I’m tying my shoes and trying to suppress a yawn when he pops up from nowhere, a map in his hands, fringe swishing lightly as he kneels in front of me.
“We could go down that street,” I watch his finger follow one of the thick lines, “Turn right there at the intersection…”
It looks hot outside. Only 10 in the morning and the air is thick and steady, hanging there like an oily motionless liquid.
“…And if we won’t get lost, we’ll end up walking along the beach…”
He is pronouncing Spanish names with French accent. Or so I imagine. I find it funny how his initially roaring R’s collapse under the pressure of long-time training.
“…They say you can find some nice records at that place…”
Ah-ha.
“…There’s a small restaurant somewhere here, only a couple of tables,” he taps his finger on the map, staring at it intensely, as if trying to get inside it and look around for the signboard, “The chef there is great.”
His Rs are completely messed up now, somewhere between English, French, and Spanish. He has to stop and think which one to choose, how to roll his tongue, and most of the times he does it wrong. I look down at him and imagine that he is a foreign boy who knows only a couple of English phrases, which is very simple to do, since his face is tanned and eyes look darker, almost black.
Noticing my gaze, he looks up, a foreign name dying on his lips. Yes, indeed, he is not English at all.
“What’s wrong?”
I close my eyes and chuckle. He did it again, and his lisp worsened under the pressure. I’m thoroughly convinced that my Jonny was stolen at night and replaced by…Paolo? Mauricio? Juan?
“I don’t understand…”
I laugh in full force now, rolling on the bed and hugging myself. But Paolo (Mauricio or Juan) turns out to be more aggressive than Jonny and I feel him grab my legs and yank me to the floor. I kick and squirm and laugh and warn him of England going to war with Spain.
“The Spanish are attacking! Got to save the queen! Phone the Prime-Minister!”
He giggles and straddles me, then lowers himself down to be closer to my face.
“Cierra la boca,” he whispers and dives down for a kiss.
With his canvas skin and coal-black eyes he still kisses like a boy I knew in Oxford.
Showing posts with label fluffy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fluffy. Show all posts
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Monday, December 31, 2007
Leaving
Thom’s POV
I guess August was the shortest month. I remember thinking that it was only the end of July and the next thing that hit me was the fact that it was August 19th.
I was sitting on the bed, my hands shaking, flipping through the piles of records just after I got home from buying a ticket for the train that would leave in three days time. There was something bitter on my tongue and my throat was parched, and I clearly needed music to distract me. But not Joy Division – because, well, Joy Division is his favorite band, and definitely not REM, because we usually listen to them together. My fingers were cold for some reason as I skimmed through the familiar pile rapidly – there was nothing that wouldn’t remind me of this summer and the fact that it was going to end soon. I dropped on my knees and looked under my bed, remembering that I’ve stashed some old records there – some of my parents’ even. Taking the dusty box out, I took the first thing that was under my hand and put it on quickly, closing my eyes and holding my head in my hands, waiting for the first sounds to appear. It’s the most complete silence, isn’t it? - When you put on the unknown record and wait for it to start.
‘Twas Frank Sinatra. I scowled and scooted over to replace the record, but then I realized that I would rather listen to it – there was a consolation in the way it crackled and the way the warm voice filled the air. I sat back on the floor, leaning against the bed and went through the long-forgotten vinyl: Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Ray Charles, Louis Armstrong, and the Rat Pack. I thought of my mom and dad listening to those while they were dating – the way they would steal quick kisses and dance together, the way my mom’s heels would clink while they would take walks, hand in hand.
Suddenly I was overcome with happiness. Pure, red, and foolish happiness. Yes, I was going away for a long time, and yes there were loads of rubbish in the near future, loads of jaw-clenching bollocks, but hell – I was in love. Nevermind the details, really – forget the fact he is just a yawning puppy, forget the muck of the public opinion and…well, there’s nothing around when you are in love, correct? No Oxford, London, no bloody Exeter and surely there’s no Britain, Europe, America and Asia – the whole universe goes to hell, burns in the yellow light of the sun and fire – because Jonny bloody Greenwood has gorgeous cheek bones and because Jonny bloody Greenwood blushes every time I brush them with my lips in the dim shining of the street lamps.
Five Minutes More started playing and I was suddenly pulled back on earth with the complications piling up in my head – our insecurities; my insecurities. Telling everybody to sod off had been a hobby of mine for quite a while by that time, but there was a major fight with my head now…or there should’ve been one. I heard stories about men who had to force themselves to be with women just because they could not stand the fact that they were attracted to the same sex; I guess, I imagined I would surely be such person, only to be completely shocked by my own tranquility in the whole situation – it wasn’t even a bit awkward for me to fancy Jonny.
Then I understood – I was prepared long before that. I remembered all the small thoughts that were going through my head during puberty and even before; the way I was attracted to a young male teacher – to the point when his fingers brushing mine accidentally would send electrical currents through me. Not love, of course, just pure desire with a pinch of curiosity. Then – my inability to be interested in one girl for more than a couple of months. Then – finding myself studying the men and boys who surrounded me. To be honest, I was very enticed by the strong wrists and long fingers, narrow shoulders and lithe shapes.
I guess my long-ordered desire came in one lanky package that turned out to be my best mate’s brother.
I knew what I wanted then. It’s just that I would be going away from it in about 70 hours.
I guess August was the shortest month. I remember thinking that it was only the end of July and the next thing that hit me was the fact that it was August 19th.
I was sitting on the bed, my hands shaking, flipping through the piles of records just after I got home from buying a ticket for the train that would leave in three days time. There was something bitter on my tongue and my throat was parched, and I clearly needed music to distract me. But not Joy Division – because, well, Joy Division is his favorite band, and definitely not REM, because we usually listen to them together. My fingers were cold for some reason as I skimmed through the familiar pile rapidly – there was nothing that wouldn’t remind me of this summer and the fact that it was going to end soon. I dropped on my knees and looked under my bed, remembering that I’ve stashed some old records there – some of my parents’ even. Taking the dusty box out, I took the first thing that was under my hand and put it on quickly, closing my eyes and holding my head in my hands, waiting for the first sounds to appear. It’s the most complete silence, isn’t it? - When you put on the unknown record and wait for it to start.
‘Twas Frank Sinatra. I scowled and scooted over to replace the record, but then I realized that I would rather listen to it – there was a consolation in the way it crackled and the way the warm voice filled the air. I sat back on the floor, leaning against the bed and went through the long-forgotten vinyl: Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Ray Charles, Louis Armstrong, and the Rat Pack. I thought of my mom and dad listening to those while they were dating – the way they would steal quick kisses and dance together, the way my mom’s heels would clink while they would take walks, hand in hand.
Suddenly I was overcome with happiness. Pure, red, and foolish happiness. Yes, I was going away for a long time, and yes there were loads of rubbish in the near future, loads of jaw-clenching bollocks, but hell – I was in love. Nevermind the details, really – forget the fact he is just a yawning puppy, forget the muck of the public opinion and…well, there’s nothing around when you are in love, correct? No Oxford, London, no bloody Exeter and surely there’s no Britain, Europe, America and Asia – the whole universe goes to hell, burns in the yellow light of the sun and fire – because Jonny bloody Greenwood has gorgeous cheek bones and because Jonny bloody Greenwood blushes every time I brush them with my lips in the dim shining of the street lamps.
Five Minutes More started playing and I was suddenly pulled back on earth with the complications piling up in my head – our insecurities; my insecurities. Telling everybody to sod off had been a hobby of mine for quite a while by that time, but there was a major fight with my head now…or there should’ve been one. I heard stories about men who had to force themselves to be with women just because they could not stand the fact that they were attracted to the same sex; I guess, I imagined I would surely be such person, only to be completely shocked by my own tranquility in the whole situation – it wasn’t even a bit awkward for me to fancy Jonny.
Then I understood – I was prepared long before that. I remembered all the small thoughts that were going through my head during puberty and even before; the way I was attracted to a young male teacher – to the point when his fingers brushing mine accidentally would send electrical currents through me. Not love, of course, just pure desire with a pinch of curiosity. Then – my inability to be interested in one girl for more than a couple of months. Then – finding myself studying the men and boys who surrounded me. To be honest, I was very enticed by the strong wrists and long fingers, narrow shoulders and lithe shapes.
I guess my long-ordered desire came in one lanky package that turned out to be my best mate’s brother.
I knew what I wanted then. It’s just that I would be going away from it in about 70 hours.
Monday, December 10, 2007
A Red Santa Hat
A red Santa hat.
Jonny blinked dumbly before moving his eyes down only to be met with a sly smile plastered on a smug face.
“I thought of wearing the suit and stuffing it with a couple of pillows as well, but those bastards at the costume shop ask for 50 pounds for the whole night,” Thom licked his lips, loving the effect his sudden appearance had on Jonny, “But lookie, I’ve got the real beard. It’s not like all that artificial white stuff. This thing it’s real,” Thom stroked his stubble.
Jonny was still speechless.
“Well, judging by your reaction, I guess I should explain myself,” Thom shifted from foot to foot, “We haven’t seen each other for…erm…two months? Telephone calls aside…and well it’s Christmas Eve, and I thought ‘Hell, why wouldn’t I go to check up on that mate of mine, Jonny his name is, and why wouldn’t I bring a red Claus sac full of booze?’, and well, here I am,” Thom gazed meaningfully behind his back, indicating the clinking sac behind his shoulders.
“I thought you were going to have a party at your house tonight,” finally Jonny swallowed the ball that was troubling his breathing and produced a sound.
“I am! But you know what? Half-way through, the time when I usually look for you so we could talk, I realized you weren’t there and so I decided to ditch everybody,” Thom started to become nervous now, “Listen, um, I am not interrupting anything, am I? I mean…if there’s a gorgeous blonde in your living room, I’ll just go back, I mean it’s not a big deal really, they are probably waiting for me anyway…”
“No, the only gorgeous blonde here is you,” Jonny tried to sound jokingly, but it turned out completely wrong and they both blushed, looking down. They were silent for a moment, before Thom took a deep breathe:
“Have you got any nice glasses?”
“Yeah.”
…::…
Jonny loved the way his small dingy apartment turned into something holiday-like when Thom appeared there suddenly; they turned off the main lights and set up a coffee table, feeling it with quick snacks they managed to make and bottles that Thom brought with him. Sitting on the floor, they picked an old cheesy Christmas movie and turned the volume on, talking about nothing, just enjoying the company. Thom produced a miniature Christmas tree from the sac he brought and set it in the middle of the table.
“Where’s that from?” Jonny smiled, fingering the green plastic.
“Actually, I snatched it from the liquor store,” Thom laughed, “The owner had his back on me and I thought that it was nice and I was sure that you didn’t have a huge tree in your place, so I’ve decided to borrow that one.”
“Whoa, you sure they didn’t have any hidden cameras?”
“Oh my bloody God,” Thom’s jaw dropped, “You think they might’ve recorded it?”
“Oh yeah! Tomorrow morning, NME’s going to have an article: ‘Starving artist is forced to steal a Christmas tree.’”
“I’ll return it right now then,” Thom got up, but Jonny laughed and caught his hand in the mid-air, tackling him down to the ground again. Thom lost his balance and landed on top of Jonny’s lap with a loud “oomph”.
“Jonny,” Thom giggled, brushing Jonny’s hair away so he could see his face, “Lemme go, I have to save my dignity!”
“Oh, shut up,” Jonny smiled at him lovingly, circling his waist with his arms, “It’s not like it’s the biggest shock you’ve brought to the public.”
“What’s the biggest one then?” Thom smiled, straddling Jonny’s lap and putting his hands on the bigger man’s shoulders.
“Well you know, if some paparazzi was taking pictures of us now, I think it would be the biggest stunt ever,” Jonny leaned against the sofa, holding Thom in his arms, his consciousness clouded with alcohol and Thom’s close presence.
“Ooh, maybe we should give the poor guy more material,” Thom reached his hand up to stroke Jonny’s jaw line with his fingers, “D’you think he is shooting us from window of the building across?”
“Yeah, that must be it,” Jonny’s eyes darted to see Thom’s lips and his breathe hitched a little.
“Okay, so,” Thom tilted his head, moving closer to Jonny, “When we kiss, keep in mind that we have to make a nice angle for the guy.”
Jonny was nodding, the words not quite reaching his mind. He felt Thom’s hand wrap around the back of his neck and then he was drawn closer to the man on top of him, their lips meeting for a small peck before they started to kiss fiercely; Thom stood on his knees, still straddling Jonny, and his hands were rubbing his shoulders, eager to feel the skin underneath the shirt. Jonny moaned quietly and pushed against Thom harder, his fingers grabbing Thom’s shirt and pulling it up a little reflexively. But just as it started, the kiss stopped abruptly, as Thom pulled away, laughing and gazing sideways, giving a finger to his imaginary photographer and shouting something. Jonny panted, his fingers still grasping Thom’s shirt. He realized that Thom’s hand was still resting on his cheek, so he turned his head a little and kissed it, savoring the feel of the warm skin against his lips, flicking it with his nose and closing his eyes to inhale the smell of Thom’s slightly damp palm.
Feeling the wet contact, Thom turned his head and looked at Jonny – his chest heaving and his face rubbing against his palm in agony. He sighed and watched the younger man for a while, his pupils dilating and heart fluttering at the eager caresses he was receiving. Finally, Jonny’s eyes opened and they looked at each other. Thom slowly settled back on Jonny’s lap, playing with his hair softly and stroking his neck and shoulders.
“The summer after we met,” Jonny caught Thom’s hand again, kissing his fingers and rubbing his cheek against them, “I walked on you while you were stretching on Colin’s bed with your eyes closed, with headphones on, your lips moving and forming the lyrics…and…something about the way one of your legs was bent at the knee and your hand on your stomach,” Jonny closed his eyes, letting his hair fall on his face, “Something about the way your hair was messy that day…something about the way you smiled at me when you told you that we were waiting for you so we could start a rehearsal,” Jonny raised his head, looking not at Thom directly, but a little to the side from his face, “And then it just kept growing.”
Jonny trailed off, a little smile forming on his lips; Thom thought he had forgotten about him, but then Jonny was playing with his fingers again, kissing them one by one and holding them in his hand before looking at Thom’s face, carefully avoiding the eye contact and tracing his features with the soft pad of his finger. His eyes narrowed in pleasure and curiosity as he stroked the soft skin that was spiky with stubble at some places. Thom noticed him biting his lip – they way a young boy would while playing with his favourite toy.
Thom moved a little and Jonny dropped his hand, blushing and looking down. “Sorry,” he mumbled through a smile, “I wanted to get as much as I could while you were in stupor. I guess we will never be that close again,” he added with a sadness in his voice, “That is, if I am allowed to see you at all,” he raised his head, looking at Thom with doomed bitterness, making their first eye contact for the evening.
“The night after our first gig,” Thom reached across to cup his face while the color drained from Jonny’s face, “I had this feeling of intense euphoria…and I remember us sitting on the sofa at that after party, our eyes closed and heads thrown back and talking complete rubbish…and I remember they way our shoulders and thighs brushed against each other and the way you slurred after a few pints. We had this,” Thom smiled, looking down for a second, “Wild connection…breathing at the same rate and thinking at the unison. And I thought the way you smelled and how I wanted to snuggle in close to you on that sofa right there in then. How nice it would be if we were together.”
Thom ducked for another quick kiss from Jonny’s unmoving lips, chuckling slightly.
“Seriously?” Jonny mumbled under his breathe, not quite believing yet.
“Yeah, seriously,” Thom smiled, “I guess, we have to make it official, eh?” he rubbed his cheek against Jonny’s, closing his eyes, “What I was trying to say was…I love you,” he whispered it in Jonny’s ear before nipping at it lightly, “Aren’t you going to anything, Jon?”
“Holy fuck,” Jonny’s eyes became huge with happiness, “Bloody shit....”
“Very romantic, Jon-Jon,” Thom smacked his shoulder playfully, “Here we have the bloody Christmas tree and the cheesy movie is on, and we are drinking and pouring our souls out, and all you can think about is profanities,” Thom pouted and Jonny kissed him as if to check if this image was still true. Thom returned the kiss and they launched another session on exploration of each other’s bodies, their sighs mingling and fingers clawing at flesh desperately.
“Okay, okay,” Jonny pulled back with a great effort, “Okay, even if it’s some kind of insane dream, I’m gonna say it,” he took Thom’s face in his hands, “I love you.”
Jonny closed his eyes as if expecting to wake up, but nothing happened. Instead, he felt a warm flick of the tongue on his lips and when he opened his eyes again he saw Thom’s smiling face.
“You know,” Thom reached back to grab two glasses of wine from the table, “I should’ve chosen a different holiday for this. Christmas is waaay overused,” he handed one glass to Jonny, “Imagine if I chose…hmmm…world vegetarian day? I’d stop by your place in a broccoli costume and advice you to eat me,” Jonny shook his head, “No? All right…Oktoberfest then? I’d make a hot Bavarian chick.”
“Bavarian chicks are not my type,” Jonny laughed, pecking Thom on the mouth.
“Who’s your type then?”
“The very bloke sitting on my lap.”
“Ah, Jonny,” Thom clinked their glasses, “I think I feel most sorry for us missing out on all the sweet talk…never mind sex and making out.”
Jonny blinked dumbly before moving his eyes down only to be met with a sly smile plastered on a smug face.
“I thought of wearing the suit and stuffing it with a couple of pillows as well, but those bastards at the costume shop ask for 50 pounds for the whole night,” Thom licked his lips, loving the effect his sudden appearance had on Jonny, “But lookie, I’ve got the real beard. It’s not like all that artificial white stuff. This thing it’s real,” Thom stroked his stubble.
Jonny was still speechless.
“Well, judging by your reaction, I guess I should explain myself,” Thom shifted from foot to foot, “We haven’t seen each other for…erm…two months? Telephone calls aside…and well it’s Christmas Eve, and I thought ‘Hell, why wouldn’t I go to check up on that mate of mine, Jonny his name is, and why wouldn’t I bring a red Claus sac full of booze?’, and well, here I am,” Thom gazed meaningfully behind his back, indicating the clinking sac behind his shoulders.
“I thought you were going to have a party at your house tonight,” finally Jonny swallowed the ball that was troubling his breathing and produced a sound.
“I am! But you know what? Half-way through, the time when I usually look for you so we could talk, I realized you weren’t there and so I decided to ditch everybody,” Thom started to become nervous now, “Listen, um, I am not interrupting anything, am I? I mean…if there’s a gorgeous blonde in your living room, I’ll just go back, I mean it’s not a big deal really, they are probably waiting for me anyway…”
“No, the only gorgeous blonde here is you,” Jonny tried to sound jokingly, but it turned out completely wrong and they both blushed, looking down. They were silent for a moment, before Thom took a deep breathe:
“Have you got any nice glasses?”
“Yeah.”
…::…
Jonny loved the way his small dingy apartment turned into something holiday-like when Thom appeared there suddenly; they turned off the main lights and set up a coffee table, feeling it with quick snacks they managed to make and bottles that Thom brought with him. Sitting on the floor, they picked an old cheesy Christmas movie and turned the volume on, talking about nothing, just enjoying the company. Thom produced a miniature Christmas tree from the sac he brought and set it in the middle of the table.
“Where’s that from?” Jonny smiled, fingering the green plastic.
“Actually, I snatched it from the liquor store,” Thom laughed, “The owner had his back on me and I thought that it was nice and I was sure that you didn’t have a huge tree in your place, so I’ve decided to borrow that one.”
“Whoa, you sure they didn’t have any hidden cameras?”
“Oh my bloody God,” Thom’s jaw dropped, “You think they might’ve recorded it?”
“Oh yeah! Tomorrow morning, NME’s going to have an article: ‘Starving artist is forced to steal a Christmas tree.’”
“I’ll return it right now then,” Thom got up, but Jonny laughed and caught his hand in the mid-air, tackling him down to the ground again. Thom lost his balance and landed on top of Jonny’s lap with a loud “oomph”.
“Jonny,” Thom giggled, brushing Jonny’s hair away so he could see his face, “Lemme go, I have to save my dignity!”
“Oh, shut up,” Jonny smiled at him lovingly, circling his waist with his arms, “It’s not like it’s the biggest shock you’ve brought to the public.”
“What’s the biggest one then?” Thom smiled, straddling Jonny’s lap and putting his hands on the bigger man’s shoulders.
“Well you know, if some paparazzi was taking pictures of us now, I think it would be the biggest stunt ever,” Jonny leaned against the sofa, holding Thom in his arms, his consciousness clouded with alcohol and Thom’s close presence.
“Ooh, maybe we should give the poor guy more material,” Thom reached his hand up to stroke Jonny’s jaw line with his fingers, “D’you think he is shooting us from window of the building across?”
“Yeah, that must be it,” Jonny’s eyes darted to see Thom’s lips and his breathe hitched a little.
“Okay, so,” Thom tilted his head, moving closer to Jonny, “When we kiss, keep in mind that we have to make a nice angle for the guy.”
Jonny was nodding, the words not quite reaching his mind. He felt Thom’s hand wrap around the back of his neck and then he was drawn closer to the man on top of him, their lips meeting for a small peck before they started to kiss fiercely; Thom stood on his knees, still straddling Jonny, and his hands were rubbing his shoulders, eager to feel the skin underneath the shirt. Jonny moaned quietly and pushed against Thom harder, his fingers grabbing Thom’s shirt and pulling it up a little reflexively. But just as it started, the kiss stopped abruptly, as Thom pulled away, laughing and gazing sideways, giving a finger to his imaginary photographer and shouting something. Jonny panted, his fingers still grasping Thom’s shirt. He realized that Thom’s hand was still resting on his cheek, so he turned his head a little and kissed it, savoring the feel of the warm skin against his lips, flicking it with his nose and closing his eyes to inhale the smell of Thom’s slightly damp palm.
Feeling the wet contact, Thom turned his head and looked at Jonny – his chest heaving and his face rubbing against his palm in agony. He sighed and watched the younger man for a while, his pupils dilating and heart fluttering at the eager caresses he was receiving. Finally, Jonny’s eyes opened and they looked at each other. Thom slowly settled back on Jonny’s lap, playing with his hair softly and stroking his neck and shoulders.
“The summer after we met,” Jonny caught Thom’s hand again, kissing his fingers and rubbing his cheek against them, “I walked on you while you were stretching on Colin’s bed with your eyes closed, with headphones on, your lips moving and forming the lyrics…and…something about the way one of your legs was bent at the knee and your hand on your stomach,” Jonny closed his eyes, letting his hair fall on his face, “Something about the way your hair was messy that day…something about the way you smiled at me when you told you that we were waiting for you so we could start a rehearsal,” Jonny raised his head, looking not at Thom directly, but a little to the side from his face, “And then it just kept growing.”
Jonny trailed off, a little smile forming on his lips; Thom thought he had forgotten about him, but then Jonny was playing with his fingers again, kissing them one by one and holding them in his hand before looking at Thom’s face, carefully avoiding the eye contact and tracing his features with the soft pad of his finger. His eyes narrowed in pleasure and curiosity as he stroked the soft skin that was spiky with stubble at some places. Thom noticed him biting his lip – they way a young boy would while playing with his favourite toy.
Thom moved a little and Jonny dropped his hand, blushing and looking down. “Sorry,” he mumbled through a smile, “I wanted to get as much as I could while you were in stupor. I guess we will never be that close again,” he added with a sadness in his voice, “That is, if I am allowed to see you at all,” he raised his head, looking at Thom with doomed bitterness, making their first eye contact for the evening.
“The night after our first gig,” Thom reached across to cup his face while the color drained from Jonny’s face, “I had this feeling of intense euphoria…and I remember us sitting on the sofa at that after party, our eyes closed and heads thrown back and talking complete rubbish…and I remember they way our shoulders and thighs brushed against each other and the way you slurred after a few pints. We had this,” Thom smiled, looking down for a second, “Wild connection…breathing at the same rate and thinking at the unison. And I thought the way you smelled and how I wanted to snuggle in close to you on that sofa right there in then. How nice it would be if we were together.”
Thom ducked for another quick kiss from Jonny’s unmoving lips, chuckling slightly.
“Seriously?” Jonny mumbled under his breathe, not quite believing yet.
“Yeah, seriously,” Thom smiled, “I guess, we have to make it official, eh?” he rubbed his cheek against Jonny’s, closing his eyes, “What I was trying to say was…I love you,” he whispered it in Jonny’s ear before nipping at it lightly, “Aren’t you going to anything, Jon?”
“Holy fuck,” Jonny’s eyes became huge with happiness, “Bloody shit....”
“Very romantic, Jon-Jon,” Thom smacked his shoulder playfully, “Here we have the bloody Christmas tree and the cheesy movie is on, and we are drinking and pouring our souls out, and all you can think about is profanities,” Thom pouted and Jonny kissed him as if to check if this image was still true. Thom returned the kiss and they launched another session on exploration of each other’s bodies, their sighs mingling and fingers clawing at flesh desperately.
“Okay, okay,” Jonny pulled back with a great effort, “Okay, even if it’s some kind of insane dream, I’m gonna say it,” he took Thom’s face in his hands, “I love you.”
Jonny closed his eyes as if expecting to wake up, but nothing happened. Instead, he felt a warm flick of the tongue on his lips and when he opened his eyes again he saw Thom’s smiling face.
“You know,” Thom reached back to grab two glasses of wine from the table, “I should’ve chosen a different holiday for this. Christmas is waaay overused,” he handed one glass to Jonny, “Imagine if I chose…hmmm…world vegetarian day? I’d stop by your place in a broccoli costume and advice you to eat me,” Jonny shook his head, “No? All right…Oktoberfest then? I’d make a hot Bavarian chick.”
“Bavarian chicks are not my type,” Jonny laughed, pecking Thom on the mouth.
“Who’s your type then?”
“The very bloke sitting on my lap.”
“Ah, Jonny,” Thom clinked their glasses, “I think I feel most sorry for us missing out on all the sweet talk…never mind sex and making out.”
Crayons and Conundrums
Jonny was sitting on the hard wood floor of his living room transfixed with an art project. Crayons were scattered all around him in a rainbow chaos, and a stack of extra paper was being tossed away one by one by an open window letting the summer air in. His eyes were fixed on the scribbles he made on the page. Swaying his head left and right, he wondered what colors he had actually used to create what was probably an inescapable disaster. He concluded that this was not worthy to give to mommy as a present, when something flew across the room and made contact with his head.
Jonny spun around defensively to see what was thrown and who had done it. A crayon. It was probably Colin again. Its best to ignore that sort of behavior, Jonny thought to himself, and began a new drawing. Once he started to focus again, however, another crayon met with his head.
"Colin! Stop it! Ill tell mummy! She hates when you mess with me while im being quiet!" Jonny posed to listen for a mean reply from Colin, but nothing came. Good, Jonny thought, and continued coloring. He had successfully made a few orange lines connect with some yellow and brown circles and dots, when two crayons flew at him, one hitting his back and the other bouncing off the top of his head. Without turning around, he started yelling behind him. "Colin! I know its you and your not funny! How are you even getting my crayons?" No answer. "Colin?" No answer. "Fine! Your just a girlyface anyway."
Then he heard noise. Laughter. Muffled laughter. "Hah! See? I can here you Colin! Are you laughing because its funny that you are such a girl?" More muffled laughter. Jonny felt like he had the upper hand for once. Stupid Colin. But then Jonny jumped, because after the laughter came silenced coughing, coughing that sounded nothing at all like his brothers. With a jolt of fear, Jonny lept up, sending crayons everywhere, and darted to the couch. On one cushion, in a gargoyle-stance, Jonny tried to find out who the intruder was.
"Who is in there?" From the other room he hears someone clear their throat. Oh, no! Mommy warned me this would happen if i didnt lock the doors behind me after i played outside! Now im going to get kidnapped and ruined! Jonny thought. Of course he had no idea what that meant he just knew his mother made it sound bad, so it was. "G-get out of my house you..."Jonny was looking for a bad word to use to scare the stranger away. "You...um...Bastard!"
Then Jonny heard this persons voice. "OOooooooh, Jonny! You said a curse word! Im going to have to tell on you!" From around the corner Jonny saw a small person appear. He had on the same school uniform as Colin's, because it was Colin's. His hair was messy and his knees where dirty and his tie was all wrong and he was undoubtedly short. Jonny narrowed his eyes with resentment.
"Thom!" Jonny spat his name out like poison. "You-why-I...how di...why w-" Jonny was always at a loss of words when it came to his brother's favorite friend. Colin thought he was the cat's meow, but Jonny hated him. He finally settled on, "Why won't you leave me alone?"
A mischievous grin occupied Thom's face and Jonny held his breath. When Colin did this, it meant that Jonny needed to run, and it certainly applied to Thom because he bolted towards him. Jonny couldn't react fast enough, and when Thom pulled his legs from under him, they both landed roughly on the couch. Smiling Thom had a very Squirmy Jonny pinned. "Let! Go! Let! Go!" Jonny yelped as he could, but Thom held fast. This kept up for a few minutes. Jonny finally stopped wiggling out of exhaustion. "Go...away...Thom..." Jonny breathed. "Hm...no." Thom responded. Jonny made eye contact with Thom and felt incredibly uncomfortable.
"Hey Jonny?" Thom whispered.
"What?" Jonny said suspiciously.
"Hey, Jonny?"
"What?"
"Heeeeeeeey Jonny?"
"WHAT?!?"
"Hey Jonny?"
"WHAT? What is it!?"
Thom made a serious face like he was about to say something bad and Jonny waited to hear it.
"Hey, Jonny."
"GETAWAYFROMME!" Jonny resumed squirming. "Your so silly, Jonny," Thom said and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.
"Ah! Nooooo! DON'T! THOM! STOP!" Jonny sounded serious. Thom found this priceless. He kissed Jonny on the cheek again. Jonny yelled out. "Well, damn kid, im not burning you or anything," Thom snorted.
"But! Kissing is gross! Mommy says-"
"Mommy says!" Thom mocked and kissed Jonny again.
"Thom stop-"
"Thom stop!" Another kiss.
"Please Thom!"
"Please Jonny!"
This time Jonny turned his head and Thom's lips met with Jonny's. Neither of them moved. When Jonny looked back on this, it was to be the longest kiss he ever had. It was also his first. It was also the best. Jonny finally broke away and took advantage of the time to wiggle free of Thom's grasp.
"You're gross Thom," Jonny said, looking at the floor and hugging himself. Thom was bright red and looked awfully distraught and confused. After sitting there for a while, he slipped off the couch and picked up a blue crayon. He then bend down to a blank piece of paper and scribbled something down. When he stood up he stared at Jonny in a weird way that made him feel like falling down for some reason. Then Thom threw the crayon at Jonny's face and ran. Jonny flinched and stomped his foot with frustration. He picked up the paper that Thom doodled on and looked at it for an hour or so.
it said: Thom + Jonny Forever
Jonny couldn't tell what color it was...
Jonny spun around defensively to see what was thrown and who had done it. A crayon. It was probably Colin again. Its best to ignore that sort of behavior, Jonny thought to himself, and began a new drawing. Once he started to focus again, however, another crayon met with his head.
"Colin! Stop it! Ill tell mummy! She hates when you mess with me while im being quiet!" Jonny posed to listen for a mean reply from Colin, but nothing came. Good, Jonny thought, and continued coloring. He had successfully made a few orange lines connect with some yellow and brown circles and dots, when two crayons flew at him, one hitting his back and the other bouncing off the top of his head. Without turning around, he started yelling behind him. "Colin! I know its you and your not funny! How are you even getting my crayons?" No answer. "Colin?" No answer. "Fine! Your just a girlyface anyway."
Then he heard noise. Laughter. Muffled laughter. "Hah! See? I can here you Colin! Are you laughing because its funny that you are such a girl?" More muffled laughter. Jonny felt like he had the upper hand for once. Stupid Colin. But then Jonny jumped, because after the laughter came silenced coughing, coughing that sounded nothing at all like his brothers. With a jolt of fear, Jonny lept up, sending crayons everywhere, and darted to the couch. On one cushion, in a gargoyle-stance, Jonny tried to find out who the intruder was.
"Who is in there?" From the other room he hears someone clear their throat. Oh, no! Mommy warned me this would happen if i didnt lock the doors behind me after i played outside! Now im going to get kidnapped and ruined! Jonny thought. Of course he had no idea what that meant he just knew his mother made it sound bad, so it was. "G-get out of my house you..."Jonny was looking for a bad word to use to scare the stranger away. "You...um...Bastard!"
Then Jonny heard this persons voice. "OOooooooh, Jonny! You said a curse word! Im going to have to tell on you!" From around the corner Jonny saw a small person appear. He had on the same school uniform as Colin's, because it was Colin's. His hair was messy and his knees where dirty and his tie was all wrong and he was undoubtedly short. Jonny narrowed his eyes with resentment.
"Thom!" Jonny spat his name out like poison. "You-why-I...how di...why w-" Jonny was always at a loss of words when it came to his brother's favorite friend. Colin thought he was the cat's meow, but Jonny hated him. He finally settled on, "Why won't you leave me alone?"
A mischievous grin occupied Thom's face and Jonny held his breath. When Colin did this, it meant that Jonny needed to run, and it certainly applied to Thom because he bolted towards him. Jonny couldn't react fast enough, and when Thom pulled his legs from under him, they both landed roughly on the couch. Smiling Thom had a very Squirmy Jonny pinned. "Let! Go! Let! Go!" Jonny yelped as he could, but Thom held fast. This kept up for a few minutes. Jonny finally stopped wiggling out of exhaustion. "Go...away...Thom..." Jonny breathed. "Hm...no." Thom responded. Jonny made eye contact with Thom and felt incredibly uncomfortable.
"Hey Jonny?" Thom whispered.
"What?" Jonny said suspiciously.
"Hey, Jonny?"
"What?"
"Heeeeeeeey Jonny?"
"WHAT?!?"
"Hey Jonny?"
"WHAT? What is it!?"
Thom made a serious face like he was about to say something bad and Jonny waited to hear it.
"Hey, Jonny."
"GETAWAYFROMME!" Jonny resumed squirming. "Your so silly, Jonny," Thom said and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek.
"Ah! Nooooo! DON'T! THOM! STOP!" Jonny sounded serious. Thom found this priceless. He kissed Jonny on the cheek again. Jonny yelled out. "Well, damn kid, im not burning you or anything," Thom snorted.
"But! Kissing is gross! Mommy says-"
"Mommy says!" Thom mocked and kissed Jonny again.
"Thom stop-"
"Thom stop!" Another kiss.
"Please Thom!"
"Please Jonny!"
This time Jonny turned his head and Thom's lips met with Jonny's. Neither of them moved. When Jonny looked back on this, it was to be the longest kiss he ever had. It was also his first. It was also the best. Jonny finally broke away and took advantage of the time to wiggle free of Thom's grasp.
"You're gross Thom," Jonny said, looking at the floor and hugging himself. Thom was bright red and looked awfully distraught and confused. After sitting there for a while, he slipped off the couch and picked up a blue crayon. He then bend down to a blank piece of paper and scribbled something down. When he stood up he stared at Jonny in a weird way that made him feel like falling down for some reason. Then Thom threw the crayon at Jonny's face and ran. Jonny flinched and stomped his foot with frustration. He picked up the paper that Thom doodled on and looked at it for an hour or so.
it said: Thom + Jonny Forever
Jonny couldn't tell what color it was...
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