talk again.
"I have something for you."
"Mmm?" Jonny snapped out of his stare and looked curiously at Colin.
"It's...It was probably here when you last slept in that bed, but you missed it somehow, I don't know."
Jonny frowned. "What are you talking about?"
And Colin was pulling something out of his pocket, something that looked a lot like a sealed letter. He handed it to Jonny who spent the next minute staring at the familiar crooked handwriting on the front that only said – "Jonny."
"I...The night you ran, I was looking for you almost all night...and then when I couldn't find you I came home and I couldn't sleep. So I came in here and went inside you bed and then...I found this."
Jonny wanted to say something, but he couldn't really form any words. He wanted a sign of life from Thom more than anything, especially after spending all of the time since he left thinking about how he could leave without saying anything, without leaving anything behind. But now that he had the envelop in his hands he found that it was almost burning his fingers, that he was almost too scared to open it up.
Because if so far he could make up stories in his head about what happened, if so far he was able to plot his own version of the past and the future, now he had the real story in his hands and the sense of finality that laid within the thin envelop made him shiver and squirm.
"It was under the pillow," Colin added and got up. "He probably climbed in here and left it here for you to find. I'm gonna go now, leave you to read it. I'm in the next room if you need me." And just like that he closed the door behind him and left Jonny alone with the heaviest piece of paper he ever lifted.
Before opening the letter Jonny closed his eyes and images of a small man climbing up to his bedroom in silence flashed in his mind and gave him a strange feeling of comfort, something that he almost already forgot existed.
He opened his eyes with encouragement and tore the envelop open.
Jonny's fingers were shaking as he held the paper close to his eyes, trying to hold back his tears to prevent stains over the messy scrawl in black ink, lips pursed in concentration as his eyes roved over the first word.
Jonathan.
He clenched his eyes shut. His name in the familiar handwriting was almost too much to bare, but he pressed on, curiosity and worry and sadness and anger and all other emotions mixing into one and urging him to continue.
It's raining outside and you're probably in bed. Sometimes, you talk in your sleep, and the words fit together but they make no sense at all. This is how I feel writing this letter, the words fit together but the outcome of their meaning is impossible.
By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You have done nothing wrong and don't let anyone mislead you into believing otherwise.
Unfortunately, the reality of the situation, as I'm sure you're well aware of, is that I'm old, and you're young, and while that never really complicated things between us (us being emphasized), society seems to have a different opinion.
I understand if you feel I'm weak for giving in, I feel that way about myself, too. I wish I had your courage, Jonathan. I wish I could stand up for what I believe. I wish I could fight for you – for us. I haven't got the strength you do, and I think I'm most sorry for that. I've let you down. While I would give anything to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, to take back everything negative I've said or done to you, I can't come back. Not just yet.
I don't expect you to understand what I'm about to do, or even try to. I just wish you won't look back in regret about what we had.
Your mother came to see me earlier. It's funny that I can look in her eyes and see that she only wants what's best for you, for her son. She loves you very much but she fails to see the difference between protecting you and hurting you. I hope you won't resent her for that. She, like most people, is blinded by what she was taught to believe was right and wrong. We used to be just like her before the mocking hands of destiny brought us together.
She had a deal for me, and as I’m writing this I still haven’t thought up of a brilliant way I could have refused. I’m leaving so she doesn’t send you away from everything you know. Your friends, your brother, your life. I’m leaving so she doesn’t phone the cops and send me away, somewhere where I would never be able to see you again.
I’ve found a house, far away from here. I hope this eases your mind, if only a little. This could just be wishful and selfish thinking on my part, though. I ask you to please not come searching for me, Jonathan. I’ll find you when the time is right.
Before I finish my last words to you for god knows how long, I need you to know that the hours I spent with you have changed me forever, as a man and as an artist and even as a lover, your influence on me is so powerful that I already know it will never fade away.
Because around you I could finally tolerate myself and because you let me look inside your soul and the sight was so overwhelming and beautiful that I couldn’t even decide whether to fall in love with you or not, but my heart has already made this decision on its own.
I love you.
It was raining. That’s all it seemed to ever do since Thom left, and with a sigh he tossed his canvas aside onto the clutter that’s gathered on his kitchen table and ran his hands through his hair, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees as he watched the rain drag itself down the window by the sink.
Every bit of creativity seemed to have leaked out of him, into a puddle that he left back in the living room of his old house. If it had a colour, he believed it would be blue. The same colour of his eyes, which he swore had faded a few shades the last time he checked his reflection in the mirror. Something he was trying very hard not to do; he couldn’t stand the sight of the coward that stared back at him.
He wore his pajamas around the house, not bothering to dress during the day. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, and no one could see him here. What was the point? He grabbed his cup of tea in one hand and pushed his way out the back door onto the back porch, enjoying the feel of rain landing in his hair and sliding down the back of his bathrobe.
The house was small, and if he had to admit it (which he never would), it was something of a dream-home for him. A wood cabin with a loft and a dipping sitting room by wall-sized glass windows that lit the room up almost as bright as day when there was a full moon out. They looked out into his backyard, a small patch of land encased in trees, but big enough for a small out-building. That would be his studio, he decided, should he ever feel the urge to produce something again. Though, the idea of trudging through snow in the winter tended to dampen these thoughts.
He loved everything about the building. It had a wood-burning stove, so he saved on gas prices (and was helping the environment, he told himself proudly), and solar panels on the roof, and his bedroom in the loft was well-lit with a bathroom.
He tipped his cup sideways and poured the rest of his now lukewarm tea into the grass.
This house had everything he could ever want – except for a scrawny, seventeen year-old boy with a mop of raven hair that flowed through his fingers like water, and deep brown eyes that shone green when they were met with the deep sea blue gaze that stared back at Thom in his mirrors.
Or, rather, used to stare back at him, before it too faded like everything else. He would give anything, even this stupid house, to have Jonny in his arms again. Thom knew he shouldn’t think like that, it would ruin his concentration for the rest of the day. It had ruined his concentration everyday since he moved here, and he still had boxes of books and clothes and odds-and-ends to unpack.
The phone rang and he let out a sigh, stepping in through the screen door and closing it behind himself before padding off into the kitchen and grabbing the phone off its cradle.
“Thom,” he said.
“Thom,” the other voice echoed, and it sounded just like his. He glanced down at the phone in his hands.
“Hello?” He asked.
“It’s Andy,” the voice said, exasperated. “Have you forgotten your baby brother again?”
“No,” Thom hopped up on the counter and gave a grunt when one of his slippers fell off onto the floor.
“What was that?” his brother asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Thom muttered. “My slipper fell off is all.”
“You old man.”
Another grunt.
“So, you moved,” Andy stated. “Again. What happened this time?”
Thom twisted the phone cord around his finger absentmindedly. “Nothing, Andrew. Is this why you phoned? To have a heart-to-heart, or do you want something?”
“Heart-to-heart, of course.” He could hear the grin coming through his brother’s voice.
“And, well…um –”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, spit it out. How much this time?” Thom snapped and the line went silent for a moment.
“You don’t want to hear what it’s for?” Andy asked, hurt. Thom sighed.
“Fine. Fuck. What is this for? It better not be for drugs, I swear to God –”
Andy laughed, “Drugs, Thomas? Who do you think I am? No, it’s nothing like that. I’m opening a music store in the city with some friends of mine and we need to rake up enough money for the lease. Then once things start running we’ll be able to pay for it ourselves. Hell, I’ll even be able to pay you back.”
Thom considered this for a moment, nibbling on his bottom lip.
“Thom?”
“Shut up, I’m thinking.”
Andy went silent.
“Alright. How much, then?”
“Um…well…”
After some patient pestering, Thom finally managed to get the number out of him. His eyes bulged.
“Bloody hell, no!” he shouted. “No fucking way, Andy! Where the hell are you opening this store, Tim-fucking-expensive-buck-two?”
“No, it’s just…you know. These things need a lot of money to get going, and…well…”
“Well what?”
“It was my idea, so I said I’d pay a half and the other two split the other half.”
“You’re insane,” Thom snorted. “Absolutely bloody mental.”
“It runs in the family.”
Thom glared at the phone in his hands, eyebrows furrowing.
“Fuck you, I’m not doing it.”
He slammed the thing back into its rightful spot and leaned back against the counter, fuming and shaking his head.
A minute wore by and he glanced at the clock, then back to the phone.
He sighed and dialed Andy’s number.
“I knew you’d give in,” his brother said cheerfully, picking up after the first ring. Thom rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Andy had been waiting by the phone the whole time.
“One payment, Andrew. That’s it. If it doesn’t kick off after that it’s your bloody fault, not mine.”
He hung up again and walked away. He spent the rest of the afternoon chopping firewood, finding that after a while the blisters on his hands didn’t hurt and the logs stopped taking the shape of his brother’s face.
The week dragged on slowly, and after wandering through every inch of his yard and organizing his record collection there wasn’t much left for Thom to do. He welcomed the distraction when Andy showed up one afternoon, large grin on his lips when he pulled his older brother into a hug. Thom had squirmed in his grasp and threatened to knock his teeth out but the younger man just laughed, eyes shining.
He had invited him in for tea and listened as Andy talked in more detail about his store his friends and him were opening up. They were going to offer music lessons as well as sell instruments, one of Andy’s friends played drums and he himself could cover the guitar lessons. When he asked Thom what had happened to him and why he had moved he simply shrugged and replied that it was nothing, he just wanted to get out.
When he watched his brother pull out of the driveway with a wave he felt a sudden sharp pain in his stomach and trudged back inside in sock feet, frowning. It had been so long since he felt anything like that he had almost forgotten the name of it.
Loneliness.
Whatever. He shrugged it off and nudged the door shut behind him. He had more important things to worry about, like how exactly he was going to install a wood-burning stove into that shed of his, and the fact he hadn’t gone shopping for a week and his cupboards were looking rather scarce.
After a day spent debating with himself, which lead to him curling up in a ball on the couch and attempting sleep and definitely not crying to himself because he felt lone – he shook the word from his head completely. After much debating with himself he decided it would be best if he just got out of the house for a while, get some fresh air and learn to breathe again.
He had bought himself a car, an older one with no slot for a CD and windows he had to manually roll down instead of press a button. It was good on gas, though, and got him around. That was really all he needed, and he hated to admit to himself that he had missed the way the wind would blow through his hair when he opened the sunroof, and the way the tires sounded on the gravel road, kicking up dust behind them.
Thom pulled a small list from his pocket and began wandering around under the bright lights, scratching at the patch of hair that was growing on his chin when he couldn’t find quite what he was looking for. He never understood how people could enjoy food shopping so much, and tossed a case of yoghurt into his basket. There wasn’t anything fun about this.
At least this time there weren’t teenaged boys at every corner he turned down, making that pain in his stomach grow worse. He tried not to think about that, and moved towards the organic section, feeling elated that such a small supermarket even had one.
He was so enthralled with the different kinds of granola, wondering how he was ever going to be able to pick just one that he almost missed the sound of his name coming out in a rather familiar voice. A voice that sent chills running down his spine and made him visibly shudder. He turned to the sound and was met with a pair of hazel eyes staring back at him through shaggy blonde hair and he jumped backwards, trying to put space between him and the man standing before him. Out of any situation that could have happened, this was not one that he was expecting, or particularly looking forward to.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” the man asked, still smiling. “Shit, it’s been so long! I barely recognized you. You changed your hair.”
“Er, yeah,” Thom fidgeted. “Hi, Ben.”
Ben bent down to pick up the box of granola Thom had been looking at and had carelessly dropped onto the floor. The other man held it out for him and Thom hesitated before taking it into his hands, hoping his shaking wasn’t too noticeable.
“I thought you moved,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Thom felt himself blush.
“Er, yeah. I did,” he mumbled.
Ben nodded, not quite understanding. Thom took the moment to allow his eyes to sweep over him quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of him. His hair had grown out and had lightened with the summer sun, and he had a patch of stubble on his chin that even to this day didn’t fail to make something in his insides squirm rather pleasantly.
“Look,” he was saying. “I wasn’t searching for you, or anything, if you were wondering. But now that you’re here, I really need to talk to you.”
“Er –”
A hand pulled him away from the cereal and around the next corner, next to the display of cold and allergy medicine that looked as though it had been sitting there since the store opened. Thom was about to argue when Ben let go of his arm and stepped back as though the contact had burnt him. He ran a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words.
“I wanted to apologize…for everything.”
“Ben, you really want to do this here?” Thom whispered harshly and the other man shot him a sad look.
“Yeah, well. I never thought I’d get the chance. I realized what I did was wrong and I feel horrible about it; I never, ever meant to hurt you, Thom.”
“But you did, Ben,” Thom shot back. “You knew me, how could you not understand that would hurt me?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking, obviously. I wasn’t thinking about you, I was just thinking about the money.”
“Obviously.”
Ben sighed, shoulders drooping in defeat.
“Look. I’ve wanted to find you for ages and tell you that. Because even if I can’t change what happened, I can at least apologize for what I did. But you ran off and I had no idea how to contact you, so I just gave up. I know that’s not much and it doesn’t fix anything but I just want you to know how horrible I feel about it, and if I could take it back I would.”
Thom said nothing and he continued.
“I, er…I miss you, you know. A lot,” he ducked his head and strands of blonde hair fell over his face. Thom shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and glanced at the floor, unsure of what to say.
“Can we get a drink later?” Ben asked suddenly, eyes searching Thom’s. “Just a drink, that’s all. I just want to talk.”
“No.”
“Please, Thom. I just –”
“I can’t,” Thom shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Ben frowned. “Why not?”
“I can’t go through this again,” he shook his head. “I…there’s someone else.”
“I just want to talk,” the other man held up his hands in defense. “Please, Thom. I’m desperate here.”
“No,” he said with a tone of finality, bending down to pick up his basket of food. “I’m can’t.”
Ben sighed and nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something down into it, folding it up and handing it to Thom.
“My number,” he said. “If you change your mind.”
Thom took it gingerly and watched as the other man darted away from him without a second glance. He thought of tossing it away into the next rubbish bin he passed, he thought of burning it with a cigarette lighter on his way home from the supermarket, but instead and for some unknown reason even to him, he tucked it away in his wallet and drove on.
He gave up trying to put the groceries away when he accidentally shoved a bag of apples into the cupboard and his box of crackers into the fridge. With a sigh he sat down on his couch, running a hand over his eyes and telling himself to pull it together.
In an odd way, he wished that Ben had been mean and abusive to him, rather than friendly and cheerful and encouraging. It would have been much easier to hate him that way. But instead he was the first person to ignore Thom’s insisting that there was no way in hell he could get up on stage and sing to a crowd of people, and faster than he could bat an eyelash he watched as the other man had signed his name up for an open mike night at a local bar. He had smiled at him and messed up his hair in the way he always did, told him he could do it and watched from the front of the crowd as Thom had stuttered through the first lines of his own song before picking it up and giving it his best. The crowd had loved him, they had asked him for demo tapes as he was leaving the bar and he had never felt so elated in his life. That night Thom had dragged Ben home with him and barely made it through the front door before he had him pinned to the floor with his fly undone.
But it was inexcusable what he had done, taking Thom’s song and selling it off like that. Despite being in a band together, despite working on songs together, Ben never understood that songs were a part of him, and giving them away was giving away pieces of himself. All that time and energy Thom had put into his song, only to have it raped by some big-name company with a fat check.
He jumped up from his spot on the couch and pulled his jacket over his shoulders, throwing a guilty look towards the bags of food still laying on his kitchen floor before heading out the front door and stomping off down the steps towards the direction of the park, hands digging for his pack of cigarettes.
The sky had turned grey and drops of rain were littering the dirt under his shoes but still he pressed on, exhaling smoke and arching his shoulders in defense against the world. There was a set of bleachers sitting in the grass and he plunked down at the top, staring out over the football field where a group of boys were kicking a ball lazily back and forth as they made their way across the grass.
Thom rested his elbow on his knees and flicked ash onto the wood below him, watching it blow into the cracks and nicks as a cool breeze picked up. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers and remembered, despite himself, the way a certain boy had smoked when they were laying in the shade in his backyard, grass stains on his knees and dirt on the palm of his hands from crawling around looking for a lost guitar pick. The way his lips pulled at the filter and puckered out to release a stream of smoke. The way he laughed and coughed at the same time and rolled his eyes when Thom told him he shouldn’t smoke.
“You sound like my brother,” he had said. “He says that all the time while he’s rolling a cigarette. Hypocrite.”
“He just cares for you, Jonny,” Thom had told him and the boy’s eyes shone bright when he looked at him with a mischievous grin. Thom had never told him that he could care less if Jonny smoked, if only because he loved to watch the way he brought his fingers to his mouth and closed his eyes when he inhaled.
He shouldn’t think about that, though.
The group of boys were chatting amongst themselves, smiling and laughing and he felt a knot in his stomach as he overheard one of them mention he couldn’t wait to leave for university at the end of the summer. He already had his room picked out and everything. The others nodded with agreement and cheerfully went on, eyes bright at the idea of parties and no curfew and no rules and girls and living on their own.
With a pang of guilt Thom realized that they already knew what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go and what they wanted to be, where as Jonny was still struggling with the idea. Somehow he knew that was entirely his fault. Had Jonny spent more time with friends his own age and less time with a 32 year-old who had no idea what he wanted in life, maybe Jonny would have a better idea of where he was heading instead of blindly searching for something in the dark.
Well, he won’t have to worry about that, now that you’re gone, Thom thought bitterly to himself. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and pulled his jacket tighter around himself.
He had the idea firmly planted in his mind that he would return when Jonny was eighteen, when Jonny was living on his own and was no longer under his mother’s wing. Then Thom would go back and things would be like they should be – the two of them writing and playing music together and curling up under a warm blanket when the day was finished. That was how he wanted it to happen.
Only now he was realizing that it could never be like that. Thom had to face the facts – he was too old, and Jonny was too young for him. Jonny had the rest of his life ahead of him, and the older man’s presence had only made things worse. The boy had spent so long trying to be an adult for him that he was missing out on the precious last years of just being a teenager without any responsibility, and now Jonny was taking the big step into adulthood with no idea what he was doing. Thom hadn’t helped him with anything, the only thing he had done was held him back.
He noticed it had started pouring and his jacket was soaked through, clinging to his skin from the rain. His hair was matted and pressed tight to his head and he sniffled, wiping the drops of water from his eyes (rain drops, of course. Definitely not tears, no) before forcing himself to stand, joints cracking as he started to walk towards his house.
Better get used to this place, Thommy, because you’re not going back.
“Shut up,” he mumbled to himself, even though he knew it was true. He couldn’t go back, not now. All he would do is create more problems, make things worse. Jonny would be held back even more, he would struggle more and for what? For Thom’s entirely selfish reasons. He couldn’t do that again, he couldn’t. For once in his life, Thom Yorke had to do something right and this was his chance.
It hurt, thinking about the letter he had written the boy and how he had, in a way, promised to return. Jonny was smart, and he was sure he could spot the lies underneath his words. He hoped it would bring some comfort to him and allow him to move on.
That’s what you need to do, take your own advice mate, he thought as he pulled his boots from his feet and frowned at his drenched socks. He needed to move on. Pulling the wet fabric off, he tossed them aside and reached into his back pocket, fishing out the number from his wallet and plucking the phone off the wall, weaving through the bags of groceries still sat waiting patiently on the kitchen floor.
Thom stopped pacing and stared down at his own reflection in a puddle of rainwater. His own reflection stared back, looking rather annoyed. Why did he ever agree to get picked up from his house? He had a car, for the love of god.
Now he was waiting outside with nothing to do but think, and that might have been the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He also started to feel like some 16 year old girl, waiting for her date to show up. This was stupid and Thom decided that if Ben doesn't show up in 4 minutes he was gonna –
A blue car pulled over near him and the window rolled down. Thom's eyes rolled up.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry. It took me a while to find this place."
"Oh, well. Never mind."
As Thom sat down in the passenger seat and fumbled with his seatbelt he already knew very well that this had been a huge mistake.
It all seemed a bit better after his fourth beer.
"So, uhm, what did you say...you were, you were doing right now?" He mumbled just before lifting the fifth pint to his lips.
"I'm working in a record store, Thom," Ben giggled at Thom's slow movement and silly smile, remembering how easily he was affected by alcohol because of his size.
"Right," Thom played with a coaster, still feeling awkward around the other man. "You know, I always believed that by now we'd be stinking famous."
Ben laughed bitterly and leaned back. "Yeah, me too. We were really good, you know? Really fucking good."
"Well," Thom started, taking another big sip instead of adding anything else. The awkwardness was there again, Thom blamed himself.
"I really am sorry, you know. I don't know what I was thinking," Ben said all of a sudden, very quietly, not really looking at Thom at all. "But, but you know...it did become a big hit."
"Yeah, I fucking know!" Thom snapped and ordered another beer.
"I only meant that – that you're madly talented Thom and… it's just… it's a fucking shame that you're not doing anything about it anymore, you know?"
Thom didn't say anything. He was already busy with some black haired man that caught his eye at the other end of the pub. In his state and in the darkness of the pub, Thom could almost imagine that this was him sitting there, maybe it was the two of them, sitting and enjoying a quiet evening in the local pub. He shook his head when a woman sat by that black haired man and kissed him on the lips, waking up form a dream or maybe returning into a nightmare.
Because in his reality, Thom couldn't really take Jonny out to local pubs. If fact, in reality, Thom couldn't show his face around Jonny.
"I forgive you, Ben. Can we please just get the fuck out of here?"
Outside was much better, the cool night air clearing Thom's mind, the natural sky- light giving him comfort. They walked down the street and watched the dark display windows, not exchanging a word between them. Thom looked at Ben, walking silently beside him and he almost felt sorry for the man.
All he ever did was try to please Thom, to be there for him and to make the hidden storms in him quiet down. Sometimes Thom felt like the only reason Ben always stuck by his side was because he had been a riddle for him, a project, something that he kept trying to fix and as long as he wasn't successful, Thom knew there was no way Ben was going to leave him alone.
He stopped near the window of a pet shop and Ben immediately stopped too, looking at Thom with questioning eyes.
"Look at them," Thom said and pointed at a box of little kittens that were almost piled up into a small knot of fur, no particular colour standing out of it. "How can they sleep when they know everyone can see them?"
Ben was staring at the box for a while, not finding an answer and Thom took the opportunity to stare at Ben, at his big hazel eyes shining even more than usual in the yellow street light. Maybe he wasn't that bad after all. Maybe he truly did deserve Thom's forgiveness and a new start.
Thom sighed.
"Could you take me home?"
It was Ben's turn to sigh as he watched Thom's back and followed him to the car. They sat in silence most of the way home, Thom jumping between radio station every so often like he always did. Usually it was annoying but tonight all Ben could do was smile to himself.
But when Ben pulled over near Thom's house, the smaller man took his seatbelt off and froze, unable to decide how this night should end.
"Thanks, Ben, I'm sorry I'm being such a...Such an idiot, I guess."
"You're not being an idiot, I understand. I just wish you could talk to me about whatever it is you're going through."
Thom felt a tear running down his cheek, which was funny, because he wasn't even aware of the fact he was crying until then. He didn't want Ben to see him crying, so he quickly leaned forward and kissed him, a long, slow kiss that lasted enough for the tears to dry.
And then he found himself running the distance to his door and within seconds he was on the bathroom floor and over the toilet, and now he felt like a 16 year old girl for real.
Thom found himself reading the same line over and over again. It was a simple line in a simple book, but Thom kept reading it, not fully digesting its meaning:
He waited until the man and the woman started dragging the boy toward the house.
Thom blinked, the only thing that registered from this entire line in his head, from the book he was trying to read for almost 10 minutes now, was "The boy" and he sighed and leaned his head against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose as the other hand tossed the book away.
This was pointless, Thom knew why he couldn't concentrate, he knew very well that the only thing he could think about ever since he opened his eyes this morning was a certain teenager he left behind. The truth was that Thom missed Jonny a lot more than he would admit to himself.
He missed every little nuance that had anything to do with the boy, the way in which he held a pencil or the sounds he made when he sipped water from a glass, the way he would occasionally move his hair from one side to another or the expression he had when he was having a pleasant dream.
Thom usually tried to push these thoughts away into the dark corner of his mind where everything that was too painful to remember laid, but right now, strangely enough, it made him feel better to think about Jonny, it gave him comfort when he imagined the boy sprawled next to him in bed, smiling at him his genuine teeth-showing smile, maybe talking to him about something casual and almost boring like a TV program he watched the other day or a crossword puzzle he couldn't finish.
It somehow was soothing for Thom to picture the way Jonny's eyelashes rested against his cheeks when he closed his eyes to kiss him, the rough skin of the tip of his fingers almost touching his face, it somehow made something in Thom shift and instead of the constant pain and confusion that accompanied him in his every waking minute he felt something else for once, something familiar and warm and for once, since he left Jonny behind, Thom almost felt at home.
So he thought on, about silky hair brushing against him and the scent it had, he thought about the skin just beneath Jonny's earlobe and how he liked it when Thom brushed his lips against it, he thought about curious way Jonny would explore his body, not leaving any part of it out, the way he loved finding Thom's reaction to the different manners in which he possessed that body.
Jonny liked trying and experimenting and Thom liked being the subject of Jonny's inquiries. Jonny would huff and Thom would gasp, Jonny would lick and Thom would moan, Jonny would bite and Thom would tremble, for hours Jonny could go on like this, trying to find the best ways to get the reaction he wanted from Thom, smiling to himself after every little success.
And sometimes Thom couldn't restrain himself anymore and he would pull Jonny closer to him, smiling at the younger boy's fake whines of protest before melting them down into a deep kiss that made them both forget what they were doing before or what they meant to do and remember only each other's lips, teeth and tongues.
And Thom remembered, so well, the way Jonny tasted and smelled and even the way he would breath heavily when Thom would break their kiss because it was too much, because he couldn't stand another second of not being inside Jonny, of not being a part of him, of not sinking into him completely and becoming him.
Thom remembered the exact sound that came out from Jonny's red lips when he finally slid into him, when he was finally surrounded by the impossible warmth that Jonny welcomed him into, the way Jonny would pull him in, call his name in a plead, please, please Thom, deeper,
please, Thom...Thom...Thom...
"Thom? Oh, fuck! I'm sorry – fuck!"
Jonny's voice was viciously replaced with a completely different voice and his hands were replaced with Thom's own hands and Thom jerked violently out of his fantasy and into his miserable reality, jumping out of bed and after Ben.
He was still panting when he found Ben sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water, and Thom wished Ben would look at him already.
"Ben, oh, uhm, I'm sorry. I must have lost track of time. is it Eight already?"
"It's fifteen past eight, Thom. The door was open so I let myself in, I'm sorry..."
"No, no, don't be..." Thom found his palm at the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. "I...I'm sorry you had to...Witness that..." He laughed bitterly and went silent when he noticed Ben was not looking very amused.
"Well, Thom. It wasn't such a...Bad sight."
Thom blushed. "Oh god...This, this is –"
"Let me finish." Ben got up and stood next to Thom, almost whispering in his ear now. "I missed you, do you even have any idea..."
"Ben..."
"I tried being with other men, I swear," Ben's hands were now climbing up Thom's skin under his shirt and Thom shivered, the man still remembered how to touch him, apparently.
"Lis...listen Ben..."
"But none of them, none of them was quite like you, Thom."
They were kissing now, and Thom found that it wasn't that bad anymore. It was almost good even, if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine--
No.
Don't do that.
Just don't.
Thom pulled back. "Ben! I...I need to ta...Talk to you....."
"Talk? I don't think it's time to talk." Ben said as he cupped Thom's still erect cock with a quick motion, causing Thom to tremble and moan involuntarily. "Come on."
Ben was pulling Thom back into the bedroom now and Thom was already too weak to argue. Maybe just this once he could give himself a break and find the release his body had been aching for, maybe just tonight he could let it go, let him go.
But as soon as he pushed himself inside of the body under him he knew, there wasn't going to be any letting relief right now, because there was only one thing he could think about as he moved, only one face he saw in his mind and only one voice he heard calling out his name, no matter how much he tried to stay there with Ben, his soul and his mind kept traveling to another place in another lifetime, kept going back to the one person who ever truly touched him.
When Ben fell asleep Thom wrapped himself in a white sheet and wandered outside to the cold crisp night air, biting at his bare skin and making him shiver.
He stood there for long minutes and cried and felt relieved because he knew that now he could finally truly start the long road of forgetting, of letting go.
Jonny watched.
He found himself doing that a lot – watching. The cars moving on the street below, people walking with umbrellas or newspapers over their heads. He kept his window open, despite the cool air. The sounds of the city often helped him sleep, and even sometimes gave him inspiration. He never got that at his mother’s house.
A few things were still packed in boxes and stacked off to the side. It was a small, grungy, bachelor, but it was the only thing he could afford with what money he had. The night Colin had given him the letter was the night he decided he was going to move out and the sooner the better. There, of course, had been an argument between him and his mother, but in the end she gave in, half-crying. She didn’t believe he was old enough to live on his own, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop him.
That had been a few weeks ago. He had since dropped the idea of going to school and got a job at a laundry mat just a walk away. It was boring, but it paid well. Time he wasn’t working he spent playing guitar on his bed under the window and trying not to think of him. The job was a good distraction.
Colin and Ed had come to visit with a bag of chips one evening, the older Greenwood boy commenting on his brother’s obvious lack of food. Jonny had brushed him off and the three of them sat on his bed facing towards the television, watching a movie Ed had brought. Jonny spent most of his time sucking salt off his fingertips, but the time he had chosen to glance up and pay attention couldn’t have been worse.
He remembered watching the movie with Thom. Remembered the feel of the older man’s arm over his shoulders, resting. Stubby fingers in dark hair at the back of his neck and that small, sedated smile on his lips when their eyes met. Now, it was him stuck between Ed and his brother, but he could have sworn he smelt that smell, the one that made his heart beat wildly in his chest and fill him with an emotion he had yet to name. Love? Comfort? Happiness?
Jonny had excused himself quickly and locked himself in the bathroom, breathing hard in the effort to calm down. He smelt his own soap to get rid of that smell, turned on the tap and splashed water on his face in desperate hope to get Thom Yorke out of his mind, to wash him away and cleanse him out of his pores.
Most days Jonny felt heart-eating sadness and gut-twisting worry. His lover, his best friend – everything was gone and he had no idea how to get him back. Often he sat up in the early hours of the morning, writing page after page of letters, all meant for him.
But other days he felt crippling anger. He would stomp around and slam doors and glare at strangers. He glared at his guitar, even. Burnt the letters he wrote, but when he calmed down, still shaking, that was the only thing he really regretted.
However, one day Jonny woke up, wiping sleep from his eyes and reaching over to turn off his alarm. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, glancing out the window for no particular reason. The sky had turned grey with clouds and soft, silent snowflakes were tumbling downwards onto the ground.
It was then that Jonny realized he had lost all hope that Thom was ever coming back.
The day Ben moved in, it didn't stop raining even for a second. Thom found himself running up to his front door, a box above his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the rain. Of course it was useless- he was already soaked, they both were, and when they finished dragging all of the boxes into the house they sat in the kitchen and laughed at each other's water dripping sweaters.
Later that day, when they sat down in the living room with large cups of tea, Thom started thinking that maybe this wasn't that bad after all, that maybe meeting Ben that the supermarket that day wasn't that much of a disaster.
Ben loved Thom, of that he was certain. It might have been the single most certain thing in his life at the moment, or even ever since he could remember. Ben was always there, always behaving as if Thom was the most interesting thing in the whole world, which always made Thom wonder what the hell was so bloody interesting about him.
Not that it mattered to Ben, it seemed as if the more Thom would push him away, the harder Ben would try to let himself in and that's how they danced until one day Thom gave up and let Ben kiss him. They were even happy for a while; Thom could vividly remember long band practices and sleepless nights before gigs that Ben never let Thom go through by himself. He would always stay awake and sooth him and repeat to his ears how great he thought Thom was, how very talented and beautiful he was and sometimes Thom would kiss him just to shut him up because he wasn't really used to people talking to him that way.
When Thom thought about those days he found it easier to forgive Ben for what he did. He somehow realized that, as hurtful and terrible as it was, Ben never really meant no harm. He thought he was doing something good, he was, as always, only trying his best to please Thom. And that was the problem- right there- no matter how close they were, Ben never really understood the depths of Thom's mind and the way in which he treated music, the way he felt about music. For Ben, it was just a song, a good one with great potential to succeed and he never really thought that selling it and earning a big amount of money could be a bad thing.
For Thom, that song was like an internal organ, it was part of him just like any of the fingers he used to write it and when Ben took it away it was the most painful form of betrayal, Thom couldn't even bear looking at Ben once he found out so he ran away, far away from there, bitterly using the money he kept receiving for the rights on his song, his song, to hide himself from anything that reminded him of it.
But there was something very comforting about being back with Ben because it reminded Thom of his previous life, the life before that bloody song, the life before Ben had betrayed him and he had to run away and hide and be found by the one person that truly found his way into Thom's heart. When Thom rubbed his nose against Ben's shoulder he could almost imagine none of it ever happened, that he never let himself fall in love with a teenager and that he never ran away like a coward and that it wasn't almost November now, that he was simply still that hopeful musician, a wreck before every gig and an explosion of adrenaline after, that things were still so simple and easy and right.
"Are you alright?" Ben's voice brought Thom back to his living room, now their living room and he looked at Ben's questioning eyes, his beautiful eyes and sighed. "Yes, I'm alright."
Ben pulled Thom closer and placed a kiss on his temple, and Thom just stopped thinking altogether.
He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up at his co-worker’s flat with a drink in his hand. Jonny didn’t even like drinking, but still he sat on the end of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him and one hand resting over the arm, eyes wandering the room.
Her name was Megan, the girl who had asked him to come to her party. She was short and curvy and had the friendliest smile he had ever seen. Her nickname was Sunshine, from her bright attitude or her fire-red hair he wasn’t quite sure. She lived with another girl and a boy she claimed to be her cousin, though he had dark skin and dark eyes and dark hair that puffed up and out from his head. He played bass, Jonny noticed, and was quite good at it, too. The two of them struck up a conversation before the boy said he had to go and Jonny was left alone again.
He couldn’t remember ever agreeing to come to this party, and he took another cautious sip from his glass. It tasted like cold tomato soup and he grimaced, but finished it anyway and a different drink was shoved in his direction and he found himself finishing that one, too.
Maybe he just needed an excuse to get away from his thoughts for a while. Maybe he needed something to quite that yammering, negative voice at the back of his head telling him constantly things that he didn’t want to hear. While he was at work, while he was walking to the store for a sandwich on his lunch break, while he was driving home, while he was in the shower and reading before bed and trying to sleep. The alcohol seemed to silence that, the annoying little buzz, and made everything feel warm and relaxed and like slow-moving liquid dripping from a bottle.
Someone passed him a joint and he inhaled deeply. Why not, right? He passed it to the next person, his fingers brushing theirs and noticing how the nails were painted a dark brown. He glanced up at them, and another boy smiled back before placing the joint to his lips and taking in a breath of smoke, blue eyes fixed on Jonny the whole time until he passed the thing along, hands coming to rest on his knees.
He tried, desperately hard, to tell himself that the boy looked nothing like a young version of Thom. His light blonde hair sticking up in random directions, his cheeky, off-to-the-side smile and the splash of freckles across his cheeks – none of that looked like Thom.
The boy asked him if he had ever heard of the Pixies before and Jonny knew he was done for.
“I’ve only heard Trompe le Monde,” the boy said as he placed his glass down on the table. The joint was gone and the others were flipping through CDs, trying to find the next suitable batch of music to play.
“What?” Jonny asked, voice cracking. “Are you serious? Doolittle? Surfer Rosa?”
The boy looked at him blankly and Jonny scoffed.
“You’re missing out. Trompe le Monde isn’t even their best album,” Jonny said matter-of-factly, downing the rest of his drink. “You need to hear Surfer Rosa on vinyl, it’s the best.”
“Do you have it?” the boy asked, resting his hand on his cheek and watching Jonny with an odd interest. Normally, anyone looking at him the way the boy was now would make him cower away, make him duck his head so his hair fell in front of his eyes but the alcohol had torn down his wall for the night and instead he smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, back at my flat. You want to hear it?”
They pulled on jackets and scarves and snuck out of the crowd of people, making sure Megan was nowhere in sight and no one was watching them leave. On the street Jonny dug out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to the boy, who shook his head and looked away when Jonny pulled one from the pack and crumbled the paper into a ball, tossing it into a nearby rubbish bin.
Jonny blew out a smoke ring into the air, causing the boy to smirk and grin, running a hand through his hair before shoving it back into his jacket pocket. And that definitely didn’t remind Jonny of an older man he was trying so hard to forget, not at all. Perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps he should tell this boy, whatever his name was (Jonny had failed to ask) that he hadn’t picked up the rest of his records from his mum’s house yet, and this was all a rather clichéd little ploy to get him alone at his flat.
Though the look in the boy’s eyes told him he probably already had the idea.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Jonny asked.
“Cole,” the boy said, holding out his hand and unable to hide his smile. Jonny took it gently in his own and told him his.
“I know,” Cole said. “Megan told me about you.”
“Ah. Yeah, well,” Jonny shrugged. “Anyway, this is me. I’m up on the fourth floor. I hope you don’t mind walking up stairs. The lift is broken.”
“That’s alright, good for the heart,” Cole grinned and together they climbed up, pressing themselves against the wall when another couple came down from the second floor.
Jonny fished his key from his pockets, trying to control the shaking that had decided to creep into his bones somewhere along the walk from the party to his place. It was just from the cold, he told himself, and not the fact that he was bringing some random boy – a stranger – home. He shut the door behind them and kicked off his boots, weaving his way around the boxes into the main room, letting his scarf fall onto the chair by his desk. Cole followed him, glancing around and nodding..
“It’s got character,” he said and Jonny snorted.
“You can go ahead and say it’s a dump, I don’t care.”
Cole nibbled on his bottom lip but said nothing, at least until his eyes fell onto Jonny’s record player and the few albums he had brought with him.
“That it?” he asked. Jonny nodded and the boy knelt in front of them, flipping through them and frowning when he didn’t find what he was looking for. “Not here, mate.”
“I know,” Jonny said quietly, pulling his jacket from his shoulders. What was he doing? Fuck, he had no idea anymore. The alcohol made his brain tingle, made his words drip out slow and sweet and his lisp amplified even more. He didn’t care anymore, he didn’t care about school, or money, and he definitely didn’t care about him anymore. This was exactly what he wanted, to forget and move on.
He’s not coming back.
Cole flashed him that cheeky, off-to-the-side smile and Jonny knew that whatever little game he was playing, the boy was willing to accept the challenge. He let his jacket slip off onto the floor and stalked across the room, fingers at buttons on his shirt as he went and his lips were met with soft, open lips.
Well, this was what everyone wanted from him, wasn’t it? To go out and find someone his own age to play with, and that’s exactly what he was doing now, hands sliding down the back of the other boy’s jeans and grabbing at the flesh there, ripping a low noise from his throat. He bent down to bite at his neck, pushing him back onto the mattress and stretching out over the body below him, blonde hair against his dark pillow, blue eyes staring up into Jonny’s when he ground his hips into – shit, he had already forgotten his name. The boy didn’t care, hands were pulling off his belt and jeans and Jonny was fumbling around in his drawer for a bottle of lube he had bought himself after the second time with Th – him.
He thought it’d be easier to ignore the images when he turned the boy over and pushed inside. He thought it’d be easier to ignore the colour of his hair and the way his bones moved under his skin, and he thought it’d be easier to remember that this was some kid he had met at a party underneath him and not a middle-aged man he had fallen in love with months ago. Ages ago. Forever ago.
He’s not coming back.
What Jonny didn’t realize was just how easy it was to throw that all away and pretend his name was coming from someone else’s lips, in someone else’s voice. When he closed his eyes he saw baby-bird hair and mismatched blue eyes and a little man in a white t-shirt dancing around to punk music at a local club and he pushed hard, fingers digging into sharp hipbones and biting at a shoulder blade.
He wanted to hurt him for leaving him all alone. Leaving him defenseless and helpless and scared. For being weak and for being unable to stand up for himself – and for Jonny. He wanted to make him pay, and when he growled and spat and cursed the boy underneath him, he saw someone else entirely different behind his closed eyelids. Someone else who actually deserved the punishment he was giving out.
They collapsed together in a heap, however long later and Jonny rolled off to the side immediately, searching the bedside table for another pack of cigarettes and sighing when he couldn’t find any, running hands through his hair.
“Fuck me,” the boy gasped, eyes up at the ceiling. “That was the best shag I’ve ever had.”
“Mmm,” Jonny said, bored already and pulling a bag of weed from between two pages in a book at his bedside table and setting to work on rolling a joint. The boy watched him, nibbling on his bottom lip again and Jonny tossed him a glance.
“Yeah, it was… nice,” he mumbled after a moment, feeling that was what the boy needed to hear. He nodded, still seeming a bit unsure of the situation and Jonny went back to his joint. “Anyway, er. I’m probably just going to smoke this and go to sleep.”
“Oh,” the boy said. “Right.”
“Yeah.”
He moved from the bed and gathered his clothes off the floor, pulling his shirt over his head and giving Jonny a look.
“It was nice meeting you, Jon.”
“Yeah, you too…er –”
“Cole.”
“Right,” Jonny said, more to his fingers than the boy standing in his room. “Sorry.”
Cole shrugged and pulled his jacket over his shoulders. “It’s alright. I understand, really. Who’s Thom?”
This got his attention. His eyes shot up and were met with blue – not challenging or angry, just curious.
“W-what?” he asked, confused. The boy plucked his scarf from off the floor and twisted it around his neck.
“You said ‘Thom’, when you were…well, you know.”
Jonny blushed and ducked his head, cursing the alcohol in his blood and cursing the fact it was starting to dissolve and let his wall quickly rebuild itself, bringing out old habits.
“He’s just someone who hurt me. A while ago.”
Cole nodded and captured his bottom lip again, eyes darting to the floor and hands digging into his pockets for something.
“I’m sorry, I guess. I mean. Yeah, I’m sorry.”
Jonny shrugged. “Whatever, right? Shite happens. I’m sorry I…I just needed a distraction.”
The boy smiled at this, “It’s okay, Jon. I wasn’t expecting a relationship. I just want to get laid like everyone else.”
They laughed, the air loosening up around them and Jonny gestured towards the half-rolled joint in his hands. “I can put some music on. Er, and some clothes. If you want to stay for a while and help me finish this.”
“Nah, I should probably go. Work in the morning and all,” the boy yawned, for effect or not Jonny didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just smiled and thanked him, wished him goodnight and was glad to discover that he was perfectly capable of watching someone leave him without feeling like his heart was being ripped into two.
Thom really meant to go back, he honestly did. When he sat down and wrote that letter to Jonny, spilling his heart on that piece of paper so openly, he really meant every word he wrote. He had it all planned out- he would go away for a while, find a job somewhere to occupy his thoughts, pass the long days until November on his own, try not to fall apart with longing to the boy he left behind.
He even had an image in his mind of a little calendar in his kitchen, counting down the days until Jonny's birthday, until it was safe to come home to the only warm place in the world. He thought again and again about the reunion, about the way Jonny's hair will be longer and about the sweater he would be wearing and about the long hug they will have by the door, the sense of relief and comfort they will have.
But Thom already knew he had to start forgetting about his plans for the fifth of November, because the fifth of November was only hours away and he was lying in bed with another man, and he felt a sudden urge to cry, to run out and scream at the trees and at the cars and at the falling rain because it was almost the fifth and what was he doing in bed with another man, where did it all go wrong, what happened to his honest dreams?
This was better, he tried reassuring himself as he listened to Ben's breathing from the other side of the bed. This was how it was meant to be, how destiny wanted it, this was natural and reasonable and it felt like the right thing to do, laying there next to a man his age, a man who he wasn't holding back, a man who would do anything for him, who loved him.
Thom couldn't sleep that night and when the clock crossed over to the next day he got out of bed and stood by the window, cursing the moon and the time passing, cursing himself for doing the right thing.
The fifth of November brought fireworks and cake and helium balloons in colours Jonny couldn’t see. Most of the day was spent cooped up in his room, eating leftovers and throwing kernels of popcorn at the TV screen whenever one of the characters particularly annoyed him. He had set up a point system in his boredom.
He hated to admit that he had gotten his hopes up. As the days crept closer to his eighteenth birthday, he began to jump up quickly at any sound of a door opening downstairs, or his telephone ringing, or people walking in the hallways. He nearly had a heart attack when a sandy-blonde pizza delivery boy had accidentally knocked on his door instead of his neighbor’s.
When the fifth finally arrived he had lost sleep, going over in his head what he would do or say when he opened the door to a small man he missed more than he could say. More than he wanted to say. He was stuck between giving him a well-deserved punch in the face, or simply pulling him into the flat and taking him right there against the door. It all depended on how he was feeling. Despite this, Jonny wanted everyone to believe that he was angry, and that he didn’t care anymore. That he had finally moved on, but everyone was able to see through him.
Colin visited often, usually accompanied by a bag full of food, some of which was homemade, and an old video or two from the corner store. He never mentioned Thom, knowing full well his brother would dismiss the name quicker than he could breathe it, change the subject or ignore him completely. Even Ed knew not to ask (though Colin chose to give him a small lecture on it anyway).
They were both there for the boy though, and more times than either of them wanted to count had held back his hair when he got sick after drinking too much, and handed him tissues when he broke down in tears afterwords, asking questions no one had the answer to. They had reassured waitresses over and over again that their crying mess of a friend or brother was fine. Really. He just needs a glass of water, please and thank you. They glared at people who gave Jonny odd looks when he started crying at the cinema during comedy movies, took him outside and watched him pace back and forth or listened to him rant about something that wasn’t really bothering him, but he pretended was just so he could avoid discussing the real issue.
December brought cold, biting winds and a holiday from work which Jonny decided would be best if he went home to see his mother for a few days. The fact that his shower had stopped working and his flat was an icebox had nothing to do with that, of course, nor did the fact that he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal fresh from the kitchen in months.
His mother welcomed him with an awkward hug and the two of them barely shared words over the dinner table – Colin did most of the talking for him. She was angry at her youngest son for not going to school and running out of the house as quickly as he did, but he had his reasons and she knew that. Now she really couldn’t do anything to stop him, either.
Still, despite the tension she would reach her hands up and tangle her fingers through his hair when he was at the sink cleaning dishes, messing it up and tsking that he should really cut it, it was getting scraggly. Jonny rolled his eyes and tried to hide the yawn his mother playing with his hair never failed to give him, accidentally getting dish soap on his cheek.
Christmas itself was uneventful. His list consisted of words scratched out until he decided he didn’t want anything, though his stocking was full of chocolate and small puzzles. What he really wanted to write on that slip of paper taped to the fridge was “Thom”, but he knew the look he would receive from his mother if he went through with it. Besides, he was supposed to be pretending he wasn’t missing that man with every fiber of his being.
He hadn’t had enough money to buy either of his family members anything big or expensive, but they reassured him that they understood. He had even bought Ed something small, and the older boy lit up when he saw the wrapped package, pulling Jonny into a bone-crunching, one-armed hug. The three of them shared eggnog in Colin’s room and laughing at each other’s failed attempts to play Neil Young songs. Jonny claimed he knew half of one, but was too shy to play it, and the teasing and picking only made him blush more and grow quieter, and then they understood.
“He was supposed to be here,” he muttered to his almost-full glass. “I figured that after I turned eighteen…”
Colin and Ed glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Most times Jonny kept everything he was thinking about Thom inside, but the odd time he would open up. They just had to be patient and never pressure him. Colin watched as his younger brother turned his glass in his fingers, hair still dangling over his face.
“Maybe he’s forgotten about me,” he continued.
“No way, Jon. He hasn’t forgotten about you. Maybe he’s just lost track of time?” Ed said hopefully. Jonny shook his head.
“He’s moved on, I bet. Well, good. Really. I was holding him back, right?”
Colin looked at his friend again and sighed. Jonny took a sip of eggnog and grimaced at the taste, moving his drink to rest atop his brother’s bedside table and running his hands over his legs to get rid of the drops that had gathered on his hand from the glass, melting into his jeans like wet snow on pavement.
Colin already got used to not having Jonny around the house. There were some good things about it, he thought as he lazily brushed his teeth, like having the shower all to himself and for as long as he wanted.
But Colin missed Jonny's presence more than he could ever admit and he knew his mother felt the same. She never let any of it out; she always behaved as if Jonny leaving the house was something she couldn't really prevent, like there was nothing she could really do about it now. Colin watched her in her small everyday rituals, as she read the mail or washed the dishes and he watched her talking on the phone or reading a book and he knew that a part of her died the day Jonny left, not only because he wasn't there but also because of the way he left, the way he looked at her now, they way she knew he might never forgive her.
Now as the holidays were behind them Colin got used to having the house to himself and sitting alone at the big kitchen table in the morning only made him miss Jonny more, only made him wish his brother was there with him, probably glaring at him from behind his bowl of cereal, still not fully awake, sleep still draping his eyes and his mind.
Colin was so drawn into his thoughts that he nearly didn't hear the knock on the door. It was a very weak knock and it made Colin wonder who would knock that way, almost as if he didn't want to be heard. Colin left the kitchen and slowly made his way to the door, not bothering to look through the peeking hole before unlocking the door and opening it.
It took Colin a long moment to understand who was standing in front of him.
It took him even longer to decide what he was going to say. The outcome wasn't all that satisfying, in his opinion.
"Thom." He said it out loud only to hear the sound of it, to see if his ears believed it, because his mind didn't.
"Colin!"
Thom looked different. He had lost weight, if that was even possible, and a ginger beard was possessing his cheeks, his hair was longer and he looked, well, he looked older.
"Is Jonny here?"
Colin realized he was staring and he blinked and shook his head, not knowing how to behave, not knowing whether to punch Thom right in the nose of to hug him.
"No, he's not."
Thom paled and rubbed his cheeks, swallowing hard before he spoke very slowly. "Where is he?"
Colin just looked at him.
"Colin, I need you to tell me where he is, please."
But Colin just kept staring, feeling idiotic about not being able to form the words, not even knowing where to begin.
Thom snapped and grabbed Colin by the shoulders, shaking him gently. "Colin!"
"He..."
Hope was spreading across Thom's face as he let Colin go.
"Where is he?"
"He doesn't want to see you."
"Oh god..." Thom covered his eyes before raising them for a piercing gaze, one that Colin tried to avoid.
"Look at me!"
Colin straightened himself and drowned into that blue again.
"I need to know where Jonny is. I know I've made a mistake and I know..."
It was starting to rain and Colin looked up at the clouds, relieved to be released from the grasp of Thom's gaze.
"Fuck! Just...I have the right to at least try...Please Colin..."
And the rain was already starting to drip down from Thom's hair down his forehead and onto his nose, Colin taking a moment to follow one particular drop with his eyes. Thom looked frustrated as the drop fell down from the tip of his nose and Colin just turned around and disappeared into the house, returning a few short moments later with a white note.
"You hurt him real bad, you know." Colin muttered as he pushed the note into Thom's damp palm.
"Thank you" Thom almost whispered and within seconds he was gone, leaving one dry square on the pavement where his car was parked.
Colin stood with the front door open for what could have been hours or a mere few minutes until he realised the cool air was making his hand on the doorknob numb and a few dry leaves had managed to slip their way past his feet. He swept them out and shut the door behind him, staring off at the wall a moment before shaking his head and pressing forward, only to pause again.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done that.
Although he had been to visit his baby brother quite often at his flat, Colin wasn’t sure how Jonny felt about Thom – specifically, how he felt about the possibility of him returning. Colin knew that, despite what his brother said and even told himself, there was still some tiny, little flicker of hope residing somewhere in his gut that Thom would come back, and drops of doubt constantly threatened to distinguish it. Rather unfortunately for Jonny, Colin thought, they hadn’t.
The boy had struggled to get over the older man, and in his struggle had neglected almost everything else. His flat was a mess: unpacked boxes littering the small room, sheets of music and notes fluttered down from the table top and his nightstand. Even Jonny’s hair had grown long and shaggy; it was always in his eyes when he bent over his guitar, strands of it clinging desperately onto his dry lips. He had even stopped shaving for a few days and Colin had blatantly stared at him, amazed at how much a little facial hair could change his baby brother’s entire appearance.
And finally, finally it seemed to Colin as though Jonny was getting there, that he was finally allowing himself to let Thom go. He had cleaned his place up a bit. He had shaved and even mentioned getting a haircut, though he never actually went through with it. Progress was progress though, right?
But just when Jonny seemed to have taken a turn for the better Thom had come crawling back, and instead of helping his brother out Colin had shoved the older man – the one who had hurt his brother worse than any name-calling or painful shoves into a locker ever could – into the younger boy’s arms.
What had he done?
Colin glanced back towards the closed door. It was too late now; Thom was probably already halfway there. Maybe he was wrong, anyway. What did he know about what his brother needed?
It haunted him the rest of the day, worried sick that he had done something horrible. Perhaps Thom hadn’t gone back to Jonny to apologize, to beg for forgiveness like Colin hoped he had. He didn’t know what else Thom could have come back for, but as the hours wore on he managed to come up with ideas – most of them ridiculous until an even more abstract one took its place.
He couldn’t finish his meals, and afterward picked up the telephone and called.
Once.
Twice.
Three times with no answer, each time he grew more and more frustrated. Jonny was not one to spontaneously do something irrational, but then again Colin never thought his brother was the type of boy to go around sleeping with older men.
He was just out for the night, Colin told himself. In fact, he probably left hours ago – before Thom even came here. He probably hasn’t even seen Thom. Maybe the older man left.
Maybe this will all work out after all.
Or maybe he had seen Thom. Maybe Thom was apologizing right now.
Or maybe he wasn’t, and Jonny had drank himself to oblivion again. Colin shook the thoughts from his head, cursing himself under his breath. He was being silly. He had nothing to worry about.
He hoped.
Eventually, giving up on ever reaching Jonny, he went to bed with a promise to himself that first thing the next morning he would go over to his brother’s flat just to make sure everything was alright. With a sigh he turned off his light, readying himself to face a night of sleepless tossing and turning, bad thoughts out-weighing the good and a humming anxiety for the first sign of morning light.
The storm outside matched perfectly the storm that went on inside Thom's head. It took him a lot of courage to bring himself to knock on that door, the door of the house where Jonny grew up, the house he was shamefully kicked out of the last time he had set foot in there.
Thom nearly lost his nerve completely when he realised there was a possibility that Colin won't give him the location of his younger brother, realizing just how fragile it all was, how quickly he could lose the sudden need to make it all right again, to bring Jonny back into his arms and to spend the rest of his life trying to gain Jonny's forgiveness.
Thom blinked his eyes and pushed the brakes, thinking that he saw something crossing the road ahead of him. He could barely make out the road through the pouring rain and he pulled over, the memories of his ugly accident rushing back to him, the chill of the white hospital corridors still fresh in his mind.
This time he won't let it happen, he won't let the confusing thoughts about the boy he'd left behind run him into a tree or anything worse, he'll just sit and let both of the storms to calm a little before moving on. He couldn't fuck this up, not this time, he had it all planned out.
The way he'll pull Jonny close to him and apologize a thousand times, the way he'll explain to Jonny that he never meant to hurt him, that he would rather die then hurt him, that every single thing that he's done was in thought about what's best for Jonny and...
fuck.
He's never going to believe it now, is he? As true as it all was, even in Thom's mind it sounded like bullocks, like some made up lies that were only meant to make Thom appear as less of the coward that he really was.
Yes, Thom was a coward but he wasn't afraid of Mrs Greenwood or of what people would say, not even from the cops or the threat of being thrown into prison. He was afraid to hurt the only living soul that didn't deserve it, the one person that ever gave him a clear chance, from the very start, that didn't write him off as a lunatic or as a freak, and that listened to what he had to say and even answered back. Maybe he was afraid to feel the way he felt with Jonny, so exposed and honest, not able to hide anymore, Jonny would never let Thom cry for no reason, but sometimes he understood without a word.
Maybe he was afraid because that beautiful creature seemed to have picked him, him of all people, and somehow in Thom's mind it still made no sense.
Or maybe he was afraid because of the possibility that Jonny has already moved on, that he'll open the door with someone else's scent on his skin, someone else in his bed, that he already forgot about Thom and found himself someone his own age. Thom shivered at this thought and placed his forehead on the stirring wheel, his palms covering his face.
A little voice made its way to the front of Thom's mind – You could still turn around a leave, get back to your usual self, never look back again, leave him alone, leave him be. He could still do it, disappear again, get back to his twisted sense of justice where he had to spend the rest of his life with the person who broke his heart more than any other, the person that could never understand him, get back to being miserable, just the way he always was. Always, until someone almost half his age taught him that there's also another way.
Thom listened to the rain outside, still falling relentlessly, making everything blurry and unclear.
Jonny tried cleaning his flat. Again. Every time he tired cleaning his flat there was something that made him give up and throw the broom stick or the duster away to rot in their sad little corner until the next time.
This time it was a shirt that he had found under the bed, a shirt that belonged to him, it even still smelled like him a bit, Jonny couldn't help but instinctively bringing the piece of cloth up to his nose and inhale deeply, the smell causing his head to spin and the aching twist in his heart to appear and remind Jonny that this shirt was there from before.
From before he realized that Thom was not coming back.
Jonny bitterly threw the shirt into the garbage bin and sat down by the window with a cigarette, lighting it as he looked at the rain making its way down in determination. He won't let it bring him down, not this time, not again. He was so far behind that by now.
He was already far behind everything, which kind off made him sigh in relief when he came to think of it. He already made it through the hardest phases, those of hope, realization, anger and sorrow. He already felt as if the wounds were ready to heal, he was ready to start over. To make this a part of his past, an unpleasant part, one that he would push away into the depths of his memory and perhaps return to pick up at some distant point in the future – when he'll already be old enough to understand that falling in love like that is silly and immature, that trusting is for the youth and that faith is something that only exists in fairy tales.
There are no princes on white horses and there no older men with old guitars and angelic voices to come rescue him, not really. Jonny would most likely have to rescue himself. Jonny wondered if he was strong enough to do that, to move on. To truly accept the fact the he'll never see Thom again. To learn to live with the way Thom had broke his heart, to heal the damage that was made, maybe to even love again.
Jonny wasn't sure, but he thought it might be starting to happen. There were no big changes or signs, but every morning he was a little less surprised when he woke up and realized that Thom wasn't there, every night was a little easier to fall asleep, just a little easier. Jonny wished he could already go through a whole day without the memories of Thom's touch on his skin, of Thom's voice in his ears, of Thom's presence in his life. He prayed for one day without having to remember how it felt being with Thom and how it felt to be forgotten, to be left behind.
Jonny inhaled deeply and opened a little crack in the window to let the smoke flow out into the cold. He shivered at the freezing wind that blew itself into his room and pulled a blanket over himself, already thinking next about the soup he might make for himself later and about the grocery list that sat on the fridge for too long and about how he'd like to maybe find a small dog or a cat to keep him company in those long winter afternoons.
And then Jonny heard a knock on the door and all of the thoughts have faded away.
Jonny squashed his cigarette off and got up, letting the blanket fall off of his shoulders. It wasn't really like Colin to show up without a notice, and it made him a little uneasy as he clicked the locks open.
Jonny opened the door.
Jonny slammed the door shut.
There was silence then, Jonny leaning against the door for a moment, his heart sinking and his mind still blank in shock, his eyes refusing to believe what they just saw.
So he looked through the peeking hole and it was still there. Him, he was still there, still standing there, so misplaced and uncommon, like out of a dream or a nightmare. Maybe Jonny banged his head against the sink and passed out, maybe he was hallucinating; maybe this was just –
"Jonny?"
Sweet mother of god, that voice. Jonny jumped back, feeling stupid for the sudden feeling that Thom could see him right back through that peeking hole, that he could hear him breathe and think.
Jonny locked the door, feeling as if there was a wolf outside, a demon from the past that came there to haunt him, still refusing to believe that he was actually there.
You're acting kinda silly, Jon-Jon, a little voice in Jonny's head told him, but he didn't care, he won every right to act kinda silly.
"Jonny...please...open up..."
Jonny looked again, promising to himself that Thom couldn't see him back, that he won't get burnt by only looking, looking has never harmed anyone.
"Jon..."
Thom looked different. He had a beard and longer hair and sharper cheekbones and he almost looked...he almost looked scared.
"Jonny, please. At least say something. Let me hear your voice."
Jonny jumped back again as if he had been burnt. Seeing Thom like this, hearing the despair in his voice, almost made Jonny feel something other than rage and hurt, only almost.
"I'm sorry."
How will Jonny make him go away?
"I'm so sorry."
If he could only escape through the bathroom window.
"I love you."
"Go away!"
"No! Jonny, please! Let me in!"
"Fuck off!"
"Jonny..."
Thom's voice broke in two and Jonny didn't have to look to see that he was crying.
"You've every right to hate me. But...but please. Let me see you, let me talk to you, please..."
Jonny was starting to get tired of this.
"No. Just go."
"You have to at least...let me explain..."
That was the last straw for Jonny, who was only looking for a reason to snap and he was shouting, screaming, letting months of frustration out through his voice, not caring of who could hear him. "I don't have to do anything! I don't owe you anything! You lost every right to even speak to me long ago, Thomas! So just fuck the fuck off! I never want to see you again! I swear to god, I'm going to call the police and tell them you've molested me, tell them you're harassing me, if you don't fuck off Right. Now!"
Jonny was left gasping for air, his head leaning against the door and his fingers digging into the wood, his heart sinking even lower than it was when he heard the footsteps in the corridor pacing away from his door.
That was exactly what he wanted and yet Jonny did not feel relieved. He felt like crying and so he did, finally letting himself break apart and shudder, sliding to the floor with his head between his hands, allowing himself to cry openly and truly, like a child.
Jonny only got off the floor because he needed another cigarette.
He climbed up the chair next to the window and before he could even reach the lighter his heart sank for the third time when his eyes deciphered the small character standing in the rain outside his window, looking up and not letting go. Just standing there, being soaked to the bone, Jonny wiped away the last shred of his tears to make sure that it was really him again, that he really wasn't wearing a coat or a scarf, that he was really just standing there, the only thing protecting him from the rain aside from a thin shirt was his slim hands wrapped around him.
He's going to find his death out there, the stupid little voice was making another appearance, causing Jonny to drop the cigarette that was still dumbly placed in the corner of his mouth.
How long has he been standing there already, Jonny tried thinking, remembering the freezing wind that filled his lungs only after a few seconds of cracking open his window, looking down the street again to see that Thom was visibly shaking, even from that distance it was clear.
Jonny hated Thom even more for making him open the window and pulling out his head, for making him call out his name and telling him to come up, for leaving him no other choice than to deal with him.
Thom disappeared inside the building and Jonny went to unlock the door, not believing that he was actually folding so easily, that he's actually gonna let the man that he swore never to trust again into his flat, back into his life. He had to reassure himself that it was only temporary, that it might be a good chance for a closure, to let Thom know what he's thinking, give him a little piece of his mind, make him understand just how bad he had hurt him.
By the time Thom showed up at his door again, wet and shivering, Jonny had already convinced himself that this was a very good idea, that this was exactly what he needed to finally make himself move on.
"Come in," he mumbled and Thom did, still hugging himself, bringing in with him a chill and leaving a trail of rainwater on the floor. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not being able to speak with his teeth still clicking together, which was good, Jonny thought, because it gave him the chance to speak first.
"I don't know why I let you in here. I guess I don't want you dead. At least not on my doorstep."
"Jo-Jonny..." Thom could barely let the words out, his shaking only becoming stronger, almost violent now.
"I need you to know that...that I'm over you. That I stopped waiting for you a long time ago. That I'm glad you didn't show up when I was still waiting, because that gave me the chance to realize who you really are, that you're not...You're not who I thought you were."
"Wait..."
"I used to look up to you, you were everything to me, everything I wanted to have and to be and... Now look at you," Jonny walked up to Thom until he was only inches away and hissed into his face, "You're pathetic."
"Jonny, stop..."
"Why should I stop? What reason do I have to stop?!"
Jonny was towering Thom now, feeling superior for once over the shaking figure in the middle of his flat. They were both breathing hard, silent for a moment before Thom whispered something and Jonny shook his head.
"What did you say?"
"I said-I said I love you..."
"Don't you fucking say that!"
"I love you!"
"Shut up!"
The voices grew louder and louder until the sound of flesh hitting flesh tore the room back into silence. Jonny wasn't a violent person but somehow that made him feel better, so he did it again.
Or at least he tried before Thom had grabbed his wrist, surprising in his ability to struggle back in spite of his condition, blocking Jonny's efforts to punch him again and again until tackling him onto the bed and pinning him down, still stronger then the boy even in his state, holding his lean wrists above his head while Jonny hissed and exposed teeth, not giving up the fight just yet.
"Get off of me! I hate you! I don't need you, get off!"
"Shhh, Jonny, please..."
"I can find someone my own age to fuck, I already have, plenty of them, they were all better than you – let go! Let go of me! Let go..."
And finally silence was wrapping the room, making the scene that encountered in the middle of it very clear:
Thom, water still dripping from his hair, every part of his body still soaked and shaking violently, pinning down Jonny to the bed, who blinked every time a drop would made its way down from the man above him, breathing through his teeth, his eyes red with anger.
"I hate you..." He whispered and Thom sighed.
"I'm so sorry. I meant to come back, I swear..."
"So why –" Jonny was already crying again, too weak to hold it in any longer. "Why didn't you?"
Thom looked like he had just realised what he brought himself into. He wouldn't lie, not this time, never again. He had no other choice but to tell the truth. "Ben...he-he found me. I was back with him. I thought it was for the best if I just let go of you, let you live your life..."
Thom should have seen it coming, really, the hate jumping out of Jonny's every muscle once again as he wriggled and shook under Thom's strong grasp. "But I couldn't, Jonny. I couldn't live without you. I can't! I won't!" Thom still managed to let those words out before the shivering and Jonny's struggle broke him down and he let himself give in, be rolled over and pinned down beneath the younger man who just looked at him and Thom thought that he didn't really mind from now on, whatever Jonny chose to do with him was fine.
So he smiled. "Jonathan..."
"Don't call me that!"
"I love you."
"Shut. Up!"
"Jonathan..."
And then Jonny did the last thing that Thom had expected him to do. He kissed Thom- but not gently or lustfully as he used to, it was a kiss of anger, a kiss that was only meant to shut his mouth, Thom didn't care really, he let Jonny attack his lips until they both tasted blood and Jonny pulled away, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.
"You say you love me..."
He said it in a low voice that came straight from his stomach and then he flipped Thom over and tore his damp trousers down, one hand violently shoving Thom's head down to the mattress and the other pulling down his own pants. He spat into it and started pushing in almost in the same movement and Thom gasped, not really making a sound, letting Jonny do whatever he pleased.
Jonny didn't stop until he heard the ragged way in which Thom's breath was coming out and understood that the older man was crying. Only then he noticed that Thom was still shaking, that his skin was still cold and his clothes still wet.
The hand that was tangled inside Thom's damp hair came to Jonny's mouth as he realized what he had just done and he slowly pulled himself away from the trembling body under him. He pulled Thom gently by the shoulder and examined his face, Thom avoiding his gaze all the while.
"Thom..." He pulled Thom up into a silent hug, holding him close, trying to sooth his shivers and make them go away.
He then gently pulled away the wet pieces of cloth that still covered Thom, one by one, and wrapped him in a blanket, still no words exchanged between them as they mutely hugged, their tears blending together until it made no difference who was crying them anymore.
They slowly kissed each other, not making a sound, until Thom's shivering had ceased and only then Jonny had kissed his way to Thom's ear and whispered that he was sorry, so sorry.
"I want you back, " Thom murmured all of a sudden and Jonny smiled, moving his fingers once again over Thom's beard, stopping at the spot that had the most grey in it and sighing.
"It might take a while," He whispered back and Thom pulled him down onto the bed so that Jonny was weighing down on him again, only this time he held him tight and Jonny sighed again.
"I know, but I'll do anything." And then nothing mattered anymore because Jonny found himself inside Thom again, the older man pulling him, inviting him in, moaning his name and kissing his neck and before he even knew it he was reaching the relief that he had been searching for all of these long days of waiting.
They held each other for hours later, not being able to let go in fear that the void they both felt would return, that out of this bed the world was still cold and cynical, that the understanding they shared without words in the arms of each other would fade away once they let go.
So they stayed there until sleep took them, the rain outside no longer something they had to worry about.
Colin had spent most of the morning picking up the phone, only to stare at it and place it back in its cradle and resume pacing back and forth. He argued with himself for hours, assuring himself his brother was fine, he didn’t need Colin to intervene, while another part of him nagged at him to go to his flat and make sure everything was alright.
He wasn’t quite sure what would be worse – Jonny left torn and broken and in a bigger mess than he was before, especially after finally beginning to recover, or Jonny enraged at him for ever allowing the older man to find where he lived. Colin swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair.
He had spoken to Ed before his friend had left for work, chattering away nervously and listening only when Ed had enough and told him to shut up, he had to think. The other boy had made a valid point that Jonny was old enough to take care of himself, and although Colin knew it was true, a part of him – the over-protective brother part of him – couldn’t help but remember those nights he had come to find Jonny passed out from drinking too much, or shaking and sobbing with the tips of his fingers bloody from hours and hours of playing guitar.
That was not something Colin wanted to relive again, and memories flashed behind his eyes of his brother’s face, like everything beautiful in the world had suddenly disappeared. He didn’t want to put Jonny through that again.
He should at least make sure everything was alright. Especially after he finally got the courage to ring him up again and was given no reply. The thoughts brewing in his mind only made the sick feeling in his stomach worse.
Finally he decided that it would be best to drive over there. Just to make sure, and maybe even to apologize for not warning Jonny that Thom was in town and wanted to see him. He owed that to him, right?
It hadn’t stopped raining, and Colin drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel at each stoplight, fidgeting until it turned green again and he could concentrate on driving.
It was understandable why Colin hesitated before knocking on the door of his brother’s flat. Or at least, so he thought. It had been so easy to do before all these times, before when he knew what he’d find waiting for him on the other side. A sad, tired boy that was secretly glad for his brother’s attention – though he’d never really admit it. Colin listened quietly for any hint of life beyond the door, but all he could hear was a television from somewhere down the hall and a dog barking upstairs.
He knocked again, his throat tight and his heart beating wildly in his chest.
Forever and a day passed before the door cracked open, and from it emerged a half-dressed, sleepy younger brother.
“Jonny,” Colin pulled the boy into a hug and Jonny sputtered before responding, a hand patting the older boy’s back.
“Er, hi, Colin.”
“I’m so sorry, Jon. I should have phoned you, I should have asked your permission first,” he said, rushed and quiet. Jonny wiped sleep from his eyes and gazed at him, confused.
“What?”
Colin stared for a moment, silent.
“Er…have you…um. Have you spoken to…to Thom?”
It took a moment, but the younger boy clued in. Eyes widening, he turned around and pulled the door to the flat shut behind him quietly, hands rubbing the goose bumps away from his arms.
“Yeah, I did.”
Colin’s heart fluttered and he nodded, “and?”
Jonny nibbled on his bottom lip, brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and looked down at his toes.
“Um, he’s sleeping right now.”
“He’s…he’s still here?” the older boy frowned, taken aback. “You mean…have you two worked things out?”
“If you want to call it that.”
“What happened?” Despite his brother obviously being safe and sound, Colin was still unable to hide the hint of worry in his voice. Jonny rolled his eyes.
“We had a row. And I sort of kicked him out –”
Colin snorted, and with a look allowed his brother to continue.
“But it was freezing and raining, so I brought him back in…and, well.”
“What?”
Jonny blushed and Colin grimaced.
“Oh for – are you serious?”
“Four times.”
“I really don’t – four, Jonathan? So that’s why you didn’t answer your phone?”
“I –”
“No,” Colin threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re … unbelievable, Jonny.”
The younger boy shrugged and nibbled on his fingernail.
“We still have some things to work out, of course. But, you know. I don’t know. I’m alright. I think everything is going to be alright,” Jonny said more to the wall then to his brother and Colin sighed.
“Are you sure?”
Jonny smiled, turning back to his brother.
“No. But who’s ever sure anymore?”
When Thom woke up, he found Jonny looking at him, exploring him with his gaze, his knees pulled beneath his chin and his fingers between his lips. Thom rose up and pushed the sleep away from his eyes, feeling a sudden urge to apologize again, a new fear that Jonny might have already regretted last night entering his bones and making him shudder.
But then Jonny smiled and Thom melted into a puddle. "Good morning. I thought you'd never wake up..."
"Well, I'm - I was exhausted."
Jonny blushed at the memories of last night and Thom couldn't help but pull him down into the blanket and into his firm grip again, pulling their bodies together, Jonny's body heat relaxing and intoxicating him at the same time.
"Your hair is so long," Thom eventually said when he could finally bring himself to stop kissing the younger man.
"You have a beard," Jonny replied, the two of them realising all of a sudden just how much they had missed.
"When did you move in here?" Thom's fingers followed a long strand of silky black hair and he sighed, inhaling the scent of Jonny's skin into his lungs, he could never be tired of this scent.
"After you left. I couldn't stand even looking in my mum's direction anymore, so I just took off."
"What about college? You were applying..."
"Well I couldn't...I had to work full time to keep this place. I still do. I had to call in sick today."
Thom pulled back to have a look at Jonny's face, looking to find a hint of anger or regret. Instead, he only found a faint smile and he pulled back, burying his face in Jonny's neck and whispering against warm skin.
"I'm so, so sorry..."
"I know," Jonny soothingly ran his fingers through Thom's hair.
"You can still make it, you know." Thom said later when they finally broke apart.
"College, I mean. Spring semester, you can still apply. If that's what you want."
Jonny was about to protest when he found that he had nothing to protest about. So he just let his palm find its way under the blanket and on Thom's skin, watching in interest as the older man's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.
It felt different, Jonny thought. Everything that had happened since Thom had shown up, soaking wet and shivering at his door was different. He no longer had to sneak through windows and pull his hoods closer to his neck to hide the marks left there by teeth and lips. He went to work with a blush on his cheeks and instead of daydreaming about the day Thom would return to him, found himself daydreaming about what he would do as soon as he got home. How the two of them could work on songs again, guitars in their laps and knees touching, and of all the meals Thom had told him he would make one day. They needed to go grocery shopping, and had meant to days ago but ended up rather distracted with one another and the cupboards were now bare and empty.
Thom had helped Jonny unpack the rest of his things one afternoon when he didn’t have to work, making a game out of it. Whoever unpacked their box first got to make the other one do something. Jonny had asked with a mischievous grin what “something” was, and the older man had merely replied that it could be anything at all. Of course, this only fueled his curiosity more and the boy made sure he would be the last to finish unloading one of his boxes, and was rather disappointed when Thom told him he had to clean the toilet afterward.
He made sure he won the next round, making Thom do something just as degrading – going down to the laundry room wearing nothing but socks and boxers. He laughed from the doorway when Thom came back with an empty basket and a sour look on his face, closing the door shut before the older man could come inside and listened to him growling to be let in from the other side of the wood, trying to hold back his giggles. When he finally thought Thom had been humiliated enough he let him in, only to find himself pinned to the wall with his trousers down and baby-bird hair between his fingers, finally, after so long.
Despite their fun and games, Jonny found it weird, having Thom with him all the time when he was so used to him not being there at all. He often forgot to knock before entering the bathroom and most days just walked in, mind elsewhere entirely until he bumped into Thom coming out of the shower or something of the sort. It often left him flustered, though the older man laughed it off and jokingly asked him to knock next time as he brushed past him out of the tiny room.
It was even weirder, Jonny thought, waking up next to him every morning. Small arms wrapped around his stomach and lips resting at his neck, breath soft against the skin. He loved it, of course. He relished in the feeling of it, and most days felt the urge to skip work and lay in bed all day under the covers. However, it still felt, well, weird.
“It’ll take some getting used to, Jon. You’re used to living alone, doing your own things,” Thom said one day as he leaned over the sink, towel around his hips and a white beard of shaving cream decorating his chin. Jonny was sitting at the tub in his work clothes, poking at a hole in the mat with his toe.
“I mean,” Thom continued. “I didn’t really ask if I could stay, could I? If you want I could go get a hotel or –”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Thomas,” Jonny interrupted. “I want you here. I’ve wanted to wake up next to you ever since I met you. I’m glad you’re here everyday. It’s just…it’s just different.”
Thom tapped a bit of foam off into the sink and went back to shaving.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Jonny sighed, watching him. Thom grinned at him in the mirror.
“It looks awful. I look ten times older. I’m going grey before my time.”
Jonny had to agree, Thom’s beard did look a little odd – especially with the off patch of grey. But it wasn’t how it looked that Jonny liked, it was how it felt. He had always imagined a beard to be rough and coarse, but oddly Thom’s wasn’t. And although he didn’t like to admit it, the feeling of it against the inside of his thigh was more than enough to make him squirm.
The look Thom was giving him seemed to say he knew exactly what the boy was thinking, which just made him blush more.
“Dirty boy,” he muttered and Jonny sniffed.
“I can’t help it. You’ve been gone ages, Thom. I haven’t gotten a good shag since you left.”
The older man laughed, rinsing off his razor and going back for another patch of hair.
“What about all those others you slept with, hmm? The ones that were so much better than me?”
Jonny rolled his eyes. “You should know by now I’ll use my bratty ways to get whatever I want. I lied again. There was only one boy, and he – well, he was good. But he wasn’t you.”
Thom said nothing, finishing up with his shaving and letting the water out of the sink. Jonny watched him clean up his mess and put on aftershave, nibbling on his bottom lip until the older man spun around and grinned.
“What?”
“This is the part where you come up and start rubbing my face. You know, like in those shaving commercials?” Thom explained.
“Go touch yourself, then. If you’re so into it.”
Thom laughed and pulled the boy off the edge of the tub and into his arms, touching the tip of his nose to Jonny’s and letting his eyes flutter shut.
“I missed you,” he whispered and Jonny let out a long breath, allowing himself to melt and mold into the arms around him.
“I missed you.”
“Are you starting to forgive me?”
“Well, you’ve gone a step or two back, now that you’ve shaved the beard off.”
“I look younger,” Thom argued.
“You look like you could be my age,” Jonny agreed. “Well, maybe not that young.”
“I can’t help it that you’re a naughty little minx that likes to fuck older men.”
Jonny grinned, “You do everything in your power not to.”
“I don’t hear you complaining,” Thom observed and Jonny’s grip on him tightened.
“Shut up,” he mumbled against his lips, settling back against the wall and pulling Thom with him. One hand pulling him closer, the other trailing down his back and into the fabric of the towel, eventually untangling it and sending it falling to the floor in a pile.
“Oops,” Jonny lisped, feigning innocence and Thom growled, pressing himself closer to the boy and pulling impatiently at his t-shirt, trying to ignore the cartoon washing machine grinning back at him from the fabric. It wasn’t doing much other than to make Jonny seem more his age, something the day-old stubble on his chin and the lustful look he was giving him failed to do – and that was only making Thom all the more impatient.
Jonny nudged him back and they stumbled, falling together onto the bathroom floor a little roughly, Thom cursing and rubbing at the back of his head as Jonny laughed and straddled him, normally calculated hands fumbling with the buttons of his fly and Thom reaching up to help pull his belt from the loops. Jonny lifted himself enough to wriggle out of his jeans and began to move none-too-gently against the older man as his hand blindly searched one of the drawers for a bottle of lube, stubby fingers trailing up under his t-shirt and tightening over his hips.
He found it at last and went to work peeling the wrapper off, ignoring Thom’s arched eyebrows as he watched the boy squeeze a fair amount in his hand and reached between them to coat his straining erection, Thom arching into his touch until Jonny bent down to kiss and bite at his lips, moving into position and with a single, fluid motion he pushed himself onto the older man and began to rock himself immediately, throwing his head back to let out a long groan.
Thom watched, hands tightening around the boy’s sides as he grinded against him, cheeks flushed and dark eyes glued to his. The floor was cold and hard against his back, a little uncomfortable but he ignored it, throwing his focus entirely onto Jonny, working himself into a pant and moving his hand over his own cock. Being sentimental was obviously not his motive this time around – they had spent hours each day after Jonny came home from work, just lying in bed and exploring one another again, worried they had forgotten something in the past.
Now, this was different. Jonny riding him with abandon, moaning every time Thom thrust his hips up into him. This was something Jonny had been afraid to do the whole time they had snuck around with one another before. All those times had been about sharing one another, and this – this was Jonny showing. He wasn’t some fragile, teenaged boy that was easily broken anymore. He wasn’t vulnerable, and he sure as hell wasn’t innocent.
And Thom realized, as Jonny came hard over him with a strangled cry, just seconds before his own, that he had never wanted to be treated that way in the first place. He had always been prepared for the bumps and the cuts love often offered.
It wasn’t Jonny who had been terrified before, it was Thom.
Thom smiled to himself when he heard the lock in the front door, acoustic resting on his lap and notebook flipped open in front of him, pen in hand. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed frame and a cool breeze coming in from the window had been playing along his skin for most of the afternoon. It made the room cool, but he loved the sound of the rain and the traffic outside. Often it inspired him.
“It’s bloody freezing in here,” Jonny called from the doorway, pulling off his boots and tossing his scarf into the small closet, the door hiding him from Thom’s view. “What smells so good?”
“I’m making supper, so don’t eat anything,” Thom announced, going back to his notebook. There were footsteps on the floor and not a moment later a hand gently brushing through his hair, met with lips on his forehead.
“You smell like laundry,” he giggled.
“That’s what I get for working at a dry cleaner, Thomas,” Jonny poked his tongue out at him and joined him on the floor, knees hitting the hardwood with a thump. Thom winced, but the boy failed to notice.
“What are you working on?” he asked, plucking the notebook off the floor and turning it so he could read the words. Thom fingered the strings of his guitar as he watched the boy read over the notes he had been writing.
“This is sad,” Jonny said after a moment. “Can you play it for me?”
“It’s not finished yet,” the older man mumbled, taking his notebook back and reading over the words again, trying to imagine he was reading them from Jonny’s eyes.
“That’s never stopped you before,” Jonny poked him playfully and stretched out on the floor at his feet, propping his head up with his hand. “Come on, Thomas.”
“Jon –”
“Thomas.”
Thom grumbled and pulled one of the strings.
“Just…remember it’s not finished.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Thom played and Jonny listened, nodding along, never tearing his eyes away from the man in front of him, with his eyes closed and his hair messy. He realized then just how much he had missed him, missed being able to reach out and touch him, feel his heat through his clothing. Smell the spicy sweet smell of him that drove him crazy – that to this day still drove him crazy.
“That’s beautiful,” Jonny said when Thom was finished and had settled his guitar back down onto the floor. “What have you called it?”
He took a moment to think about it, staring at the floor as though it would answer Jonny for him. When it didn’t, he finally looked up at the boy in front of him and offered him a smile.
“‘True Love Waits’,” he said. “I’ve called it ‘True Love Waits’.”
“In haunted attics, apparently,” Jonny fingered the page with the lyrics scrawled on it, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Living off lollipops and crisps. That sounds familiar – have you been snooping through my garbage?”
“Only a little,” Thom joked and the boy – the younger man, leaned forward to press a kiss against his lips.
They sat at the small dinner table, toes touching on the floor underneath as they made small conversation, Jonny concentrating on his food and Thom concentrating on Jonny, trying to word what he wanted to say properly. The last time he brought it up the younger man had quieted him, in his own little way. Not that Thom had complained, but he felt the issue needed to be dealt with.
“Jonny,” he spoke up after a long moment of silence. “I really think you should try out for school.”
Jonny stirred his soup and took a rather noisy slurp, but otherwise did nothing.
“I know you want to. I know you do, and that’s not the issue here. Look, I have money. A lot of money. You don’t have to worry about rent or anything – hell, we can even get a nicer place if you want –”
“I’m not taking your money, Thom,” Jonny stated firmly, eyes never leaving his food. Thom sputtered for a moment before gathering his thoughts and tried again.
“Jon, it doesn’t matter. Okay? I just want you to be happy, and I know you’re not happy working at the dry cleaner. And I know you’re not happy living in this cardboard box. Let me help you, please? People, they do it all the time. Men support their wives –”
Jonny snickered and Thom ignored him.
“They support their loved ones. And, well…” he shifted awkwardly in his chair and the boy looked up at him, curious. “If…if you and I are…well, you know. If you and I are going to be living together for a long time, I want to support you.”
Jonny remained silent for a long moment, simply searching Thom’s mismatched eyes. For what, the other man wasn’t quite sure. Jonny put his spoon down on the table and leaned forward, studying him.
“When you say a long time, how long do you mean, really?”
Thom opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, blushing.
“I was hoping until one of us gets old and has to be moved to a home, actually.”
“So, like…a forever kind of thing?”
Thom nodded and played with a piece of potato in his soup, “Well, yeah.”
“But I’m an immature brat,” Jonny blinked and Thom grinned.
“I think I’ve found a way to deal with that.”
Jonny hummed thoughtfully, leaning back into his chair and going for more food, his foot brushing against Thom’s under the table.
“I still don’t feel right, taking money from you,” he muttered and Thom laughed.
“Consider it a payment for what I did to you.”
“What?” the boy asked with a sly grin. “Taking my innocence, or leaving town?”
“Both.”
Jonny hummed again.
“I’ll need to go home, then. Get some information I left there, you know. So I can fill out forms.”
“You’re going to do it, then?”
“Yes,” Jonny nodded. “But under one condition.”
Thom hesitated, and then asked what it was.
“You have to perform again. On stage. Just once, and I don’t care where.”
Thom grumbled and Jonny shrugged.
“My final offer, Thomas. Take it or leave it.”
Later that night, as they curled up together on the bed and flicked through TV channels, Thom leaned against the boy – the younger man, he had to remind himself – he leaned against him and whispered into his hair that he would do it, if it meant Jonny would get the education he deserved. Jonny beamed at him, pulling him closer because he knew no matter what happened, Thom wasn’t leaving this time.
“I can’t do this,” Thom whimpered. “I can’t. I’m actually shaking.”
Jonny rolled his eyes.
“Come on, Thom. I’ve dealt with her, and I’m the one that invited you over in the first place and started this whole mess, remember?” he asked, as though Thom had actually forgotten. He watched the other man bury his head in his hands uselessly and look over his shoulder.
“Maybe, maybe I should just wait here?”
“No. You’re coming in with me, and that’s final.”
Thom whimpered again.
“She’s not going to hurt you, Thom. She can’t. I’ve been living on my own for months now, there’s nothing she can do about us being together anymore, alright?” Jonny unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the passenger door. “So grow some balls and get out of the car.”
After an impatient glare he did as he was told, knowing full-well Jonny was not against using up all the hot water so Thom had none, or refusing to sleep with him until he got what he wanted. The older man shoved his hands nervously into his pockets and kept his head ducked down into his jacket, not daring to look up from his shoes as Jonny knocked on the front door of his mum’s house, rocking back and forth on his heels and shivering in the cold.
The door squeaked open not a moment earlier and Jonny pushed past his mother, greeting her with a nod as he did so before darting up the stairs to his old bedroom, leaving Thom shivering in the cold on the front porch with his mother blocking the entrance.
The silence was almost deafening, and curiosity got the best of him. Slowly he looked up, to find Mrs Greenwood staring back at him, face rather pale and eyes wide.
“Er, hello,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. “Nasty weather.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly, the tone of her voice sending a shiver of fear down Thom’s spine. He swallowed thickly, eyes darting away from her back onto the ground.
“Um…well, you see. Uh, the thing is…”
“Yes, Mr Yorke?” she asked, still refusing to move aside and let him in. Thom sighed, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. Whatever, he thought.
“Look. The thing is, I’m in love with your son. And I left, like you asked me to. And I stayed away longer than I was going to, even, because I thought I could just move on –”
“And –”
“Let me finish,” Thom interrupted her. “I thought I could move on, but I couldn’t. I tried to, believe me. In the end, I realized I had made a big mistake and I came back, only to find out that your son had moved out months ago. He’s eighteen now, Mrs Greenwood, and in case you haven’t noticed he’s doing pretty well for himself without you keeping your wing over him. So, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I know he’s old enough to make his own decisions now – and he decided to let me back. For whatever reason, maybe it’s because he felt sorry for me. Or maybe it’s because he loves me as much as I love him, and despite our age differences he knows as well as I do that we can work this out and that what we’re doing is – and never was – wrong.”
“So,” he continued. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to kindly ask you to keep your comments to yourself from now on, because frankly, ma’am, I’m getting rather bored of them.”
Mrs Greenwood stood stock-still for a long time, and Thom readied himself for another slap to the face. When it didn’t come, and instead she moved aside for him to enter the house he blinked in surprise, hesitating a moment before thanking her quietly and stepping into the warmth of the house just as Jonny hopped the last step and landed in the hallway.
“Found it,” he announced, grin slipping off his face when he saw his mother’s expression and Thom leaning against the wall, a look of complete satisfaction on his features.
“Jonathan, dear, I need to speak with you,” Mrs Greenwood muttered, tossing a look at Thom. “Alone, please.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jonny agreed, nodding to Thom before the two of them crept into the kitchen just as Colin entered the room, eyeing the group of them and turning to Thom for small talk.
“How long has he been back?” Mrs Greenwood asked once they were out of earshot. Jonny thought back, trying to find the exact date but shrugged his shoulders.
“Not too long. A week and a bit, I don’t know.”
She nodded, her expression unreadable and Jonny nibbled on his bottom lip.
“I’m eighteen, Mum,” he said quietly. “I don’t even live at home anymore. If you think you’re going to stop me from –”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “No. That’s not it. Not at all. I’m just…I’m just worried.”
Jonny smiled, and rolled his eyes.
“No matter who I end up with, you’re going to be worried. It’s what you do. At least this way you know I’m not with some abusive drug addict, or…or, I don’t know. Suicidal teenager.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and her shoulders fell, defeated.
“I just want what’s best for you,” she murmured and he nodded.
“I know, Mum. But Thom is back in my life, and he’s not leaving this time, and for that I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy for me, if that’s not too much to ask.”
It was hard for her, but in the end she gave a soft nod, with a quick glance in the direction of the hallway where Colin and Thom were now talking animatedly about some book or another that neither Jonny or his mum had ever heard about. She hated to think of it, but part of the reason she had never been fond of Mr Yorke was because he had been able to understand Jonny while she – his mother, of all people – had lost that with him.
Now, though, looking at how content her words had made him, she decided she had no right to deny Jonny what made him happiest. For the first time in what felt like forever he pulled her into a tight hug and a mutual acceptance passed unspoken through them.
“What is that you have there, anyway?” she asked once the two of them had entered the hall again and Colin had left to go phone one of his friends.
“Information I need for school,” Jonny explained as he tied his boot. Mrs Greenwood blinked.
“You’re going back?”
“Yeah. In the spring,” Jonny nodded, looking up at her. “Thom talked me into it.”
The two shared a look as Jonny leaned against the wall for support and tugged his other boot on. Thom was the first to drop it, pulling the keys to his car from his pocket and clearing his throat, though Mrs Greenwood’s gaze didn’t fall from him for another moment.
“Well, we should go, then,” Jonny shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and shuffled awkwardly. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mum.”
“Yes,” she tore her eyes away from Thom to look at her youngest son and nodded in agreement. “Please do.”
The two of them had stepped onto the front porch when she called to Thom. He turned around, pulling his winter hat over his ears to block the wind.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For talking him into going back to school, I mean.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” he smiled. The first genuine smile he had ever given her.
“You’re in trouble now,” Jonny said once they had pulled their seatbelts on and Thom was backing the car out of the driveway. “She’s going to be sending you those horrible cards every Christmas, the kind with the poorly written poetry.”
“Better than what she was giving me before,” Thom grumbled, more to himself than to Jonny. He laughed anyway, leaning over to kiss the older man on the cheek.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
Thom grunted and Jonny laughed again.
“Consider this a happy ending, Thom. It’s not going to get any better than that.”
Thom thought about it for a moment, turning up the heat in the car before turning to the younger man beside him, hood pulled up over his head, dark hair full of static and cheeks bitten red from the wind. He wondered in that moment how he could have ever imagined he would have been happy with anyone else. How he could have possibly thought that the boy next door would be so easy to forget if he tried hard enough.
And he thought, in the cold air of the car, just how incredibly grateful he was that Jonny had proved him wrong on both accounts.
“Actually,” he said finally and with a warm smile. “I was considering it more of a happy beginning.”
THE END
Chapter Six, Part One
Thom woke the next morning and Jonny was gone, only the blankets and the sheets under him containing a hint that he was ever even there at all. The boy left in the middle of the night, Thom had felt him tossing and turning beside him and eventually he slunk away, without giving him a kiss good-bye, without running a hand up the skin on his back, without even waking Thom to tell him he was going back home. Jonny just got up and left. He sighed and rubbed sleep from his eyes, pulling the blanket over exposed skin and blinking in the morning light leaking in from his open window.
He should have expected this, really. He should have known better. Jonny was only seventeen, for Christ’s sake. And if he was anything like Thom at that age, he had no idea what was going on in that mind of his and why it was making him feel the way he did. Thom should have talked to him instead of letting down his guard and letting this happen. He should have waited until the boy was older, maybe had more experience.
But he thought he had, didn’t he? Jonny told him he had slept with someone else. How was Thom supposed to know he had been lying?
People say a lot of things when they’re angry. Things they don’t mean. Things that may not even be the truth. All he had to do was pay attention and he could have seen through Jonny’s disguise. He was only pretending to be a teenager with a hard shell covering, when really he was soft and fragile and easily broken – and Thom seemed to have done a good job at that, if the emptiness of his bed was anything to go by.
He padded down the stairs, hopping into a pair of boxers and pulling a t-shirt over his head, the same one he had on yesterday. The same one that long slim fingers had pulled off hours earlier and tossed to the side like wrapping paper at Christmas. Thom put the kettle on and began digging around his cupboards for something to eat, stomach growling as he did so.
He found a pan and set it on the stove, turning the knobs and going to the fridge as he thought to himself that maybe he had allowed things to go too quickly, and that’s why Jonny had left. He shouldn’t have taken him to his room last night. He could have stopped it when things became too rushed and heated, could have told him to wait. Just wait a bit, we can keep going with this but just wait.
Thom cracked an egg on the edge of the counter and poured it onto the pan, the egg sizzling when it landed.
Maybe he went too hard; maybe he hurt him more than Jonny let on. It was a thought that made him feel sick to his stomach and he cracked another egg to distract himself.
Maybe Jonny didn’t even know what sex was. Thom shook the thought from his mind with a sharp laugh – of course he knew. He was seventeen, it’s not like a boy at seventeen has never found porn on the internet or bought condoms just to see what they’d feel like. The thought of Jonny doing normal, teenaged-boy things like that made his head hurt uneasily and he poked at his eggs in the pan. Jonny wasn’t like that. He read books and played music and – and he was smart, god damnit. He had no time for any of that.
Thom sat down at his kitchen table, pulling out a chair and setting down his food. He took a sip of his coffee and stared down at the newspaper, trying to let the words sink into his mind but instead all he could see was the boy underneath him, the boy with his eyes closed so dark lashes brushed his cheek, lips swollen, red and open to let out breathy moans. Thom ran his hands over his eyes, trying to will the images away. He shouldn’t be thinking about that, he should be thinking about why Jonny ran away in the middle of the night, tip-toeing past the bed and gathering his clothes in his arms. He should be thinking about how it was all his fault. He scared him off. He’s the adult, he should have known better.
With a sigh, he took another sip of his coffee and forced himself to read the first word on the page in front of him.
---
The next day wasn’t any easier. Thom cleaned his house a bit, putting things away and carrying boxes up to the attic. He dug out an unopened package of paintbrushes and took them back downstairs with him, setting them on the kitchen table and nibbling on his fingernails in thought.
It was 10am.
It was 12pm.
It was 3pm.
No sign of Jonny, and Thom had made another mess of his kitchen. He scrubbed paint off the wooden surface of the table, half grumbling to himself and half singing along to R.E.M. on the radio above the sink. The song changed, and it was that song. Thom stood up quickly, eyes shooting towards the radio before he leapt at it to switch the station, letting out a sigh of relief when he heard Led Zeppelin filtering through his fingers on the speakers. He couldn’t face it, not yet, not ever.
And for some reason, that gave him an idea.
Upstairs in the closet of his room was something that could make this all better, he thought. Something that would show Jonny he wasn’t just some teenaged boy who lived next door. Something that would show him that Thom actually cared about him, and wanted him around. Something that would show him Thom trusted him, and never meant to scare him off.
Now all he had to do was wait for Jonny to decide if he wanted to be shown at all.
---
When he tried thinking back on how he found himself sitting with those two idiots and playing music, Jonny realized that Ed and Colin never really asked for a permission to enter his room, they just sort of invited themselves in, carrying their instruments with them in a lazy summer lumbering.
"God," Ed started after a few minutes of mindless strumming, "I don't remember any summer being this boring. Has it always been this boring Coz?"
Colin ignored him.
"God...I can't take it anymore...God..."
"Ed!" Jonny snapped, his fingers stopping abruptly to produce a sour mess of tones form his guitar.
Ed just stared at him innocently, looking almost hurt. He lowered his head. "I can't believe she dumped me after two weeks."
"Well I told you she's just a bitch, Ed!" Colin woke up from his playing trance. Jonny and Ed both turned into his direction in surprise, raising their eyebrows.
"Well, I mean..." Colin's voice trailed, "I could tell tight away, I know how to read people. She was no good for you, Ed."
"But fuck it, Coz! I don't understand what it was I've done wrong, I mean..." He stopped for a moment, gazing at Jonny who looked curiously back at him. "She..." He kept staring at Jonny.
Jonny almost laughed – almost. "I'm not leaving, Ed, this is my room!"
Ed took a deep breathe and spoke with his secretive voice, his eyes widening and his head shaking. "She was, so, so so, so good in bed, she was just," he swallowed, "She was by far the best fuck I have ever had."
There was a tiny moment of silence before the sounds of laughter filled the room. "So that's why you're so depressed about it, Ed?" Colin barked at him in between giggles. "This is so...you."
Ed frowned. "You don't understand Coz, she was amaaaaazing, and Jesus, the way she used to scream..."
"Oh come on, Ed, you said the exact same thing about that girl, what was her name?"
"No, no, Colin! You don't understand, this was something else!"
"Was it Emily? Emma? What was it?"
"Fuck, she was flexible..."
"Something with an M for sure..."
"I'm so hard right now."
Ed managed to duck the shoe that flew swiftly in his direction, but Colin was probably too concentrated on trying to remember the girl's name, and the other shoe hit him right the forehead.
"Oi! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You two are brainless sods; get the fuck out of my room!"
Colin looked as if he was thinking about something very evil to say, something that would hurt, but Ed suddenly rubbed his chin thoughtfully and grinned wickedly, nodding his head. "Awww! I think I know what is wrong with our little Jon-Jon here..."
Colin's chain of thoughts was broken as he starred at Ed with a skeptical glance.
Ed continued, "I think our little Jon-Jon is a bit embarrassed when we talk about sex, because, well, because he's the only virgin in the room." He turned to Jonny's horror filled face, "I mean really, Jon, you're almost 18, it's about time."
Jonny's face exchanged at least 17 different types of red and Colin became rather red himself, but for a whole different reason. He was laughing like mad.
"Don't laugh you mean bastard! You used to be a virgin too!" Ed pointed out and placed his guitar on the carpet next to him. "Now let's think: who would be right for the job?"
Jonny was still unable to react, his mind too blank to come up with any coherent response.
"Oh! Coz, remember that brunette who gave you head at the back of that place we went to, she was pretty young now wasn't she? And pretty good looking!" Ed smiled cheerfully, looking as if he was in the process of a very important charity work.
Colin fell over and rolled on the carpet.
"What's so funny? Your brother can be so weird sometimes." Ed looked away from the gasping Colin, only to see that Jonny's expression hasn't changed.
"Are you alright? Come, on, it's not a shame you know, it's just the first time that's a little awkward, once you get past that...Well the second time could be pretty embarrassing too –"
"I'm not a virgin!"
Colin stopped laughing. Ed stopped talking. In a way, Jonny achieved what he wanted, so why was he really, really regretting it now?
They kept looking at him, Colin sitting up and tucking his hair behind his ears, Ed tilting his head.
"I...I...I already...had...sex." Shit, stop mumbling.
Ed smiled all of a sudden, and it was too late for Jonny to escape when he realized he was buried under the giant man, head-locked and hair-ruffled. "You beast you!" Ed was practically glowing with happiness. What the fuck is wrong with him?
"Ed, nnnaaarcht, get ooooff!" Jonny was struggling, his last powers going to waste in a useless battle.
"Why didn't you tell us? Who is she? Is it that bird from your class, the blond one? She's hot. Hell, I'd do her myself –"
"ED!"
Jonny was still catching his breath and straightening his shirt when he noticed Colin's strange glance, face still red and tears still drying in the corners of his eyes. Suddenly Jonny wished Colin was still laughing.
"So, who is she then?" Colin asked in a low voice that sent goose bumps across Jonny's skin. He hated lying to his brother; well, he used to hate it before he got so used to it.
"It's just...this girl, you guys don't know her."
"What's her name?" Colin spat.
"Annie!" Where did that come from?
"Where did you meet her?"
"A party."
"What party?"
"A...A party! What difference does it make?" Jonny felt like he lost some sort of a game, but Colin just narrowed his eyes, his face softening at last.
"How was it?" He said quietly, fidgeting a little with the strings.
"It was good," Jonny sighed, letting his hair drop in front of his eyes. "But I felt so...insecure..." He added quietly, feeling like he was about to cry all of a sudden.
"Well that's completely natural!" Ed emerged back into life, "My first time was absolutely horrifying!"
"Oh god, no Ed, you're not telling that story to my little brother!"
"But," Ed looked like he was about to say the most reasonable thing ever, "he's a grown up now!"
"No, Ed."
"Your brother's a bitch. I'm telling you later."
"No, you're not!"
"Yeah, fine, I'm not."
"I know where your stash is, Ed."
At this point Jonny just stopped listening. He dropped his head back on the carpet and slowly rubbed his eyes, feeling sick and tortured.
Chapter Six, Part Two
After two days and seven hours of fortification in his own room, Jonny started to feel better, like it wasn’t that bad after all, like he could actually make it. It was probably for the best, anyway, the reasonable part of his mind had told him.
It wasn’t really as if anything had actually changed: Thom probably already forgot about him anyway, moved on.
It hurt, Jonny will not deny that. It hurt like hell even; all he wanted was to get out of bed and find himself across the street again, touching that skin again, tracing his lips above soft flesh again.
But he just couldn’t do it once the ugly face of fear had revealed itself to Jonny at the very night he and Thom made love for the first time. His first time. He was still in Thom’s bed when it happened, when the doubts started flooding his heart and the realization that he would never really be able to satisfy Thom, not really, hit him.
He tossed and turned and finally just crept out of bed and found his way back to the comforting safety of his own bed, a bed that did not contain 30-something year old men with soft sandy hair and almost transparent eyelashes. A bed in which he could be just a teenaged boy again, who only fantasized about having sex with 30-something year old men.
What was Thom even supposed to do with him? He knew absolutely nothing, hell, he was almost surprised when Thom had pressed himself against him and pushed in, almost as if it really struck him for the first time, so this is how sex between two men is done.
Of course he already had a clue when he climbed over the older man and pushed his tongue down his throat. Of course he had a faint idea of what was expecting him when he climbed up the stairs and into Thom’s bedroom. But he never really imagined, not in his wildest ideas, that this is how it was going to feel.
And not that it was bad or anything, in fact, it was probably one of the best, most exciting things that Jonny had ever took part in. Took part in, he rolled his eyes at himself in the dark, snorting and pulling the blanket over his head. That was the problem exactly- he had no idea what he was doing and there was no fucking way that Thom didn’t notice that. A colorless image of Thom in a smoky pub, searching for someone his age to fix the impression Jonny left had crossed his sleep deprived mind and he blinked it away because it was still too much to bear.
It was then when Jonny noticed something in the outside world was happening, the world that was outside of his mind, his blanket and even his room- outside in the world where he had absolutely no sexual experience to offer. Something was hitting the glass of his bedroom window. Once, twice, three times, in a steady rhythm. Jonny’s body tensed as he rose up to sit in his bed, eying the only window in his room, trying to wish the sounds away, maybe if he just sat here and ignored them they would go away.
But they didn’t. Four times, five and six, in a steady rhythm that only a musician could execute. Seven, eight. Almost like a song. Jonny moved his familiar summer blanket away and stepped towards the window, still hesitating, still hoping that if he stalled long enough it would just go away. But it didn’t, nine, ten and eleven, and Jonny had to do something quick, before someone woke up.
He opened the window and the man was standing there, his right hand raised midway for another strike and his left hand occupying an amount of little stones that could last him for the rest of the night. As soon as he noticed Jonny he just froze in his place, a little smile on his face as he let go of the stones and clapped his little palms together to clean them up from dust. He then pointed to the direction of his own house, the house across from Jonny’s, and started slowly pacing in the direction of his pointing arm.
After a few moments he just turned and walked away, disappearing in the white glow of his entrance, leaving the door behind him half open.
What was he even doing there, he was supposed to be fucking someone who could actually fuck him back by now…Jonny sighed and without much thinking threw a shirt above his head and climbed outside of his window, the same window that was currently the only mean of communication between him and the man he was desperately trying not to think about for the last couple of days. He tried real hard now because he knew that if he did, he might just return to his own bed and blanket without facing Thom and as much as it seemed, well, comfortable, it wasn’t very fair.
Thom was sitting on his old couch when Jonny let himself in the house, both of his legs perched on the mess that used to be his living room table, trying to keep a smile on his face, although Jonny had noticed it was a real struggle for him. So Jonny just stood there, hugging himself, not knowing where to place his limbs or his entire body for that matter, wishing to disappear.
Thom stood up all of a sudden, so quickly that Jonny flinched, and he was standing right next to him now, not smiling at all anymore. It might have been the most difficult thing Jonny ever had to do, trying not to look away when Thom had fixed his mismatched eyes on him with a gaze that was both the most piercing and the most heartbreaking gaze that Jonny had ever seen.
“I’m sorry.”
It took Jonny a ridiculous amount of time to figure out that it wasn’t him that said those words, because he was just going to when Thom did and the confusion was probably showing on his pale face because Thom stepped forward and pulled him into a hug, a touch that was so blissful that Jonny nearly cried right there in Thom’s arms, only the constant voice in his head yelling at him to grow up already shutting the urge down.
“I missed you, where’d you go?” Soft lips and stubble scraped against his ear and he shuddered.
“Home,” he said and regretted it almost immediately because he was lying. This, right here, that was home.
“You can’t do that, you know, it’s… it’s not fair…” Thom’s voice was almost breaking in his throat and Jonny had to pull back and capture Thom’s lips with his own, not being able to hold it back anymore, not wanting to, cursing all of the vultures of doubt that circled his head even now.
“I’m sorry,” Thom was moaning again against his lips and he snapped, pulling further back so he could catch the same eyes he was trying to escape from just moments ago.
“What the fuck for?”
“For…scaring you like that, for using you like that, for…I had no right to…”
A hint of horror was clinging at Jonny’s stomach, making it twist and turn. “What are you talking about?”
Thom started to look just a little confused. “Well if…Why did you disappear like that, Jon?”
There it was. The question of two sleepless nights and a million unresolved thoughts.
“I…” a deep sigh, you can do this. There’s nothing you can’t tell him. There never was. ”I’m not…You’re too…I can’t do this…”
“Can’t do what?”
“This! You! Jesus fuck, Thom, I’m 17!”
Panic was covering Thom’s face, coloring it white. “Jonny, wait—“
“What the fuck do I even know about sex?”
Thom stopped mid-sentence, mid-move, mid- everything, just froze in his spot until Jonny started feeling the urge to search for his pulse. Then something utterly beautiful crept over his face, a smile that both confused and comforted Jonny and made him raise his eyebrows at Thom, which only made the smile bigger and broader, almost wicked now, exposing teeth and stretching skin and Jonny just couldn’t help but follow it with a smile of his own.
“Is that…is that why you just disappeared for two days, Jonathan?”
Thom never called him that. It was interesting. According to the stir in his groin it was even more than interesting.
“Yes” was all his dry mouth managed to produce before Thom grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him up the stairs.
“I want to show you something.”
Thom’s bed was still there, a fact that for some reason surprised him until he recalled having a dream where Thom was burning his bed right in the middle of their street. He shook his head and tried focusing on the fact that it was still there, same sheets and all, and something in him wanted to run as fast as he could, away from this bed and those sheets.
But he couldn’t, because Thom was still holding his hand, motioning him to sit down on the bad, that mocking bed and opening a small closet in the corner, producing from it a plastic CD case with no cover. He sat next to Jonny and handed him the CD.
“This is my past.” He said all of a sudden with a tired tone and a sigh.
Jonny just stared at the object between his hands. It said absolutely nothing to him. But luckily, Thom did.
“This is the reason I came here, to this neighborhood, it’s the reason we met. It’s a…song. A song you probably know. Yes, you most certainly know it, but you don’t know I wrote it. Nobody does. I would actually take the first plane to…Australia if someone was ever to find out I wrote that song.”
In Jonny’s hands, the little plastic case didn’t seem all that heavy.
“Remember I told you about that boyfriend of mine? Well, we were in a band together, we used to make music together and…one day I came to him and I gave him a CD just like this one, with that song on it. A song I had all of my powers and talent invested in. He loved it, he said it was brilliant, he said it’ll make us famous, and then…” Thom stopped and rubbed his face with his palm. “…and then he went, and sold it to this, this company. A company that…takes water from the ground and bottles it in plastic, and sells it, and they took my song and used it as their own because…well…it was their own, they bought it, they paid for it…and then…then he came to me with a check. A big fat check and told me, ‘We did it baby, we finally did it. We’re rich.’”
For some strange reason Jonny knew right away what song Thom was talking about, he had no doubt about it. He opened and closed the plastic case on his lap as the song played through his mind and didn’t know exactly what to say until Thom spoke again.
“The reason I just told you something I never even told my brother is that…I want you to know I trust you, completely and fully and I don’t see you as a…as a boy, like you might sometimes see yourself. I see you as a friend, an equal friend, someone I could trust, I see you as a mature enough person to hear the deepest of my thoughts, dreams…secrets, I am already open to you like I’ve never been to anyone, you’ve become my best friend and…And now my lover too. There’s no difference there Jonny, never even dare thinking that you’re not good enough for me, because that would hurt my feelings. We both have things we could teach each other, you know.”
Thom picked up the CD case that was now forgotten between Jonny’s hands and smiled as he placed it on the night stand. “Oh, and I needed an excuse to bring you up here again.”
Jonny was still trying to understand, to fully comprehend Thom’s words when Thom pulled him gently by the hem of his shirt into a kiss.
Friend, lover, secrets, feelings. He would think about that later, right now he had to capture Thom’s lip in his teeth and use his tongue to suck, right now he has to get rid of those annoying pieces of fabric separating their skin, right now he must trace the little dimples at the small of Thom’s back with his fingers because they were calling him again and again, not letting him sleep, not letting him think or function, not giving him a rest.
As Thom was removing his boxers away Jonny realized he wasn’t even nervous anymore, it just felt right being here in this bed, among those sheets, baby-bird haired man with almost-freckles tracing an invisible line with his stubby finger from his lips to his neck and then following the route with red kiss-swollen lips and ginger stubble.
The anticipation was at his throat when he followed Thom’s hand with his eyes, reaching for the little drawer at the night stand for the little bottle Jonny already knew the purpose of. But he wasn’t at all prepared for Thom placing that bottle in his palm, not breaking their kiss all along, smiling against him when Jonny stopped responding in shock. He then picked himself up on an elbow and said, in a voice that nearly made Jonny pass out,
“I want you to fuck me, Jonathan.”
It took Jonny a few moments to regain consciousness after that, to function again. He rose up to close the gap between them and kissed Thom with such hunger it almost hurt. He knew this was it, his chance, his turn to prove that everything Thom said before was true, that he was equal, that he was capable of being everything that Thom saw in him.
He positioned himself on top of the older man and took in a deep breath, letting the familiar Thom-scent take control over his senses, make him high, give him the courage he needed to open the little bottle and use it just like he knew he was supposed to.
Thom had to help him find the right angle but he did it with a reassuring smile, and Jonny didn’t let himself linger on the thought as he pushed himself inside, into what appeared to be the most amazing place he ever visited.
When he was all the way in he stopped, opened his eyes and gazed down at the man that had his palms rubbing at his back, the sight of his flushed cheeks and closed eyes causing Jonny to moan involuntarily and he dove down, into those parted lips and the endless comfort they offered. He started moving his hips in slow measured thrusts because he was too scared to lose himself completely in the man that had just called him his ‘Lover’.
But then a whisper in his ear, one that he could barely hear and comprehend, but one that threatened to push him completely over the edge.
“Just let go.”
So he did, he just let this knot in his stomach untie itself and take control over his entire body, and then it was all a part of the movement: Starting from the tip of his toes and continuing at his no longer aching knees and his not-anymore shaking hips, each and every part of him was pushing inside, further inside, stronger each time, like his body was trying to dissolve into Thom’s body and no longer be separate forms, never having to separate again.
For a moment his control was returned to him but it was only because his body wanted him to see, to hear the man under him who had his eyes shut violently, who was moaning loudly, almost too loudly, covered with sweat and lust, who’s nails were digging holes in Jonny’s chest and that image only caused Jonny’s control to give itself away completely to his body until every origin inside him was vibrating in a dance of madness, because it was him, he was the one causing those moans, he was making those eyes to shut so firmly.
At some point Jonny thought he heard his name thrown in the air, but not in pleasure but in an almost protesting manner that almost brought him back to reality but he brushed it away, not yet, he was almost there, he was so close now, he was…
Struggling like mad with the man he was fucking, as if he was fighting for his life, pants and gasps of effort thrown out of his lungs, hair sticking to his face and sweat burning in his eyes, why was he struggling? Why was there blood in his nails? Why was Thom biting his lip as he finally took control over him and held firmly both of his wrists above his head?
Jonny was waking up from whatever it was that possessed him, the image of Thom’s neck and collarbones covered with blue marks slowly creeping through the back of his mind, the notion of what he had just done aiming to numb his entire body and disable him. They were both gasping for air, sweaty and wide eyed. Jonny felt sick all of a sudden, he managed to do it, it was almost impossible for him but he did it, destroyed everything that was built those last weeks, destroy what he and Thom had, everything, the friendship, the trust, the…
It wasn’t until Thom had started moving up and then down Jonny’s shaft in an agonizing pace that Jonny realized to his very surprise that he was still inside Thom, that the contact between them was never broken, that he was still fucking Thom, only now, Thom was the one in control.
It could have lasted even longer if Jonny would have been able to tear his eyes away from the man riding him, but he just couldn’t give up the beautiful image of Thom above him, his back arched and every single muscle under his skin stretching as he moved ever so slowly, his endless blue eyes gazing directly into Jonny’s own eyes in a message of control and reassurance, bids of sweat still hanging at his sharp features, the apple in his throat raising with each and every soothing moan, soothing, because they made Jonny understand that everything was still alright.
It could have lasted longer if Thom’s fingers weren’t wrapping around his own cock all of a sudden, some of his other fingers invading Jonny’s mouth as he had nothing else to do but to suck on them, closing his eyes, no longer able to bare the sight of Thom touching himself right above him.
An almost ridiculous form of ecstasy started forming itself in Jonny’s body, darting under his skin in all directions as he started coming, a feeling that he was never even aware was possible, almost unbearable in its intensity flooded him as he was having the longest orgasm he had ever had in his life.
After that he could only remember Thom collapsing on top of him in exhaustion, the weight of his body, warmly pressed against his and the dampness of his uneven breathes at his neck as he lay there, following each and every one of them until they became stable and small and all Jonny had the force to do was to place both his arms around the small body above him, and let himself drift away.
---
“What’s that?”
The voice came from behind the tree he was leaning on and he turned, startled, to search for the source of it. He frowned when Jonas stepped into view, shoulders up in readied defense and hands shoved roughly into his trouser pockets. His hair had grown out a bit since the end of school and a few strands poked at his eyes. He shook them away and Jonny went back to his book.
“Jurassic Park,” he said quietly and the other boy plopped down beside him, stretching out his legs.
“Oh. Cool.”
“Mmm,” Jonny agreed, turning the page of his book. Jonas picked a stick from off the ground and used it to flick dirt between his shoes.
“I got into the football league at my university,” he said after a few moments, gauging Jonny’s reaction before he continued. “I was at the top of the class.”
“Congratulations,” he said without a trace of emotion. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening and he didn’t want to look too far into Jonas’s sudden good nature. The boy was eying him in a curious way and he sighed, placing his book on his lap.
“Do you need something, or what?” he asked. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
The other boy shrugged and looked off into the field.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Are you sure?” Jonny asked, uncertain. Jonas nodded.
“Yeah. I mean, well, I guess I just wanted to apologize, really. For the way I treated you. You don’t deserve that.”
Jonny frowned.
“I mean, you’re kind of weird though,” Jonas muttered and Jonny laughed, the other boy glancing at him before breaking into a smile.
“Thanks, I think,” he said after a moment of silence. “Good luck with your football thing.”
“Thanks, Jon,” the other boy grinned, pushing himself up off the ground and scratching at the back of his leg with his opposite foot. “Anyway, I have to meet my girlfriend. Let me know how the music thing goes, yeah?”
“Alright, sure,” Jonny agreed and with a wave he watched the other boy wander away, shaking his head before turning back to his book.
---
“It was weird,” Jonny put his empty cup back on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. They were sitting in Thom’s kitchen, the older man painting and Jonny attempting to write a letter for a program he wanted to take at college, but he was far too distracted with the day’s events to get past for the first sentence.
“Jonas has never been nice to me in my entire life and then all of a sudden he comes out of nowhere and apologizes for being a twat.”
Thom chuckled, turning the canvas in his hands over and dropping his paintbrush into his cup of water before scratching his chin in thought.
“He wants to fuck you,” he said finally, picking up another paintbrush and dabbing it in a bit of red paint. Jonny snorted, said nothing for a moment and then frowned.
“You think?”
Thom tossed him a grin, “I know.”
Jonny tapped the end of his pen on the table in thought.
“He has a girlfriend.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He plays football.”
“Again,” Thom smeared the paint on the canvas. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Jonny continued to frown.
“Either that or he’s been abducted by aliens and they switched his soul with someone else’s. Or maybe he got a message from God that if he doesn’t start being nice to people he’s going to go to hell – or break his ankle and never be able to kick a ball again,” Thom cocked his head to the side to look at his painting. “Or, maybe he just felt bad.”
“I guess,” Jonny shrugged, going back to his paper. “It’s still weird though.”
“Teenagers are,” Thom smiled and Jonny threw a crumbled up napkin at him.
“I’m not weird,” he stated. The older man raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not!”
“Sure, Jonathan,” Thom went back to his painting and the boy sighed, flipping through the dictionary in front of him absentmindedly.
“Even if I am, you like it.”
Thom continued to grin, “Well duh.”
---
Looking back, Jonny could not explain to himself, or to anyone, why he chose the front door rather than climbing up the improvised ladder up to his room like he always did when he was coming back from places he wasn't even supposed to be going.
He might have been distracted by the thoughts of what he and Thom had just done. It might have been the words that Thom just not long ago whispered in his ear, rushing back to his mind and flooding him with emotion, with blush and with other silly things that fluttered around in his body.
Those might also have been the reasons he didn't even notice Colin, not even after his big brother called his name.
Jonny.
Jonny kept walking up the stairs, not fully accepting the fact that it was now Colin's voice ringing through his head.
Jonny!
This time Jonny froze in his spot, all of the butterflies leaving him alone and something else, something heavy, creeping in to replace them.
"Uhm?" He tried to make it sound casual.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Colin was never the one to dance around the matter.
Jonny didn't even know what time it was. 'None of your business' was the first thing that came up in his mind as a response but he scratched it out as soon as it came, feeling that this sort of a statement will only sink him further in the mud.
"I, I er..." But then he had to stop because the light was there, and Colin was there, and the both of them were just so misplaced for him at this very moment that the words just died on his tongue.
Colin was standing near him now, seeing him for the first time.
"Is that...is that a hickey?!" He heard Colin saying in surprise, as if a hickey on Jonny's skin was the most unique phenomena Colin has ever encountered.
Jonny touched his neck self consciously. "What...I don't know, maybe."
"Jonny, where have you been?"
Jonny had two paths to choose from, which was a good thing because it was better than not having any choice at all. He could just keep walking that same direction he was on; make up a complex lie, a cover story that would be so convincing that Colin would never doubt him again.
But somehow Jonny knew that there was really only one path and that he had to change direction, for many reasons, the main one being that he was really already sick of lying to his big brother, that it became harder each time and that he always knew he would have to tell him at some point.
And apparently, he had just reached that point.
"Just tell me."
"You have to promise."
"What?"
"Not to tell anyone. Anyone, Coz, I mean it."
"Fine."
"I trust you."
"Fine! Come on!"
"I was..." Jonny stopped and swallowed and looked back at the road behind him, at the last chance to regret and go back.
Hell, this was his brother, the person who taught him how to place a needle on a record.
"I was at Thom's house."
Colin wasn't reacting like Jonny thought he would react. If fact, he wasn't reacting at all.
"Mr Yorke." Jonny added, understanding all of a sudden.
Colin became very pale and very numb.
Well now that was more like it.
Colin clenched his hand on the banister. Then unclenched. Then he looked at Jonny's neck again and then he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Then, for a second, he looked terrified but soon enough this expression was replaced into something blank again.
Jonny watched all of that in preparedness, feeling that every moment he might have to jump, or duck, or run or –
Protect his face from Colin's approaching palm. And then protect it from Colin's other palm. And then, a silent struggle between two brothers that didn't want to wake their mother, gasping for air without voice and mixing the air between them. And then being pinned down beneath the person who taught him how to restring his guitar and then two piercing dark eyes and then nothing.
But silence and guilt, hard and sharp breathes and nails, digging into his shoulders.
"You're hurting me" Jonny whispered.
Colin let go of Jonny in slow measured movements, as if to let him know that he was still the one in charge. This is how they found themselves sitting on the floor, disheveled and flushed, Jonny touching a scratch on his arm with the tip of his fingers and Colin holding his head between his hands, looking for words.
But not finding them.
So Jonny figured he should say something, instead. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before...I just, I don't know. I was scared. But, but...it's alright Coz! really, it's-"
"Don't fucking tell me it's alright," Colin wasn't raising his voice or talking sharply. His voice was a monotonic whisper, which only made it so much worse. "It's not alright, it's wrong. It's very wrong."
"Colin, listen-"
Colin wasn't listening or even trying to listen anymore. He kept talking in that low, calm tone that made Jonny squirm and shiver. "It's wrong and – and it should have never happened."
"It's not like it –"
"And it will stop."
"—just happened out of...Wait, what?"
"You're going to put an end to...whatever this is. Right?"
"Wait..."
"Soon. Tomorrow. I can come with you if you want, do you want me to come?" It was a question, but Colin wasn't really asking.
"What? Where...Colin what are talking about?"
"We can...we can go to the police Jonny, this is serious."
Now it was Jonny's turn to panic. "Poli...Colin, you don't understand!"
But Colin was talking to his knees now. "I mean, I don't know exactly what he did to you, I don't think I can handle it, but you have to tell them everything. We'll have to tell Mum too."
Jonny felt like this was the time for something radical. So he grabbed Colin's face with two hands and leaned very close, rubbing their noses together. It was working, because Colin finally looked at Jonny rather then staring at some vague point.
"Now listen to me. You will not tell Mum, or the police, or anyone, and nothing is going to change. I wanted this. Did you hear me? I wanted this just like he did, and I'm happy and I'm not going to let you ruin this for me."
Colin's eyes widened with every word, as if he was only now realizing for the first time that this was more than an act or a game – that it was happening for real.
"You don't...mean that Jonny..."
"Yes, I do. I never meant anything like I mean that."
"This is...not right. He's old enough to be your dad..." Colin blinked and shook his head out of Jonny's grip. "He's using you Jonny! He's..."
Jonny felt like this was the time for something really radical.
"I just came back from fucking him."
Colin shook his head again and grew silent.
"Yes, I just spent half of the night fucking his brains out, so don't fucking tell me he's using me! I'm not a child anymore, Colin, and I don't need to be rescued. So if you can't handle this just fuck off!"
Looking back, Jonny could not explain to himself, or to anyone, why he said those things to his brother. It could have been the desperate urge to make him shut up, to make him realize how wrong he was. It didn't matter now when Jonny was left alone on the floor, the image of his brother's gaze, the person who taught him how to smoke, all full of anger and disgust still possessing his mind.
Probably will for a while.
Chapter Six, Part Three
"Will you calm down?"
"No! No I will not fucking calm down!"
"Jesus..."
"He won't look at me Thom! I'm his brother and he can't even look at me, I mean, does he really hate me that much?"
Thom was smiling. For a strange a reason, he enjoyed listening to Jonny rant about his brother. It made him realize that in many ways Jonny was still a boy, a teenager, and that filled his heart with distant memories and emotions that he long ago left behind.
"Well, Jonny," He stretched his body on the cool grass of his back yard, looking at Jonny with affection. "You kinda threw it right in his face, now didn't you?"
Jonny growled. "Well, I don't wanna talk about it anymore."
Thom laughed and covered his face. "You're impossible."
"I need a distraction. Give me that."
Thom looked around him in confusion. "What? That? That's..." He looked at the front of the crumpled copy of the 'Sunday Mirror' that was lying untouched for as long as Thom could remember near the base of the old tree at Thom's garden. "Four months old, Jonny."
"I don't care, give it!"
"Fine." He handed the paper to the nervous boy slouched next to him on the grass, not even trying to hide his amusement.
"Let's see," Jonny tore the newspaper open and it nearly crumbled between his long fingers. He sighed and started reading. "Britney Spears' bounce-back bikini diet secrets."
Thom broke out in fits of laughter, this laughter, the one that never failed to make Jonny smile.
"The troubled star has bounced back, losing a stone and showing off a new sexy body. Here's how you can shape up too..."
Thom smiled and rolled over to his stomach, leaning up on his elbows and fluttering his eyelids theatrically. "Go on Jonny! I wanna hear allll about it!"
"After one of the most public meltdowns in celeb history, Britney Spears is getting her life back on track."
"Oh thank goodness!" Thom brushed the back of his palm against his forehead.
"The pop princess was pictured last week looking fit, trim and healthy in a stunning white bikini..."
Thom started playing with the thin fabric of the bottom of Jonny's shirt, losing interest all of a sudden in the article.
"— a far cry from her bloated, disheveled appearance of past Mon –" Thom's hand found its way beneath this fabric and up Jonny's torso, causing the boy to gasp in surprise.
"Oh, go on. Jonathan, don't let me distract you from your distraction."
Jonny swallowed and smiled, raising the paper up in determination. "Britney is said to have shed a stone in weight after ditching junk foo..."
Thom's stubby fingers found a nipple and squeezed gently. "Food, making regular visits to the gym and limiting boozy nights out."
Thom was now lifting the shirt up, positioning himself above Jonny and lowering his head down to let his tongue meet the warm skin of Jonny's chest.
"Not only does she look more like her old...self but her career is shaping uhhh-up, too." Jonny was already trying to cling into the words for dear life, his heavy breathing not doing anything to help.
"This is all in sharp contrast to the Britney we saw in the laaaaah..." Thom had his tongue in Jonny's navel. "The...The last 12 months, stumbling from one crisis to another." Jonny took a deep breath and concentrated on the yellowing paper in his hands.
"After a messy split from her husband – what are doing?!" Thom was now hovering above Jonny's waistband, slowly and calmly undoing the buttons of his jeans. Thom looked up, surprised almost.
"Wha? Nothing Jonny, just keep reading, okay?" And he was pulling them down, not forgetting to duck his head and let his short stubble scrape against the delicate skin right above Jonny's crotch.
"Thom! We're outside!" Jonny was saying that as if was really revealing something new to the older man, who just laughed lightly and slowly stroked Jonny's stomach, causing him to involuntarily close his eyes in pleasure.
"I know where we are Jonny, no one can see us here. Now please, get to the tips already cause I have been carrying some extra weight from the winter time with me." As soon as he finished speaking his lips were already busy huffing hot air onto the tip of Jonny's erection through the fabric of his boxers.
Jonny didn't really care anymore where they were, it felt too good to care. "Britney, snapped last week horse-riding on a Mexican beach, has also, huuuh, been heading to Bally's Total Fitness gym..."
Thom's hands sneaked under Jonny's boxes along his inner tights, one of them finding the base of his erection, wrapping around it and the other playing lightly with his balls, causing him the clench the paper in his fingers.
"She has been seen...Oh god... pounding the treadmill there, with ehh, her personal trainer..."
Thom got rid of Jonny's boxers and was now slowly spreading open his thighs, starting to lick his way up Jonny's cock hungrily, causing the boy to moan and throw aside what was left of the old paper as his hand desperately grope the grass on his sided instead.
He could almost see himself from outside of his body when Thom took him all the way in and sucked, because he found it hard to believe this was happening to him. Of course, he knew it existed, he heard about it, he tried imagining how it felt. And failed miserably, apparently.
When Thom's fingers found his opening and started playfully teasing it, Jonny had to lock his hand into a fist and bite on it, hard, because as safe ad they were in Thom's fenced garden, the moans that threatened escaping his mouth would have probably made their way into the wrong ears. He used his other hand to slightly lift his head so he could watch the older man sucking him with such skill, as if he was only doing another daily chore around the house.
Thom was finding rhythms and losing them, using his experience and tongue and teeth to make Jonny squirm under him helplessly. Every time Jonny thought that this was it Thom would slow down and let his skin relax before attacking it again lustily, laughter and wickedness in his eyes as he watched the boy twist and dig his teeth into his own fist.
Jonny was possessed by him, and Thom felt as if he could do anything to the eager boy, enjoying the way Jonny didn't dare disturbing him as he worked.
Eventually Jonny let his head fall back on the grass, his hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he muffled his last cries with his hands, thrusting his hips up into the warmness of Thom's mouth, noticing in his orgasm hazed mind that, for his surprise, Thom was drinking him up completely, not letting any drop escape his lips.
Thom wiping his mouth with the back of his hand might have been the sexiest thing Jonny has ever seen. Thom climbing along Jonny's exhausted body and nesting down in his grip in a purr of please and satisfaction wasn't all that bad, either.
He was about to thank Thom when the older man sent his arm above their heads in a search, returning it with a smile and a piece of cheap paper. He shuffled through the pages and smiled again when he finally found what he was looking for.
"Ah!" He triumphantly said, greening manically "Look what it says here," He pointed at a little paragraph at the bottom of the page to the still panting Jonny. "Make time for cardio exercise - brisk walking, cycling or swimming - a minimum of three times a week. I think we can consider this as a cardio exercise, don't you?"
---
It took a few days of Colin brewing in his own anger for him to snap. He watched Jonny pass his bedroom door to go into his own room, hair messed and cheeks flushed, top buttons of his shirt undone, feeling the raw hatred bubble and grow into something cancerous, something harmful. He wished it away, he clenched his eyes shut and punched the wall and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. Colin wasn’t a violent person; he didn’t want to feel this way. But anyone who was Thom’s age that was hanging out with someone like Jonny was not good news.
It was for his protection, Colin decided, that something must be done. One afternoon, after their mum had left to go to a Book Club meeting, Jonny crept down the stairs and out the front door. Colin was sure if he listened closely enough with his bedroom window open he’d be able to hear his brother’s footsteps on the neighbor’s porch, his fist knocking on the front door which would click open and shut quietly again and all noises would stop.
He waited, trying to gather his thoughts, pacing back and forth in his room telling himself to leave them alone. Jonny was happy, right? He came home everyday with a smile on his lips. He stopped complaining about the boys his age beating him up and teasing him. He stopped talking to Colin, period. It might have been this fact that made Colin so angry. He wanted his baby brother back, he wanted him to talk to him again, tell him his problems. He wanted to sit down with him and help him through his math homework, but now Jonny wanted nothing to do with him. He had a life of his own, outside of the house, outside of Colin. He didn’t want to sit and watch Ed and him struggle through playing a song they heard on the radio, throwing his head back and laughing when one of them hit a wrong note and they lost their time as the real song played on, volume turned down just loud enough to hear it but not to block themselves out. Jonny was growing up, Jonny was drifting away and it was all because of that man.
Colin just wanted to talk, to get something straight. Jonny was his brother. Sure, they may have been drifting apart in the last few months, what with Jonny’s odd behavior, but they were still family and Colin did not want some middle-aged man coming in between them; especially after hearing all the rumors that had been going around. He wandered through the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and gulping it down quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to calm down, he wasn’t thinking straight. The glint from one of the kitchen knives caught his eye and he reached out, grabbing the handle and shoving the thing into his jeans, using his over-sized t-shirt to cover it up. Just for protection, he told himself. He didn’t know what would happen and he didn’t want to risk anything.
The grass was still fresh under his feet, the heat of the summer hadn’t yet dried it to a crisp. One of the residences of the neighborhood was mowing her lawn, the sickly sweet smelling mingling in with the breeze and causing Colin to sneeze. Shaking his head, he pressed on, creeping over the hedge that separated Mr Yorke’s yard from the Greenwood’s. Colin noticed Mr Yorke’s side wasn’t as well trimmed as theirs, a few branches of cedar stuck out here and there. He rolled his eyes and tip-toed his way to the side of the house, dropping down onto his hands and knees and crawling under the open window. There are voices from inside leaking through the screen and he stops, trying to clear the pounding of his heart in his hears so he can listen.
It’s them.
It’s them, and they’re arguing. He can hear his brother’s voice, high-pitched in defense and Mr Yorke’s quiet, calm. Colin lets out a shaky breath.
“You’re being ridiculous, Jonny,” Mr Yorke’s voice said. Even without seeing his expression Colin could tell he was losing his patience.
Jonny snapped right back, “Don’t call me ridiculous!”
“I didn’t say you’re ridiculous, I said you’re being ridiculous, there’s a difference.”
“Whatever,” Jonny sniffed. There was an exasperated sigh and Colin pushed himself closer to the building, swatting away a bee that was flying too close.
“Look, Jonny. I understand why you’re upset –”
“Ha!” Jonny barked.
“No, really, I do. I understand. But you have to take a moment and step into his shoes. Try and feel what he’s feeling. He’s just worried about you and he’s trying to protect you, and frankly I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”
Colin felt his cheeks burn. Were they talking about him?
“What are you saying?”
“I’m nearly twice your age, Jonathan! We’ve been through this. People, they aren’t used to things like this happening. Half the people in this community think being gay is a sin, anyway, so it doesn’t matter what age you are, to them it’s still wrong.”
Colin swallowed thickly. He had always suspected about his brother, but there was a part of him that denied it. Jonny was just feminine, that’s all. Their sister’s friends used to dress him up like a girl when he was just a toddler and he always thought some part of it came from that. Even when Jonny told him about his relationship with Mr Yorke he denied it, that Jonny might ever be…that way. But hearing it out loud put everything in perspective, and the haze that was over Colin’s mind was starting to evaporate.
It would explain a lot, he thought. Why Jonny’s classmates teased him. Why he acted out and disobeyed and ran away from home. Why he stopped talking to Colin. He didn’t know how he couldn’t have seen it before, why he had spent all time denying it when he should have just embraced it, embraced Jonny for what he was. Maybe then none of this would have happened.
“It’s none of their fucking business!” Jonny was shouting. “And it’s none of my brother’s, either!”
“Then why did you tell him?” The calm voice was closer to the window this time and Colin grabbed his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible should anyone look outside.
“I made a mistake,” Jonny huffed. “I shouldn’t have told him. I thought he’d understand, but I guess I was wrong.”
“That’s a lot to take in, don’t you think?” Mr Yorke asked, unable to hide a hint of amusement. “He didn’t know about you to begin with. Not only is he finding out his little brother is gay, he’s also got a boyfriend twice his age. That’s kind of a shocker.”
“Are you defending him?”
There was a brief pause in which Colin held his breath, heart beating quickly in his chest.
“Kind of, yeah,” Mr Yorke said eventually. Colin felt the breath he was holding in leak out of him in a shudder, a heat raising up from under the collar of his t-shirt and into his face. There were footsteps, loud and hurried towards the front door and he panicked, but Mr Yorke’s voice stopped them just before the door swung open.
“Look, I’m sorry. I understand, I have a younger brother. It was hard for him to accept me, too.”
Jonny remained silent and Mr Yorke continued.
“He didn’t speak to me for weeks. We weren’t even as close as you and Colin are. I thought he hated me for who I was.”
“So, what happened?” Jonny asked, all shouting ceased.
“It was hard for him to understand, but eventually he just stopped trying to and accepted it. Accepted me. We started talking again, playing jokes and everything. Maybe it didn’t go back to the way it was before, but it was close enough. Just give Colin time, Jon. He’s your brother and he loves you. He’ll come around, you’ll see.”
Colin sniffed defiantly at this from under the window, though knew, somewhere deep in his heart, Mr Yorke was right. There was no way he couldn’t forgive his brother. He hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with.
Jonny sighed, “I hope you’re right.”
“When am I not?”
Jonny laughed, “Wanker.”
More footsteps, and a sigh. Colin arched his neck to hear better.
“I think you owe me an apology,” Mr Yorke said quietly. “For shouting in my house.”
“I shout in your house all the time, Thomas.”
“That’s different,” Mr Yorke laughed now, too. Colin listened to Jonny apologize, voice muffled like he had pressed his mouth to something, the front of a t-shirt or the skin on a neck.
Abandoning his original idea to confront the man he thought was taking his brother away, Colin crept back along the side of the house and finally back over the hedge into the Greenwood’s backyard. There, he straightened himself up, knees sore from kneeling and dusting the back of his trousers before going through the back door into the kitchen, putting the knife he had taken back into its rightful place. With one last look out the kitchen window, he climbed the stairs to his room.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
---
Despite the day’s activities, sleep wasn’t coming easy for Jonny. He had spent a good hour tossing and turning in his bed before he gave up with a huff and kicked the covers down onto the floor, sitting up and running a hand over his face, turning on his bedside lamp.
He was getting tired of constantly getting glares from his brother when they bumped into one another – though it didn’t happen often, with Colin being at work most days. Their mother had asked him what was going on but he had no answer for her, merely shrugged and walked away, wishing he could do the same with this situation. Wishing he could do the same to his brother.
His argument with Thom wasn’t helping sleep find him, either. After thinking about it for hours he felt guilty for the way he acted. He still had so much to learn, he was still so young and didn’t understand the world and the life that had been thrust upon him. Though, when he really thought about it, he wasn’t quite sure if anyone did.
Thom had a good idea, he thought. Thom seemed to know things about life. Thom was wise and patient. Sometimes Jonny wished he could be angry at him for being right all the bloody time, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t easy to be angry at a man whose eyes sparkled when he smiled at him. Who laughed like a child, playful and with abandon. Who forgave so easily and held his heart on his sleeve.
Who was sleeping right next door and had spent most of the day teaching Jonny a thing or two about life and love and everything in general, and the boy felt he should repay him for putting up with him all the time.
He glanced at his alarm clock and felt his heart flutter in his chest at the ideas that were coming to him, and his eyes wandered to his open window.
It would be easy, he thought. It would be so easy; all he would have to do is climb up the side of the other house and topple into the room without sound. He could do it, Jonny knew he could. He had been quiet all his life. This wouldn’t be a hard feat to overcome.
Before he knew it he was crossing his yard, grass cool between his toes as he climbed over the wooden fence and landed heavily on the other side, cursing under his breath when his elbow met the ground rather painfully. He straightened himself up and glanced back at his house to make sure no lights had flicked on in his absence. Satisfied, he began to climb. He knew his footing well, Thom’s house had the same sort of decoration on the side that could be used as a make-shift ladder that his did and within a few minutes he was gently lowering himself to the hardwood floor of Thom’s bedroom.
Just as he hoped, Thom was fast asleep in his bed, the blanket pulled just over his hips, chest rising and falling gently in the moonlight. He tip-toed soundlessly to the foot of the bed, hesitated a moment and finally lifted up the blanket, crawling his way under it, hands and knees pressed against the mattress. Had he been religious, he would have looked up to the ceiling (or in this case, the blanket) and thanked God for making Thom Yorke the type of person that slept in the nude.
Admittedly, Jonny had no idea what he was doing. It was hot and stuffy and almost completely black under the light blanket, he could just make out a sharp hipbone and a trail of hair over a smooth stomach. He remembered what Thom had done to him earlier under the shade of the tree. It didn’t seem that difficult.
He licked his lips as his hands moved soft thighs apart tenderly, listening with held breath for any rustle or movement or sign that the body was waking. When nothing happened he bent forward and placed a timid kiss on the inside of the right thigh, dragging it out and slowly creeping closer to the spot he was so nervously trying to get to.
Jonny let his hands come to rest on the soft stomach, which was beginning to move a bit quicker, the skin under his lips tightening and starting to strain at the attention it was getting and a quiet noise came from the top of the bed, on the other side of the thin blanket. Gaining confidence, he let Thom slip between his lips and let out a shaking breath through his nose, the air brushing against exposed skin and causing the body around him to squirm.
There was a grunt, shifting and finally blue moonlight being cast upon him. He looked up through dark hair to see mismatched eyes looking back, shocked and disoriented and flooding with relief when they met Jonny’s.
“Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing here, Jonathan?” He asked in a whisper, expression softening.
“What does it look like?” The boy asked, cheeky grin on his lips as he ducked down to capture Thom’s growing erection, cheeks burning at the strained noise that emitted from the older man’s throat. He was thankful Thom had woken and pushed the blanket off of him, the mixture of his breath and body heat was causing a thin layer of sweat to break out over his skin and he welcomed the fresh air of the room gratefully.
After a few moments of lipping and kissing, he sat up, pulling a whimper from Thom’s throat and he nibbled on his bottom lip, suddenly nervous.
“What?” he panted. “What is it?”
“I…I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Jonny admitted, feeling embarrassed. Thom was silent for six seconds (Jonny counted) before breaking into a fit of laughter.
“You’re doing fine,” Thom assured him. “You can’t really go wrong, just as long as you don’t bite too hard.”
“Too hard?” Jonny asked, bewildered and Thom flashed him a wicked grin.
“I’m not telling you what I like,” he informed him. “I want you to figure that out on your own.”
Jonny sniffed, breaking their eye contact to bend down and attempt to figure out just how to go about doing this.
In the end he realized Thom wasn’t much different than his guitar or his radio – certain spots, certain movements of his tongue, certain pressures would produce different reactions, different noises. He learned that when he flicked his tongue against the head of his cock, Thom’s breath would come in sharp and quick. When he took him in whole, fingers grasping at his hips, the breath would come out shaking and his stomach would tense under Jonny’s palms. When he let his teeth gently, barely touch the skin on the underside of him, he would claw at the sheets and clench his eyes closed and Jonny would smile around him, eyes never leaving the flushing face.
He began to wonder, feeling small hands tangle into his hair and send shivers down his spine, just how long he could keep this up before Thom would grab a hold of him and force himself to the back of his throat. He wondered just what would cause Thom’s thin thread of control to break, and he let his hair brush across sharp hipbones, lips hovering though not quite touching. The whimpering noises sounding from the top of the bed caused his fingertips to tingle and he thought to himself, he could do this forever.
Thom, on the other hand, was beginning to doubt he’d ever be able to last that long.
“Jonathan, Christ. Please…” he panted and Jonny giggled against his thigh, the tips of his fingers trailing down the other.
He was struggling to keep himself composed, the boy could tell. He just needed to push him a little further, and he let out a small sigh, lips pressed to the tip of Thom’s skin and fingers moving up slowly to the base. All it took was a quick squeeze and the hands in his hair tightened and hips thrust upwards, sending the whole of him into Jonny’s mouth. He coughed and Thom whimpered out an apology, as best as he could as he picked up a steady rhythm, moaning loudly when Jonny let out a hum, swooning at the noises and the taste and everything that was suddenly surrounding him.
Thom finished with a cry a few minutes later, collapsing onto his mattress as Jonny swallowed him down before rising from his spot and stretching himself over the small body below him, surprised when Thom pressed a heated kiss to his lips and a small hand pushed between their stomachs, pulling at the strings of his pajama bottoms, sinking into the fabric and giving a few quick strokes before the boy was coming into his palm.
A kiss against his cheek woke him, however long after he wasn’t sure. Jonny wiped his eyes and frowned down at the man below him, feeling satiated and lazy, not wanting to leave. Thom smiled back, running a hand through his hair.
“You alright?” he asked and the boy nodded with a yawn.
“Mmm, yeah. You?”
“Perfect.”
“I have to go home,” Jonny said sadly, and Thom nodded.
“I know.”
“I just wanted to thank you. I couldn’t sleep because of what happened earlier. I feel like such a brat.”
Thom laughed, “You are a brat, Jon.”
Jonny frowned.
“And I think that’s what made me fall for you in the first place.”
Chapter Six, Part Four
---
---
If Jonny had to describe his emotions for the past week or so, he would call it a salad, a toss salad, to be exact. Each hour brought something new, sadness or happiness or anger and they all left as quickly as they appeared. Dinner was awkward; he crept into the kitchen and gathered a plate, tossing his brother a hopeless look, a plea for him to reconsider but it always went ignored, or he only got a glare in return. His mother watched as her two boys darted out of the room, Colin usually taking up post on the living room couch and Jonny darting up to his bedroom.
The odd time he was angry, and these were the times he lamented to Thom as they were laying about not doing anything in particular. The older man listened, a frown on his lips and his head nodding, but when he spoke his words often chased the anger away, making Jonny realize how ridiculous he was being. Giving his brother time did not mean a day or two, he realized one afternoon. He would have to wait and be patient, something that did not come easy for him.
The truth behind all this was that he missed his older brother. He missed him before this mess even began, and now he was suffering the consequences of pushing him away the way he did. Once Thom had gotten fed up with him and had told him with anger in his eyes that he had done it to himself, and to stop being an immature brat about it. Jonny had left in a rush, realizing he was only angry because he knew Thom had been right. He had done it to himself, and that was why it hurt so much. Luckily for him the man was there that same evening with open arms and kind words and apologies for getting mad, though Jonny had brushed them off, knowing it was what he really needed to hear all along.
Mrs Greenwood noticed something, and watched with worry when the two brothers avoided each other blatantly. The glaring and the sad looks and the running from the room when the other stumbled in only lasted about a week, and after that Jonny had gone to her to ask if he could do Colin’s chores for him, and that was when she knew something was up – something big.
It was obvious Colin noticed at that point that his brother was desperate to get his attention back, desperate for them to talk again and it was only then that the anger in his stomach melted away into guilt. Ed had noticed one evening that he wasn’t being himself, he wasn’t shooting off at the mouth as he normally did and instead had sat in complete silence as Ed went on about some girl he had met at a party. Colin had shrugged when Ed asked him what was wrong, mumbling something about he and Jonny not talking and his friend had frowned and told him that Jonny needed him probably more than he ever let on.
Colin knew this was true. He knew this all along, and that was why he was standing outside his younger brother’s bedroom door, fist poised at the ready to knock on the wood. He let out a shaking breath and knocked, Jonny’s mumbled voice coming from the other side of the door.
The boy was sitting at his desk, frowning at a sheet of paper with books spread open around him, cluttering his space and making it difficult for him to write whatever it was he was glaring at. Jonny looked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw that it was Colin sheepishly creeping into his room and not their mother with a load of clean laundry as he had suspected.
“Hi,” the older boy said and Jonny closed the book in front of him, turning in his chair to give his brother the whole of his attention.
“Hi,” he repeated back and the older boy sat down at the foot of his bed, hands clasped in front of him.
“I wanted to talk to you about, well…you know.”
Jonny fiddled with the pen between his fingers.
“It was just a bit of a shock,” Colin explained, glancing into his brother’s eyes. “I mean, I’ve always had my suspicions that maybe you didn’t like girls, you know, but…I never thought you’d go for someone that much older than you.”
“Neither did I,” Jonny admitted. “It just sort of happened. I think it’s like when you fancy a teacher, you know. Deep down you know it’s just a silly little crush and it’ll go away, that it could never, ever happen. I never really expected anything to come out of it.”
Colin nodded, understanding.
“But something did,” he said and the younger boy shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess something did. I mean, there was a point where I realized this wasn’t just a silly little crush anymore.”
“Are you happy?” Colin asked suddenly, taking his brother by surprise. Jonny’s eyebrows arched and he opened his mouth to speak, only to lose the words before they could fall from his lips. He considered the question for a moment.
“No,” he said finally. “I’m not.”
Colin frowned, “Why not?”
“I want my brother back, that’s why,” he said. “I miss you, Coz. I know I’ve been a monster lately, but I know why that is now. I realize that’s no excuse for how I acted towards you, but some part of me is hoping you’ll forgive me.”
“You idiot,” Colin snapped. “Of course I forgive you.” He gave him a punch in the arm and Jonny rubbed at the sore spot, a grin spreading on his lips and the two boys laughed, Colin pulling his brother into a hug and playfully mussing his hair.
“I haven’t told anyone, you know,” Colin said a while later when he had finished reading over the letter Jonny had been struggling with. “Not even Ed.”
“I never thought you would,” Jonny smiled. “I trust you.”
“I know, Jon,” Colin frowned. “That’s why I felt so bad about ignoring you.”
The younger boy shrugged, “I should have understood better than I did, really. I should have realized you would need time to process it.”
“It’s a lot to process,” Colin mused. “But whatever it is you have going on with Mr Yorke – Thom – makes you happy, then who am I to judge?”
Jonny smiled, his heart swooping when the older boy returned it. Whoever had said he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too, was dead wrong. Or, at the very least, Jonny imagined he was the luckiest cake-lover out there.
---
Colin was hiding something.
Although she was happy that her sons had seemed to come to an agreement and end whatever dispute they had been having, the air around them had changed. They shot each other knowing looks over the dinner table. Colin had stopped making fun of his little brother and Jonny had stopped snapping at him.
To anyone else, this would look as though whatever had happened between the two of them was solved, a thing of the past. But she knew better, and she could tell when they had shared something she wasn’t supposed to find out about. They had the same guilty looks painted on their features as they did the time she found them smoking pot in the backyard. They same expression they had when Colin had given his brother a few cookies from the cookie jar even after she had told them to wait until after supper.
Jonny had been out and about lately, returning home with rumbled clothing and a sort of calmness surrounding him that made him almost pleasant to deal with. He listened better, did as he was told in a sort of daze, one she had seen years before when he was a little boy and walked to school with his head in the clouds.
She had her suspicions. Jonny didn’t have any friends from school that she was aware of, the only one he had ever had over to their house had moved away during the middle of the school year. He spent some of his days in the backyard with Ed and Colin, but most of the time he was gone.
“Colin, dear,” she asked from behind the couch where the older boy was stretched out, eyes glued to the television screen. “Where is your brother?”
He was silent for a moment, and then he pretended he hadn’t heard her.
“What?”
“Your brother,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Where is he?”
“At the park,” Colin said quickly, turning back to the television. “I think he went with that Percy kid, you know. The really skinny one.”
She was not convinced, but left him be.
Jonny returned home two hours later with a grin on his lips and she watched from the kitchen as he jumped onto the couch where Colin was still laying, the two of them laughing and struggling to push the other off onto the floor. Colin grabbed him in a headlock, the younger boy screeching and struggling to wriggle from his grasp.
“Did you have fun reading, Jon-boy?” he asked and Jonny straightened himself up.
“You know it,” he grinned wickedly and plucked the pillow off the floor that had fallen in their struggle. “It’s always a pleasure when…books are involved.”
“Uhg, Jonny.”
The boy giggled and Colin pushed him away playfully.
The next day Jonny returned home with his forums filled out for college and his letter written, words circled with a red pen and someone else’s writing that didn’t belong to anyone in the Greenwood family. She found it on the kitchen table, left with the book Jonny had been reading for weeks now, its bookmark in the same place as it had been then.
She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had taken another book with him to the park – though the facts didn’t add up in her mind and she shook the thoughts from her head. No, it wasn’t that.
Colin was lying to her.
She cornered him in his bedroom that evening, eyes burning angrily and Colin avoided looking up at her, much like he did when he was younger and had spilt his drink on the carpet and tried to hide it with a pillow. She thought he was past this, she thought they were both past this – gaining up on her and pulling fast ones. That was years ago, when their father died and she didn’t know how to deal.
But not now.
“Colin,” she said, her voice shaking. “Why did you lie to me about Jonny going to the park?”
Her son shuffled awkwardly, playing with a pen between his fingers.
“I – I don’t know. He…he’s been hanging out with that Jonas kid, you know. The one who beat him up at the end of the year? They’re getting along fine but he thought if we said something about him you’d get worried and…do something.”
She softened slightly, and Colin dropped his defenses.
“Are you telling me the truth?” She asked.
No. “Yes. What else would he be doing, mum?” he challenged and she frowned, shaking her head.
“Nothing, nothing. I don’t know. Sorry,” she muttered, and closed the door behind her before she could hear Colin’s sigh of relief as he turned back to his desk.
They were good, she had to admit it. Before, a few years ago, their stories never matched up. Colin would say he was going to Ed’s for the night, and when she asked Jonny the younger boy had told her Colin had to work the late shift and wouldn’t be home until early morning.
Now, however, now they had planned this before hand. They had discussed what they were going to say. She had sat Jonny down at the kitchen table and pointed to the forums and to the letter he had written, asking whose writing was on his work and Jonny, quick to the whim, told her it was Jonas’. The boy who used to punch him and kick him was now helping him fill out his college forms.
And it didn’t make any sense, but maybe she would just have to believe they were telling the truth, no matter what her heart was telling her.
---
Jonny was nervous. He had straightened his room three times in the past hour, moving things around and hiding anything that would give away evidence of him being anything but a mature adult. He could handle this, he could. Really, it was just Thom. They same Thom he saw yesterday and the day before, the same Thom who threw grass in his hair playfully and pulled his t-shirt up to kiss his stomach under the shade of a tree. He was the same Thom who trusted him, who told him his secrets, who whispered to him as they were lying together in damp sheets, the CD they had left playing downstairs repeating itself endlessly as the hours passed by.
But this was different. Thom was coming here, to Jonny’s house. Thom had never been there before, he had never set foot on their property (well, except to drop off Jonny’s notebook when he forgot it one time before school ended.) Jonny paced down the front hallway, stopping to check his reflection and letting out a sigh which sent strands of his hair away from his face. He had nothing to be nervous about, Thom knew him. Thom knew him better than anyone else did, and he had the entire house to himself for the whole night, what with Colin being out with Ed and Mrs Greenwood was working late and had decided to book a hotel room for the night instead of making the drive home.
A knock on the door cut into these thoughts and he yanked it open, unable to hold back a grin when he saw Thom standing awkwardly on the front step, hands in his pockets and attention towards someone walking their dog further down the street.
“Hey,” he said, pulling the older man inside and shutting the door behind him. Thom kicked off his boots and turned his attention towards a photo hung up on the wall.
“Is that Colin?”
“Yes, that’s the bugger himself,” Jonny came to stand beside him.
“He looks like an owl,” Thom observed and the boy burst into a fit of laughter.
“I suppose he does,” Jonny shrugged. “But anyway, I didn’t invite you over here to make fun of my brother – although that’s not a bad idea.”
“Hey now,” Thom ruffled his hair playfully. “You don’t mean that.”
Jonny bent down to give him a kiss, running hands down his back and when they broke apart their breath was coming out in small pants, eyes closed and noses pressing together in the orange light of the hallway.
“I want you in my bed,” Jonny whispered. “I’ve thought about it so much, I’ve dreamt about it even.”
“Hmmm,” Thom hummed. “Your mother –”
“Not coming home tonight,” Jonny assured him. “Besides, I found my school tie while I was cleaning up earlier. Don’t pretend you didn’t want to tie me down with it and fuck the hell out of me the first time I ran into you on my way to school. I saw you eyeing it.”
Thom feigned being offended, eyes widening and mouth gaping open, “I would never!”
“Sure,” Jonny sniffed, pressing another kiss to his lips. “It’s alright you know, I wanted you to.”
“Minx,” Thom muttered and the boy grinned against his neck.
It was odd having Thom in his room. He watched from his bed, turning on music and playing with the volume on his CD player as the man wandered the edge of the carpet, eyes trailing up the walls to take in the posters he had hung years ago. He moved slowly, taking everything in, stopping at his desk to glance down at the book he was reading and poke at the glass of his fish tank, smiling to himself when the fish inside followed his finger around the water.
Eventually, Jonny became impatient and pulled Thom away from his keyboard, tugging him down onto his bed and laughing when he collapsed on top of him, breath warm in his hair and eyelashes brushing his skin. Thom rolled off, sitting with his back against the wall so he could regard the space at the end of Jonny’s bed, the wall directly ahead home to a chart of guitar chords and a mobile airplane hanging in front of his closet.
“I like it,” he stated suddenly. “Reminds me of my room when I was your age.”
“Though I bet you didn’t have thirty-two year old men sitting in your bed with you,” Jonny said conspiratorially in a hushed voice. Without warning he rose, wriggling his way over to the body beside him and straddling small hips, hands running over sandy hair and lips landing amongst stubble on a chin.
“You know,” Jonny whispered. “The first time I touched myself to thoughts of you I was in this very bed.”
Thom tensed underneath him and he continued.
“That thing you said, about having a boyfriend, it really got to me. It wouldn’t leave my mind for days. I tried to picture you with some anonymous, faceless man but eventually he just became me and before I knew it I was dreaming about you, about your hands and your lips.”
“I shouldn’t have told you that,” Thom muttered, turning his head into the boy’s kisses which were drawing closer and closer to his lips. “I felt so stupid afterwards, I thought for sure you’d run away.”
“Never,” Jonny shook his head and whimpered when small hands found the skin on his back between his t-shirt and his jeans. He rocked his hips gently and together they gasped, boy’s lips faltering and fingers tightening on his bones.
“So, uh,” Thom cleared his throat. “Where’s that school tie of yours?”
“Mmm, I’ll get it,” Jonny smiled, hands clinging onto sharp cheekbones and he gave him one last kiss, lips parting and a soft sigh escaping his throat. One of the hands on his hips moved into his hair and teeth pulled on his bottom lip, not willing to let him go just yet.
He barely registered the sound of his door swinging open, but the stream of light leaking into his room from the hallway was enough to send him stumbling backwards, away from Thom’s hands and lips and teeth as though he had been burnt, Thom looking dumbfounded and unsure what to do as Jonny pressed himself against the wall, trying to hide the bulge in his jeans as his mother stood in the doorway, paralyzed in shock.
“What,” she said, her voice shaking and her finger pointing in Thom’s general direction. “What are you doing in my house?”
“I-I can explain,” Thom moved to get off the bed, hands held up in defense.
“How dare you!” She shouted and Jonny felt like a little boy again, listening to his parents arguments with his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut. This time he didn’t move to block out the sound, he just watched as Thom opened his mouth to speak, thought otherwise and closed it, cheeks blushing with guilt. “After I told you I didn’t want you near my son, I come in here and I – you…”
“Mum, please,” Jonny felt the words slip out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “It’s not his fault, it was me. I asked him to come over here –”
“Jon,” Thom warned in a whisper and Mrs Greenwood shook her head, hands in her hair. “Look. It’s not Jonny’s fault, alright? Don’t get mad at him. Can we please just discuss this in a calm and –”
“Calm?” she laughed. “You ask me to be calm, Mr Yorke? I walk in here and find you…find you…with my son and you expect me to be calm?”
“Mum, please,” Jonny whimpered. He had tears in his eyes and she shot him a harsh look, silencing him.
“You’re right, it was a poor choice of words,” Thom agreed. “Look, Jonny is old enough – mature enough to make his own decisions. I can’t really stop him.”
“You can!” she snapped. “You can stop him! I told you to, do you not remember? I didn’t want you anywhere near my son and you –”
“What?” Jonny asked, eyes moving from Thom to his mother. He knew his mother didn’t want him and Thom talking to one another but he never imagined she would go out of her way to ask him to keep away from him. He felt a bubble of anger burst in his stomach and he bit back a few choice words, glaring at her as she stared down the older man with hate in her eyes.
“Alright,” Thom said, defeated. “Fine. I didn’t want to, how is that? There’s your truth, lady. I didn’t want to, because I wanted it just as much as he did. I knew it was wrong, I knew that I should stay away. I thought he was too young, but he proved me wrong in the end.”
Mrs Greenwood shook her head again, a grimace on her expression as she pointed to the front end of the house.
“Get out.”
“Mum –”
“Get out, or I call the cops,” she threatened and Thom turned to Jonny. When their eyes met Jonny understood. He let out a quiet sob as he watched the older man slink his way out of his bedroom, glaring at Jonny’s mum as he passed her, mumbling to her that she should listen to her son once in a while, because he had things to say. She tossed him a quick glance before turning back to Thom who was walking down the stairs. They both listened with held breathing for the front door to shut and once it finally the fight visibly dropped from her body, her shoulders sinking and her eyes filling with tears.
“Jonathan,” she started and he hugged himself tighter. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
The boy whimpered something into the fabric of his jeans and she tensed, unsure if she heard correctly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I love him!” Jonny shouted. “And there’s nothing you, or Colin, or this god damn neighborhood can do about it!”
Her breath shook and she closed her eyes, “How long has this been going on?”
Jonny shrugged, “A month, I don’t know. Not long.”
She hesitated a moment, thoughts turning behind her eyes, “And – I mean, you haven’t…er…have you?”
“Yes,” his voice came out cracked and barely audible. She nodded, slow and uneasy. Her grip on the doorframe had tightened as she watched him wipe at his eyes.
“Does Colin know?”
He hesitated for a moment and looked down at his socks.
“No,” he lied.
“Please…please tell me that you – you’ve been safe.”
When he didn’t say anything she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and shook her head.
“Jonathan…”
“I know, Mum. Okay? I know,” he snapped. “But now you can stop with all that marriage shite, right? You can stop telling me to meet some nice girl and grow up and have a family with, because that’s not going to happen. Your son’s a pouf and he’s getting shagged by your thirty-two year old neighbor. Go ahead and tell that to your bloody book club, or are you worried it’ll ruin your image?”
He watched her detach herself from the wooden frame, watch her lips tremble and watched her swallow thickly before turning on her heels and marching down the hallway, her door slamming shut seconds later and he toppled to the floor in a mess, letting go everything he was holding back before. He should have known this was going to happen eventually. They called him the dreamer back in school, didn’t they? He always had his head in the clouds; he never paid much attention to anything other than the instrument he held in his hands – or in this case, the thin body of another man.
He should have known this wasn’t going to last forever, this safety net he had put up around him and Thom, even his brother. He had cut a hole in the fabric, meant just for the three of them but he had cut it too big and the one person he wanted to keep out the most had managed to find her way inside, and now he wasn’t sure what was going to happen.
Chapter Seven
The morning light was blaring down at him and he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head to hide himself from the daytime, his room a disgusting temperature despite the window being open. He had slept on the hard floor, pulling his pillow down with him and rolling into his blanket, making himself a make-shift cocoon in which he could hide away from everything.
His eyes were sore, his back was sore, his arms and his legs and his heart was sore, and he didn’t want to get up, even when Colin crouched down beside him with a cup of tea in his hands.
“Jon,” he whispered. “You should get up, mate. I made you tea. You know, with lemon? The way you like it.”
He was about to refuse, wanting to curl away from the attention but the sadness and concern in his brother’s eyes made him reach for the mug and take a light sip, eyelids fluttering shut at the taste and he let out a sigh.
“Thanks, Coz.”
“Mmm,” the older boy set his own mug aside and sat cross-legged, studying the mess of blankets.
“Mum told you what happened?” Jonny asked, his voice muffled from the pillow. Colin frowned.
“No, she just said you weren’t feeling well.”
Jonny tutted and took another sip of his tea, trying to keep his composure but failing and he felt new tears slide down his cheeks. Colin shuffled a few things away, books and paper and a baggie of guitar picks so he could lie down next to his brother, arms folded under his chin and eyes searching.
“What’s going on?” he asked calmly and Jonny shook his head.
“She – she didn’t knock.”
“Knock? Knock what – oh, the door…Oh,” Colin’s cheeks turned a light shade of red. “Er…”
“We weren’t doing anything serious,” Jonny sniffled. “I mean, well. We still had our clothes on.”
“Oh…so…he was here, then.”
“Yes, Colin, he was here,” Jonny hugged himself under the blanket. “I thought she was staying in town and, and I just wanted him here, you know? So he came over and we were in my room and I was kissing him and I guess she got off work early because she walked in a few minutes later and yelled at him to get out or she’d phone the police,” he said hurriedly and wiped at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Colin whispered, brushing dark hair from his brother’s eyes.
“S-she said she had told him to stay away from me, Colin. She actually went over there and told him to stay away from me. He didn’t do anything, he’s my friend!”
Colin couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at this, “I think he’s a little bit more than your friend, Jon.”
“Shut up,” Jonny groaned. “You know what I mean.”
Colin nodded and the younger boy pulled the blanket closer to his body, despite the heat of the room causing him to feel sick to his stomach. He pulled a tissue from off his dresser and blew his nose quietly and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whimpered. “What should I do, Colin?”
“I-I don’t know, Jon,” the older boy shook his head. “I really don’t know.”
“What would you do, if it were you?”
“Something stupid, I’m sure,” Colin said with a sad smile and Jonny gave a light laugh.
“You’re probably right,” he agreed and his brother nudged him with his elbow.
“Well, I’ll tell you what you should do for now. You should get off the damn floor and come into town with me. I’ll buy you some ice cream, if you’d like. My treat, you look like you could use one.”
“Okay,” Jonny nodded, squirming out of the blanket. “Thanks, Coz.”
“And in the future, Jon, might I suggest against bringing your thirty-two year old boyfriend home?”
The younger boy rolled his eyes and heaved himself off the floor. He could do this. He could walk from the safety of his bedroom and downstairs. He could face the outside world again, especially with his brother an arm’s length away. He knew he could do it, because he had done it before.
He knew if he tripped and fell down, there was a little man next door that would help him back on his feet again, and there was nothing his mother could do to stop that.
---
Thom’s fingers were shaking as he flipped through the Yellow Pages, tears still drying on his cheeks.
For a man his age, Thom cried often, at least that’s what he thought as his sore eyes darted through the numbers and letters, his mind forgetting for a second what it was supposed to be looking for.
But then it came back, oh, yeah.
The events that led him that precise moment started when he gave up, gave in, let down the delicate guard that was keeping him from doing what seemed at the time as a huge, ridicules mistake.
But it turned out that the mistake wasn't all that bad. It had black strands of silk for hair and two full moons that sometimes lit up and shined for eyes. The mistake was so beautiful that sometimes Thom wondered why it picked to happen to him, of all people.
The mistake knew how to give and how to receive in more than one manner, always eager to learn and in its eyes Thom re found his passion for music, re found his desire and lust, re found the old form of himself, the one that has been destroyed by betrayal and ignorance.
Jonny was Thom's sweet mistake and Thom never stopped thanking whatever powers out there that brought him to take that wrong way, to be so very irresponsible almost to an absurdity, to let himself fall in love with a boy.
Jonny was a boy, no matter how hard he sometimes tried to hide it. He was eager to learn anything that Thom could teach him, soon enough mastering the skill to a level that usually left Thom wide eyed and speechless. Sometimes Thom would sit and watch Jonny's fingers swift across strings for hours, not being able to take his eyes off that beauty.
Slowly, they built themselves a protected world where only they existed, where it made perfect sense for a teenaged boy and a fully grown man to spend hours in bed together, exploring each other until there wasn't an inch of skin that wasn't owned and conquered by their passion.
A world where they could understand each other with a single nod or a smile, where sometimes the only connection they had for hours was through the strums of a guitar or the humming of Thom's old piano.
A world where they both could ignore the wrongness of what they did, the danger that laid upon the chance of the wrong person finding out about them. They pushed that danger out of their minds and almost forgot about it, until it was too late and their little world was shattered with one swing of a door.
But Thom wasn't really willing to let it happen just yet. He was too happy to let some reality mess with his delicate fantasy. He would make this right, he would make it all better, he just had to think how.
He wasn’t really surprised early in the morning after his visit to the Greenwood's residence when Mrs Greenwood stood in his living room for the second time in their short history. He was expecting her to come, anticipating her visit even. This time, he thought, she would be calmer and more reasonable and they would be able to discuss this like two adults over a cup of tea.
“I don’t want a bloody cup of tea!” Mrs Greenwood’s eyes fell sharply on Thom, anger bubbling in them like lava.
“Fine.” Thom shrugged, something inside him tightening all of a sudden in fear of what was about to happen.
“The reason I haven’t phoned the police yet,” She started after a moment of silence, “Is that I know that for some reason Jonny has some feelings for you.” Her voice became hoarse as she forced those words out of her throat. “Or at least he thinks he does, and to be honest, I don’t need him hating me for the rest of his life because of some stranger being put behind bars.”
Thom didn’t replay. Not because he had nothing to say but because he was shocked, Mrs Greenwood’s words still hitting all of the hidden places in his mind, those he tried to repress and hide from himself and from Jonny ever since he had kissed the younger boy back all those nights ago.
“Believe me, I would have loved to see you get what you deserve.” She continued with her business like voice, cold and calculated. “But not only that I don’t want Jonny to resent me, I also don’t want to cause a scene, for his sake. The entire neighborhood knowing that he…” Her voice trailed off and she looked down at her nails. “That he was with you, is not a smart idea. Jonny is about to start his mature life and I won’t let this misfortunate escapade ruin it for him.”
Thom opened his mouth to speak but Mrs Greenwood was sharp enough to stop him before he even began. “The way I see it,” She raised her voice and looked straight into his eyes. “We have two ways of dealing with this.”
“Now liste…”
“I will not listen to you!" She snapped, almost shouting now. "You lost every right to be listened to when you molested my premature son! If there is any common sense left in that head of yours you will be wise enough to shut up and let me speak now!”
Thom couldn’t really argue with that.
Mrs Greenwood composed herself, the storm in her expression melting away, giving way to the hard, determined form it was wearing before. “Like I said, we have two ways of dealing with this; I hope you’ll be wise enough to pick the right one.”
“I’m listening.” Thom said quietly, even though he doubted he was about to like anything that would soon come out of Mrs Greenwood’s mouth.
“The first option is that you stay here, in this house and in this neighborhood while I will send Jonny away, far away. Away from his brother and his friends and everything he knows. And if you’ll even consider setting foot near him you’ll find yourself in the back of a police car faster than you can even imagine.”
Thom paled. He had to admit that the woman in front of him could be pretty intimidating when she wanted. “You…You can’t do that, you can’t punish him, it’s not his fault…” He barely even heard his own voice until Jonny’s mother cut through it again.
“That’s why I think you should listen to the second option, Mr Yorke. Because that’s the reasonable option, the one that doesn’t include Jonny being ripped away from everything he ever knew.”
But she didn’t really had to say it, Thom knew what she wanted and he covered his face with the palm of his hand, realizing. “You…You want me to…”
“Disappear. Vanish. I don’t care where you go as long as Jonny will never be able to find you.”
Thom was cornered, and the corner was dirty and dark. “You can’t…Do that…” He mumbled without even believing his own words.
“Yes I can, and I am.” She stood up, now towering the wrecked man. “I know you don’t want to see Jonathan getting hurt, so I trust you’re about to make the right decision. You have until tomorrow morning to disappear and then I’m sending Jonny away. I have it all organized, one phone call and Jonny is on his way to a new place.”
“To…Tomorrow morning?!” Thom moaned in defeat.
“Yes. And believe me, you do not want to test me, if you’ll even try contacting Jonny by then I’ll only send him away faster. He’ll be on that train before even having the time to adjust to the idea. Don't forget that rebellious as he may seem, Jonny is still under my legal custody."
Thom blinked in realization, his little house of cards tumbling down on him in a blaze, leaving him shocked and naked, unable to respond to the attack.
Mrs Greenwood was walking towards the door, not before stopping and turning to look at the man, a sense of finality in her gaze and in her speech. "Jonny won’t be home until tonight, you should use that time to act.”
“Don’t do that, please, let’s talk…”
But Mrs Greenwood was already with her back to him, not bothering to give him another look. “I’m done talking to you.”
“No…” Thom felt the tears swelling up his throat, his voice breaking and betraying him as he tried clinging on to the last strands of hope he might still be able to change it, to fix it. “No, please…I'm asking you to...” Is all he managed to say before Mrs Greenwood opened the door and stood there, still with her back to Thom.
“Goodbye Mr Yorke, I hope to never to hear from you again,” she spat and slammed the door behind her, leaving Thom a destroyed shadow of himself.
And now when he remembered what he was looking for in the Yellow Pages he cringed, wishing the tears back but not being able to find them anymore. When he could no longer cry he knew it was done. There was no way he could fix this. He knew he was sinking deep into place where not feeling anything is better then the constant pain in his chest, a pain he had to somehow protect himself from.
When he couldn’t cry it meant the pain was too much to bear.
He lifted the phone slowly and dialed the numbers almost mechanically, not leaving himself time to regret. He had to do this, there was no other way, really.
“Hello”, he mumbled, fighting himself into forming the words, his voice shaking harder with every syllable. “I need a truck. H...How soon can you be here?”
---
At exactly 12:15am, Jonny woke up to the sound of what sounded like a very large truck putting on its breaks just outside his bedroom window.Wait, that might have been just a dream.
Jonny has been dreaming a lot that night, short dreams, plot-less and vague, about two arms embracing him close to a chest, a beating heart inside it. About running his fingers through soft hair and over delicate skin. About comfort.
But then there was the familiar sound of a truck and Jonny jerked out of sleep, or at least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure, because why would there be a truck near Thom’s house? And why would there be people coming out of Thom’s house, carrying boxes and loading them into the back of the truck?
Jonny was awake. He knew that, because the feeling of comfort from his dreams has faded away almost instantly and he was left with the feeling of fear that lingered in his bones ever since his mother saw him straddling their older neighbor.
As Jonny stood by his bedroom window and digested what he saw, the fear quickly turned into panic. Boxes, truck, unfamiliar people, Jonny threw on the first shirt that he stumbled upon and rushed down the stairs and out of the house, running across their front lawn and stopping only when he found himself standing, puzzled, in the half-empty living room of his neighbor, a place where he spent some of the happiest hours of his life.
No one was paying much attention to Jonny and he started moving through the rooms, searching, calling Thom’s name, his hands touching in disbelief the spot on the wall where a picture used to be, his bare feet standing where the kitchen table used to stand, his eyes darting helplessly from one box to another until he found himself back in the living room, staring at two huge men who begun lifting Thom’s piano and dragging it outside.
And that’s when Jonny truly snapped.
“What the fuck are you doing? Who are you? Where’s Thom?” He stood in their way and screamed at the two annoyed looking men.
“Hey, boy, we’re just doing our job,” one of them said and walked passed Jonny like he wasn’t even there, like this was all just a strange nightmare, one of those nightmares where nothing makes sense and you try to scream but no one can hear you, because maybe you’re not really screaming, maybe there’s no voice coming out of your throat.
“Thom?!” Jonny tried again, tossing the word into the bare walls and hearing them echo back to him through the almost empty room.
“Are you looking for the owner? He’s not here, he already left.”
Jonny shook his head in horror, hoping somehow that the man with the big stack of papers and the pen behind his ear was only joking with him, was only sent there by Thom to prank him, that Thom was standing behind the door and laughing his lungs out at Jonny’s expression.
But the man only took the pen from behind his ear and wrote something down, looking around him while other men kept taking boxes out of the house, boxes filled with stuff, Thom’s stuff, emptying it from Thom and his presence and from Jonny’s memories and from anything that ever made sense and felt safe.
“Where did he…Where did he go?” Jonny heard himself asking the man that seemed in charge.
“I have no idea, we were just told to bring all of this into storage.” And as he said that, he just walked into another room, losing interest in Jonny and his pale face and confused mumbles.
Jonny walked slowly up the stairs and into Thom’s empty bedroom, and through his tears he could see the dust and dirt that hid behind where Thom’s bed used to lay. The bed where Jonny felt himself unite with another person for the first time in his life, the bed where he let all of his guards down completely and let himself be naked, really naked.
And now it was gone.
Jonny stood with his back against the wall, slowly sliding down into the floor. He hugged his knees and watched as his tears fell on the floor, creating tiny puddles of mud in the empty space.
---
It took forever for him to make that step out the front door and onto the pavement of the walk way. It took him even longer to take the second step forward onto the grass of Thom’s lawn, thoughts swimming through his head and fighting one another for his attention.
Thom was gone.
He was gone, and he didn’t even tell Jonny where he was going, or if he’d be back, or that he was leaving at all. When he glanced up into the kitchen window of his own house he felt something brew inside him. Something dark, and angry, and threatening to escape at any moment. Whatever it was, it gave him strength to walk the rest of the way across the yard and up the steps of the front porch.
Jonny slammed the front door shut with more force than he intended. He didn’t bother to kick off his shoes once he spotted his mother sitting at the kitchen table with her glasses on, going over the month’s bills. He stomped into the room and Mrs Greenwood didn’t even look up when Jonny placed his hands on the table and leaned in, glaring all the while. She hadn’t looked at him, or even spoken to him for that matter, since the night she walked in and Jonny was demanding to be heard.
“Where is he?” He growled and his mother tossed an envelope aside, pulling a calculator to her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about!” Jonny shouted, pulling some of the papers away from her roughly in hopes to get her attention. She looked up then, eyes focusing on his with a stern expression.
“Thom,” he continued. “He’s gone. All his stuff is gone. He wouldn’t just up and leave without telling me.”
“Well, apparently that’s exactly what he’s done, Jonathan,” she said quietly, going back to her work. Jonny stood up, shaking his head and looking away from her as he tried to gain some control of his thoughts.
“Where is he?” he asked again through clenched teeth. With a sigh Mrs Greenwood put down her paperwork, pulling off her glasses and setting them aside to fix her son with a hard look and the boy felt something shift uncomfortably in his insides.
“Mr Yorke left,” she stated calmly. “He packed up all of his things and left. He’s moved out of the neighborhood. He said it would be better if he wasn’t here, that it’d be best if he just left. The whole place is a mess, Jonathan. This is the one noble thing he’s done.”
“Noble?” The boy laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you. I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t just leave without telling me, he’s not like that!”
“Jonathan, he’s moved on,” Mrs Greenwood said firmly. “You honestly didn’t expect him to wait around here forever, did you? He’s a full grown man and you’re just a child! How long did you think this was going to last? How long did you think it would take before he got bored of you?”
Jonny felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he backed away from the table. He had to admit there had been times he would think about just that, despite how many times he tried to push the thoughts away. It was always his number one fear, that Thom would one day get bored of him and leave.
“Jonathan, listen –”
“No,” he shook his head again, back pressing against the doorframe of the kitchen. His vision blurred, his body shaking with the useless effort to keep calm he pointed a shaking finger at her. “Fuck you.”
Without a second thought, Jonny ran.
---
Much to his relief the park was almost completely empty when he arrived. Though it shouldn’t have come to much of a surprise, it was past ten in the evening and most of the families took their children home before six to make supper and catch the evening news. There was a small group of teenagers hanging around one of the fire pits, their voices loud with intoxication, laughter drifting through the air. It made Jonny’s stomach hurt.
A little away from the play structure, away from the park bench old couples sat to watch their dogs run through the grass, away from the large tree he always sat against whenever he was reading was an odd, raised platform of rocks that had been built before he was born. It was a bit of a climb up, and at the top there was a fair sized group of trees, thick branches twisting together to make a sort of canopy, yet still leaving spaces for one to star-gaze if they were to lay on the grass.
Jonny remembered this place quite fondly, he and Colin used to play games in the small woods, using sticks for swords and pulling the hoods of their rain jackets over their heads for knight helmets. There was a bit of a path from teenagers picking their way over the low branches, and a small clearing with empty beer cans and the permanent, sweet smell of marijuana. This was Jonny’s favourite place in the whole park, and he pushed apart a thick patch of leaves and tree limbs, toppling into the small clearing with a thud. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and placing one at his lips, gaze pointed towards the stars.
He wished he could just leave, he wished someone would come and take him away from here. He lit the tip of his cigarette and inhaled. More than anything, he wanted Thom to come back and whisk him away to wherever he was. There was a pang in his chest when he realized he could be anywhere, he could have taken the next flight out of the country for all Jonny knew.
He would never forgive his mother. She had something to do with Thom’s sudden disappearance, he knew she did. If she was capable of scaring Thom away from him once before he had no doubt in his mind that she could do it again.
Jonny exhaled, releasing smoke rings into the air. He liked to think that Thom had ran away to the beach, found himself a little house by the coast and in the afternoon he would sit by the water and paint pictures or play the songs they had written together. He liked to think that he was just waiting for Jonny to turn eighteen and he would be back again, pulling the boy into his arms and telling him he was sorry, he was so sorry for leaving.
It was then that the thought occurred to him that maybe Thom wasn’t sorry. Maybe he had been looking for an excuse to leave; maybe this life wasn’t the life he wanted. Maybe he had grown tired of Jonny’s immaturity and lack of experience. Perhaps he had grown tired of Jonny, period. He allowed the thoughts to come, of Thom meeting someone else and telling them he just had to find a way to dump his seventeen year-old boyfriend and then he’d be free to do as he pleased.
Jonny was holding him back, he realized. Thom was smart and talented and was going to go places, and Jonny was his quick fix. Some form of distraction, of entertainment. Jonny was young, he had energy, and that was exactly what the older man needed. Someone who could keep up with him until he found someone better. Jonny laughed bitterly to himself for ever thinking Thom wanted to settle down with him, that they would live happily ever after like some stupid fucking fairytale.
He got off from the ground angrily, kicking a stone away with his shoe. He dropped his cigarette to the ground, grinding the ashes into the dirt and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, head bent down as he pushed his way through the leaves again. He had no intention of sleeping in the grass for the night, yet he knew he couldn’t go home – not now, anyway. Not after what happened.
No, he best find someplace to sleep. Some place covered to keep out any rain and wind. As he walks he glances towards the plastic tunnel stretching from one side of the play structure to the other, the swings moving gently with the light breeze, their chains squeaking. It looks good, he thinks. Good enough, anyway. There’s not much else he can think of, and he steps up onto the rickety wood covered in sand.
Until he sees a figure moving down the pathway. It’s a far, but Jonny can still make out the distinctive walk, the hair blowing in the summer wind. The nose and his name being called.
Colin.
His mother must have sent him out to look for him and bring him home, he thought. This definitely wasn’t the first time it happened. He needed to get out of there, fast. His brother was always good at getting people to do what he wanted and he jumped off the platform into the sand, turning around and walking quickly the rest of the pathway until he reached the woods and was well hidden by trees, Colin nowhere to be seen. He would search the whole park up and down before he would give up and go home. That could take hours.
There was one place he wouldn’t look, though. Not because it was clever, or well hidden, but because it was so simple that Colin would never think of it. With a sigh and a sad look in the direction of home, Jonny pulled his hood over his head and pressed forward, twigs cracking under his shoes.
Chapter Eight, Part One
Jonny stood at the door, his hands curled into a fist with hesitation before he made the decision to knock. When no one seemed to be opening the door, he rang the bell. Mrs O’Brien answered the door just when Jonny was about to give up and leave, probably back to the park, to find a nice bench to spend the night on.
“Jonathan!” She called in surprise, still drying her hair with a yellow towel. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, I was taking a shower and Ed is in his room listening to music and…oh I’m going on and on, come in!”
Jonny never before came to Ed’s house without his bigger brother and he could tell that Mrs O’Brien was already sensing something was wrong. “Are you alright, you seem upset?”
“I’m…I’m okay. So, Ed is upstairs then?” Jonny didn’t mean to be rude but Ed’s mum and her worried expression made him feel sick and he decided it was better if he stayed away from mums for the night.
“Yes, would you like to drink something? You’re so pale…”
“No, no, s’alright, really” He mumbled as he ran up the stairs two at a time, not looking back.
Ed was just as surprised to see Jonny there without the older version of himself. He took off the large set of headphones from his head and looked up at Jonny and then to the door behind him, as if he was waiting for Colin to follow.
“Hey, Ed.”
“Hullo Jonny. How are you?”
“I’m…I need a favor. It’s kind of a huge one.”
Ed didn’t even take a second to think before replying with a cheerful “Sure” that left Jonny grateful and nervous at the same time at the boy’s kindness. Jonny might have never met anyone as compassionate as Ed.
“I…I need a place to crash for a while…A…And I…”
“Sure thing Jon! It’ll be fun, we can call Cozzie and watch movies and have a smoke and —”
“Well that’s the thing,” Jonny cut through Ed’s sentence and left him with a dumb stare. “You can’t tell Colin that I’m here, or my mum. You have to promise!”
“Oh…er…” Ed stopped for a second and rubbed his scruffy cheeks. “Alright.”
“What?”
“Okay. I promise. I won’t tell them.”
“Wha…you mean…really?”
“Yes.”
And that was it, no questions and no conditions, just a quick smile and a nod of understanding that made Jonny feel like he came to the right place, a sense of relief flooding him for the first time since he left his bed so many lifetimes ago, when everything still made sense and Thom was still his neighbor.
Thom.
Jonny felt dizzy and tired, the events of the day still washing over his confused mind. He was still trying to put things into place, to figure out what exactly happened and in what order but none of it made any sense.
“Jonny, what’s wrong?”
Before he knew it Jonny was nearly choking in a bear hug given to him by a huge man, only then he noticed that his cheeks were damp and his nose was runny and he shifted in Ed’s arms, sighing deeply when Ed loosened his grip by only a little.
“It’s all wrong…” He mumbled when Ed finally let go of him and sat beside him on the bed, eyeing him silently.
“…and it hurts so much.” Jonny sniffed and lowered his head. “It hurts so much I just feel like digging a hole in the ground and crawling into it.”
Ed didn’t say anything. He pulled Jonny into another hug and whispered soothing words in his ear, not really knowing what demons he’s trying to fight against, giving the younger boy the option to tell him or to keep it all to himself.
Jonny just needed shoulder to cry on and even though Ed’s curiosity was threatening to get the best of him he restrained himself from trying to push Jonny into telling him more.
Jonny refused to eat or to take a shower that evening, in fact, he refused to leave the room or to accept anything that Ed had to offer him. At some point he just climbed into Ed’s bed, exhausted and red-eyed, and curled into a ball under the thin blanket, weeping quietly against the pillow.
Ed was already drifting away in the improvised nest he sat up for himself on the carpet when he heard a little voice coming from his bed.
“I’m gay.”
He thought he was already asleep and had to rub his eyes in confusion to realize he wasn’t.
“Oh.”
“And I slept with Mr Yorke, our neighbor. More than once. A lot actually. I don’t even know how many times. I could try and count them but…”
“Wait. What?”
“Well it wasn’t only that, I fell in love with him too.”
“Wait –”
“I think he might have loved me back. Well, I thought he did, I don’t know anymore.”
“Jonny!” Ed was sitting up now, searching for the little lamp by his bad in the dark.
“He left.”
“He left?”
“Yes.” And Ed could already hear the tears climbing up Jonny’s throat.
“W…Why did…Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He never even said he was gonna leave. He just got up and left.” Somehow Jonny’s voice became stable with those words, something different taking control over it, something hollow and almost monotonic.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all Ed could think about as he gave up finding the lamp and returned to his place on the carpet.
Ed lay there for hours in the dark, listening to Jonny’s long breathes of sleep and thinking about digging people out of holes in the ground.
---
Ed’s toes curled in his sleep.
Jonny watched this with an odd interest, listening to his friend’s snores from the other end of the bed, the random snorts and grumbles and shuffling of the blankets whenever he moved on his mattress. He couldn’t help but wonder what he was dreaming about, and tried to suppress a laugh when the image of Ed running through a green thicket happily came to mind. Colin had always told him his friend reminded him of a dog – not just because he was loyal, but because the smallest, simplest things in life seemed to make him happy.
Jonny tried to ignore the way his chest tightened at the thought of Colin. He missed him. It had been days since they spoken and they had been getting along so well, now that everything was out in the open between them. Ed and his family were lovely, of course. They welcomed Jonny with open arms and best of all, without question. Ed, despite the frowns and worried glances towards him, respected his wishes not to tell Colin where he was should he phone. Jonny was secretly disappointed when there hadn’t been a single phone call for Ed since he arrived, and he began to wonder if his brother missed him.
Ed giggled in his sleep and the sound caused the corners of Jonny’s lips to curl up in his own smile. The boy was funny, he had to admit. He understood why Colin was so fond of him. Ed gave Jonny plenty of room, gesturing to the study and telling him to use it whenever he felt like getting away. He let him take showers first, and told his mum what meals Jonny liked so she would make them for him. Mr O’Brien often spoke fondly of Colin at dinner, and Jonny realized the two were very much alike. He often found Ed’s father sitting in the living room with his nose in a book and he grinned at the younger boy whenever he walked past after fiddling with his guitar outside.
Ed was very much like his mother in most cases. Surprisingly patient and very laid back. Once he found the two of them sharing a joint together and laughed behind his hand, thinking it was peculiar for a mother and a son to do such a thing. When she asked if Jonny would like some, he shrugged his shoulders and joined the two of them under the shade of an elm tree in their backyard.
“My mother would never let me get away with this,” he mused, passing the joint to Ed. “She almost killed Cozzie when she found his stash.”
“I remember that,” Ed grinned almost fondly. “Your brother was distraught for weeks.”
“Yeah,” Jonny said a little sadly, looking down at his shoes. Mrs O’Brien coughed out a puff of smoke and the boys laughed.
“I should head inside,” she announced. “Your father will have a fit if I don’t get supper started. Where is he, anyway?”
“In the study, I think,” Ed cracked a kink in his neck and his mother grimaced at the noise.
“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” she waved a finger under his nose. “You’ll get a humpback.”
“Will not,” Ed argued. She pinched him on her way back into the house and Ed rubbed at the spot with a glare.
“You’re mum is wicked,” Jonny laughed and Ed shrugged.
“I guess, I don’t know. She can be harsh sometimes, when she works late. I guess she just gets tired, though.”
“Mmm,” Jonny agreed.
That night Ed and Jonny crept up to Ed’s bedroom with their dinner to plunk down on his bed and watch old spy movies, sipping from their cans of pop silently and eyes glued on the flashing images. Ed made a comment every now and then and Jonny responded with a laugh or a groan, the latter causing the other boy to break into a broad grin and a snicker.
“You’re alright, Jonny,” he elbowed him. “For a pouf.”
“Shut up,” he snapped back, and nearly choked when the bedroom door swung open, Ed’s eyes bulging when the figured stepped into the room.
“Colin!”
“Jesus fuck, Jonny!” Colin cried, moving forward in a blur and the younger boy thought for sure he was going to receive a punch or a slap across the face. Instead two arms wound their way around his neck, knocking him back against the wall roughly and causing him to yelp out in pain.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Colin sat up abruptly, hands still on his brother’s shoulders. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Coz,” Jonny touched his head to make sure it wasn’t bleeding and the worry in the older boy’s eyes turned into anger.
“I was worried sick!” He shouted. “You could have called, you know! You could have told me where you were going, at least! I wouldn’t have told mum if that’s what you were worried about. Fuck, Jonathan.”
Ed pressed himself into the corner, trying not to be noticed but Colin rounded on him.
“You,” he pointed. “You should have told me.”
“Coz, he asked me not to,” Ed held up his hands in defense. “Please, mate. I had no idea what was going on, he practically got on his knees and begged me not to phone you.”
“It’s true,” Jonny nodded and Colin tossed him a sharp look, silencing him.
“You’re my friend, Edward. You know how much Jonny means to me, I-I was…I thought…”
“I’m sorry,” the other boy whimpered and Colin sighed, running a hand over his face before letting it fall to his side.
“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “Jonny is fine, that’s all that matters. Bugger, I should have known he was here, how was I so stupid?”
“It was too obvious for you, Colin,” the younger boy explained. “I knew you wouldn’t figure it out for a while yet. You had to get through all those ridiculously thought-out plots of me digging my way to China and building forts in trees with coconut radios and what not.”
“Quiet, you,” Colin sniffed and together they grinned in the flashing light of the television.
“Well, anyway,” Ed moved his plate off the bed onto the floor. “While you’re here, Coz, why not watch the rest of this with us?”
Colin took the DVD case from his friend’s hands, studied it and turned to the TV. When he turned back he was grinning from ear-to-ear and plopped himself between his brother and his friend.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Jonny spent the rest of the movie trying to survive Colin’s death-grip on him.
---
They tried their best to conceal their noises – their shoes squeaking up the front steps of the porch and the door grinding closed when Jonny pulled a little too hard on the handle. The two of them froze instantly, ducked low and eyes locked on each other’s in the dark of the hallway. After a moment passed with no noise, they let out equal sighs of relief and stood up, Jonny flicking the lock closed and his brother leaning against the wall to tug off his boots.
The living room light clicked on and Colin fell sideways, managing to gather himself before toppling onto the floor as Mrs Greenwood rounded the corner and grabbed her youngest son by the shoulders.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “I was so worried, Jonathan! Christ, your brother and I, we both thought something terrible had happened to you. How can you do that to us?”
She had tears running down her eyes when she hugged him, his arms held stiffly by his sides. She held him out again at arm’s length and searched his face curiously.
“We’re your family, Jonathan, you don’t do that to family.”
“Funny,” he said through gritted teeth. “There are a lot of things you’ve done that you don’t do to family, either.”
Colin wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, not wanting to be any part of this argument. Mrs Greenwood straightened herself to her full height, Jonny still towering over her, despite being slumped against the wall.
“I was protecting you,” she explained, her voice oddly soft and calm. Jonny fought to keep his the same.
“I don’t need your protection.”
Colin reappeared a moment later with a peanut butter sandwich in hand. He swallowed thickly at the apparent showdown going on in the front hallway, but neither his mother nor brother made the next blow. After a long moment of silence, Jonny pulled himself from the wall and marched up the stairs, Colin calling after him and following suit.
Mrs Greenwood let out a shaking breath and leaned against the opposite wall, pulling at a strand of dark hair and watching Jonny’s bedroom slam shut in the upstairs landing.
Jonny was already crying again when he heard someone knocking on his door. He was getting used to it, to crying, he already knew exactly how long it would take before a certain tear would fall off the corner of his eye, how long it will take it to roll down his cheek, exactly what it would taste like when he will flick his tongue across the corner of his lips.
"Go away," He mumbled from under the blanket, not really caring whether it was loud enough for the person outside of his door to hear.
"Jon, can I come in? It's important." He heard his big brother calling with a hint of despair in his voice.
"No." Jonny said more to himself than to anyone else before he heard the door click open and his brother's footsteps on the carpet, and then the weight of his body on the mattress and his hand in Jonny's hair, stroking delicately.
Colin sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, and Jonny tried figuring out what he was apologizing for. "I should have known better, I should have protected you."
Jonny looked at Colin for the first time since he entered the room, wiping his nose as he chuckled. "C'mon Coz, you can't really believe that, right?"
"Well, I mean, I don't know...I feel like I should have predicted it." Colin fidgeted in his sit.
"No one could, Colin, it was very...unpredictable. Or maybe it was really obvious, I don't know anymore. Either way, it's definitely not your fault."
Jonny sat up and ran his fingers through his fringe, staring at some random spot before he could hear his brother talk again.
"I have something for you."
"Mmm?" Jonny snapped out of his stare and looked curiously at Colin.
"It's...It was probably here when you last slept in that bed, but you missed it somehow, I don't know."
Jonny frowned. "What are you talking about?"
And Colin was pulling something out of his pocket, something that looked a lot like a sealed letter. He handed it to Jonny who spent the next minute staring at the familiar crooked handwriting on the front that only said – "Jonny."
"I...The night you ran, I was looking for you almost all night...and then when I couldn't find you I came home and I couldn't sleep. So I came in here and went inside you bed and then...I found this."
Jonny wanted to say something, but he couldn't really form any words. He wanted a sign of life from Thom more than anything, especially after spending all of the time since he left thinking about how he could leave without saying anything, without leaving anything behind. But now that he had the envelop in his hands he found that it was almost burning his fingers, that he was almost too scared to open it up.
Because if so far he could make up stories in his head about what happened, if so far he was able to plot his own version of the past and the future, now he had the real story in his hands and the sense of finality that laid within the thin envelop made him shiver and squirm.
"It was under the pillow," Colin added and got up. "He probably climbed in here and left it here for you to find. I'm gonna go now, leave you to read it. I'm in the next room if you need me." And just like that he closed the door behind him and left Jonny alone with the heaviest piece of paper he ever lifted.
Before opening the letter Jonny closed his eyes and images of a small man climbing up to his bedroom in silence flashed in his mind and gave him a strange feeling of comfort, something that he almost already forgot existed.
He opened his eyes with encouragement and tore the envelop open.
Jonny's fingers were shaking as he held the paper close to his eyes, trying to hold back his tears to prevent stains over the messy scrawl in black ink, lips pursed in concentration as his eyes roved over the first word.
Jonathan.
He clenched his eyes shut. His name in the familiar handwriting was almost too much to bare, but he pressed on, curiosity and worry and sadness and anger and all other emotions mixing into one and urging him to continue.
It's raining outside and you're probably in bed. Sometimes, you talk in your sleep, and the words fit together but they make no sense at all. This is how I feel writing this letter, the words fit together but the outcome of their meaning is impossible.
By the time you read this, I'll be gone. I want you to know that none of this is your fault. You have done nothing wrong and don't let anyone mislead you into believing otherwise.
Unfortunately, the reality of the situation, as I'm sure you're well aware of, is that I'm old, and you're young, and while that never really complicated things between us (us being emphasized), society seems to have a different opinion.
I understand if you feel I'm weak for giving in, I feel that way about myself, too. I wish I had your courage, Jonathan. I wish I could stand up for what I believe. I wish I could fight for you – for us. I haven't got the strength you do, and I think I'm most sorry for that. I've let you down. While I would give anything to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness, to take back everything negative I've said or done to you, I can't come back. Not just yet.
I don't expect you to understand what I'm about to do, or even try to. I just wish you won't look back in regret about what we had.
Your mother came to see me earlier. It's funny that I can look in her eyes and see that she only wants what's best for you, for her son. She loves you very much but she fails to see the difference between protecting you and hurting you. I hope you won't resent her for that. She, like most people, is blinded by what she was taught to believe was right and wrong. We used to be just like her before the mocking hands of destiny brought us together.
She had a deal for me, and as I’m writing this I still haven’t thought up of a brilliant way I could have refused. I’m leaving so she doesn’t send you away from everything you know. Your friends, your brother, your life. I’m leaving so she doesn’t phone the cops and send me away, somewhere where I would never be able to see you again.
I’ve found a house, far away from here. I hope this eases your mind, if only a little. This could just be wishful and selfish thinking on my part, though. I ask you to please not come searching for me, Jonathan. I’ll find you when the time is right.
Before I finish my last words to you for god knows how long, I need you to know that the hours I spent with you have changed me forever, as a man and as an artist and even as a lover, your influence on me is so powerful that I already know it will never fade away.
Because around you I could finally tolerate myself and because you let me look inside your soul and the sight was so overwhelming and beautiful that I couldn’t even decide whether to fall in love with you or not, but my heart has already made this decision on its own.
I love you.
Chapter Eight, Part Two
It was raining. That’s all it seemed to ever do since Thom left, and with a sigh he tossed his canvas aside onto the clutter that’s gathered on his kitchen table and ran his hands through his hair, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees as he watched the rain drag itself down the window by the sink.
Every bit of creativity seemed to have leaked out of him, into a puddle that he left back in the living room of his old house. If it had a colour, he believed it would be blue. The same colour of his eyes, which he swore had faded a few shades the last time he checked his reflection in the mirror. Something he was trying very hard not to do; he couldn’t stand the sight of the coward that stared back at him.
He wore his pajamas around the house, not bothering to dress during the day. He had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, and no one could see him here. What was the point? He grabbed his cup of tea in one hand and pushed his way out the back door onto the back porch, enjoying the feel of rain landing in his hair and sliding down the back of his bathrobe.
The house was small, and if he had to admit it (which he never would), it was something of a dream-home for him. A wood cabin with a loft and a dipping sitting room by wall-sized glass windows that lit the room up almost as bright as day when there was a full moon out. They looked out into his backyard, a small patch of land encased in trees, but big enough for a small out-building. That would be his studio, he decided, should he ever feel the urge to produce something again. Though, the idea of trudging through snow in the winter tended to dampen these thoughts.
He loved everything about the building. It had a wood-burning stove, so he saved on gas prices (and was helping the environment, he told himself proudly), and solar panels on the roof, and his bedroom in the loft was well-lit with a bathroom.
He tipped his cup sideways and poured the rest of his now lukewarm tea into the grass.
This house had everything he could ever want – except for a scrawny, seventeen year-old boy with a mop of raven hair that flowed through his fingers like water, and deep brown eyes that shone green when they were met with the deep sea blue gaze that stared back at Thom in his mirrors.
Or, rather, used to stare back at him, before it too faded like everything else. He would give anything, even this stupid house, to have Jonny in his arms again. Thom knew he shouldn’t think like that, it would ruin his concentration for the rest of the day. It had ruined his concentration everyday since he moved here, and he still had boxes of books and clothes and odds-and-ends to unpack.
The phone rang and he let out a sigh, stepping in through the screen door and closing it behind himself before padding off into the kitchen and grabbing the phone off its cradle.
“Thom,” he said.
“Thom,” the other voice echoed, and it sounded just like his. He glanced down at the phone in his hands.
“Hello?” He asked.
“It’s Andy,” the voice said, exasperated. “Have you forgotten your baby brother again?”
“No,” Thom hopped up on the counter and gave a grunt when one of his slippers fell off onto the floor.
“What was that?” his brother asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Thom muttered. “My slipper fell off is all.”
“You old man.”
Another grunt.
“So, you moved,” Andy stated. “Again. What happened this time?”
Thom twisted the phone cord around his finger absentmindedly. “Nothing, Andrew. Is this why you phoned? To have a heart-to-heart, or do you want something?”
“Heart-to-heart, of course.” He could hear the grin coming through his brother’s voice.
“And, well…um –”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, spit it out. How much this time?” Thom snapped and the line went silent for a moment.
“You don’t want to hear what it’s for?” Andy asked, hurt. Thom sighed.
“Fine. Fuck. What is this for? It better not be for drugs, I swear to God –”
Andy laughed, “Drugs, Thomas? Who do you think I am? No, it’s nothing like that. I’m opening a music store in the city with some friends of mine and we need to rake up enough money for the lease. Then once things start running we’ll be able to pay for it ourselves. Hell, I’ll even be able to pay you back.”
Thom considered this for a moment, nibbling on his bottom lip.
“Thom?”
“Shut up, I’m thinking.”
Andy went silent.
“Alright. How much, then?”
“Um…well…”
After some patient pestering, Thom finally managed to get the number out of him. His eyes bulged.
“Bloody hell, no!” he shouted. “No fucking way, Andy! Where the hell are you opening this store, Tim-fucking-expensive-buck-two?”
“No, it’s just…you know. These things need a lot of money to get going, and…well…”
“Well what?”
“It was my idea, so I said I’d pay a half and the other two split the other half.”
“You’re insane,” Thom snorted. “Absolutely bloody mental.”
“It runs in the family.”
Thom glared at the phone in his hands, eyebrows furrowing.
“Fuck you, I’m not doing it.”
He slammed the thing back into its rightful spot and leaned back against the counter, fuming and shaking his head.
A minute wore by and he glanced at the clock, then back to the phone.
He sighed and dialed Andy’s number.
“I knew you’d give in,” his brother said cheerfully, picking up after the first ring. Thom rolled his eyes, knowing full well that Andy had been waiting by the phone the whole time.
“One payment, Andrew. That’s it. If it doesn’t kick off after that it’s your bloody fault, not mine.”
He hung up again and walked away. He spent the rest of the afternoon chopping firewood, finding that after a while the blisters on his hands didn’t hurt and the logs stopped taking the shape of his brother’s face.
---
The week dragged on slowly, and after wandering through every inch of his yard and organizing his record collection there wasn’t much left for Thom to do. He welcomed the distraction when Andy showed up one afternoon, large grin on his lips when he pulled his older brother into a hug. Thom had squirmed in his grasp and threatened to knock his teeth out but the younger man just laughed, eyes shining.
He had invited him in for tea and listened as Andy talked in more detail about his store his friends and him were opening up. They were going to offer music lessons as well as sell instruments, one of Andy’s friends played drums and he himself could cover the guitar lessons. When he asked Thom what had happened to him and why he had moved he simply shrugged and replied that it was nothing, he just wanted to get out.
When he watched his brother pull out of the driveway with a wave he felt a sudden sharp pain in his stomach and trudged back inside in sock feet, frowning. It had been so long since he felt anything like that he had almost forgotten the name of it.
Loneliness.
Whatever. He shrugged it off and nudged the door shut behind him. He had more important things to worry about, like how exactly he was going to install a wood-burning stove into that shed of his, and the fact he hadn’t gone shopping for a week and his cupboards were looking rather scarce.
After a day spent debating with himself, which lead to him curling up in a ball on the couch and attempting sleep and definitely not crying to himself because he felt lone – he shook the word from his head completely. After much debating with himself he decided it would be best if he just got out of the house for a while, get some fresh air and learn to breathe again.
He had bought himself a car, an older one with no slot for a CD and windows he had to manually roll down instead of press a button. It was good on gas, though, and got him around. That was really all he needed, and he hated to admit to himself that he had missed the way the wind would blow through his hair when he opened the sunroof, and the way the tires sounded on the gravel road, kicking up dust behind them.
Thom pulled a small list from his pocket and began wandering around under the bright lights, scratching at the patch of hair that was growing on his chin when he couldn’t find quite what he was looking for. He never understood how people could enjoy food shopping so much, and tossed a case of yoghurt into his basket. There wasn’t anything fun about this.
At least this time there weren’t teenaged boys at every corner he turned down, making that pain in his stomach grow worse. He tried not to think about that, and moved towards the organic section, feeling elated that such a small supermarket even had one.
He was so enthralled with the different kinds of granola, wondering how he was ever going to be able to pick just one that he almost missed the sound of his name coming out in a rather familiar voice. A voice that sent chills running down his spine and made him visibly shudder. He turned to the sound and was met with a pair of hazel eyes staring back at him through shaggy blonde hair and he jumped backwards, trying to put space between him and the man standing before him. Out of any situation that could have happened, this was not one that he was expecting, or particularly looking forward to.
“Sorry, did I scare you?” the man asked, still smiling. “Shit, it’s been so long! I barely recognized you. You changed your hair.”
“Er, yeah,” Thom fidgeted. “Hi, Ben.”
Ben bent down to pick up the box of granola Thom had been looking at and had carelessly dropped onto the floor. The other man held it out for him and Thom hesitated before taking it into his hands, hoping his shaking wasn’t too noticeable.
“I thought you moved,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and Thom felt himself blush.
“Er, yeah. I did,” he mumbled.
Ben nodded, not quite understanding. Thom took the moment to allow his eyes to sweep over him quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of him. His hair had grown out and had lightened with the summer sun, and he had a patch of stubble on his chin that even to this day didn’t fail to make something in his insides squirm rather pleasantly.
“Look,” he was saying. “I wasn’t searching for you, or anything, if you were wondering. But now that you’re here, I really need to talk to you.”
“Er –”
A hand pulled him away from the cereal and around the next corner, next to the display of cold and allergy medicine that looked as though it had been sitting there since the store opened. Thom was about to argue when Ben let go of his arm and stepped back as though the contact had burnt him. He ran a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words.
“I wanted to apologize…for everything.”
“Ben, you really want to do this here?” Thom whispered harshly and the other man shot him a sad look.
“Yeah, well. I never thought I’d get the chance. I realized what I did was wrong and I feel horrible about it; I never, ever meant to hurt you, Thom.”
“But you did, Ben,” Thom shot back. “You knew me, how could you not understand that would hurt me?”
“I-I wasn’t thinking, obviously. I wasn’t thinking about you, I was just thinking about the money.”
“Obviously.”
Ben sighed, shoulders drooping in defeat.
“Look. I’ve wanted to find you for ages and tell you that. Because even if I can’t change what happened, I can at least apologize for what I did. But you ran off and I had no idea how to contact you, so I just gave up. I know that’s not much and it doesn’t fix anything but I just want you to know how horrible I feel about it, and if I could take it back I would.”
Thom said nothing and he continued.
“I, er…I miss you, you know. A lot,” he ducked his head and strands of blonde hair fell over his face. Thom shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and glanced at the floor, unsure of what to say.
“Can we get a drink later?” Ben asked suddenly, eyes searching Thom’s. “Just a drink, that’s all. I just want to talk.”
“No.”
“Please, Thom. I just –”
“I can’t,” Thom shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Ben frowned. “Why not?”
“I can’t go through this again,” he shook his head. “I…there’s someone else.”
“I just want to talk,” the other man held up his hands in defense. “Please, Thom. I’m desperate here.”
“No,” he said with a tone of finality, bending down to pick up his basket of food. “I’m can’t.”
Ben sighed and nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small notebook and a pen. He scribbled something down into it, folding it up and handing it to Thom.
“My number,” he said. “If you change your mind.”
Thom took it gingerly and watched as the other man darted away from him without a second glance. He thought of tossing it away into the next rubbish bin he passed, he thought of burning it with a cigarette lighter on his way home from the supermarket, but instead and for some unknown reason even to him, he tucked it away in his wallet and drove on.
He gave up trying to put the groceries away when he accidentally shoved a bag of apples into the cupboard and his box of crackers into the fridge. With a sigh he sat down on his couch, running a hand over his eyes and telling himself to pull it together.
In an odd way, he wished that Ben had been mean and abusive to him, rather than friendly and cheerful and encouraging. It would have been much easier to hate him that way. But instead he was the first person to ignore Thom’s insisting that there was no way in hell he could get up on stage and sing to a crowd of people, and faster than he could bat an eyelash he watched as the other man had signed his name up for an open mike night at a local bar. He had smiled at him and messed up his hair in the way he always did, told him he could do it and watched from the front of the crowd as Thom had stuttered through the first lines of his own song before picking it up and giving it his best. The crowd had loved him, they had asked him for demo tapes as he was leaving the bar and he had never felt so elated in his life. That night Thom had dragged Ben home with him and barely made it through the front door before he had him pinned to the floor with his fly undone.
But it was inexcusable what he had done, taking Thom’s song and selling it off like that. Despite being in a band together, despite working on songs together, Ben never understood that songs were a part of him, and giving them away was giving away pieces of himself. All that time and energy Thom had put into his song, only to have it raped by some big-name company with a fat check.
He jumped up from his spot on the couch and pulled his jacket over his shoulders, throwing a guilty look towards the bags of food still laying on his kitchen floor before heading out the front door and stomping off down the steps towards the direction of the park, hands digging for his pack of cigarettes.
The sky had turned grey and drops of rain were littering the dirt under his shoes but still he pressed on, exhaling smoke and arching his shoulders in defense against the world. There was a set of bleachers sitting in the grass and he plunked down at the top, staring out over the football field where a group of boys were kicking a ball lazily back and forth as they made their way across the grass.
Thom rested his elbow on his knees and flicked ash onto the wood below him, watching it blow into the cracks and nicks as a cool breeze picked up. He looked at the cigarette between his fingers and remembered, despite himself, the way a certain boy had smoked when they were laying in the shade in his backyard, grass stains on his knees and dirt on the palm of his hands from crawling around looking for a lost guitar pick. The way his lips pulled at the filter and puckered out to release a stream of smoke. The way he laughed and coughed at the same time and rolled his eyes when Thom told him he shouldn’t smoke.
“You sound like my brother,” he had said. “He says that all the time while he’s rolling a cigarette. Hypocrite.”
“He just cares for you, Jonny,” Thom had told him and the boy’s eyes shone bright when he looked at him with a mischievous grin. Thom had never told him that he could care less if Jonny smoked, if only because he loved to watch the way he brought his fingers to his mouth and closed his eyes when he inhaled.
He shouldn’t think about that, though.
The group of boys were chatting amongst themselves, smiling and laughing and he felt a knot in his stomach as he overheard one of them mention he couldn’t wait to leave for university at the end of the summer. He already had his room picked out and everything. The others nodded with agreement and cheerfully went on, eyes bright at the idea of parties and no curfew and no rules and girls and living on their own.
With a pang of guilt Thom realized that they already knew what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go and what they wanted to be, where as Jonny was still struggling with the idea. Somehow he knew that was entirely his fault. Had Jonny spent more time with friends his own age and less time with a 32 year-old who had no idea what he wanted in life, maybe Jonny would have a better idea of where he was heading instead of blindly searching for something in the dark.
Well, he won’t have to worry about that, now that you’re gone, Thom thought bitterly to himself. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and pulled his jacket tighter around himself.
He had the idea firmly planted in his mind that he would return when Jonny was eighteen, when Jonny was living on his own and was no longer under his mother’s wing. Then Thom would go back and things would be like they should be – the two of them writing and playing music together and curling up under a warm blanket when the day was finished. That was how he wanted it to happen.
Only now he was realizing that it could never be like that. Thom had to face the facts – he was too old, and Jonny was too young for him. Jonny had the rest of his life ahead of him, and the older man’s presence had only made things worse. The boy had spent so long trying to be an adult for him that he was missing out on the precious last years of just being a teenager without any responsibility, and now Jonny was taking the big step into adulthood with no idea what he was doing. Thom hadn’t helped him with anything, the only thing he had done was held him back.
He noticed it had started pouring and his jacket was soaked through, clinging to his skin from the rain. His hair was matted and pressed tight to his head and he sniffled, wiping the drops of water from his eyes (rain drops, of course. Definitely not tears, no) before forcing himself to stand, joints cracking as he started to walk towards his house.
Better get used to this place, Thommy, because you’re not going back.
“Shut up,” he mumbled to himself, even though he knew it was true. He couldn’t go back, not now. All he would do is create more problems, make things worse. Jonny would be held back even more, he would struggle more and for what? For Thom’s entirely selfish reasons. He couldn’t do that again, he couldn’t. For once in his life, Thom Yorke had to do something right and this was his chance.
It hurt, thinking about the letter he had written the boy and how he had, in a way, promised to return. Jonny was smart, and he was sure he could spot the lies underneath his words. He hoped it would bring some comfort to him and allow him to move on.
That’s what you need to do, take your own advice mate, he thought as he pulled his boots from his feet and frowned at his drenched socks. He needed to move on. Pulling the wet fabric off, he tossed them aside and reached into his back pocket, fishing out the number from his wallet and plucking the phone off the wall, weaving through the bags of groceries still sat waiting patiently on the kitchen floor.
---
Thom stopped pacing and stared down at his own reflection in a puddle of rainwater. His own reflection stared back, looking rather annoyed. Why did he ever agree to get picked up from his house? He had a car, for the love of god.
Now he was waiting outside with nothing to do but think, and that might have been the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He also started to feel like some 16 year old girl, waiting for her date to show up. This was stupid and Thom decided that if Ben doesn't show up in 4 minutes he was gonna –
A blue car pulled over near him and the window rolled down. Thom's eyes rolled up.
"You're late."
"I'm sorry. It took me a while to find this place."
"Oh, well. Never mind."
As Thom sat down in the passenger seat and fumbled with his seatbelt he already knew very well that this had been a huge mistake.
It all seemed a bit better after his fourth beer.
"So, uhm, what did you say...you were, you were doing right now?" He mumbled just before lifting the fifth pint to his lips.
"I'm working in a record store, Thom," Ben giggled at Thom's slow movement and silly smile, remembering how easily he was affected by alcohol because of his size.
"Right," Thom played with a coaster, still feeling awkward around the other man. "You know, I always believed that by now we'd be stinking famous."
Ben laughed bitterly and leaned back. "Yeah, me too. We were really good, you know? Really fucking good."
"Well," Thom started, taking another big sip instead of adding anything else. The awkwardness was there again, Thom blamed himself.
"I really am sorry, you know. I don't know what I was thinking," Ben said all of a sudden, very quietly, not really looking at Thom at all. "But, but you know...it did become a big hit."
"Yeah, I fucking know!" Thom snapped and ordered another beer.
"I only meant that – that you're madly talented Thom and… it's just… it's a fucking shame that you're not doing anything about it anymore, you know?"
Thom didn't say anything. He was already busy with some black haired man that caught his eye at the other end of the pub. In his state and in the darkness of the pub, Thom could almost imagine that this was him sitting there, maybe it was the two of them, sitting and enjoying a quiet evening in the local pub. He shook his head when a woman sat by that black haired man and kissed him on the lips, waking up form a dream or maybe returning into a nightmare.
Because in his reality, Thom couldn't really take Jonny out to local pubs. If fact, in reality, Thom couldn't show his face around Jonny.
"I forgive you, Ben. Can we please just get the fuck out of here?"
Outside was much better, the cool night air clearing Thom's mind, the natural sky- light giving him comfort. They walked down the street and watched the dark display windows, not exchanging a word between them. Thom looked at Ben, walking silently beside him and he almost felt sorry for the man.
All he ever did was try to please Thom, to be there for him and to make the hidden storms in him quiet down. Sometimes Thom felt like the only reason Ben always stuck by his side was because he had been a riddle for him, a project, something that he kept trying to fix and as long as he wasn't successful, Thom knew there was no way Ben was going to leave him alone.
He stopped near the window of a pet shop and Ben immediately stopped too, looking at Thom with questioning eyes.
"Look at them," Thom said and pointed at a box of little kittens that were almost piled up into a small knot of fur, no particular colour standing out of it. "How can they sleep when they know everyone can see them?"
Ben was staring at the box for a while, not finding an answer and Thom took the opportunity to stare at Ben, at his big hazel eyes shining even more than usual in the yellow street light. Maybe he wasn't that bad after all. Maybe he truly did deserve Thom's forgiveness and a new start.
Thom sighed.
"Could you take me home?"
It was Ben's turn to sigh as he watched Thom's back and followed him to the car. They sat in silence most of the way home, Thom jumping between radio station every so often like he always did. Usually it was annoying but tonight all Ben could do was smile to himself.
But when Ben pulled over near Thom's house, the smaller man took his seatbelt off and froze, unable to decide how this night should end.
"Thanks, Ben, I'm sorry I'm being such a...Such an idiot, I guess."
"You're not being an idiot, I understand. I just wish you could talk to me about whatever it is you're going through."
Thom felt a tear running down his cheek, which was funny, because he wasn't even aware of the fact he was crying until then. He didn't want Ben to see him crying, so he quickly leaned forward and kissed him, a long, slow kiss that lasted enough for the tears to dry.
And then he found himself running the distance to his door and within seconds he was on the bathroom floor and over the toilet, and now he felt like a 16 year old girl for real.
Chapter Nine, Part One
Thom found himself reading the same line over and over again. It was a simple line in a simple book, but Thom kept reading it, not fully digesting its meaning:
He waited until the man and the woman started dragging the boy toward the house.
Thom blinked, the only thing that registered from this entire line in his head, from the book he was trying to read for almost 10 minutes now, was "The boy" and he sighed and leaned his head against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose as the other hand tossed the book away.
This was pointless, Thom knew why he couldn't concentrate, he knew very well that the only thing he could think about ever since he opened his eyes this morning was a certain teenager he left behind. The truth was that Thom missed Jonny a lot more than he would admit to himself.
He missed every little nuance that had anything to do with the boy, the way in which he held a pencil or the sounds he made when he sipped water from a glass, the way he would occasionally move his hair from one side to another or the expression he had when he was having a pleasant dream.
Thom usually tried to push these thoughts away into the dark corner of his mind where everything that was too painful to remember laid, but right now, strangely enough, it made him feel better to think about Jonny, it gave him comfort when he imagined the boy sprawled next to him in bed, smiling at him his genuine teeth-showing smile, maybe talking to him about something casual and almost boring like a TV program he watched the other day or a crossword puzzle he couldn't finish.
It somehow was soothing for Thom to picture the way Jonny's eyelashes rested against his cheeks when he closed his eyes to kiss him, the rough skin of the tip of his fingers almost touching his face, it somehow made something in Thom shift and instead of the constant pain and confusion that accompanied him in his every waking minute he felt something else for once, something familiar and warm and for once, since he left Jonny behind, Thom almost felt at home.
So he thought on, about silky hair brushing against him and the scent it had, he thought about the skin just beneath Jonny's earlobe and how he liked it when Thom brushed his lips against it, he thought about curious way Jonny would explore his body, not leaving any part of it out, the way he loved finding Thom's reaction to the different manners in which he possessed that body.
Jonny liked trying and experimenting and Thom liked being the subject of Jonny's inquiries. Jonny would huff and Thom would gasp, Jonny would lick and Thom would moan, Jonny would bite and Thom would tremble, for hours Jonny could go on like this, trying to find the best ways to get the reaction he wanted from Thom, smiling to himself after every little success.
And sometimes Thom couldn't restrain himself anymore and he would pull Jonny closer to him, smiling at the younger boy's fake whines of protest before melting them down into a deep kiss that made them both forget what they were doing before or what they meant to do and remember only each other's lips, teeth and tongues.
And Thom remembered, so well, the way Jonny tasted and smelled and even the way he would breath heavily when Thom would break their kiss because it was too much, because he couldn't stand another second of not being inside Jonny, of not being a part of him, of not sinking into him completely and becoming him.
Thom remembered the exact sound that came out from Jonny's red lips when he finally slid into him, when he was finally surrounded by the impossible warmth that Jonny welcomed him into, the way Jonny would pull him in, call his name in a plead, please, please Thom, deeper,
please, Thom...Thom...Thom...
"Thom? Oh, fuck! I'm sorry – fuck!"
Jonny's voice was viciously replaced with a completely different voice and his hands were replaced with Thom's own hands and Thom jerked violently out of his fantasy and into his miserable reality, jumping out of bed and after Ben.
He was still panting when he found Ben sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water, and Thom wished Ben would look at him already.
"Ben, oh, uhm, I'm sorry. I must have lost track of time. is it Eight already?"
"It's fifteen past eight, Thom. The door was open so I let myself in, I'm sorry..."
"No, no, don't be..." Thom found his palm at the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. "I...I'm sorry you had to...Witness that..." He laughed bitterly and went silent when he noticed Ben was not looking very amused.
"Well, Thom. It wasn't such a...Bad sight."
Thom blushed. "Oh god...This, this is –"
"Let me finish." Ben got up and stood next to Thom, almost whispering in his ear now. "I missed you, do you even have any idea..."
"Ben..."
"I tried being with other men, I swear," Ben's hands were now climbing up Thom's skin under his shirt and Thom shivered, the man still remembered how to touch him, apparently.
"Lis...listen Ben..."
"But none of them, none of them was quite like you, Thom."
They were kissing now, and Thom found that it wasn't that bad anymore. It was almost good even, if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine--
No.
Don't do that.
Just don't.
Thom pulled back. "Ben! I...I need to ta...Talk to you....."
"Talk? I don't think it's time to talk." Ben said as he cupped Thom's still erect cock with a quick motion, causing Thom to tremble and moan involuntarily. "Come on."
Ben was pulling Thom back into the bedroom now and Thom was already too weak to argue. Maybe just this once he could give himself a break and find the release his body had been aching for, maybe just tonight he could let it go, let him go.
But as soon as he pushed himself inside of the body under him he knew, there wasn't going to be any letting relief right now, because there was only one thing he could think about as he moved, only one face he saw in his mind and only one voice he heard calling out his name, no matter how much he tried to stay there with Ben, his soul and his mind kept traveling to another place in another lifetime, kept going back to the one person who ever truly touched him.
When Ben fell asleep Thom wrapped himself in a white sheet and wandered outside to the cold crisp night air, biting at his bare skin and making him shiver.
He stood there for long minutes and cried and felt relieved because he knew that now he could finally truly start the long road of forgetting, of letting go.
---
Jonny watched.
He found himself doing that a lot – watching. The cars moving on the street below, people walking with umbrellas or newspapers over their heads. He kept his window open, despite the cool air. The sounds of the city often helped him sleep, and even sometimes gave him inspiration. He never got that at his mother’s house.
A few things were still packed in boxes and stacked off to the side. It was a small, grungy, bachelor, but it was the only thing he could afford with what money he had. The night Colin had given him the letter was the night he decided he was going to move out and the sooner the better. There, of course, had been an argument between him and his mother, but in the end she gave in, half-crying. She didn’t believe he was old enough to live on his own, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop him.
That had been a few weeks ago. He had since dropped the idea of going to school and got a job at a laundry mat just a walk away. It was boring, but it paid well. Time he wasn’t working he spent playing guitar on his bed under the window and trying not to think of him. The job was a good distraction.
Colin and Ed had come to visit with a bag of chips one evening, the older Greenwood boy commenting on his brother’s obvious lack of food. Jonny had brushed him off and the three of them sat on his bed facing towards the television, watching a movie Ed had brought. Jonny spent most of his time sucking salt off his fingertips, but the time he had chosen to glance up and pay attention couldn’t have been worse.
He remembered watching the movie with Thom. Remembered the feel of the older man’s arm over his shoulders, resting. Stubby fingers in dark hair at the back of his neck and that small, sedated smile on his lips when their eyes met. Now, it was him stuck between Ed and his brother, but he could have sworn he smelt that smell, the one that made his heart beat wildly in his chest and fill him with an emotion he had yet to name. Love? Comfort? Happiness?
Jonny had excused himself quickly and locked himself in the bathroom, breathing hard in the effort to calm down. He smelt his own soap to get rid of that smell, turned on the tap and splashed water on his face in desperate hope to get Thom Yorke out of his mind, to wash him away and cleanse him out of his pores.
Most days Jonny felt heart-eating sadness and gut-twisting worry. His lover, his best friend – everything was gone and he had no idea how to get him back. Often he sat up in the early hours of the morning, writing page after page of letters, all meant for him.
But other days he felt crippling anger. He would stomp around and slam doors and glare at strangers. He glared at his guitar, even. Burnt the letters he wrote, but when he calmed down, still shaking, that was the only thing he really regretted.
However, one day Jonny woke up, wiping sleep from his eyes and reaching over to turn off his alarm. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, glancing out the window for no particular reason. The sky had turned grey with clouds and soft, silent snowflakes were tumbling downwards onto the ground.
It was then that Jonny realized he had lost all hope that Thom was ever coming back.
---
The day Ben moved in, it didn't stop raining even for a second. Thom found himself running up to his front door, a box above his head in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the rain. Of course it was useless- he was already soaked, they both were, and when they finished dragging all of the boxes into the house they sat in the kitchen and laughed at each other's water dripping sweaters.
Later that day, when they sat down in the living room with large cups of tea, Thom started thinking that maybe this wasn't that bad after all, that maybe meeting Ben that the supermarket that day wasn't that much of a disaster.
Ben loved Thom, of that he was certain. It might have been the single most certain thing in his life at the moment, or even ever since he could remember. Ben was always there, always behaving as if Thom was the most interesting thing in the whole world, which always made Thom wonder what the hell was so bloody interesting about him.
Not that it mattered to Ben, it seemed as if the more Thom would push him away, the harder Ben would try to let himself in and that's how they danced until one day Thom gave up and let Ben kiss him. They were even happy for a while; Thom could vividly remember long band practices and sleepless nights before gigs that Ben never let Thom go through by himself. He would always stay awake and sooth him and repeat to his ears how great he thought Thom was, how very talented and beautiful he was and sometimes Thom would kiss him just to shut him up because he wasn't really used to people talking to him that way.
When Thom thought about those days he found it easier to forgive Ben for what he did. He somehow realized that, as hurtful and terrible as it was, Ben never really meant no harm. He thought he was doing something good, he was, as always, only trying his best to please Thom. And that was the problem- right there- no matter how close they were, Ben never really understood the depths of Thom's mind and the way in which he treated music, the way he felt about music. For Ben, it was just a song, a good one with great potential to succeed and he never really thought that selling it and earning a big amount of money could be a bad thing.
For Thom, that song was like an internal organ, it was part of him just like any of the fingers he used to write it and when Ben took it away it was the most painful form of betrayal, Thom couldn't even bear looking at Ben once he found out so he ran away, far away from there, bitterly using the money he kept receiving for the rights on his song, his song, to hide himself from anything that reminded him of it.
But there was something very comforting about being back with Ben because it reminded Thom of his previous life, the life before that bloody song, the life before Ben had betrayed him and he had to run away and hide and be found by the one person that truly found his way into Thom's heart. When Thom rubbed his nose against Ben's shoulder he could almost imagine none of it ever happened, that he never let himself fall in love with a teenager and that he never ran away like a coward and that it wasn't almost November now, that he was simply still that hopeful musician, a wreck before every gig and an explosion of adrenaline after, that things were still so simple and easy and right.
"Are you alright?" Ben's voice brought Thom back to his living room, now their living room and he looked at Ben's questioning eyes, his beautiful eyes and sighed. "Yes, I'm alright."
Ben pulled Thom closer and placed a kiss on his temple, and Thom just stopped thinking altogether.
---
He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up at his co-worker’s flat with a drink in his hand. Jonny didn’t even like drinking, but still he sat on the end of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him and one hand resting over the arm, eyes wandering the room.
Her name was Megan, the girl who had asked him to come to her party. She was short and curvy and had the friendliest smile he had ever seen. Her nickname was Sunshine, from her bright attitude or her fire-red hair he wasn’t quite sure. She lived with another girl and a boy she claimed to be her cousin, though he had dark skin and dark eyes and dark hair that puffed up and out from his head. He played bass, Jonny noticed, and was quite good at it, too. The two of them struck up a conversation before the boy said he had to go and Jonny was left alone again.
He couldn’t remember ever agreeing to come to this party, and he took another cautious sip from his glass. It tasted like cold tomato soup and he grimaced, but finished it anyway and a different drink was shoved in his direction and he found himself finishing that one, too.
Maybe he just needed an excuse to get away from his thoughts for a while. Maybe he needed something to quite that yammering, negative voice at the back of his head telling him constantly things that he didn’t want to hear. While he was at work, while he was walking to the store for a sandwich on his lunch break, while he was driving home, while he was in the shower and reading before bed and trying to sleep. The alcohol seemed to silence that, the annoying little buzz, and made everything feel warm and relaxed and like slow-moving liquid dripping from a bottle.
Someone passed him a joint and he inhaled deeply. Why not, right? He passed it to the next person, his fingers brushing theirs and noticing how the nails were painted a dark brown. He glanced up at them, and another boy smiled back before placing the joint to his lips and taking in a breath of smoke, blue eyes fixed on Jonny the whole time until he passed the thing along, hands coming to rest on his knees.
He tried, desperately hard, to tell himself that the boy looked nothing like a young version of Thom. His light blonde hair sticking up in random directions, his cheeky, off-to-the-side smile and the splash of freckles across his cheeks – none of that looked like Thom.
The boy asked him if he had ever heard of the Pixies before and Jonny knew he was done for.
“I’ve only heard Trompe le Monde,” the boy said as he placed his glass down on the table. The joint was gone and the others were flipping through CDs, trying to find the next suitable batch of music to play.
“What?” Jonny asked, voice cracking. “Are you serious? Doolittle? Surfer Rosa?”
The boy looked at him blankly and Jonny scoffed.
“You’re missing out. Trompe le Monde isn’t even their best album,” Jonny said matter-of-factly, downing the rest of his drink. “You need to hear Surfer Rosa on vinyl, it’s the best.”
“Do you have it?” the boy asked, resting his hand on his cheek and watching Jonny with an odd interest. Normally, anyone looking at him the way the boy was now would make him cower away, make him duck his head so his hair fell in front of his eyes but the alcohol had torn down his wall for the night and instead he smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, back at my flat. You want to hear it?”
They pulled on jackets and scarves and snuck out of the crowd of people, making sure Megan was nowhere in sight and no one was watching them leave. On the street Jonny dug out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to the boy, who shook his head and looked away when Jonny pulled one from the pack and crumbled the paper into a ball, tossing it into a nearby rubbish bin.
Jonny blew out a smoke ring into the air, causing the boy to smirk and grin, running a hand through his hair before shoving it back into his jacket pocket. And that definitely didn’t remind Jonny of an older man he was trying so hard to forget, not at all. Perhaps, he thought to himself, perhaps he should tell this boy, whatever his name was (Jonny had failed to ask) that he hadn’t picked up the rest of his records from his mum’s house yet, and this was all a rather clichéd little ploy to get him alone at his flat.
Though the look in the boy’s eyes told him he probably already had the idea.
“What’s your name, anyway?” Jonny asked.
“Cole,” the boy said, holding out his hand and unable to hide his smile. Jonny took it gently in his own and told him his.
“I know,” Cole said. “Megan told me about you.”
“Ah. Yeah, well,” Jonny shrugged. “Anyway, this is me. I’m up on the fourth floor. I hope you don’t mind walking up stairs. The lift is broken.”
“That’s alright, good for the heart,” Cole grinned and together they climbed up, pressing themselves against the wall when another couple came down from the second floor.
Jonny fished his key from his pockets, trying to control the shaking that had decided to creep into his bones somewhere along the walk from the party to his place. It was just from the cold, he told himself, and not the fact that he was bringing some random boy – a stranger – home. He shut the door behind them and kicked off his boots, weaving his way around the boxes into the main room, letting his scarf fall onto the chair by his desk. Cole followed him, glancing around and nodding..
“It’s got character,” he said and Jonny snorted.
“You can go ahead and say it’s a dump, I don’t care.”
Cole nibbled on his bottom lip but said nothing, at least until his eyes fell onto Jonny’s record player and the few albums he had brought with him.
“That it?” he asked. Jonny nodded and the boy knelt in front of them, flipping through them and frowning when he didn’t find what he was looking for. “Not here, mate.”
“I know,” Jonny said quietly, pulling his jacket from his shoulders. What was he doing? Fuck, he had no idea anymore. The alcohol made his brain tingle, made his words drip out slow and sweet and his lisp amplified even more. He didn’t care anymore, he didn’t care about school, or money, and he definitely didn’t care about him anymore. This was exactly what he wanted, to forget and move on.
He’s not coming back.
Cole flashed him that cheeky, off-to-the-side smile and Jonny knew that whatever little game he was playing, the boy was willing to accept the challenge. He let his jacket slip off onto the floor and stalked across the room, fingers at buttons on his shirt as he went and his lips were met with soft, open lips.
Well, this was what everyone wanted from him, wasn’t it? To go out and find someone his own age to play with, and that’s exactly what he was doing now, hands sliding down the back of the other boy’s jeans and grabbing at the flesh there, ripping a low noise from his throat. He bent down to bite at his neck, pushing him back onto the mattress and stretching out over the body below him, blonde hair against his dark pillow, blue eyes staring up into Jonny’s when he ground his hips into – shit, he had already forgotten his name. The boy didn’t care, hands were pulling off his belt and jeans and Jonny was fumbling around in his drawer for a bottle of lube he had bought himself after the second time with Th – him.
He thought it’d be easier to ignore the images when he turned the boy over and pushed inside. He thought it’d be easier to ignore the colour of his hair and the way his bones moved under his skin, and he thought it’d be easier to remember that this was some kid he had met at a party underneath him and not a middle-aged man he had fallen in love with months ago. Ages ago. Forever ago.
He’s not coming back.
What Jonny didn’t realize was just how easy it was to throw that all away and pretend his name was coming from someone else’s lips, in someone else’s voice. When he closed his eyes he saw baby-bird hair and mismatched blue eyes and a little man in a white t-shirt dancing around to punk music at a local club and he pushed hard, fingers digging into sharp hipbones and biting at a shoulder blade.
He wanted to hurt him for leaving him all alone. Leaving him defenseless and helpless and scared. For being weak and for being unable to stand up for himself – and for Jonny. He wanted to make him pay, and when he growled and spat and cursed the boy underneath him, he saw someone else entirely different behind his closed eyelids. Someone else who actually deserved the punishment he was giving out.
They collapsed together in a heap, however long later and Jonny rolled off to the side immediately, searching the bedside table for another pack of cigarettes and sighing when he couldn’t find any, running hands through his hair.
“Fuck me,” the boy gasped, eyes up at the ceiling. “That was the best shag I’ve ever had.”
“Mmm,” Jonny said, bored already and pulling a bag of weed from between two pages in a book at his bedside table and setting to work on rolling a joint. The boy watched him, nibbling on his bottom lip again and Jonny tossed him a glance.
“Yeah, it was… nice,” he mumbled after a moment, feeling that was what the boy needed to hear. He nodded, still seeming a bit unsure of the situation and Jonny went back to his joint. “Anyway, er. I’m probably just going to smoke this and go to sleep.”
“Oh,” the boy said. “Right.”
“Yeah.”
He moved from the bed and gathered his clothes off the floor, pulling his shirt over his head and giving Jonny a look.
“It was nice meeting you, Jon.”
“Yeah, you too…er –”
“Cole.”
“Right,” Jonny said, more to his fingers than the boy standing in his room. “Sorry.”
Cole shrugged and pulled his jacket over his shoulders. “It’s alright. I understand, really. Who’s Thom?”
This got his attention. His eyes shot up and were met with blue – not challenging or angry, just curious.
“W-what?” he asked, confused. The boy plucked his scarf from off the floor and twisted it around his neck.
“You said ‘Thom’, when you were…well, you know.”
Jonny blushed and ducked his head, cursing the alcohol in his blood and cursing the fact it was starting to dissolve and let his wall quickly rebuild itself, bringing out old habits.
“He’s just someone who hurt me. A while ago.”
Cole nodded and captured his bottom lip again, eyes darting to the floor and hands digging into his pockets for something.
“I’m sorry, I guess. I mean. Yeah, I’m sorry.”
Jonny shrugged. “Whatever, right? Shite happens. I’m sorry I…I just needed a distraction.”
The boy smiled at this, “It’s okay, Jon. I wasn’t expecting a relationship. I just want to get laid like everyone else.”
They laughed, the air loosening up around them and Jonny gestured towards the half-rolled joint in his hands. “I can put some music on. Er, and some clothes. If you want to stay for a while and help me finish this.”
“Nah, I should probably go. Work in the morning and all,” the boy yawned, for effect or not Jonny didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just smiled and thanked him, wished him goodnight and was glad to discover that he was perfectly capable of watching someone leave him without feeling like his heart was being ripped into two.
Chapter Nine, Part Two
---
---
Thom really meant to go back, he honestly did. When he sat down and wrote that letter to Jonny, spilling his heart on that piece of paper so openly, he really meant every word he wrote. He had it all planned out- he would go away for a while, find a job somewhere to occupy his thoughts, pass the long days until November on his own, try not to fall apart with longing to the boy he left behind.
He even had an image in his mind of a little calendar in his kitchen, counting down the days until Jonny's birthday, until it was safe to come home to the only warm place in the world. He thought again and again about the reunion, about the way Jonny's hair will be longer and about the sweater he would be wearing and about the long hug they will have by the door, the sense of relief and comfort they will have.
But Thom already knew he had to start forgetting about his plans for the fifth of November, because the fifth of November was only hours away and he was lying in bed with another man, and he felt a sudden urge to cry, to run out and scream at the trees and at the cars and at the falling rain because it was almost the fifth and what was he doing in bed with another man, where did it all go wrong, what happened to his honest dreams?
This was better, he tried reassuring himself as he listened to Ben's breathing from the other side of the bed. This was how it was meant to be, how destiny wanted it, this was natural and reasonable and it felt like the right thing to do, laying there next to a man his age, a man who he wasn't holding back, a man who would do anything for him, who loved him.
Thom couldn't sleep that night and when the clock crossed over to the next day he got out of bed and stood by the window, cursing the moon and the time passing, cursing himself for doing the right thing.
---
The fifth of November brought fireworks and cake and helium balloons in colours Jonny couldn’t see. Most of the day was spent cooped up in his room, eating leftovers and throwing kernels of popcorn at the TV screen whenever one of the characters particularly annoyed him. He had set up a point system in his boredom.
He hated to admit that he had gotten his hopes up. As the days crept closer to his eighteenth birthday, he began to jump up quickly at any sound of a door opening downstairs, or his telephone ringing, or people walking in the hallways. He nearly had a heart attack when a sandy-blonde pizza delivery boy had accidentally knocked on his door instead of his neighbor’s.
When the fifth finally arrived he had lost sleep, going over in his head what he would do or say when he opened the door to a small man he missed more than he could say. More than he wanted to say. He was stuck between giving him a well-deserved punch in the face, or simply pulling him into the flat and taking him right there against the door. It all depended on how he was feeling. Despite this, Jonny wanted everyone to believe that he was angry, and that he didn’t care anymore. That he had finally moved on, but everyone was able to see through him.
Colin visited often, usually accompanied by a bag full of food, some of which was homemade, and an old video or two from the corner store. He never mentioned Thom, knowing full well his brother would dismiss the name quicker than he could breathe it, change the subject or ignore him completely. Even Ed knew not to ask (though Colin chose to give him a small lecture on it anyway).
They were both there for the boy though, and more times than either of them wanted to count had held back his hair when he got sick after drinking too much, and handed him tissues when he broke down in tears afterwords, asking questions no one had the answer to. They had reassured waitresses over and over again that their crying mess of a friend or brother was fine. Really. He just needs a glass of water, please and thank you. They glared at people who gave Jonny odd looks when he started crying at the cinema during comedy movies, took him outside and watched him pace back and forth or listened to him rant about something that wasn’t really bothering him, but he pretended was just so he could avoid discussing the real issue.
December brought cold, biting winds and a holiday from work which Jonny decided would be best if he went home to see his mother for a few days. The fact that his shower had stopped working and his flat was an icebox had nothing to do with that, of course, nor did the fact that he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal fresh from the kitchen in months.
His mother welcomed him with an awkward hug and the two of them barely shared words over the dinner table – Colin did most of the talking for him. She was angry at her youngest son for not going to school and running out of the house as quickly as he did, but he had his reasons and she knew that. Now she really couldn’t do anything to stop him, either.
Still, despite the tension she would reach her hands up and tangle her fingers through his hair when he was at the sink cleaning dishes, messing it up and tsking that he should really cut it, it was getting scraggly. Jonny rolled his eyes and tried to hide the yawn his mother playing with his hair never failed to give him, accidentally getting dish soap on his cheek.
Christmas itself was uneventful. His list consisted of words scratched out until he decided he didn’t want anything, though his stocking was full of chocolate and small puzzles. What he really wanted to write on that slip of paper taped to the fridge was “Thom”, but he knew the look he would receive from his mother if he went through with it. Besides, he was supposed to be pretending he wasn’t missing that man with every fiber of his being.
He hadn’t had enough money to buy either of his family members anything big or expensive, but they reassured him that they understood. He had even bought Ed something small, and the older boy lit up when he saw the wrapped package, pulling Jonny into a bone-crunching, one-armed hug. The three of them shared eggnog in Colin’s room and laughing at each other’s failed attempts to play Neil Young songs. Jonny claimed he knew half of one, but was too shy to play it, and the teasing and picking only made him blush more and grow quieter, and then they understood.
“He was supposed to be here,” he muttered to his almost-full glass. “I figured that after I turned eighteen…”
Colin and Ed glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Most times Jonny kept everything he was thinking about Thom inside, but the odd time he would open up. They just had to be patient and never pressure him. Colin watched as his younger brother turned his glass in his fingers, hair still dangling over his face.
“Maybe he’s forgotten about me,” he continued.
“No way, Jon. He hasn’t forgotten about you. Maybe he’s just lost track of time?” Ed said hopefully. Jonny shook his head.
“He’s moved on, I bet. Well, good. Really. I was holding him back, right?”
Colin looked at his friend again and sighed. Jonny took a sip of eggnog and grimaced at the taste, moving his drink to rest atop his brother’s bedside table and running his hands over his legs to get rid of the drops that had gathered on his hand from the glass, melting into his jeans like wet snow on pavement.
---
Colin already got used to not having Jonny around the house. There were some good things about it, he thought as he lazily brushed his teeth, like having the shower all to himself and for as long as he wanted.
But Colin missed Jonny's presence more than he could ever admit and he knew his mother felt the same. She never let any of it out; she always behaved as if Jonny leaving the house was something she couldn't really prevent, like there was nothing she could really do about it now. Colin watched her in her small everyday rituals, as she read the mail or washed the dishes and he watched her talking on the phone or reading a book and he knew that a part of her died the day Jonny left, not only because he wasn't there but also because of the way he left, the way he looked at her now, they way she knew he might never forgive her.
Now as the holidays were behind them Colin got used to having the house to himself and sitting alone at the big kitchen table in the morning only made him miss Jonny more, only made him wish his brother was there with him, probably glaring at him from behind his bowl of cereal, still not fully awake, sleep still draping his eyes and his mind.
Colin was so drawn into his thoughts that he nearly didn't hear the knock on the door. It was a very weak knock and it made Colin wonder who would knock that way, almost as if he didn't want to be heard. Colin left the kitchen and slowly made his way to the door, not bothering to look through the peeking hole before unlocking the door and opening it.
It took Colin a long moment to understand who was standing in front of him.
It took him even longer to decide what he was going to say. The outcome wasn't all that satisfying, in his opinion.
"Thom." He said it out loud only to hear the sound of it, to see if his ears believed it, because his mind didn't.
"Colin!"
Thom looked different. He had lost weight, if that was even possible, and a ginger beard was possessing his cheeks, his hair was longer and he looked, well, he looked older.
"Is Jonny here?"
Colin realized he was staring and he blinked and shook his head, not knowing how to behave, not knowing whether to punch Thom right in the nose of to hug him.
"No, he's not."
Thom paled and rubbed his cheeks, swallowing hard before he spoke very slowly. "Where is he?"
Colin just looked at him.
"Colin, I need you to tell me where he is, please."
But Colin just kept staring, feeling idiotic about not being able to form the words, not even knowing where to begin.
Thom snapped and grabbed Colin by the shoulders, shaking him gently. "Colin!"
"He..."
Hope was spreading across Thom's face as he let Colin go.
"Where is he?"
"He doesn't want to see you."
"Oh god..." Thom covered his eyes before raising them for a piercing gaze, one that Colin tried to avoid.
"Look at me!"
Colin straightened himself and drowned into that blue again.
"I need to know where Jonny is. I know I've made a mistake and I know..."
It was starting to rain and Colin looked up at the clouds, relieved to be released from the grasp of Thom's gaze.
"Fuck! Just...I have the right to at least try...Please Colin..."
And the rain was already starting to drip down from Thom's hair down his forehead and onto his nose, Colin taking a moment to follow one particular drop with his eyes. Thom looked frustrated as the drop fell down from the tip of his nose and Colin just turned around and disappeared into the house, returning a few short moments later with a white note.
"You hurt him real bad, you know." Colin muttered as he pushed the note into Thom's damp palm.
"Thank you" Thom almost whispered and within seconds he was gone, leaving one dry square on the pavement where his car was parked.
Chapter Ten, Part One
Colin stood with the front door open for what could have been hours or a mere few minutes until he realised the cool air was making his hand on the doorknob numb and a few dry leaves had managed to slip their way past his feet. He swept them out and shut the door behind him, staring off at the wall a moment before shaking his head and pressing forward, only to pause again.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done that.
Although he had been to visit his baby brother quite often at his flat, Colin wasn’t sure how Jonny felt about Thom – specifically, how he felt about the possibility of him returning. Colin knew that, despite what his brother said and even told himself, there was still some tiny, little flicker of hope residing somewhere in his gut that Thom would come back, and drops of doubt constantly threatened to distinguish it. Rather unfortunately for Jonny, Colin thought, they hadn’t.
The boy had struggled to get over the older man, and in his struggle had neglected almost everything else. His flat was a mess: unpacked boxes littering the small room, sheets of music and notes fluttered down from the table top and his nightstand. Even Jonny’s hair had grown long and shaggy; it was always in his eyes when he bent over his guitar, strands of it clinging desperately onto his dry lips. He had even stopped shaving for a few days and Colin had blatantly stared at him, amazed at how much a little facial hair could change his baby brother’s entire appearance.
And finally, finally it seemed to Colin as though Jonny was getting there, that he was finally allowing himself to let Thom go. He had cleaned his place up a bit. He had shaved and even mentioned getting a haircut, though he never actually went through with it. Progress was progress though, right?
But just when Jonny seemed to have taken a turn for the better Thom had come crawling back, and instead of helping his brother out Colin had shoved the older man – the one who had hurt his brother worse than any name-calling or painful shoves into a locker ever could – into the younger boy’s arms.
What had he done?
Colin glanced back towards the closed door. It was too late now; Thom was probably already halfway there. Maybe he was wrong, anyway. What did he know about what his brother needed?
It haunted him the rest of the day, worried sick that he had done something horrible. Perhaps Thom hadn’t gone back to Jonny to apologize, to beg for forgiveness like Colin hoped he had. He didn’t know what else Thom could have come back for, but as the hours wore on he managed to come up with ideas – most of them ridiculous until an even more abstract one took its place.
He couldn’t finish his meals, and afterward picked up the telephone and called.
Once.
Twice.
Three times with no answer, each time he grew more and more frustrated. Jonny was not one to spontaneously do something irrational, but then again Colin never thought his brother was the type of boy to go around sleeping with older men.
He was just out for the night, Colin told himself. In fact, he probably left hours ago – before Thom even came here. He probably hasn’t even seen Thom. Maybe the older man left.
Maybe this will all work out after all.
Or maybe he had seen Thom. Maybe Thom was apologizing right now.
Or maybe he wasn’t, and Jonny had drank himself to oblivion again. Colin shook the thoughts from his head, cursing himself under his breath. He was being silly. He had nothing to worry about.
He hoped.
Eventually, giving up on ever reaching Jonny, he went to bed with a promise to himself that first thing the next morning he would go over to his brother’s flat just to make sure everything was alright. With a sigh he turned off his light, readying himself to face a night of sleepless tossing and turning, bad thoughts out-weighing the good and a humming anxiety for the first sign of morning light.
---
The storm outside matched perfectly the storm that went on inside Thom's head. It took him a lot of courage to bring himself to knock on that door, the door of the house where Jonny grew up, the house he was shamefully kicked out of the last time he had set foot in there.
Thom nearly lost his nerve completely when he realised there was a possibility that Colin won't give him the location of his younger brother, realizing just how fragile it all was, how quickly he could lose the sudden need to make it all right again, to bring Jonny back into his arms and to spend the rest of his life trying to gain Jonny's forgiveness.
Thom blinked his eyes and pushed the brakes, thinking that he saw something crossing the road ahead of him. He could barely make out the road through the pouring rain and he pulled over, the memories of his ugly accident rushing back to him, the chill of the white hospital corridors still fresh in his mind.
This time he won't let it happen, he won't let the confusing thoughts about the boy he'd left behind run him into a tree or anything worse, he'll just sit and let both of the storms to calm a little before moving on. He couldn't fuck this up, not this time, he had it all planned out.
The way he'll pull Jonny close to him and apologize a thousand times, the way he'll explain to Jonny that he never meant to hurt him, that he would rather die then hurt him, that every single thing that he's done was in thought about what's best for Jonny and...
fuck.
He's never going to believe it now, is he? As true as it all was, even in Thom's mind it sounded like bullocks, like some made up lies that were only meant to make Thom appear as less of the coward that he really was.
Yes, Thom was a coward but he wasn't afraid of Mrs Greenwood or of what people would say, not even from the cops or the threat of being thrown into prison. He was afraid to hurt the only living soul that didn't deserve it, the one person that ever gave him a clear chance, from the very start, that didn't write him off as a lunatic or as a freak, and that listened to what he had to say and even answered back. Maybe he was afraid to feel the way he felt with Jonny, so exposed and honest, not able to hide anymore, Jonny would never let Thom cry for no reason, but sometimes he understood without a word.
Maybe he was afraid because that beautiful creature seemed to have picked him, him of all people, and somehow in Thom's mind it still made no sense.
Or maybe he was afraid because of the possibility that Jonny has already moved on, that he'll open the door with someone else's scent on his skin, someone else in his bed, that he already forgot about Thom and found himself someone his own age. Thom shivered at this thought and placed his forehead on the stirring wheel, his palms covering his face.
A little voice made its way to the front of Thom's mind – You could still turn around a leave, get back to your usual self, never look back again, leave him alone, leave him be. He could still do it, disappear again, get back to his twisted sense of justice where he had to spend the rest of his life with the person who broke his heart more than any other, the person that could never understand him, get back to being miserable, just the way he always was. Always, until someone almost half his age taught him that there's also another way.
Thom listened to the rain outside, still falling relentlessly, making everything blurry and unclear.
---
Jonny tried cleaning his flat. Again. Every time he tired cleaning his flat there was something that made him give up and throw the broom stick or the duster away to rot in their sad little corner until the next time.
This time it was a shirt that he had found under the bed, a shirt that belonged to him, it even still smelled like him a bit, Jonny couldn't help but instinctively bringing the piece of cloth up to his nose and inhale deeply, the smell causing his head to spin and the aching twist in his heart to appear and remind Jonny that this shirt was there from before.
From before he realized that Thom was not coming back.
Jonny bitterly threw the shirt into the garbage bin and sat down by the window with a cigarette, lighting it as he looked at the rain making its way down in determination. He won't let it bring him down, not this time, not again. He was so far behind that by now.
He was already far behind everything, which kind off made him sigh in relief when he came to think of it. He already made it through the hardest phases, those of hope, realization, anger and sorrow. He already felt as if the wounds were ready to heal, he was ready to start over. To make this a part of his past, an unpleasant part, one that he would push away into the depths of his memory and perhaps return to pick up at some distant point in the future – when he'll already be old enough to understand that falling in love like that is silly and immature, that trusting is for the youth and that faith is something that only exists in fairy tales.
There are no princes on white horses and there no older men with old guitars and angelic voices to come rescue him, not really. Jonny would most likely have to rescue himself. Jonny wondered if he was strong enough to do that, to move on. To truly accept the fact the he'll never see Thom again. To learn to live with the way Thom had broke his heart, to heal the damage that was made, maybe to even love again.
Jonny wasn't sure, but he thought it might be starting to happen. There were no big changes or signs, but every morning he was a little less surprised when he woke up and realized that Thom wasn't there, every night was a little easier to fall asleep, just a little easier. Jonny wished he could already go through a whole day without the memories of Thom's touch on his skin, of Thom's voice in his ears, of Thom's presence in his life. He prayed for one day without having to remember how it felt being with Thom and how it felt to be forgotten, to be left behind.
Jonny inhaled deeply and opened a little crack in the window to let the smoke flow out into the cold. He shivered at the freezing wind that blew itself into his room and pulled a blanket over himself, already thinking next about the soup he might make for himself later and about the grocery list that sat on the fridge for too long and about how he'd like to maybe find a small dog or a cat to keep him company in those long winter afternoons.
And then Jonny heard a knock on the door and all of the thoughts have faded away.
Jonny squashed his cigarette off and got up, letting the blanket fall off of his shoulders. It wasn't really like Colin to show up without a notice, and it made him a little uneasy as he clicked the locks open.
Jonny opened the door.
Jonny slammed the door shut.
There was silence then, Jonny leaning against the door for a moment, his heart sinking and his mind still blank in shock, his eyes refusing to believe what they just saw.
So he looked through the peeking hole and it was still there. Him, he was still there, still standing there, so misplaced and uncommon, like out of a dream or a nightmare. Maybe Jonny banged his head against the sink and passed out, maybe he was hallucinating; maybe this was just –
"Jonny?"
Sweet mother of god, that voice. Jonny jumped back, feeling stupid for the sudden feeling that Thom could see him right back through that peeking hole, that he could hear him breathe and think.
Jonny locked the door, feeling as if there was a wolf outside, a demon from the past that came there to haunt him, still refusing to believe that he was actually there.
You're acting kinda silly, Jon-Jon, a little voice in Jonny's head told him, but he didn't care, he won every right to act kinda silly.
"Jonny...please...open up..."
Jonny looked again, promising to himself that Thom couldn't see him back, that he won't get burnt by only looking, looking has never harmed anyone.
"Jon..."
Thom looked different. He had a beard and longer hair and sharper cheekbones and he almost looked...he almost looked scared.
"Jonny, please. At least say something. Let me hear your voice."
Jonny jumped back again as if he had been burnt. Seeing Thom like this, hearing the despair in his voice, almost made Jonny feel something other than rage and hurt, only almost.
"I'm sorry."
How will Jonny make him go away?
"I'm so sorry."
If he could only escape through the bathroom window.
"I love you."
"Go away!"
"No! Jonny, please! Let me in!"
"Fuck off!"
"Jonny..."
Thom's voice broke in two and Jonny didn't have to look to see that he was crying.
"You've every right to hate me. But...but please. Let me see you, let me talk to you, please..."
Jonny was starting to get tired of this.
"No. Just go."
"You have to at least...let me explain..."
That was the last straw for Jonny, who was only looking for a reason to snap and he was shouting, screaming, letting months of frustration out through his voice, not caring of who could hear him. "I don't have to do anything! I don't owe you anything! You lost every right to even speak to me long ago, Thomas! So just fuck the fuck off! I never want to see you again! I swear to god, I'm going to call the police and tell them you've molested me, tell them you're harassing me, if you don't fuck off Right. Now!"
Jonny was left gasping for air, his head leaning against the door and his fingers digging into the wood, his heart sinking even lower than it was when he heard the footsteps in the corridor pacing away from his door.
That was exactly what he wanted and yet Jonny did not feel relieved. He felt like crying and so he did, finally letting himself break apart and shudder, sliding to the floor with his head between his hands, allowing himself to cry openly and truly, like a child.
Chapter Ten, Part Two
---
---
Jonny only got off the floor because he needed another cigarette.
He climbed up the chair next to the window and before he could even reach the lighter his heart sank for the third time when his eyes deciphered the small character standing in the rain outside his window, looking up and not letting go. Just standing there, being soaked to the bone, Jonny wiped away the last shred of his tears to make sure that it was really him again, that he really wasn't wearing a coat or a scarf, that he was really just standing there, the only thing protecting him from the rain aside from a thin shirt was his slim hands wrapped around him.
He's going to find his death out there, the stupid little voice was making another appearance, causing Jonny to drop the cigarette that was still dumbly placed in the corner of his mouth.
How long has he been standing there already, Jonny tried thinking, remembering the freezing wind that filled his lungs only after a few seconds of cracking open his window, looking down the street again to see that Thom was visibly shaking, even from that distance it was clear.
Jonny hated Thom even more for making him open the window and pulling out his head, for making him call out his name and telling him to come up, for leaving him no other choice than to deal with him.
Thom disappeared inside the building and Jonny went to unlock the door, not believing that he was actually folding so easily, that he's actually gonna let the man that he swore never to trust again into his flat, back into his life. He had to reassure himself that it was only temporary, that it might be a good chance for a closure, to let Thom know what he's thinking, give him a little piece of his mind, make him understand just how bad he had hurt him.
By the time Thom showed up at his door again, wet and shivering, Jonny had already convinced himself that this was a very good idea, that this was exactly what he needed to finally make himself move on.
"Come in," he mumbled and Thom did, still hugging himself, bringing in with him a chill and leaving a trail of rainwater on the floor. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not being able to speak with his teeth still clicking together, which was good, Jonny thought, because it gave him the chance to speak first.
"I don't know why I let you in here. I guess I don't want you dead. At least not on my doorstep."
"Jo-Jonny..." Thom could barely let the words out, his shaking only becoming stronger, almost violent now.
"I need you to know that...that I'm over you. That I stopped waiting for you a long time ago. That I'm glad you didn't show up when I was still waiting, because that gave me the chance to realize who you really are, that you're not...You're not who I thought you were."
"Wait..."
"I used to look up to you, you were everything to me, everything I wanted to have and to be and... Now look at you," Jonny walked up to Thom until he was only inches away and hissed into his face, "You're pathetic."
"Jonny, stop..."
"Why should I stop? What reason do I have to stop?!"
Jonny was towering Thom now, feeling superior for once over the shaking figure in the middle of his flat. They were both breathing hard, silent for a moment before Thom whispered something and Jonny shook his head.
"What did you say?"
"I said-I said I love you..."
"Don't you fucking say that!"
"I love you!"
"Shut up!"
The voices grew louder and louder until the sound of flesh hitting flesh tore the room back into silence. Jonny wasn't a violent person but somehow that made him feel better, so he did it again.
Or at least he tried before Thom had grabbed his wrist, surprising in his ability to struggle back in spite of his condition, blocking Jonny's efforts to punch him again and again until tackling him onto the bed and pinning him down, still stronger then the boy even in his state, holding his lean wrists above his head while Jonny hissed and exposed teeth, not giving up the fight just yet.
"Get off of me! I hate you! I don't need you, get off!"
"Shhh, Jonny, please..."
"I can find someone my own age to fuck, I already have, plenty of them, they were all better than you – let go! Let go of me! Let go..."
And finally silence was wrapping the room, making the scene that encountered in the middle of it very clear:
Thom, water still dripping from his hair, every part of his body still soaked and shaking violently, pinning down Jonny to the bed, who blinked every time a drop would made its way down from the man above him, breathing through his teeth, his eyes red with anger.
"I hate you..." He whispered and Thom sighed.
"I'm so sorry. I meant to come back, I swear..."
"So why –" Jonny was already crying again, too weak to hold it in any longer. "Why didn't you?"
Thom looked like he had just realised what he brought himself into. He wouldn't lie, not this time, never again. He had no other choice but to tell the truth. "Ben...he-he found me. I was back with him. I thought it was for the best if I just let go of you, let you live your life..."
Thom should have seen it coming, really, the hate jumping out of Jonny's every muscle once again as he wriggled and shook under Thom's strong grasp. "But I couldn't, Jonny. I couldn't live without you. I can't! I won't!" Thom still managed to let those words out before the shivering and Jonny's struggle broke him down and he let himself give in, be rolled over and pinned down beneath the younger man who just looked at him and Thom thought that he didn't really mind from now on, whatever Jonny chose to do with him was fine.
So he smiled. "Jonathan..."
"Don't call me that!"
"I love you."
"Shut. Up!"
"Jonathan..."
And then Jonny did the last thing that Thom had expected him to do. He kissed Thom- but not gently or lustfully as he used to, it was a kiss of anger, a kiss that was only meant to shut his mouth, Thom didn't care really, he let Jonny attack his lips until they both tasted blood and Jonny pulled away, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes.
"You say you love me..."
He said it in a low voice that came straight from his stomach and then he flipped Thom over and tore his damp trousers down, one hand violently shoving Thom's head down to the mattress and the other pulling down his own pants. He spat into it and started pushing in almost in the same movement and Thom gasped, not really making a sound, letting Jonny do whatever he pleased.
Jonny didn't stop until he heard the ragged way in which Thom's breath was coming out and understood that the older man was crying. Only then he noticed that Thom was still shaking, that his skin was still cold and his clothes still wet.
The hand that was tangled inside Thom's damp hair came to Jonny's mouth as he realized what he had just done and he slowly pulled himself away from the trembling body under him. He pulled Thom gently by the shoulder and examined his face, Thom avoiding his gaze all the while.
"Thom..." He pulled Thom up into a silent hug, holding him close, trying to sooth his shivers and make them go away.
He then gently pulled away the wet pieces of cloth that still covered Thom, one by one, and wrapped him in a blanket, still no words exchanged between them as they mutely hugged, their tears blending together until it made no difference who was crying them anymore.
They slowly kissed each other, not making a sound, until Thom's shivering had ceased and only then Jonny had kissed his way to Thom's ear and whispered that he was sorry, so sorry.
"I want you back, " Thom murmured all of a sudden and Jonny smiled, moving his fingers once again over Thom's beard, stopping at the spot that had the most grey in it and sighing.
"It might take a while," He whispered back and Thom pulled him down onto the bed so that Jonny was weighing down on him again, only this time he held him tight and Jonny sighed again.
"I know, but I'll do anything." And then nothing mattered anymore because Jonny found himself inside Thom again, the older man pulling him, inviting him in, moaning his name and kissing his neck and before he even knew it he was reaching the relief that he had been searching for all of these long days of waiting.
They held each other for hours later, not being able to let go in fear that the void they both felt would return, that out of this bed the world was still cold and cynical, that the understanding they shared without words in the arms of each other would fade away once they let go.
So they stayed there until sleep took them, the rain outside no longer something they had to worry about.
---
Colin had spent most of the morning picking up the phone, only to stare at it and place it back in its cradle and resume pacing back and forth. He argued with himself for hours, assuring himself his brother was fine, he didn’t need Colin to intervene, while another part of him nagged at him to go to his flat and make sure everything was alright.
He wasn’t quite sure what would be worse – Jonny left torn and broken and in a bigger mess than he was before, especially after finally beginning to recover, or Jonny enraged at him for ever allowing the older man to find where he lived. Colin swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair.
He had spoken to Ed before his friend had left for work, chattering away nervously and listening only when Ed had enough and told him to shut up, he had to think. The other boy had made a valid point that Jonny was old enough to take care of himself, and although Colin knew it was true, a part of him – the over-protective brother part of him – couldn’t help but remember those nights he had come to find Jonny passed out from drinking too much, or shaking and sobbing with the tips of his fingers bloody from hours and hours of playing guitar.
That was not something Colin wanted to relive again, and memories flashed behind his eyes of his brother’s face, like everything beautiful in the world had suddenly disappeared. He didn’t want to put Jonny through that again.
He should at least make sure everything was alright. Especially after he finally got the courage to ring him up again and was given no reply. The thoughts brewing in his mind only made the sick feeling in his stomach worse.
Finally he decided that it would be best to drive over there. Just to make sure, and maybe even to apologize for not warning Jonny that Thom was in town and wanted to see him. He owed that to him, right?
It hadn’t stopped raining, and Colin drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel at each stoplight, fidgeting until it turned green again and he could concentrate on driving.
It was understandable why Colin hesitated before knocking on the door of his brother’s flat. Or at least, so he thought. It had been so easy to do before all these times, before when he knew what he’d find waiting for him on the other side. A sad, tired boy that was secretly glad for his brother’s attention – though he’d never really admit it. Colin listened quietly for any hint of life beyond the door, but all he could hear was a television from somewhere down the hall and a dog barking upstairs.
He knocked again, his throat tight and his heart beating wildly in his chest.
Forever and a day passed before the door cracked open, and from it emerged a half-dressed, sleepy younger brother.
“Jonny,” Colin pulled the boy into a hug and Jonny sputtered before responding, a hand patting the older boy’s back.
“Er, hi, Colin.”
“I’m so sorry, Jon. I should have phoned you, I should have asked your permission first,” he said, rushed and quiet. Jonny wiped sleep from his eyes and gazed at him, confused.
“What?”
Colin stared for a moment, silent.
“Er…have you…um. Have you spoken to…to Thom?”
It took a moment, but the younger boy clued in. Eyes widening, he turned around and pulled the door to the flat shut behind him quietly, hands rubbing the goose bumps away from his arms.
“Yeah, I did.”
Colin’s heart fluttered and he nodded, “and?”
Jonny nibbled on his bottom lip, brushed a strand of hair from his eyes and looked down at his toes.
“Um, he’s sleeping right now.”
“He’s…he’s still here?” the older boy frowned, taken aback. “You mean…have you two worked things out?”
“If you want to call it that.”
“What happened?” Despite his brother obviously being safe and sound, Colin was still unable to hide the hint of worry in his voice. Jonny rolled his eyes.
“We had a row. And I sort of kicked him out –”
Colin snorted, and with a look allowed his brother to continue.
“But it was freezing and raining, so I brought him back in…and, well.”
“What?”
Jonny blushed and Colin grimaced.
“Oh for – are you serious?”
“Four times.”
“I really don’t – four, Jonathan? So that’s why you didn’t answer your phone?”
“I –”
“No,” Colin threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re … unbelievable, Jonny.”
The younger boy shrugged and nibbled on his fingernail.
“We still have some things to work out, of course. But, you know. I don’t know. I’m alright. I think everything is going to be alright,” Jonny said more to the wall then to his brother and Colin sighed.
“Are you sure?”
Jonny smiled, turning back to his brother.
“No. But who’s ever sure anymore?”
Chapter Ten, Part Three
---
---
When Thom woke up, he found Jonny looking at him, exploring him with his gaze, his knees pulled beneath his chin and his fingers between his lips. Thom rose up and pushed the sleep away from his eyes, feeling a sudden urge to apologize again, a new fear that Jonny might have already regretted last night entering his bones and making him shudder.
But then Jonny smiled and Thom melted into a puddle. "Good morning. I thought you'd never wake up..."
"Well, I'm - I was exhausted."
Jonny blushed at the memories of last night and Thom couldn't help but pull him down into the blanket and into his firm grip again, pulling their bodies together, Jonny's body heat relaxing and intoxicating him at the same time.
"Your hair is so long," Thom eventually said when he could finally bring himself to stop kissing the younger man.
"You have a beard," Jonny replied, the two of them realising all of a sudden just how much they had missed.
"When did you move in here?" Thom's fingers followed a long strand of silky black hair and he sighed, inhaling the scent of Jonny's skin into his lungs, he could never be tired of this scent.
"After you left. I couldn't stand even looking in my mum's direction anymore, so I just took off."
"What about college? You were applying..."
"Well I couldn't...I had to work full time to keep this place. I still do. I had to call in sick today."
Thom pulled back to have a look at Jonny's face, looking to find a hint of anger or regret. Instead, he only found a faint smile and he pulled back, burying his face in Jonny's neck and whispering against warm skin.
"I'm so, so sorry..."
"I know," Jonny soothingly ran his fingers through Thom's hair.
"You can still make it, you know." Thom said later when they finally broke apart.
"College, I mean. Spring semester, you can still apply. If that's what you want."
Jonny was about to protest when he found that he had nothing to protest about. So he just let his palm find its way under the blanket and on Thom's skin, watching in interest as the older man's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.
---
It felt different, Jonny thought. Everything that had happened since Thom had shown up, soaking wet and shivering at his door was different. He no longer had to sneak through windows and pull his hoods closer to his neck to hide the marks left there by teeth and lips. He went to work with a blush on his cheeks and instead of daydreaming about the day Thom would return to him, found himself daydreaming about what he would do as soon as he got home. How the two of them could work on songs again, guitars in their laps and knees touching, and of all the meals Thom had told him he would make one day. They needed to go grocery shopping, and had meant to days ago but ended up rather distracted with one another and the cupboards were now bare and empty.
Thom had helped Jonny unpack the rest of his things one afternoon when he didn’t have to work, making a game out of it. Whoever unpacked their box first got to make the other one do something. Jonny had asked with a mischievous grin what “something” was, and the older man had merely replied that it could be anything at all. Of course, this only fueled his curiosity more and the boy made sure he would be the last to finish unloading one of his boxes, and was rather disappointed when Thom told him he had to clean the toilet afterward.
He made sure he won the next round, making Thom do something just as degrading – going down to the laundry room wearing nothing but socks and boxers. He laughed from the doorway when Thom came back with an empty basket and a sour look on his face, closing the door shut before the older man could come inside and listened to him growling to be let in from the other side of the wood, trying to hold back his giggles. When he finally thought Thom had been humiliated enough he let him in, only to find himself pinned to the wall with his trousers down and baby-bird hair between his fingers, finally, after so long.
Despite their fun and games, Jonny found it weird, having Thom with him all the time when he was so used to him not being there at all. He often forgot to knock before entering the bathroom and most days just walked in, mind elsewhere entirely until he bumped into Thom coming out of the shower or something of the sort. It often left him flustered, though the older man laughed it off and jokingly asked him to knock next time as he brushed past him out of the tiny room.
It was even weirder, Jonny thought, waking up next to him every morning. Small arms wrapped around his stomach and lips resting at his neck, breath soft against the skin. He loved it, of course. He relished in the feeling of it, and most days felt the urge to skip work and lay in bed all day under the covers. However, it still felt, well, weird.
“It’ll take some getting used to, Jon. You’re used to living alone, doing your own things,” Thom said one day as he leaned over the sink, towel around his hips and a white beard of shaving cream decorating his chin. Jonny was sitting at the tub in his work clothes, poking at a hole in the mat with his toe.
“I mean,” Thom continued. “I didn’t really ask if I could stay, could I? If you want I could go get a hotel or –”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Thomas,” Jonny interrupted. “I want you here. I’ve wanted to wake up next to you ever since I met you. I’m glad you’re here everyday. It’s just…it’s just different.”
Thom tapped a bit of foam off into the sink and went back to shaving.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Jonny sighed, watching him. Thom grinned at him in the mirror.
“It looks awful. I look ten times older. I’m going grey before my time.”
Jonny had to agree, Thom’s beard did look a little odd – especially with the off patch of grey. But it wasn’t how it looked that Jonny liked, it was how it felt. He had always imagined a beard to be rough and coarse, but oddly Thom’s wasn’t. And although he didn’t like to admit it, the feeling of it against the inside of his thigh was more than enough to make him squirm.
The look Thom was giving him seemed to say he knew exactly what the boy was thinking, which just made him blush more.
“Dirty boy,” he muttered and Jonny sniffed.
“I can’t help it. You’ve been gone ages, Thom. I haven’t gotten a good shag since you left.”
The older man laughed, rinsing off his razor and going back for another patch of hair.
“What about all those others you slept with, hmm? The ones that were so much better than me?”
Jonny rolled his eyes. “You should know by now I’ll use my bratty ways to get whatever I want. I lied again. There was only one boy, and he – well, he was good. But he wasn’t you.”
Thom said nothing, finishing up with his shaving and letting the water out of the sink. Jonny watched him clean up his mess and put on aftershave, nibbling on his bottom lip until the older man spun around and grinned.
“What?”
“This is the part where you come up and start rubbing my face. You know, like in those shaving commercials?” Thom explained.
“Go touch yourself, then. If you’re so into it.”
Thom laughed and pulled the boy off the edge of the tub and into his arms, touching the tip of his nose to Jonny’s and letting his eyes flutter shut.
“I missed you,” he whispered and Jonny let out a long breath, allowing himself to melt and mold into the arms around him.
“I missed you.”
“Are you starting to forgive me?”
“Well, you’ve gone a step or two back, now that you’ve shaved the beard off.”
“I look younger,” Thom argued.
“You look like you could be my age,” Jonny agreed. “Well, maybe not that young.”
“I can’t help it that you’re a naughty little minx that likes to fuck older men.”
Jonny grinned, “You do everything in your power not to.”
“I don’t hear you complaining,” Thom observed and Jonny’s grip on him tightened.
“Shut up,” he mumbled against his lips, settling back against the wall and pulling Thom with him. One hand pulling him closer, the other trailing down his back and into the fabric of the towel, eventually untangling it and sending it falling to the floor in a pile.
“Oops,” Jonny lisped, feigning innocence and Thom growled, pressing himself closer to the boy and pulling impatiently at his t-shirt, trying to ignore the cartoon washing machine grinning back at him from the fabric. It wasn’t doing much other than to make Jonny seem more his age, something the day-old stubble on his chin and the lustful look he was giving him failed to do – and that was only making Thom all the more impatient.
Jonny nudged him back and they stumbled, falling together onto the bathroom floor a little roughly, Thom cursing and rubbing at the back of his head as Jonny laughed and straddled him, normally calculated hands fumbling with the buttons of his fly and Thom reaching up to help pull his belt from the loops. Jonny lifted himself enough to wriggle out of his jeans and began to move none-too-gently against the older man as his hand blindly searched one of the drawers for a bottle of lube, stubby fingers trailing up under his t-shirt and tightening over his hips.
He found it at last and went to work peeling the wrapper off, ignoring Thom’s arched eyebrows as he watched the boy squeeze a fair amount in his hand and reached between them to coat his straining erection, Thom arching into his touch until Jonny bent down to kiss and bite at his lips, moving into position and with a single, fluid motion he pushed himself onto the older man and began to rock himself immediately, throwing his head back to let out a long groan.
Thom watched, hands tightening around the boy’s sides as he grinded against him, cheeks flushed and dark eyes glued to his. The floor was cold and hard against his back, a little uncomfortable but he ignored it, throwing his focus entirely onto Jonny, working himself into a pant and moving his hand over his own cock. Being sentimental was obviously not his motive this time around – they had spent hours each day after Jonny came home from work, just lying in bed and exploring one another again, worried they had forgotten something in the past.
Now, this was different. Jonny riding him with abandon, moaning every time Thom thrust his hips up into him. This was something Jonny had been afraid to do the whole time they had snuck around with one another before. All those times had been about sharing one another, and this – this was Jonny showing. He wasn’t some fragile, teenaged boy that was easily broken anymore. He wasn’t vulnerable, and he sure as hell wasn’t innocent.
And Thom realized, as Jonny came hard over him with a strangled cry, just seconds before his own, that he had never wanted to be treated that way in the first place. He had always been prepared for the bumps and the cuts love often offered.
It wasn’t Jonny who had been terrified before, it was Thom.
Chapter Ten, Part Four
---
---
Thom smiled to himself when he heard the lock in the front door, acoustic resting on his lap and notebook flipped open in front of him, pen in hand. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the bed frame and a cool breeze coming in from the window had been playing along his skin for most of the afternoon. It made the room cool, but he loved the sound of the rain and the traffic outside. Often it inspired him.
“It’s bloody freezing in here,” Jonny called from the doorway, pulling off his boots and tossing his scarf into the small closet, the door hiding him from Thom’s view. “What smells so good?”
“I’m making supper, so don’t eat anything,” Thom announced, going back to his notebook. There were footsteps on the floor and not a moment later a hand gently brushing through his hair, met with lips on his forehead.
“You smell like laundry,” he giggled.
“That’s what I get for working at a dry cleaner, Thomas,” Jonny poked his tongue out at him and joined him on the floor, knees hitting the hardwood with a thump. Thom winced, but the boy failed to notice.
“What are you working on?” he asked, plucking the notebook off the floor and turning it so he could read the words. Thom fingered the strings of his guitar as he watched the boy read over the notes he had been writing.
“This is sad,” Jonny said after a moment. “Can you play it for me?”
“It’s not finished yet,” the older man mumbled, taking his notebook back and reading over the words again, trying to imagine he was reading them from Jonny’s eyes.
“That’s never stopped you before,” Jonny poked him playfully and stretched out on the floor at his feet, propping his head up with his hand. “Come on, Thomas.”
“Jon –”
“Thomas.”
Thom grumbled and pulled one of the strings.
“Just…remember it’s not finished.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Thom played and Jonny listened, nodding along, never tearing his eyes away from the man in front of him, with his eyes closed and his hair messy. He realized then just how much he had missed him, missed being able to reach out and touch him, feel his heat through his clothing. Smell the spicy sweet smell of him that drove him crazy – that to this day still drove him crazy.
“That’s beautiful,” Jonny said when Thom was finished and had settled his guitar back down onto the floor. “What have you called it?”
He took a moment to think about it, staring at the floor as though it would answer Jonny for him. When it didn’t, he finally looked up at the boy in front of him and offered him a smile.
“‘True Love Waits’,” he said. “I’ve called it ‘True Love Waits’.”
“In haunted attics, apparently,” Jonny fingered the page with the lyrics scrawled on it, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Living off lollipops and crisps. That sounds familiar – have you been snooping through my garbage?”
“Only a little,” Thom joked and the boy – the younger man, leaned forward to press a kiss against his lips.
They sat at the small dinner table, toes touching on the floor underneath as they made small conversation, Jonny concentrating on his food and Thom concentrating on Jonny, trying to word what he wanted to say properly. The last time he brought it up the younger man had quieted him, in his own little way. Not that Thom had complained, but he felt the issue needed to be dealt with.
“Jonny,” he spoke up after a long moment of silence. “I really think you should try out for school.”
Jonny stirred his soup and took a rather noisy slurp, but otherwise did nothing.
“I know you want to. I know you do, and that’s not the issue here. Look, I have money. A lot of money. You don’t have to worry about rent or anything – hell, we can even get a nicer place if you want –”
“I’m not taking your money, Thom,” Jonny stated firmly, eyes never leaving his food. Thom sputtered for a moment before gathering his thoughts and tried again.
“Jon, it doesn’t matter. Okay? I just want you to be happy, and I know you’re not happy working at the dry cleaner. And I know you’re not happy living in this cardboard box. Let me help you, please? People, they do it all the time. Men support their wives –”
Jonny snickered and Thom ignored him.
“They support their loved ones. And, well…” he shifted awkwardly in his chair and the boy looked up at him, curious. “If…if you and I are…well, you know. If you and I are going to be living together for a long time, I want to support you.”
Jonny remained silent for a long moment, simply searching Thom’s mismatched eyes. For what, the other man wasn’t quite sure. Jonny put his spoon down on the table and leaned forward, studying him.
“When you say a long time, how long do you mean, really?”
Thom opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, blushing.
“I was hoping until one of us gets old and has to be moved to a home, actually.”
“So, like…a forever kind of thing?”
Thom nodded and played with a piece of potato in his soup, “Well, yeah.”
“But I’m an immature brat,” Jonny blinked and Thom grinned.
“I think I’ve found a way to deal with that.”
Jonny hummed thoughtfully, leaning back into his chair and going for more food, his foot brushing against Thom’s under the table.
“I still don’t feel right, taking money from you,” he muttered and Thom laughed.
“Consider it a payment for what I did to you.”
“What?” the boy asked with a sly grin. “Taking my innocence, or leaving town?”
“Both.”
Jonny hummed again.
“I’ll need to go home, then. Get some information I left there, you know. So I can fill out forms.”
“You’re going to do it, then?”
“Yes,” Jonny nodded. “But under one condition.”
Thom hesitated, and then asked what it was.
“You have to perform again. On stage. Just once, and I don’t care where.”
Thom grumbled and Jonny shrugged.
“My final offer, Thomas. Take it or leave it.”
Later that night, as they curled up together on the bed and flicked through TV channels, Thom leaned against the boy – the younger man, he had to remind himself – he leaned against him and whispered into his hair that he would do it, if it meant Jonny would get the education he deserved. Jonny beamed at him, pulling him closer because he knew no matter what happened, Thom wasn’t leaving this time.
---
“I can’t do this,” Thom whimpered. “I can’t. I’m actually shaking.”
Jonny rolled his eyes.
“Come on, Thom. I’ve dealt with her, and I’m the one that invited you over in the first place and started this whole mess, remember?” he asked, as though Thom had actually forgotten. He watched the other man bury his head in his hands uselessly and look over his shoulder.
“Maybe, maybe I should just wait here?”
“No. You’re coming in with me, and that’s final.”
Thom whimpered again.
“She’s not going to hurt you, Thom. She can’t. I’ve been living on my own for months now, there’s nothing she can do about us being together anymore, alright?” Jonny unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the passenger door. “So grow some balls and get out of the car.”
After an impatient glare he did as he was told, knowing full-well Jonny was not against using up all the hot water so Thom had none, or refusing to sleep with him until he got what he wanted. The older man shoved his hands nervously into his pockets and kept his head ducked down into his jacket, not daring to look up from his shoes as Jonny knocked on the front door of his mum’s house, rocking back and forth on his heels and shivering in the cold.
The door squeaked open not a moment earlier and Jonny pushed past his mother, greeting her with a nod as he did so before darting up the stairs to his old bedroom, leaving Thom shivering in the cold on the front porch with his mother blocking the entrance.
The silence was almost deafening, and curiosity got the best of him. Slowly he looked up, to find Mrs Greenwood staring back at him, face rather pale and eyes wide.
“Er, hello,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. “Nasty weather.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked coldly, the tone of her voice sending a shiver of fear down Thom’s spine. He swallowed thickly, eyes darting away from her back onto the ground.
“Um…well, you see. Uh, the thing is…”
“Yes, Mr Yorke?” she asked, still refusing to move aside and let him in. Thom sighed, looking up at the sky and shaking his head. Whatever, he thought.
“Look. The thing is, I’m in love with your son. And I left, like you asked me to. And I stayed away longer than I was going to, even, because I thought I could just move on –”
“And –”
“Let me finish,” Thom interrupted her. “I thought I could move on, but I couldn’t. I tried to, believe me. In the end, I realized I had made a big mistake and I came back, only to find out that your son had moved out months ago. He’s eighteen now, Mrs Greenwood, and in case you haven’t noticed he’s doing pretty well for himself without you keeping your wing over him. So, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I know he’s old enough to make his own decisions now – and he decided to let me back. For whatever reason, maybe it’s because he felt sorry for me. Or maybe it’s because he loves me as much as I love him, and despite our age differences he knows as well as I do that we can work this out and that what we’re doing is – and never was – wrong.”
“So,” he continued. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to kindly ask you to keep your comments to yourself from now on, because frankly, ma’am, I’m getting rather bored of them.”
Mrs Greenwood stood stock-still for a long time, and Thom readied himself for another slap to the face. When it didn’t come, and instead she moved aside for him to enter the house he blinked in surprise, hesitating a moment before thanking her quietly and stepping into the warmth of the house just as Jonny hopped the last step and landed in the hallway.
“Found it,” he announced, grin slipping off his face when he saw his mother’s expression and Thom leaning against the wall, a look of complete satisfaction on his features.
“Jonathan, dear, I need to speak with you,” Mrs Greenwood muttered, tossing a look at Thom. “Alone, please.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jonny agreed, nodding to Thom before the two of them crept into the kitchen just as Colin entered the room, eyeing the group of them and turning to Thom for small talk.
“How long has he been back?” Mrs Greenwood asked once they were out of earshot. Jonny thought back, trying to find the exact date but shrugged his shoulders.
“Not too long. A week and a bit, I don’t know.”
She nodded, her expression unreadable and Jonny nibbled on his bottom lip.
“I’m eighteen, Mum,” he said quietly. “I don’t even live at home anymore. If you think you’re going to stop me from –”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “No. That’s not it. Not at all. I’m just…I’m just worried.”
Jonny smiled, and rolled his eyes.
“No matter who I end up with, you’re going to be worried. It’s what you do. At least this way you know I’m not with some abusive drug addict, or…or, I don’t know. Suicidal teenager.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and her shoulders fell, defeated.
“I just want what’s best for you,” she murmured and he nodded.
“I know, Mum. But Thom is back in my life, and he’s not leaving this time, and for that I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy for me, if that’s not too much to ask.”
It was hard for her, but in the end she gave a soft nod, with a quick glance in the direction of the hallway where Colin and Thom were now talking animatedly about some book or another that neither Jonny or his mum had ever heard about. She hated to think of it, but part of the reason she had never been fond of Mr Yorke was because he had been able to understand Jonny while she – his mother, of all people – had lost that with him.
Now, though, looking at how content her words had made him, she decided she had no right to deny Jonny what made him happiest. For the first time in what felt like forever he pulled her into a tight hug and a mutual acceptance passed unspoken through them.
“What is that you have there, anyway?” she asked once the two of them had entered the hall again and Colin had left to go phone one of his friends.
“Information I need for school,” Jonny explained as he tied his boot. Mrs Greenwood blinked.
“You’re going back?”
“Yeah. In the spring,” Jonny nodded, looking up at her. “Thom talked me into it.”
The two shared a look as Jonny leaned against the wall for support and tugged his other boot on. Thom was the first to drop it, pulling the keys to his car from his pocket and clearing his throat, though Mrs Greenwood’s gaze didn’t fall from him for another moment.
“Well, we should go, then,” Jonny shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and shuffled awkwardly. “I’ll talk to you soon, Mum.”
“Yes,” she tore her eyes away from Thom to look at her youngest son and nodded in agreement. “Please do.”
The two of them had stepped onto the front porch when she called to Thom. He turned around, pulling his winter hat over his ears to block the wind.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For talking him into going back to school, I mean.”
“Pleasure is all mine,” he smiled. The first genuine smile he had ever given her.
“You’re in trouble now,” Jonny said once they had pulled their seatbelts on and Thom was backing the car out of the driveway. “She’s going to be sending you those horrible cards every Christmas, the kind with the poorly written poetry.”
“Better than what she was giving me before,” Thom grumbled, more to himself than to Jonny. He laughed anyway, leaning over to kiss the older man on the cheek.
“Thanks for coming with me.”
Thom grunted and Jonny laughed again.
“Consider this a happy ending, Thom. It’s not going to get any better than that.”
Thom thought about it for a moment, turning up the heat in the car before turning to the younger man beside him, hood pulled up over his head, dark hair full of static and cheeks bitten red from the wind. He wondered in that moment how he could have ever imagined he would have been happy with anyone else. How he could have possibly thought that the boy next door would be so easy to forget if he tried hard enough.
And he thought, in the cold air of the car, just how incredibly grateful he was that Jonny had proved him wrong on both accounts.
“Actually,” he said finally and with a warm smile. “I was considering it more of a happy beginning.”
THE END
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