and there's no rest

Jonny has been away for over a week now. Thom doesn’t really know how long exactly, because he doesn’t even know what day it is- everything is mixed up and twisted without him and Thom can’t even bring himself to get out of bed in those last couple of days.

But today is a special day, today he’s picking Jonny up from the airport, and ever since he woke up this morning, there is really just one thing, one thing only on Thom’s mind:

Jonny, fucking him senseless.

At first, while he’s thinking about Jonny’s long fingers undoing the buttons of the very shirt he’s putting on, he still feels somewhat ashamed about this truly being the only thing he could think about. But when he’s his breakfast and thinking about Jonny’s soft tongue wandering around his nipple, the shame slowly starting to fade away, making room for better emotions.

Jonny’s entire body weight is on him while he’s lacing his shoes, and just before he’s wearing his jacket Jonny is starting to finger him slowly. On his way to the airport, Thom is nearly having 3 accidents and almost runs over a poor lady and her dog. There’s nothing much he can do, his mind is just on auto pilot and the images of Jonny’s long limbs and dark hair are almost too much for him to bear.

Now behave yourself Thom Yorke, you’re in a public place for god sakes.

The anticipation is nearly killing him as he’s waiting for Jonny to show up among all those boring people and he can’t contain himself once he spots him in the crowd.

They hug and kiss and hug again and Jonny looks a bit like Thom- like someone who’s starting to gain the shape of a ghost, like someone who’s been trying to find the missing pieces and didn’t have much luck.

But now they walk together to the car and they have so much to talk about they just stay silent. Thom wants to ask Jonny if he could drive because he just can’t stop staring at him and it might get dangerous while they’re on the highway. But remembering that Jonny just had a very long flight, he just sits behind the wheel and promises himself to keep his eyes on the road.

Keeping his eyes on the road would have been so much easier if Jonny’s right arm wasn’t resting on his left thigh. Or if it wasn’t, for example, making its way slowly, very slowly to the obvious direction of his crotch.

Thom hits the breaks, involuntarily.

A car almost hits them from behind but the driver just bypasses them in an impressive show of honks and swears. Thom doesn’t even care- Jonny’s hand on his thigh right now is the only thing in the world and no other meaningless things like roads or other cars exist right now.

Jonny doesn’t even blink. He just smiles. “Thom? Do you want me to drive?”

Which will mean that your hands will be on some steering wheel instead of me? Hell no.

“Uhm, no no, I’m ok.” And he somehow manages to send a broken order from his brain to his leg: push that pedal- now please, thank you.

The car starts moving again and so does Jonny’s hand, only this time it’s busy with the buttons and the zipper of Thom’s jeans, undoing them so quickly and with such talent that Thom’s breath becomes a disordered set of huffs and blows and the car is slowly drifting to the margins of the road until Thom remembers to bring it back.

“Thom, I can drive if you want, really, I don’t mind”

No fucking way in hell.

“Jonny, I’m fine!”

The last word of this sentence is nearly inaudible because Jonny picks the exact same moment to shove his hand inside Thom’s boxers and to find there exactly what he was looking for:

Thom’s hard, hard cock.

Thom shrieks and turns the wheel wildly, abruptly pulling over on the side of the road with a screech.

Jonny is eying him sheepishly. “Oh. Should I stop that?”

“Jesus fucking Christ no!”

And this is all Jonny really needed to hear before locating himself on top of Thom, his right hand still on Thom’s cock and his left one adjusting the back rest all the way back. Jonny somehow finds his spot over Thom even though there is not much space to play with in the small car, he knows they might both regret this later when their entire bodies will be aching but he really doesn’t care right now.

His lips are on Thom’s and as far as Thom is concerned they could stay there from this moment on forever, cause this is really the best use for his lips. Oh yes, forget about all of this silly singing bollocks or whatever, his lips are much more useful attached to Jonny’s lips, his tongue is much better off around Jonny’s tongue and his vocal cords are used just perfectly for the low moan he’s letting out just now.

Jonny can’t seem to able to stop kissing Thom either, not even while he’s working on those buttons Thom imagined him undoing just a few hours ago. He opens each and every one of them, not bothering to take the shirt off after that. He’s got more urgent things to do right now, like pulling Thom’s jeans and boxers down, or more precisely shoving them desperately only to be met with Thom’s annoying shoes, he hates those shoes, he always did, really, he’s so throwing away those shoes once they get home.

Jonny can’t be arsed right now with his own clothes so he just takes out the little bottle of lube from his pocket and moves out of the way anything else that might come between him and what he wants right now. This is not time for being slow, sophisticated or romantic it’s not the time to play games, they can have lots of that later if they want- right now it’s time to bend Thom’s legs and place his ankles under his shoulders, to squeeze some of the lubricant out and apply it on the right places, to penetrate, to conquer, to push, to groan, to fluctuate, to fuck.

Now it’s time to fuck.

The last threads of Thom’s consciousness are occupied with some vogue image of Jonny, hunched over a piano, attacking the keyboard and caressing it at the same time, making the piano produce magical notes that are reserved to him only, almost like he has some kind of a dark arrangement with it.

Thom feels like that piano right now- attacked and caressed and left out for graces of the wonder which is Jonny Greenwood, and Jesus, Thom must have done something really good in his previous life to deserve this- He was probably some sort of a saint or something. Hell, he must have been the bloody pope himself.

How in earth is he even succeeding to move like that in here? Thom can’t understand the mysterious ways of the man inside him, but he starts wishing that their car on the side of the road will draw attention. Yes, he wants everyone to stop by, get out of their vehicles and stand by the windows. He wants the whole world and god almighty to see how Jonny is fucking him out of his mind, out of his common sense and out of any reason until he almost can’t take it anymore. He’s ridiculously proud of being there under Jonny, being the one that Jonny chose to fuck in this very car in this very moment on the side of this very road.


But Jonny is in another place right now, a place where every movement he makes is bringing him more pleasure than the other, every move is bringing him closer to the sensation he’s been aching for on each and every one of those long 10 days.

And then it seems like he’s out of his famous control, it feels like he can’t even control his body now, his body has a life of its own and it’s going wild with desire and lust, going faster and stronger and the only thing on Jonny’s mind is the sound of flesh hitting flesh every time he slums down on top of Thom, who has his eyes rolled up his skull and his lip bleeding, probably from the long uncontrollable kiss they were having up until now.

Jonny can see the orgasm searching for him, he can actually see it creeping down his spine, leaking down to his stomach and darting violently through his cock and into the thin figure under him, Thom- he believes his name is, though he can’t really be sure about his own name at the moment.

Three things are becoming noticeable to him as he’s regaining his consciousness:
- Thom came even though Jonny didn’t even touch him.
- They’re in a fucking car.
- There’s a pack of Skittles open and scattered all over the floor of the car.

And Thom, Thom’s back ached for weeks after that, but he never regretted it because it gave him a good excuse to whine and force Jonny into giving him long massages and besides…Now he hated cars just a little less.

Might look dangerous in the mornings

[the newest section starts with the bolded sentence]

The first stage was bravado. After leaving his brother’s apartment, Jonny thought of going to sleep on a train or bus station – surely lots of blokes do that? However, once he found the most comfortable spot with his backpack under his head and his coat wrapped tightly around him on the bench, he was shooed away by the guard, who promised to call the police if he’d see his arse there again. So then he was on the street again, making long and fast strides toward the park. The gates were closed, of course, but he managed to make it over the fence and land on the trimmed grass. He absently remembered a book he once read, where it advised to sleep near the tree, because it’s warmer; ignoring it, he strolled to the park bench and sat on it. The moment the cold wood touched him, he understood that there was no way he’d sleep there.

The second stage was misery. He was walking much slower now, without the particular target, jumping at each sound. Jonny tried to keep to the most crowded streets, however as the time advanced, even those grew deserted, leaving him alone in the night. He tried to think of a friend who might give him shelter, however all of his choices were canceled out: Phil was out of town and out of the country, Ed was…wherever he was, while others – well, they still lived with their parents, and their parents would induce a major fuss. Hotel was out of options, for he didn’t have much money.

Crushed and annoyed with himself, Jonny pushed the door open to the nearest pub and sat at the bar stand, rubbing his palms together and enjoying the warmth. He noticed a person standing in front of him and ordered vodka, which was soon placed in front of him wordless. Just as he was about to down the glass, somebody spoke to him.

“Ah…stop. Mate, you are freezing, eh?” Jon picked his head up to look at the bartender. He was young and boyish, his eyes gray, and smile that looked sincere.

“Yes,” Jon answered.

“Well, you never drink cold vodka when you are cold,” the bartender lowered himself, speaking to Jonny directly, as if sharing a secret, “You have to warm it with your hands first. I know, that stuff is horrid when it’s warm, but otherwise you are going to lose all your teeth, because they will shatter from you grinding them.”

Jonny wrapped his fingers around the glass, shivering at the cold sensation.

“That’s good,” the bartender said and Jon downed the glass, his eyes watering a little bit. When he placed it on the stand, the bartender was gone to serve another client.

“How old are you?” Jonny asked, watching his small frame and knotty fingers.

“Nineteen,” he answered, flashing a toothy smile. Jon’s brow furrowed and he stared down. Nineteen meant that he guy was two years younger than him.

He spent a couple of hours in the pub, thankful that it was almost empty. The cold surrendered to the alcohol, however his head was still crystal clear, and understanding that after this he had nowhere to go.

The bartender was ushering the last client out and then wiping the tables and aligning the bottles, while Jon was figuring out the best way to ask him about staying the night. “I could sleep in one of the booths, and I’ll be out before the sunrise.” It sounded good in his head and he turned to face the younger boy, who was already standing in front of him and talking.

“I’ve got a friend who’s got an apartment and he usually lets people sleep there, even if he doesn’t know them. He is a funny chap, really, weird, but funny. I’ve got the key,” he dangled the key in front of Jonny’s face, “It’s up the street, a couple of blocks – no more. Third story. A flat with the funkiest door.”

Jon took the key into his palm, studying the leather strap that was wrapped around it.

“…I would take you to my place, of course,” the guy continued, “However…erm…well…my roommate at the moment hates it when I bring random people there. No offense.”

The apartment didn’t turn out to be the pit filled with drugs, guns, and underground chemical laboratories. However, it didn’t look like a normal apartment. If you would come in and turn on the light, you’d see a long hallway in front of yourself, leading to the back, there the T-shaped intersection was located. Along the walls in the hallway, long crooked white arrows were drawn, with the words, “If it’s your first time here, and you need to sleep somewhere, choose the door to your left.” Jon smiled involuntarily and followed the white arrows, until the hallway ended and he was met with a small black chalkboard with pieces of chalk scattered on it and on the floor. “Dude, thanks. I can’t pay, but I left some beer in the fridge,” was the longest note on it. Others were scattered here and there, with random “thanks” and “see you later”. Some of the other sribbllings brought intense color to Jonny’s face.

He pushed the door open and walked into the small dark room, his hand finding the light switch instantly. The window was opened, the wind worrying the light curtains, and he proceeded to shut it quickly. Blankets were thrown here and there, a couple of pillows, a broken alarm clock, an old mirror, scratched armchair and a small bed. He blinked when he spotted an old guitar in the corner, one of the strings broken. That was, perhaps, the biggest reason why he stayed and didn’t run away somewhere else.

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, however the moment his face hit the pillow, he felt that his legs filled with lead and a deep, heavy sleep claimed him.

…::…

“Fuck, what the hell is that?”
Jonny moaned slightly, not opening his eyes. There was some commotion at the door.

“I told you go to the right…and this is the left…turn around…shit,” there was a sound of a thump and a drunken giggle.

“Is that your roooommate? Is he cute? Let’s wake him…”

“No! Listen, get the fuck away and go to the other room,” Jonny listened to the sounds of clothes rustling and struggling, thinking that it was in his dream.

“God, you look sooo gorgeous…” there were wet kissing sounds and soon the door closed shut, making Jonny’s eyes shot open in the dark. The sound of the giggles and clumsy steps was away now, and then there was an identical sound of the door shutting and all was quiet again.

…::…

Jonny woke up in the alien bed, in the alien room, with the alien piece of blue sky gleaming in the alien window. His back and limbs ached, his head was fuzzy and there was a bitter taste on his tongue. He turned to his side with a groan and spotted a glass of water in front of him. Without thinking twice, he gulped it down and found the strength to sit on the bed and rub his red eyes.

He was scared to face someone who was also in the apartment and he considered exiting through the window. It was the third story, however, and the ground didn’t look soft that morning. Groaning and rubbing his face, he used the mirror to arrange the hair as best as he could, slapping his cheeks a couple of times to bring some life. Exhaling and walking to the door, he put the hand on the doorknob and was ready to turn it. Picking up his head, he saw scribbled in the big black letters: “Don’t worry. I do not ask for money. I do not try to sell you drugs. I might look dangerous in the mornings, however.”

Jonny chuckled nervously and turned the knob, stepping outside and turning around to walk the long hallway, hoping to get to the door and sneak outside. When he was already at the target, he heard a voice, and turned around, realizing that he was standing in the small doorway leading to the kitchen.

“Hey.”

He was looking at the messy ginger hair and short stubble, a raised eyebrow and slightly astounded lips. The person was sitting down, with one leg bent at the knee and placed on the chair, underneath the smooth chin.

“I’m sorry…” Jonny started and the person picked his head up.

“For what?”

“I uh…I mean, I slept here and I don’t even know you…”

“Pffft, that’s the only reason I have that room. Sit, sit,” the guy gestured to the chair opposite him and Jonny obeyed, “I mean, one time I was shit-faced and had nowhere to go, and I thought how cool it would be if someone had a special place what they would rent out for free for a night stand…and when I got this place, I decided to do it, you know.”

“Oh…”

“Eggs?”

“What?”

“Eggs? Scrambled, boiled?” the blonde got up, fumbling at the stove, “Raw? I saw some bloke down five of them raw. He had these huge biceps. You don’t seem like much of a lifter though,” Jon crossed his arms on his chest nervously.

“No, thanks.”

“Toast then? I don’t have a toaster…but if you are sober enough, you can use the pan.”

“No, it’s…I really should get going.”

“Bollocks,” the blonde laughed, not even turning around, “You are just the shy type. At least let me make you some tea.”

Jon let him do whatever he wanted, and soon he was boiling water in the small pot, then pouring it into a big mug over the teabag and placing it in front of Jon.

“I don’t have milk and I doubt there’s sugar. There’s honey though,” Jon thanked him and poured some into his mug. Thom made some toasts and produced a small jar of jam from the cupboard.

“You should’ve picked eggs, mate,” he muttered, smiling and taking his chair again.

Jon watched the guy as he went ahead with drinking tea and nipping at the toast, turning the pages of the small hardcover book lying in front of him on the table.

“What’s your name?” Jon asked, looking from underneath his fringe.

“Name,” the blonde pushed his eyebrows together and raised his arm, scratching the back of his head and stretching luxuriously, “To be honest, there’s been some time since somebody asked me that question…name…I don’t know, nobody uses it that much these days…what name is more convenient for you?”

“Jay?”

“Jay it is then. What’s yours?”

“It would be unfair if I told you my real name.”

“Tell me your fake then.”

“What name is more convenient for you?”

“Abu.”

“Abu?”

“Abu.”

…::…

“What the?..”

“I told you mate, they don’t sell more than one at a time anymore.”

“Well, you should’ve used different people.”

“Oh…”

“Dumbass. Okay…is that from your father’s garage?”

“Not my father’s,” a hard shove, “I know this bloke who works in the auto service. He has loads of them.”

“The stoner dude?”

“Yes…well…”

Jonny watched the two shady figures in front of him, trying to walk as soundlessly as he could and closer to the wall. He pulled his collar up and buried his face in it, his senses working overtime so he wouldn’t bump into something.

“You got the stencils?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. There it is, go on. It’s right in front of that huge building.”

“Why am I first?”

“’Cause I can’t really get caught today. I’ve got work this week.”

“Oh, alright.”

They opened the door and walked in soundless, and Jonny leaned against the wall, sighing, before entering the same pub as the night before and taking the same seat.

“You again,” the bartender stopped, narrowing his eyes and crossing arms on his chest.

“Yeah…yes,” Jon lowered his eyes, ashamed a bit, “Is that erm…against the rules?”

“Rules?” the boy laughed, “There are no rules really. Have you met him?”

“Mmm?” Jon raised his eyes, stupefied by the question at first; then, remembering, he nodded several times, “Yes, yes, I did.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jay. Well, it’s not real.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“He must’ve liked you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you see, it’s like this,” the boy leaned over the bar, playing with his fingers, “When you meet a complete stranger, you are safe to be honest, because the stranger doesn’t really bother you. However, if you meet someone you really like and want to continue knowing him or her, well you’ve got something to lose, and the first reaction is to lie. That is, of course, if you have something in your life to lie about,” the boy smiled, blowing softly at Jonny’s hair, forcing it to stick up.

“You seem to know quite a lot about him.”

“Nah,” the bartender smiled, standing up and looking at Jonny from above, “I just like to make theories about people. Dully noted, my theories usually turn out more interesting than actual people. Say, you hungry?”

“Yes, a bit.”

“I’ll finish in a little while and we’ll head to his apartment.”

“Okay.”

…::…

“He sort of gave me the key to his place so that I could give it to those who needed a place to stay,” the boy explained, opening the door in the dark, “People show up to get it from time to time, or I see someone who needs it myself.”

They walked inside and the bartender flicked the lights on, illuminating the familiar hallway.

“Let’s see what he’s got in the fridge.”

“Is he never home?” Jon relaxed a little now that it seemed they were the only ones in the apartment.

“He works at night and comes in the early morning,” the boy was already taking something out of the fridge.

Jonny smiled and watched as the boy started making sandwiches, his fingers working deftly.

“So, what’s your situation? You are not a drunk. You are not a hobo. You’ve got a neat haircut, and yet it’s your second night on the street.”

“I…well…I share an apartment with my brother and we had a misunderstanding.”

“I see,” the boy set the table quickly and plunged on the seat opposite of Jonny, “But you know, if you ask me, a ‘misunderstanding’ is not a good reason to run away, y’know.”

Jon nodded and picked up a sandwich, immersing in his own thoughts.

…::…

Jonny woke up from hushed whispers coming from the end of the hallway. He picked his head up and stopped breathing for a second, and the talking became clearer and he even caught intonations. With his eyes closed, he imagined that the whispers were thin lines of transparent fog flowing in the room, however as the reality was kicking in, he heard a few muffled laughs and the clouds of fog began forming into people.

He sat up and realized that the young bartender was sleeping in the same bed, fully clothed, his boyish red lips slightly open. Jonny stood up, trying to be as quiet as he could and walked to the door, as the whispers multiplied suddenly and then ended abruptly with a slam of the door.

Jon opened the door and walked through the hallway silently, looking at the yellow light on the floor from the kitchen. When he reached the doorway, he saw the blonde sitting on the chair he had earlier and rubbing his forehead, his eyes closed, a fresh cup of tea emitting gently tufts of vapor. Jon stood in the doorway, his eyes wide open, watching the scene and feeling that he was intruding into something private, however he couldn’t move, transfixed by the sudden urge.

Jay’s skin looked soft and elastic as if oil had been rubbed into it a couple of minutes ago. His hair was sticking to his forehead with perspiration, even though it was chilly. He looked small and tight, his collarbones jutting, and Jon had the impression that he was coil wrapped into a ball, ready to burst open at any moment. He was convinced that at any moment Jay would transform into millions of pale waves and vanish in the air.

“Abu?” the blonde opened his eyes finally, looking at Jonny. They looked at each other, and Jonny saw as his blue eyes transformed from tired and vulnerable to warm and friendly. “I must’ve wakened you, sorry. I can never remember to close the door carefully.”

“You don’t have to say sorry, I mean…” Jonny stopped, confused, “…I thought…there was someone here.”

“There was,” Jay nodded and gestured to the chair, which Jon took immediately, “Tea?”

“No, thank you,” Jonny watched as the blonde got up nevertheless and fixed him a cup.

“So,” Jay sat back on his chair, rubbing his cheek, “Ever been interested in politics?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve been.”

“Good,” Jay chuckled, more about his own thoughts than Jonny’s answer, “It’s just that lately all I talk about is politics, it seems. Or rather, repeat the same thing over and over again. Tell me, what’s your biggest concern in life?”

“Containing myself, I s’ppose.”

“Oh?”

“At times I feel that if I wouldn’t hold myself, I would scatter all over the floor.”

“Like porcelain?”

“Porcelain? I guess you could say that.”

“But isn’t it a beautiful feeling?”

“How do you mean?”

“To be on the brink? To feel your head ready to explode? I might be a masochist, but I love the feeling. I honestly take it and squeeze every drop out of it. And then I’m empty, and I can’t wait to go there again.”

“I’ve never allowed myself to go the edge.”

“Really? You should. And when you do, be sure to ring me. I want to watch it,” Jay’s grin reminded that of a predator.

“What if I wouldn’t be able to go back?”

“I’ll pull you back,” the blonde finished his tea, glancing outside the window at the faint light on the horizon, “The sunrise is soon. Come on, I want to show you something,” Jay’s cup clattered on the table and he was already out in the hallway, pulling on his shoes.

…::…

“SMILE. YOUR COMPANY EXPLOITS THIRD WORLD COUNTRIES.”

Jonny looked at the huge white letters on the warehouse opposite of the big corporate building. It was early and nobody but them was on the street, and Jay was grinning wildly and rubbing his palms – from cold or excitement, Jonny couldn’t tell.

“It’s going to be erased tomorrow or in a couple of days. Or even today by afternoon if they are hasty enough,” Jay said, “But it doesn’t matter. By that time, someone would surely see it.”

Jonny looked at his manic profile.

“The main thing is to get people wonder, y’know,” Jay continued, “To throw it at them to make them research themselves. I mean, first step is the awareness.”

“I don’t think vandalism would ever attract much affirmative attention.”

“Oh, there’s no need for the affirmative attention,” Jay smiled and flicked Jonny’s hair with his finger, “Let’s go to sleep.”

The things they did, Jay explained, were bordering with small hooliganism.

“This pamphlet, for example, says ‘Anti-globalization’ and gives one example of malfunction of the World Trade Organization. Then it gives a list of politicians who endorse WTO. We try to put as little as possible to have the biggest effect, ‘cause a person would simply throw out something that said ‘Why you should reconsider your point of view…” blah-blah-blah.”

“Or sometimes we just put ‘For more – see such-and-such website’ on small strips of paper and slide it in the tapes of porn. Of course the poor bloke goes online and gets trapped on our web-sites, because they are really labyrinths, and we try to throw as much info at him as possible.”

“I know a bloke who is a waiter, and each time he sees people ordering meat or whatever, he writes “Meet is Murder” lyrics on the cheques. One time he even put the record on, and it played for 30 good seconds before the manager snatched him by the collar. Of course nobody pays attention to it, but he claims that subconsciously, people start to change.”

Jonny laughed, covering his mouth and arching his neck to look at Jay, who was bathing in the sunlight on his bed, “Do you think you actually change anything?”

“I’ve got no idea, really. Probably not. Ignorance is big these days, and plus – it takes a while for people to..erm…realize... I mean, even some of us don’t know what the hell we are doing – it’s all just fun and games,” Jay gazed thoughtfully out of the window, “…I mean, I started it just because I could feel this sizzling need of doing something in my bones,” Jay stretched, arching off the bed and exposing his flat stomach for a brief moment; then, he looked at Jonny, “You know, your stubble is growing and your eyes are blood-shot.”

“Yeah,” Jonny rubbed his eyes, sighing, “I should’ve brought at least a change of clothes…it’s just that I was so desperate to leave that place as soon as I could.”

“I think you should go back,” Jay said, putting an arm under his head and resting another on his belly.

“Yeah…” Jonny got up, somewhat hurt, and looked down at him, feeling awkward. He watched as Jay yawned and sighed, then closed his eyes against the sun’s rays and fell asleep instantly. Jon looked around himself, searching for some detail that would help him stay, or remember, or smile.

Walking through the hallway he stared at the walls, trying to guess if it was his last time there. Stopping in front of the blackboard and picking up a piece of chalk he glanced at the writings once more and wondered how many of those were done in the same condition as he was in – longing to stay, and not finding any reason to.

…::…

Local radio was playing, accompanied by static and waiting silence. Jonny closed the door quietly behind him, took off his shoes and coat and ran a hand through his hair.
Stepping softly and avoiding all the creaking floorboards, Jon made his way to the kitchen, listening to the ripples of news twisted by the bad reception.

Early today an unknown group of people broke into the local publishing house…
…The MP candidate himself states that the theft was designed as a hoax…
…The thieves took all the leaflets; so far their purposes are unknown…

Jon reached the doorway and knocked on the wall, watching Colin reading the newspaper, a cup of coffee next to him, his eyes darting between the lines rapidly. Colin picked his head up and stared at Jonny for a moment, then threw his hand forward and whimpered, then brought his hand to his face and covered it, sobbing.
Jon walked to him and was about to kneel when Colin sprang up to his feet and squeezed him tightly, so tight Jon felt his bones crunch.

“Fuck, why do I have an arsehole for a brother? Next time you decide to show that you are upset – do me a favor, bloody hang yourself in front of me, so that I would know what I don’t have to worry about your stupid ass. Fuck,” Colin pressed his red eyes closed, “I’ve called the police and I’ve read every sordid article in the newspaper, ready to see your blue face in the ditch, and I’ve listened to every local radio show. Right now I was thinking about ringing the hospitals, again. Join me? It’s great fun. ‘When he is dead, my brother looks slightly more pale…’”

“Colin, I’m sorry…”

“Yes, yes, yes…listen. Do what the fuck you want with your life, I don’t care anymore. Drop off of the university; go on an inspirational journey to Tibet; you name it. Just be sure to take enough money with you, take a hotel room, and call me – telling me with all rage and angst that you are fine and that you have a place where you can sleep.”

Colin relaxed his fingers that were holding on to Jonny’s flesh tightly and fell back on his seat, rubbing his eyes and sighing. Jon took the seat next to him, looking down.

“So you are okay? Nothing happened to you? Nobody touched you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Colin nodded, getting up and switching the radio off absently. “I haven’t slept since you left, but I can’t go to sleep, I’ve got so much caffeine in my veins I jump up after resting my head on the pillow for more than a minute. I’m buzzing, basically.”

Jon didn’t respond. He watched as Colin walked to the wall, picked up the phone and made several calls, saying that Jon was back, alive, and kicking. Then he fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, leaning against the wall.

“I’m going to take a shower and turn in,” Jon said, getting up and walking carefully. He stopped in front of Colin and squeezed his shoulder, their eyes meeting for a second and Colin nodding slightly.

It was strange, Jonny thought. Crawling into bed in a clean shirt and boxers, his hair smelling nice and cheeks smooth from the aftershave, the past 48 hours seemed already surreal. He wrapped a blanket around himself and stared at the ceiling, remembering the dark apartment, and the taste of tea, and the messy hair. The look on blonde’s face when they just met. His voice. Jon turned in his bed with a sigh, smiling into the pillow. “Be sure to ring me…I’ll pull you back,” he whispered, smiling wider and closing his eyes for a second. Catching himself and frowning, he turned to his side, clearing his thoughts of anything but the sensation of sheets and enveloping warmth.

…::…

“I can’t believe it’s been a month already.”
Jonny stared at his desk, sitting in the auditorium, a pencil hanging loosely between his fingers. It’s been more than a month, really, but he decided that “a month” sounded scary enough.
“I was sure it wasn’t the end,” he continued writing, “But now it’s like he never even existed.”

After university he made his usual detour to pass by the warehouse the blonde showed him that day. Today he saw that the graffiti was replaced by some politician’s picture. Growling and clenching his fists in his pockets, he restrained himself from kicking the wall.

“Funny thing happened today,” Colin was saying, as Jon returned home, “I bought this book, right? And this thing was inside,” Jonny strolled to the fridge, opening it and taking out a bottle of beer, “…Booklet of some sort, designed by the leftist, I s’ppose. They have nice arguments, too.”

Jonny froze, looking at Colin.

“…The blokes have sense of humor. And tactic. I rummaged through the books and you see, there are several versions of these things. Easier versions – tucked in romance and teenage editions, more specific – in economical/political ones.”

…::…

Next Saturday morning Jon ignored his jacket and grabbed his keys, exiting the apartment and pouring into the sunny street. He walked absently for a couple of hours until he reached the unknown part of the town. The street was strangely deserted and he gazed around himself curiously before spotting a small figure carrying two enormous bags on his shoulders.
He thought the way the person walked was vaguely familiar and sped up slightly. When a tuft of blonde hair became visible, he knew instantly and began running, suddenly alive and hyper.

“Jay!” he yelled, panting, “Oh my God, Jay…it’s you! It is really you! I can’t say how happy I’m to see you,” he caught up with the blonde who gave him a humorous look, not stopping.

“Heya, Abu. Been a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been…,” Jon started and Jay stopped in front of the random building, dropping the bags on the sidewalk and gazing up. Then he took the bags again, opened the door and walked in, Jon following him close behind dumbly.

“…It doesn’t matter how I’ve been,” Jon continued as the climbed up the stairs, “Do you…do you need help?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jay turned around, smiling. He was standing a couple of stairs above Jon.
“Here, catch!” Jon’s eyes widened as he saw the bag flying at him.. The bag hit him in the chest with a quiet rustle and he realized that it wasn’t heavy at all. The blonde was already giggling and running up the stairs.

They soon climbed onto the roof, into the sunlight, and Jay walked to the edge of the building instantly. Jon followed him and saw that the building was bordering with a large square that was spotted here and there with people, their concentration increasing toward the improvised stage. An echo of somebody speaking into the microphone was audible, however Jon couldn’t make out the words.

“Looks like we’ve got a couple of minutes,” Jay said, glancing at other buildings around. Jon noticed that each of them had one or two persons on the roof. Just then he was looking away, Jay squeezed him in a hug and smiled up at him sweetly, his blue eyes glistening with giddiness.

They heard a whistle and Jay turned away, opening his bag and motioning for Jonny to do the same.

“You can’t fly all of them, of course, but I hope the wind picks them up. Or if they just fall down, it’s good. The main thing is that people get them and see them.”

Jon opened his bag and realized that it was full of paper planes, made of propaganda pamphlets. He unfolded one and realized that the picture of the politician, which he saw on the warehouse, was crossed out with “Child-eater” written under it.

“Abu, come on, we don’t have much time,” they both hauled their bags on the edge and turned them over at the same time. The people on the buildings around did the same and soon the whole airspace above the square was filled with paper planes carried by the wind and flying around, then finally setting on the ground. Jon watched in awe as they swirled in the air, the white almost glowing in the sun, contrasting with the black dots of people down on the ground. The children on the square jumped up in the air to catch them, the monotonous speech on the stage stopped abruptly, and the crowd roared excitedly. Jay laughed and Jon joined him, holding the smaller man by the waist when the blonde was eager to jump down and give them a piece of his mind.

In a couple of minutes they heard the police sirens and the blonde grabbed Jon’s hand, rushing to the exit. “Now we run,” he breathed, giggling, as they ran down the stairs and out of the building, then couple of blocks down the street until they saw the police car, then into the small dark alley and to the square, stepping onto the paper planes and getting lost in the crowd.

…::….

“Oi, you cheeky monkey!” Jay shouted, raising on his tiptoes, straining his neck and looking at the guy getting into the black car with toned windows. His voice was lost between hundreds of those shouting and he laughed, shaking his head. They were walking silently, still hand in hand until they exited the square and walked into the street, which was now filling with excited people walking to and fro.

“I believe this is yours,” Jay said with a smile, raising Jon hand and looking at it, examining the long fingers and a large palm, “Calluses,” he said with a grin, brushing Jonny’s fingertips, “Calluses and short nails. You are a guitarist, aren’t you?”

“I play a guitar, yes,” Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Me too,” Jay smiled, presenting his own hand, much smaller, “A decade behind yourself though, it looks,” they both chuckled and continued walking, Jay still studying Jonny’s palm.

“They say, that if the top deep line on your palm curves onto your fingers, you are going to be rich and happy. If it goes in between, you are going to be poor and miserable,” Jay traced the line on the warm palm, “Can’t say which way yours is going. Probably in between.”

“You are awful,” Jon laughed, “Any other fortune-teller would say ‘Even though I don’t know what the hell is going to happen, you are going to be happy’, and you just break all the rules.”

“Well, you don’t pay me,” Jay grinned, then looked around and up in the sky, “It’s a nice day. Very nice to get lost in the grass. You play football?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. Shame, huh? What do you say, north or south?”

“North it is then,” the blonde ran ahead, then stopped and turned back to look at Jonny, “Now we say goodbye, my Arabian friend.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye.”

“Really?” Jay smiled, hugging himself, “But it would be beautiful. Don’t you think? We could bid each other goodbye, and you could go your way, and I could board the train and ride until I’d see a beautiful field, then exit and wallow in the grass. And then we wouldn’t see each other for a long-long time, almost forget each others faces, only to meet somewhere far from now, somewhere in the desert, have a cup of tea, shake our heads and sigh.”

“I think it would be awful.”

The blonde raised his eyebrow, smiling, wetting his lip with the tip of his tongue quickly.


Jonny bought a plain white kite covered with a thick film of dust. Brushing it off, he listened to the happy chirping of the storekeeper while Jay was peeking at it from behind his shoulder.

“Do you think you can fly it?” Jay asked, studying Jonny’s profile.

“Yeah, I think I can,” Jon said, turning his head to meet the blonde’s eyes. He then lowered his head a little so that his bangs were touching Jay’s bleached locks and looked at his lips – raw from biting and slightly open. The smaller man’s eyes were sparkling and challenging, watching Jon intently as he lowered his mouth to his, rubbing their lips together. They heard the lady clearing her throat and Jay smiled against his lips, sighing.

…::….

“I love this,” Jay murmured, snatching Jonny’s hand into his own and jumping off of the train, a second before the doors slit closed and they were left alone on the old station that looked abandoned. Jonny looked around, his kite under his arm.

Jay was already running down and across, until he tripped and fell down, his body lost in the grass. Jonny rushed to him, dropping his kite and slowing down to make sure he didn’t step on the blonde.

“I love this,” the voice behind him repeated and Jonny turned around, seeing Jay lying in the grass, his arms stretched, “This is the greenest grass in the year.”

“Can’t really argue with that,” Jon smiled, sitting down next to him and throwing his arm so that it rested on the ground on the other side of the boy, looking at his face, “Now you can’t escape.”

“Sure I can. I can slide under your arm.”

Jon lowered himself closer to Jay, his arm wrapping around his waist.

“Now you might have a chance of keeping me,” Jay admitted, nodding slightly, “But you still need to work on your capturing methods.”

He smiled and then clapped his hands together loudly, using the minute of Jonny’s confusion to squirm underneath his arm and scurry away. Jon’s hand made a clumsy pirouette in the air, trying to catch his ankle.

“Fly it, mate! I want to see it in the air,” he said, his back covered by the stained material descending in the opposite direction. Jon got up and walked to the kite.

He didn’t know how much time passed or where Jay was, but he was completely immersed in the small white object above, floating in the air. Finally, he saw the small figure stumble toward him, palms facing down and brushing the blades of the grass.

“D’you think I can pick you up?” Jay yelled, when he finally was at the shouting distance.

“I don’t think so,” Jonny laughed, “Why in the world would you need to pick me up?”

“Well if you will be drunk, I’ll need to pick you up,” he was now standing a few feet away and Jon looked at his face, “Can I try?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jon smiled again and watched as Jay approached him and put his arms around his waist, pushing his cheek between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I can’t pick you up,” he murmured into his shirt.

“Sure you can. Ask me to jump and I will, that’s good enough.”

Jay laughed and Jon turned around to face him, releasing the string from his fingers and letting the kite roam away. Looking intently at the blonde biting his lip he put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him down and then back on the ground, kneeling himself and straddling the narrow hips. He watched Jay’s face intently as he removed his shirt and sweater and threw it beside himself, the grass blades fighting against it before giving up. He then moved his fingers to Jay’s stomach, taking the hem of his shirt and lifting it up, the blonde straightening his arms to let him take it off, the way the child would.

Jay hissed a little as the cold grass touched his warm back.

“Cold,” he muttered, squirming and arching his back off the ground a bit.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Honestly? What the sun is bright. That we are going to remember every detail. That you look like you want to remember every detail.”

“I do,” Jon, said, trailing his fingers over Jay’s chest, then undoing his trousers. Jay gasped and jerked instantly, but Jon caught him quickly and held him in place.

“See? You are getting better with practice,” the blonde smiled and arched his neck back, looking at the small white dot in the sky, feeling his trousers slide down and off.

…::….

“You know why I called you ‘Abu’?” Jay asked, pushing his head into Jonny’s shoulder, playing with his hand, “It’s because I was in the bloody desert…the one with the white sand and large mounds…because everywhere you go, it’s all the same.”

Jonny turned his head to Jay, looking at him speaking.

“…and so I was in that desert, and one time I came across this boy with dark hair, y’know? Dark hair and dark eyebrows, and brown eyes. And I thought, ‘It must be an Arab boy, lost in the desert, just like me. He must’ve lost his caravan and now he is searching for it, and he is as lonely and tired as I am.’ And so I called you Abu.”

Jonny smiled, his finger swirling around Jay’s hair.

“My real name is Jonny.”

“Jonny,” the blonde repeated, rolling it over his tongue, “With an ‘h’?”

“No, without.”

“Lovely…do you want to know my real name?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. But only because ‘Jay’ is horrid and it doesn’t suit me,” Jonny chuckled, “It’s true! Here am I coming up with this story, and you just call me ‘Jay’.”

“Well what’s your real name?”

“Archibald.”

“Seriously?”

“No, of course not. Why would I miss the opportunity to fool you?”

“Okay then. What’s your name?”

Jonny watched as the blonde got on his knees on the seat and leaned in, placing his hands to his mouth and whispering into his ear: “Almost nobody knows it, but my name is Thom.”

“And your last name?”

“My, you are greedy,” the blonde chuckled, leaning in again, “Yorke. Thom Yorke.”

…::…

They lived apart and in the different time dimensions.

Thom worked mostly at night, sleeping for the major part of the day, while Jonny was a regular student. At the times when their schedules intersected, Jonny made sure that Thom was as close to him as possible.

They drank tea on the kitchen while sharing a chair – Thom straddled between Jonny’s long legs, hugging his knee and reading his book, while Jonny was scrutinizing his notes; Jonny’s arm was securely wrapped around Thom’s shoulder and he rested his tired eyes on the nape of Thom’s neck, sometimes giving it a kiss, sometimes nuzzling his hair. Thom usually untangled himself from Jonny’s arm to leave, flicking his hair and tiptoeing out.

When Jonny woke up in the early morning to see Thom coming back tired and red-eyed, and wound up, he begged him to stay awake for a while – massaging his small shoulders and kissing his mumbling mouth, then sitting on the floor and looking at him sleeping.

There were also times when they were asleep together – usually heaped in whatever position they collapsed.

The margins of Jonny’s notebooks were covered with silly writings and pictures, Thom’s frantic texts and bits of conversation.

Thom tucked small pieces of paper in between the pages of Jonny’s books. Circled words and underlined sentences, excerpts of text from whatever book he was reading.

“…Soon the room had that desolate look that comes from the chaos of packing up to go away and, worse, from removing the shade from the lamp. Never, never take the shade off a lamp. A lampshade is something sacred.”

Jonny was slowly tumbling into the world that surrounded Thom. Sharp clapping of hands and a high noise in the background. Everything was the noise – the resonance of mussed hair; the random staccato of shoulder blades under the thin material; the low hums when Thom was rubbing his eyes. Jonny heard the cacophonic symphony in his head every time he was entering the apartment. Every time he picked up a piece of chalk to write him a message – always in the same corner.

Please be home early.

…::…

Thom was tapping his foot, rubbing his chin, staring in front of himself. He was playing with a piece of white candle between his fingers, finally sighing and placing it on the floor. Waxing didn’t really work.

“Well the billboards don’t really dissolve in the rain,” Stanley said, sighing.
“I’m not sure about our paint.”

Jonny flicked his gaze to Thom. Thom with a black smudge of paint on the sleeve of his white t-shirt.

“You know, if it gets ruined – good riddance, who cares? People will take pictures of it. I bet they’ll stick the picture in the newspaper, just as they did with the paper planes. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“I s’ppose,” Stanley answered, pushing his eyebrows together, “Do you think we could finish it in a week?”

“Yeah, certainly,” Thom answered, turning around to see Jonny looking at them both from his dark corner. Smiling and leaving Stanley sizing up the sheet of wood propped up against the wall, he approached him slowly while a smile crept up on Jonny’s face.

“A total nutter you are,” Thom mumbled, playing with a strand of Jonny’s hair, “Could’ve been home dreaming and not freezing your bones here.”

Jon opened his mouth to answer, but Thom placed a finger to it, smiling. “I know, I know.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing Jonny on the corner of his mouth, then getting up and approaching Stanley again, who was now starting to measure, sketch, and calculate.

The 30x20 ft. piece of artwork was divided into several pieces for convenience; only black and red colors were used for better visibility. The sheet of wood was first sanded and painted with two layers of primer, and now Stanley was making faint pencil marks to assign places for the details.

They started with loud music and Thom dancing, swaying to rhythm and smiling at Jonny, running to him to kiss his face hastily before returning back to Stanley’s side to help him. Then, when the first sketches were finished and contours were approved on the first sheet, Thom and Jonny grabbed the brushes and started coloring in while Stan went ahead on the next piece.

The time caught up with the midnight and soon they were tired and their arms were aching. They took a break sitting on the floor and drinking tea, Thom and Jonny sharing a blanket and Stan having one to himself. Thom was looking at his stained fingers and hands, sighing.

“I should get some petrol to take it off, I guess. Jonny, do you want to help me get the petrol?”

“Do you want to rob the station?”

“No, silly. You could…use the tube and suck it from the gas tank of any car. Of course the main thing is to keep from swallowing it.”

“I don’t think it’s possible,” Jon smiled wiping a bit of paint from Thom’s cheek, their smiling eyes meeting and lingering. Stan was busy rubbing his face and sighing, obviously tired.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” Stanley sighed and got up, stumbling, “I can’t make a straight line anymore – my hands are shaking. And plus I have these visions because of the paint fumes. We should really get some fresh air,” he gazed thoughtfully at the big dirty windows.

“We’ll freeze to death,” Thom answered, looking away from Jonny, “Go ahead though. I’ll put the paint outside and crack open the door, I’m guessing no one will interrupt us.”

“Yeah,” Stanley nodded several times and rubbed his eyes again before proceeding to the adjacent room.

Thom got up and dealt with the paint, then returned into Jonny’s open arms and nuzzled into his warm neck. Jon wrapped the blanket around them and they lay on the floor together, smiling against each other’s lips.

“Forgot me mattress,” Stanley emerged from the other room again not looking at them. Thom giggled at Jonny’s blush as Stan didn’t even look at them and kicked the mattress to his room.

“The floor is bloody cold,” Thom sighed, getting on top of Jon and settling comfortably in place, “Much better. My own bed with a heating unit.”

“Minx,” Jon laughed, brushing Thom’s locks, “I’ll freeze to death while keeping you warm.”

“We’ll switch every now and then,” Thom smiled and leaned down to kiss Jonny tenderly.

“My turn then,” Jon mumbled against his lips, wrapping his arms around Thom and rolling over. Thom hissed from the cold.

“Why is it always me on the cold ground at the end? First in the grass,” he was muffled for a second by Jonny’s lips, “…now here. Seriously.”

“Well, we do have two blankets and our jackets,” Jon got up and they dressed before spreading one blanket on the floor and wrapping another around them, lying close.

“We could also go home, where there’s a warm bed,” Thom muttered against Jonny’s chest.
“Yes, but I like this,” Jon answered, pulling Thom closer.

“You won’t when you’ll wake up. I almost bit off my tongue once when I woke up here.”

“Hmmm,” Jonny smiled, his fingers running over each of Thom’s vertebrae, “This time…”

They both fell asleep before he could finish.

…::…

He was at the door before the key started to turn in the lock.

“Tired, tired, tired,” Thom fell into Jonny’s embrace, their lips finding each other instantly, Jonny closing the door behind them, “You taste like coffee…you’ll drive away my sleep,” Thom smiled, giving in and circling Jonny’s willowy waist with his arms.

“Do you want to go to sleep with me?” Thom traced his index finger along Jonny’s smooth jaw line while Jon was playing with his soft hair.

“I’ll try, but I slept earlier,” Jon said, running his lips down Thom’s cheek to kiss him lightly, “Do you want to stay awake with me?”

Thom chuckled, nibbling at Jon’s ear.

“Someday I’ll surrender to you,” Thom sighed as Jonny wrapped his arms tightly around him and lifted him off the ground. Thom smiled, bending his legs in the knees and holding on tightly to Jon’s shoulders.

“I’ll surrender myself to you and we’ll dig a tight rabbit hole in the warm yellow sand and go there, saving our shallow bodies from the sun,” he said against Jonny’s kissing lips, “And the sand…will go into our mouths, our noses and eyes, fill in every space as we’ll lie there tangled, feeling as if we’ve swelled big enough to fill in the whole universe.”

“Odd, aren’t you?” Jon kissed him on the temple, opening the door to the bedroom and carrying Thom inside.

“…We’ll come out every dawn and twilight,” Thom said as Jon lowered him onto the sheets, “Because during the day it’s too hot and at night it’s too cold.”

…::…

Jonny woke a couple of hours later, his head splitting and feet scorching. He sighed and stood up shakily, running his hands through his hair and groaning at the worm in his brain.

The room was hot and stuffy, but seeing Thom bundled in the covers he realized that there was no way he’d leave him. He went to the bathroom to wash his face quickly and returned to sit on the floor beside Thom’s bed, facing it. His imagined the drops of water on his face slowly diffusing into his skin, small cold needles sticking through his hot skull. A high buzz stretched from left to right, making him dizzy and light-headed. Jon didn’t realize that he was collapsing until he felt his cheek hitting the floor.

He opened his eyes, staring in front of himself. The darkness in front of him made his burning eyes cooler and rubbed his temple, smiling slightly. Something under the bed glistened with his movement and he narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what it was. Extending his long arm and grabbing a dusty object he pulled it out, realizing that it was a dusty box stuffed under Thom’s bed.

Jonny sat upright, his mind working somewhat more coherent and opened it. It contained notebooks and scraps of paper, old letters, photographs. Most covered in Thom’s writing.

Waking up not knowing where you are is uplifting. I’m lying on my back, my head off the bed, staring at the yellow wall. Yellow is a good colour, it’s warm. So maybe this is it? Maybe when I walk out of this bedroom, I’ll be greeted by someone very familiar, with very tender hands. There’s a picture on the wall. I can’t recall where I know it from, but it’s strangely pacifying. Indeed. I must’ve been sleeping and now I woke up.

Jonny flipped the page.

Sometimes I can’t rub their smell off of me. I come home and realize that I reek of them, that I’m soaked in them, and I can’t do anything to get rid of it.

“I see you found my stash.”

Two bare feet descended to the floor next to him and Jon jerked his head upward to see Thom sitting on the bed and staring at the notebook on his lap. His hands were pressed against the bed on either side of him. With his hair sticking in each direction and his feet not quite touching the floor, he looked like a troubled boy.

“When was this written?”

Thom shrugged, rubbing his collarbone and sitting on the floor next to Jonny, flipping the page and reading a few lines.

“I believe the earliest note is from when I was 13. Fascinating stuff, really. Sometimes the only thing I can relate to is the penmanship.”

Jonny turned his head back to the writing, reading in a hushed tone.

“Sometimes in the dark I close my eyes and imagine that I’m somewhere in the past, falling asleep. I build the image carefully, with all the details. I dust off the memories with my fingers. And when I open my eyes, I’m amazed to be somewhere other than the image in my memory. What date is it? I think I’m turning 21 or 22 sometimes this week.”

“Do you still do that?”

“Yeah,” Thom answered, flipping the page. They both read the three lines.

She said she loved me.
“All I want to do is roll into a ball of dust in the corner of the street,” I said.
“How so very you,” she answered.

“You were in love?”

“Lots of times.”

“Do you fall in love easily?”

“I used to.”

Thom stood up, running his hands through his hair and hugging himself. He opened the door and immediately Jonny felt a cool breeze on his cheek from the slightly ajar window. He put the notebook away, standing up and facing Thom awkwardly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trailing off.

“For what?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was the intrusion of privacy.”

“’Tis not. Most of the things that go on in my head…I can’t really express them. These are just…doodles. And I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

“Why?”

Jonny watched as Thom leaned against the wall, scratching the back of his head and looking at the floor.

“I’m already thinking of how to recoil after you walk away. I’m already preparing myself for the blow,” Thom said, nodding slightly and looking quickly at Jonny before exiting the room.

…::…

Jonny stuck his finger in the bucket of black paint before reaching up and drawing a single line on Thom’s white shirt, from the nape of his neck to the waistband of his jeans.

“If only we had helicopters,” Stanley sighed, rubbing his face, “First time in my life when I need machinery and it’s not there.”

“What, you don’t use elevators?”

“This is a two-story building,” Jon let out a soft “oh” and turned back to Thom.

“I’d prefer wings,” Thom said, sighing and gazing at their artwork.

“They’d put you into the circus.”

“I don’t mind, I’m a bit of an exhibitionist.”

“Or they’d put a small ring around your ankle, the way they put it on the birds, and some fine gentleman would walk you every day. Of course there would be a chain attached to the ring.”

“That’s why people will never fly,” Jon joked, ducking his head to rub his cheek against Thom’s shoulder.

Jonny watched, amused, as two men nodded, their faces completely serious.

“So getting it on top of the building is one thing. We can install the buckles at home…prepare everything… How do you reckon we move this all to London?”

“London?” Jonny turned to Stanley, shocked.

“After the paper plane stunt every concierge of every building was informed to be on guard,” Thom whispered into Jonny’s ear, “They also made sure to shut and lock every building or warehouse. Or at least they say so on the news. Plus, London has a bigger audience.”

“We need two cars, at least,” Stan knelt down, picking up a brush and covering the spot he missed, “Or lots of manpower and bicycles.”

“Ed has a car,” Thom pointed out and Jon turned to him for explanation once again, “I told you about him. The waiter who loves The Smiths.”

“What about the second car?” Stan asked and Thom shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“My brother,” Jon said, biting his lip, “My brother has one.”

…::…

Been thinking about you

Thom has a bad habit of leaving the shower curtain open. It has something to do with a fear of being stabbed Psycho- style, and Jonny usually hates it because it leaves the bathroom in a wet mess of puddles which Thom of course will never take care of. But sometimes Jonny sees this habit as a bless. Like right now for example, as he’s leaning against the bathroom wall, watching Thom take his shower.

Thom is so into it he doesn’t even notice Jonny is watching him. He’s in one of those shower trances, when you close your eyes and let the hot water take over every inch of you. He’s facing the wall, surrounded by steam and water, occasionally lifting his hands to slowly rub his face or to run them through his hair. Jonny makes a mental note to tell Thom that his open- curtain system is not working because anyone could have stabbed him right now.

Jonny slowly take off his clothes, trying not to make any revealing noises as he’s stepping inside the shower, wrapping his arms around Thom, who doesn’t even flinch, he just turns around, smiling his mischievous smile. He must have known Jonny was there all along, the manipulative bastard, Jonny should have guessed all of those luring gestures weren’t for nothing.

“You already showered today” he points out to Jonny.

“I know that” Jonny points back.

“I think you’re developing a showering obsession, Jonny. Maybe you should get some help”

“You’re the one who would be needing help if you don’t shut up, Thom”

Thom is starting to make another sophisticated comment but Jonny is covering his lips just in time to stop it.

“Mmmpphhhh”

“Shutupthom”

Jonny is enjoying the hot water, a little too hot for him but he already knows that’s how Thom takes his showers. There’s actually something about too hot water that makes you feel a little numb, makes you move slower and feel less, and Jonny loves that sensation.

The sensation of Thom’s hands moving up his spine is even better and Jonny closes his eyes and lets the water fall on his face and slide down his neck. Everything around them is steamy and wet and Jonny is taking his time to enjoy this moment of wet bliss, wrapped in Thom’s arms, Thom’s forehead pressed against the gap between his neck and his shoulder.

But Thom’s erection against his thigh is reminding him that he didn’t come there to enjoy the lovely water, he came because the sight of Thom’s wet naked body was too much for his cock to bear.

With one quick motion he grabs Thom’s cock with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, pulling him into a wetter-than-usual kiss, Thom moaning in surprise into his mouth. Jonny just knows what’ll happen if he’ll grip Thom’s cock with his hand and use his thumb to stroke the head, he knows it won’t take long until Thom will break their kiss with a gasp, spin him around and push him against the cold tiles.

That’s exactly what he wants Thom to do. It doesn’t take too long before he finds himself facing those tiles, Thom’s cock finding its way into him and Thom’s lips on the back of his shoulder. The water, falling down on the both of them like rain, is making everything slippery and fresh, causing little rivers to form and go down their now joint bodies.

It might be the laziness caused by the hot water or just the special aura of a good shower that is causing Thom to move so slow, slower than usual, slower than Jonny has ever felt him moving. He has his palms on Jonny’s chest and his lips wide open against his skin and Jonny can barely hear anything apart from their deep sighs and the sound of water hitting their skins.

Jonny’s hair is sticking to his eyes and forehead in wet strands but he really couldn’t care less at the moment as his dazed consciousness is busy trying to figure out whether Thom is moving too slow or not slow enough. Right now it’s just on the border, and that particular rhythm is starting to drive Jonny into a sequence of quivers, almost unfelt at first, slowly turning into uncontrollable shivers accompanied by low groans and sighs.

Thom’s response is of course to slow down even more, linger on his movements even more. He pushes all the way in as far as he can go and then stops altogether, waiting for Jonny to calm down while kissing his back gently. Then, when Jonny stops shaking and grows silent, still panting a little, he starts moving again, slower this time and with Jonny’s cock between his fingers.

“Fuhhhhhack, Thom…”

This routine seems to be lasting for hours, Jonny is not really sure if they’re hours really or just minutes, seconds maybe, it doesn’t matter to him really, he’s slipping into a state of vagueness, comfortably drowning in a cloud of steams and sex, laziness and cold tiles. Thom’s cock, barely moving inside him is no longer an external organ pushed into him, it has become a part of him already, an inseparable part, he has no idea anymore where he ends and Thom begins or how he’s ever going to survive once this is over.

They are both so consumed with this endless fuck that none of them even notices when the hot water are starting to run out. It’s not until the water are becoming practically cold that they fall out of the spell they were under, the first thing Jonny notices is that they are both shivering now and he smiles to himself in satisfaction. Thom is waking up, gripping Jonny’s hips and starting to move faster, matching his stroking hand on Jonny’s cock to the new rhythm.

The cold waters are like a slap, rushing their bloods and freezing them all at the same time, none of them is even considering reaching out a hand and turning them off, it’s like they’re in a battle against it now, a race maybe, trying to prove something to the water and to themselves.

The shakings are becoming violent and so is the fucking, Thom is practically hurling himself against Jonny, one hand still on Jonny’s cock moving without control, the other one drawing deep scrapes on Jonny’s chest. Jonny is not growling anymore, he’s screaming now, his voice lost in between the hoarse edges of Thom’s voice so he screams even louder, he needs to hear himself for some reason, he needs to feel like he’s really there and this is not some sort of a crazed fantasy.

It doesn’t take them long to come intensely against each other, Thom biting on Jonny’s shoulder and Jonny screaming loudly, his head thrown back and his eyes shut, the both of them still shaking and Jonny is wondering if it’s the pleasure or the fact that he’s freezing. Thom manages to pull himself together long enough to turn the water knob and only the sounds of single drops of water hitting the floor are filling the room now. Jonny begins unconsciously sliding down the shiny tiles but two firm hands are grabbing him, pulling him into an embrace.

He lets himself drift and be led into the safe arms of a soft dry towel, enjoying the loving manner in which Thom wipes dry every last inch of his skin. They are both still shaking even under the thick blankets, occupying only one side of the bed as they’re curled up against each other, slowly kissing and chuckling at unspoken absurdities, drifting away and giving in to the sweet slumber coming to collect them.

“I could’ve stabbed you if I wanted.”

“Uhhm, what?”

“In the shower, I could’ve stabbed you just like the…”

“Don’t say that!”

“Just like…”

“Jonny!!”

“Close the bloody curtain”

“No fucking way, are you mad?”

“Thom…”

“What?”

“Oh…Just forget it…”