Christmas Collaboration

"How was the press this time?" Thom asked, unpacking the suitcase in front of him, separating the lights and darks into the piles of growing laundry behind him.
Jonny was sprawled out on the bed. "Exhausting," he said. "I've grown somewhat accustomed to the banality of journalists from weekly music magazines, but I think these journalists that write about classical music make even the worst of the others look like gold. If I didn't know any better, I would think that classical music was only listened to by a bunch of snobby people. And they asked the same questions over and over again. I sometimes wonder if these people actually listen to music or if they just talk about it all the time."
Jonny continued chattering on, happy to be back home.
Thom interrupted. "What are these?" he said coldly. With two fingers only, he was holding out a pair of Christmas boxers with cartoon reindeer. "These aren't yours and where did they come from?" Thom was glaring.
Jonny froze, his eyes locked on the garish green and red colors.
"They were a gift. From Sharona." Jonny said quickly without looking at Thom, "I like the graphic print."
"Uh-huh" Thom said skeptically, "your Israeli wife gave you a pair of Christmas boxers?"
Jonny sat up and took them from Thom, tossing them quickly into the dirty laundry pile. "Yes, well, she knows I like Christmas."
"Jonny, that was not smooth at all. Why don't you tell me who really gave you the boxers?" Thom replied.
Jonny started fidgeting with the edge of the pillowcase. "They're mine."
"I know they're yours now, I was wondering who gave them to you."
Fidget, fidget. "No one."
"If you're going to be like that, I'm leaving."
"Be like what?"
"Like a cheating whore."
"Takes one to know one."
"I knew it! What's her name?"
"I thought you were leaving."
"I am." And Thom stormed out of the room. He slammed the bedroom door shut, stamped his feet to the front door, wished Jonny hadn't decided to randomly only use 3 out of the 5 deadbolts on the door, finally wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He got into his car and fumed for a few minutes. He saw Jonny's front door open and the rational part of his brain - the part that wasn't absolutely furious with Jonny for whatever he had or hadn't done - was hoping that Jonny was coming out to apologise or say something to make it all better. It was their pattern. Thom angrily hit the window down button. "What" he growled.
Jonny was standing on the porch, arms crossed. "It wasn't a her," he said and with a swish of his hair he walked back into his house.

At this, Thom struggled to detach himself from his car, not bothering to turn off the ignition before slamming the door shut and darting back into the house, finding Jonny just as he was about to climb the stairs to his room. Turning him around roughly, he pulled him back down onto the floor and pinned him against the wall. He knew Jonny could throw him off without even trying, but the fear in his eyes gave him confidence that he would remain standing on solid ground.
"What do you mean it's not a her?" he growled through clenched teeth and Jonny, shaking off the momentary fear he felt, glared back.
"If it's not a her then it's obviously a he." he snapped. "You know the difference between men and woman, don't you?"
Thom shook his head furiously. "Okay, so that was a dumb question. Who is he, then? What's his name so I can look him up and kick the shit out of him!"
Jonny rolled his eyes. "Thom, he's 6'5", I highly doubt - "
"FUCKING ED?!" Thom roared, releasing his grip on the other man and pushing himself away. Slowly, Jonny peeled away from the wall, running a hand up his arm self-consciously, eyes locked on the floor.
"I-I was going to tell you, I swear. It was an honest mistake, Ed...h-he thought it meant something and...the boxers...drinking and...I don't know. Please, can we just sit down and talk about this?"
"Talk about what exactly - the fact that you can't keep your cock in your pants or the fact that you can't keep it out of a man's ass. There are two issues there."
"I know. I fucked up. What am I going to tell Sharona?"
"How about 'I am a lying cheating whore?' That seems like a good place to start."
"I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Of course not. You're little perfect Mr. Jonny Greenwood," Thom said sarcastically.
Jonny didn't say anything. After a pause, Thom continued:
"And when the fuck did you decide that you liked fucking men?"
"Why does it matter to you?" Jonny asked.
"It doesn't."
"Seems like it matters."
"I told you it doesn't."
"Fine, it doesn't matter to you. But what am I going to do?" Jonny walked over and sat on the couch. "She's going to hate me." He buried his head into his hands.
"Maybe you shouldn't tell her."
"How can I not?"
"Well, who knows? You, Ed, me ... anyone else?"
"Not unless Ed told anyone."
"He probably didn't, but we'll need to find out for sure. So unless one of us tells her, she'll never find out. Now the question is, what are you going to do for me so I don't tell?"
Jonny looked at Thom. "What?" He was bewildered. "You're my friend, we've known each other for years ... my best friend ... I shouldn't have to do anything for you to not tell."
Thom shrugged. "Maybe. But that was before you started whoring yourself out to Ed." Thom unzipped his trousers. "And I know what I want."
Jonny shook his head. "I don't ... you don't ..."
"I think you do. And you will."
"Let's go upstairs at least."
"Here and now."
"But Sharona could be home any minute!"
"Then you'd better hurry up."
"Or the bathroom - we can lock the bathroom!"
"Now. And if you're worried about an incriminating mess, I suggest you swallow."

***

Thom left the house a short while later. He jumped in his car and drove through some side streets and parked on the street in front of an older house. Grabbing the Christmas boxers where he had thrown them on the passenger seat, he walked up to the front door and knocked loudly. The door was opened a few short moments later.
"Edward John O'Brien," Thom said icily. "This was not part of the fucking plan." Thom threw the boxers at Ed and walked inside like he owned the place. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"
Ed closed the door behind him and followed Thom to the living room.
"Yeah, I was going to tell you about that. Sorry ... can I offer you a drink or something?"
"Yes," Thom replied and they both walked to the kitchen.
If Ed had hoped to change the subject, it wasn't working.
Thom continued in the same icy tone, "Do you want to explain when exactly you decided to sleep with Jonny?"
Ed continued to make their drinks and didn't look up at Thom. "Well, we started as we had planned. Just me and Jonny, having a couple of drinks together. We were originally supposed to meet at the pub, but I was running late and Jonny just came straight here and then it was raining so we decided to have a couple of drinks here - "
Thom cut him off. "Do you think this is helping your case?"
"I'm getting there, damn it! Well, we started talking about relationships and stuff. And I brought up the time that we caught him with that other boy before rehearsal - just like you had suggested - and then I asked him if he might still fancy boys and one thing lead to another and we were drinking - I mentioned we were drinking, right? - and then he was kissing me and then, well, I guess you know the rest." Ed handed Thom his drink. "I swear I didn't mean for it to happen."
"What would you do if you were me? You trust one of your best friends to talk to one of your other best friends and you betrayed everything our friendship meant for a shag. How would you feel if I shagged Colin?"
"But you have shagged Colin."
"That's not my fucking point and you know it. I haven't fucking shagged Colin in a long fucking time and definitely not since we came up with this plan. The plan - which was just as much your idea as mine - I talk to Colin and see if might be interested in you and you talk to Jonny and see if he's at all interested in me. It's the world's easiest plan and yet you found a way to fuck it up."
Thom sat down at the table. "Fuck!" he said to his drink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

***

Colin was busy re-arranging his books when the phone rang. Which a sigh he stepped over the piles he had laid out according to size, thickness, colour, subject and anything else he could think of. This is how he spent his afternoons when he wasn't playing with the band or shovelling the laneway. He snatched the shrieking contraption off its cradle and put on his best "I'm so glad to hear from you" voice before answering with an overly excited "Hello?"
"Cozzie, I'm so confused!" Jonny cried out from the other end. Colin rubbed his eyes.
"Jonny, we've been through this. You wash the lights and the darks seperately."
"It's not that! I made a horrible mistake and now Thom is mad at me becauseIsleptwithEdafterwehadafewdrinks and and ThomthinksI'macheatingwhoreandhegotallupsetandthenhe he he - "
"Woah, slow down. You slept with Ed?"
Jonny swallowed thickly. "After a few drinks, yeah. I didn't mean to, honestly."
"Jonny!" Colin said, pained. "This was not how we were going to do things!"
"I know, Colin. I'm sorry."
"You were supposed to talk to him - "
"I know."
"and you were supposed to bring me up -"
"I know."
"and see what he got me for Christmas!"
"I know!"
"You weren't supposed to sleep with him!"
"I fucking know, Colin!" Jonny whimpered. "Please, just tell me what to do, because I have no idea, and you always know what to do."
"Well, first things first. Did you find out what Ed is getting me?"
"Oh, yeah ... he's getting you a bong." Jonny paused. "Sorry, typical Ed."
"Oh." Colin sounded disappointed. "Well, that's probably what Ed would consider a really nice gift, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Of course. That's like the Ed equivalent of a dozen red roses."
Colin sighed.
Jonny continued, trying to make Colin feel better. "But he talked about how it took him forever to find a 'rainbow bong.'"
"EEEEEEEECH" Colin screamed his typical girly scream. "A RAINBOW BONG!!?"
"Er, yes," Jonny agreed. He hated when people talked about rainbows. He didn't see what was so great about them.
"nononono!" Colin explained. "My first bong - back when I was 16 - was a rainbow bong. We loved that thing. Ed accidentally broke and promised to get me a new one. I can't believe he remembered after all these years."
"You smoked marijuana when you were 16? I'm so telling mum."
"Jonny, you were smoking with us."
"Oh, yeah."
"So that must mean that Ed, you know, cares about me. A lot."
"Yes. Of course. Sounds like he found you the perfect gift."
"So do you think the signed copy of the rare Kings of Leon's album, a new blazer and edible underwear is enough for me to give to him? I should probably find some more stuff, right?"
"I think that's more than enough. Why don't you just ask him to stick the bong up your ass?"
"That's a very interesting idea."
"Ew! You're so perverted. I'm hanging up on you now."
"No, wait! Stop!" Colin hollared and he heard Jonny let out a huff of breath. "Don't you want to know what Thom got you for Christmas?"
"I don't really care at this point." Jonny mumbled but Colin ignored him.
"I think he got you a banjo."
Jonny's breath hitched. "A banjo? But why, Thom hates banjos!"
Colin shrugged, then remembered he was on the phone. "Erm, I guess all those years you've been bugging him about it he's finally willing to give in. That's a big feat you know, Thom Yorke never gives in."
On the other end of the phone, the younger Greenwood was attempting to keep himself composed, which was hard now that excitement was boiling up in his stomach. Thom finally gave in! It took more than a decade but finally Jonny would have his banjo and he could sit on the front porch in a rocking chair and pluck out as many obscure country songs if his heart so desired. (Thankfully, it didn't).
Colin rolled his eyes and decided they had more important matters to discuss, such as Jonny. Sleeping with Ed. And what exactly they were going to do about it.
"Anyway, that's not the point. I want to know what happened" Colin continued.
"What," Jonny snapped, "I already told you everything. We were wasted and what happened happened. End of the story. I don't think you want to know all the details, now, do you?"
"Was it good?" Colin said bitterly, even though he didn't want that question answered.
Jonny was getting annoyed.
"Well, for your information, Ed is the best shag ever. That's probably because he's SO big and he does things with his tongue, you would never imagine" he replied. "And he's never tired. I stopped counting how many times we did it after the sixth..."
Colin grimaced. "You filthy little slut!"
"You asked me." said Jonny flatly.
"Who initiated it?"
Jonny remained silent.
"I knew it. I fucking knew it! I bet you did that... that look! That one fucking look you do with your fucking eyes! Your fucking fuck-me-hard look!"
"Colin..."
"Shut it. You know you start thinking with your cock as soon as you drink, why did you even take the risk?"
"Look, I'm sorry, ok? Sorry. And remember I never said anything about you shagging Thom!"
"We were in our teens, Jonny. Back then you didn't even know what 'blowjob' meant. Though looking at your front teeth, it seems it's no longer the case..."
"Indeed. And I performed a few of them no later than yesterday on your precious Edward..."
Colin cursed loudly, and Jonny decided it was time to stop teasing him. Teasing was a euphemism, he thought to himself.
"Ok, listen to me. I tell you, it didn't mean anything; I guess we were just horny and a bit bored. And besides, you might like to know that at some point he said something like 'I wonder if your brother kisses like you' but I was pissed so I didn't really notice."
Colin held his breath, full of hope. "He did?"
"He did. Are you still mad at me?"
"Only a little."
"Want a blowjob too so I can make you forgive me?"
"You're disgusting, Jonny."
"You don't know what you're missing out, I've become really good at this"
"Whore. You'd rather help me find a way to talk to Ed..."
"You don't need to talk; just keep your mouth open and everything will work out."
"Oh, that's really refined, Jonny. Thanks for your help" Colin sighed.
"No prob."

***

A few days later, everyone had gathered back at the studio to start preparations for a webcast. Setting up equipment along the presence of Phil, Stanley and Nigel was enough to keep the drama to a minimum, for a short while.
At the first opportunity, Colin cornered Jonny away from everyone else. Jonny was still annoyed from their previous conversation.
"Finally decided that you want to see what you've been missing out on?" Jonny asked Colin, eying Colin's crotch. "I think Thom and Ed would tell you that I come (snicker) highly recommended."
"You fucking whore. Wait - when did you give Thom a blowjob?"
"Well, I ... ummm ... it's not like I wanted to," Jonny said, avoiding the question.
"What do you mean you didn't want to?" Colin said, his mood shifting from annoyed to overprotective in an instant.
Jonny realized he had said the wrong thing. "No, you misunderstood me?"
"Yes, you wanted to; no, you didn't."
"I didn't right then, but it's not like didn't want to, really."
At that point, Thom chose the worst moment in the history of worst moments to walk by.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?!!" Colin yelled at Thom, gathering the attention of the rest of the group. Colin gathered up all of his strength and lightly punched Thom on the shoulder.
"OW!" Thom yelped. "THAT WHORE WAS ASKING FOR IT." He gave Colin a small shove. "AND NOW YOU ARE. BITCH."

"What the fuck is that about?" Nigel asked from the other side of the room. "Who did what to who?"
Stanley looked around asked if they were all on Candid Camera.
Phil, who had been paying more attention, explained that "I think Colin's mad at Thom for something about a blowjob?"
"Yeah, Jonny's great at blowjobs," Ed said nodding enthusiastically and without thinking.
"I just threw up a little in my mouth," Phil said.
"I KNOW YOU'RE FILMING" Stanely said, staring off a corner. "YOU CAN'T FOOL ME."
"I think they're really going to fight!" Nigel said, his attention drawn back to Colin and Thom.
"20 quid says that Thom wins," Phil said, pulling out his wallet.
Nigel pulled a couple of bills from his wallet and threw them on the table. "Well, I've got 20 quid says Colin wins."
Ed was studying the scene. "I've got 50 pounds that says that Thom's going to resort to hair pulling first."
"Double or nothing, Colin pulls hair first," Phil said, pulling out more money.
Nigel pulled the rest of the money out of his wallet. "I think Colin's going to use fingernails."
Jonny, who had been pacing near the fighters, came running ("he prances" Ed thought to himself).
"Someone do something," he pleaded. "They're going to kill each other."
"Fuck that," Nigel said. "I've got money on this fight. Let 'em go at each other."
"Please," Jonny whined.
"Fine," Ed said, getting up. "I'll break this up."
"I WILL NOT ALLOW MY LIKENESS ON ANY SYNDICATED PROGRAM" Stanley yelled towards a bookshelf.
Colin and Thom were glaring at each other, breathing heavily and ready to strike at any second when Ed sauntered up to them, reaching Thom first who let out a bark much like a rabid dog, causing Ed to jump backwards away from the pair.
"I'm not going in there, they're going bite my hands off!"
Jonny was watching, scared, throwing glances from Thom to Colin to Ed. "Ed, please!"
"You're a filthy brat, Yorke!" Colin spat suddenly.
"None of this would have happened if it weren't for your whore of a brother!" Thom snarled back, and Colin, belting out his best Xena Battle Cry, attacked in a blur of flailing arms. The two hit the floor with a crash, blocked out by the cheers of the others in the corner, waving their money in the air and shouting suggestions.
"Knee him in the balls, Thom!" Phil called out.
"The head, Colin! Hit him in the head! That's it!" said Nigel.
The scuffling continued in a ball of dust and random limbs, random feral noises managing to leak through the random thumps of heads or knees hitting the floor.
"If your brother just learnt to keep it in his pants -"
"My brother? What about you? If it were up to you, you wouldn't even wear pants!"
"COME OUT, YOU CAN'T HIDE!" Stanley, oblivious to the fight that had broken out on the floor, pushed books aside on the shelf, searching vigorously for the camera crew he was sure existed. "YOU'RE IN THE WALLS, AREN'T YOU?!"
"NO, Thom! Don't pull his hair! Damnit." Phil threw his money to the ground and stamped on it in frustration. "I always bloody lose!"
Ed turned to Nigel, grinning. "Bet you didn't see this when you worked for McCartney."
Nigel stared at him and sighed. "That's cause John Lennon wasn't there."
Meanwhile, Jonny was pacing around his two bandmates tearing at each other, pulling at his own hair.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted in a high-pitched voice "If you don't stop I'm leaving you to join Muse and I swear Matt Bellamy will get a blowjob every single day!"
Thom and Colin froze, just as Thom was going to start biting.
"Blowjobs again!" Phil said, wrinkling his nose. "You're disgusting, Jonny!"
"You wouldn't say that if you'd had one in the past" stated Ed wisely.
"Cut it out, you two" interrupted Jonny. "And before anybody asks, I'm not sucking anybody off today. Stan! There's no bloody camera in the walls! Put that hammer away! Thom, could you please get off my brother now? I don't like seeing you straddling him like that."
"Afraid of getting a boner in front of everybody?" asked Thom, pouting.
"Don't be a jerk to me; I was only joking about Matt."
"Ha!" Colin exclaimed "And what about that time last September?"
Thom's eyes widened. "What?!"
Jonny shot a murderous glance at his brother.
"Oh, bloody hell, I'm fed up with you all" Nigel declared, exasperated. "You're a bunch of whores, that's what you are! I think I'm going to go and ask Coldplay if they need a producer for their next record!"
"Don't be ridiculous Nigel," Ed said calmly, "You'd rather help us and find another ondes martenot player because I'm pretty sure Thom is going to kill Jonny now..."
"I bet thirty pounds that Thom will strangle Jonny" said Phil hopefully, seeing his chance to get his money back.
"Pffft. Forty pounds that Jonny gets stabbed" retorted Stan from the other corner of the room, knocking on the wall to hear if it sounded hollow.
"Shut up; of course I won't kill him, but I'm not kissing him before he does tests certifying he didn't get a horrible disease from Matt. When I think I made him blow me, the mere thought is... urgh"
"For heaven's sake, it was four months ago, and Matt must have a better hygiene than you, Thom" Colin said, rolling his eyes. "And since when do you intend to touch my brother again? Cause that's what you were implying, right?"
Thom grew suddenly serious.
"Cause I like him" he whispered, and he ran out of the room without another word.
"Damnit," Colin groaned, getting up off the floor and brushing the dust from his legs. "Now he's run away."
Nigel piped up from the corner. "Uhm, you guys - "
"Not now, Nigel!"
"But this is really important and I think you should know - "
"Nigel!" Colin barked and the other man's mouth closed, but not for long as soon he was muttering under his breath that he couldn't work in these conditions, and how he couldn't even remember the last time they fed him and why was he always the one who had to comfort Ed when they wouldn't let him play guitar?
Jonny was absolutely furious. "Did he call me fat? Is that what he said?"
"No one called you fat, Jonny," his brother sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration when he heard a stiffled laugh come from the corner and looked up to find Ed trying to hide a smile. Unfortunately, Jonny heard it as well and let out a pained yelp.
"I am not fat!" he pouted. "Eddie!"
"Oh, God." Phil was looking horrified.
"You didn't think I was fat when I was riding your - "
"Ohhhkaaayyyyy!" Phil waved his hands around and everyone turned to look at him. "Does anybody have any idea what we're going to do about Thom?"
Stanley chose this time to appear from out behind a pile of cardboard boxes. "We could pull out all his beard-hairs one by one, rip off all his clothes and throw paint at him."
"We're not turning Thom into your next arts and crafts project, Stan." Colin said. Stan huffed and Nigel raised his hand.
"What, Nigel? What is it? What is so important that you have to interrupt our discussion?"
"Uhm, we've been on air for the past half hour." he gulped. The others paled.
"What do you mean, we've been on air?" Colin asked, afraid.
Nigel pointed to the cameras they had set up. "I turned it on earlier thinking you guys were going to start playing and forgot to turn it off. The webcast has been running this whole time."
Silence fell upon the room. They remained still for a full minute before Jonny started screaming.
"What the hell are you waiting for, Nigel?" he squealed "Cut the bloody thing off!"
Colin shook his head and started muttering "NME... next week... we're fucked..."
"Calm down; it was streaming yeah, but maybe nobody actually saw it. We didn't warn the fans of the webcast after all" reasoned Phil.
"But they suspected it was coming! What are we gonna do?" Jonny asked with a shaking voice.
"First of all, try not to panick. Jonny, I think you should check the various fansites' message boards. If we're lucky, nobody will have tried to get onto radiohead.tv"
Tripping on the wires scattered across the floor, Jonny headed towards his laptop with the look of someone mounting the scaffold.
Ed ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the nearest amp, awaiting Jonny's verdict.
"So?" Colin asked impatiently.
"A minute," replied Jonny "Atease is so fucking slow! And I don't like this at all. It usually means something huge is going on..."
"May they be excited about the new Oasis DVD"
"Yeah, right. Santa doesn't exist, Ed, did you know that?" Jonny spat.
"Of course he does," interrupted Colin "and he's punishing us because you two," he pointed at Ed and Jonny "have been really bad recently..."
"This is what you get when you mess with him" said Stanley in a sententious tone. Everybody shot him their middle finger.
At this moment, Jonny's cellphone rang. Worried, he fished it from his pocket and hit the answer key.
"Yeah? Oh, it's you..."
The rest of the band watched as Jonny grew pale.
"What the fuck...? Of course no, I'm not joining your band! What were you thinking, you twat! I said that to make Thom and Colin stop fighting!" shouted Jonny.
The others exchanged tense looks.
"No!" Jonny shouted again, making everyone jump "I'm not doing "just the blowjobs then"! No, I won't change my mind! What...? Matt, putting melted chocolate on your cock won't change anything, I'm not doing it! No. Goodbye!"
He hung up and wiped the sweat on his forehead.
"You're lucky that Thom didn't hear this. He would have thrown the mother of all tantrums" Ed said.
"I don't think so; he would rather have been pleased to see Jonny telling Matt to sod off..." objected Colin
"Let's tell him when he comes back," Phil suggested. "Twenty pounds that he chases Jonny around the room!"
"I think that's enough with the bets, Phil!"
"Let's focus on our problem, shall we?" interrupted Jonny. "What are we going to do?"
"Hide for another three years?"
"I wish we could," Colin sighed "But the tour is all planned, we can't cancel it like that, can we? Imagine that; thousands of pissed off fans. They're going to come to Oxford and crowd around the studio. It'll look like Romero's Day of the Dead or something equally horrible..."
"Maybe they won't care at all about this? I mean, maybe we're getting worked up for nothing?"
Nigel sighed. "Ed, it's obvious you've never been onto atease..."
Jonny started reading atease main thread titles:
OMG webcast!!!!!!
thom really needs to shave the beard, like now
WTF is going on with the webcst??
Hoax!!!! I have indispuitble proofs
Petition For Thom To Never Shave Again
Webcast!! OMG!!!!
Webcast!! OMG!!!!
Webcast!! OMG!!!!
Merry Christmas Radiohead
SOMEONE RECORD THE WEBCAST BECAUSE I'M GOING TO THE MOVIES
Rainbows and Radiohead are GAY
WEBCAST!!!
"That's it!" Nigel exclaimed. "We'll just claim this was all a hoax."
Phil understood the plan immediately: "We'll say this was all to prove how much the media will buy anything and how there is no journalistic integrity anymore."
Nigel pointed at Stanley: "Use the worm buffet code to spell out 'of course hoax' or something. Let's get it up on DAS soon."
"Hey - what's Classics?" Jonny asked.

A few hours later, the group was hoping that they had done everything in their power to diffuse the situation.
"Pitchfork already gave us a 10/10," Nigel reported. "They said that it was a spontaneous and highly original way to use the internet and that we've changed every facet of webcasting forever. They're naming 2008 'The Year That Radiohead Changed The World Forever' and it's not even 2008 yet."
"And the NME said they had an 'inside scoop' but they just reused one of Thom's old quotes from a 1997 interview." Colin rolled his eyes.
"This blog has a poll that says that 18% of the responders think that Thom would win a fight, 7% think that Colin would win and the rest think that Jonny's hair is 'really awesome.'"
"I'm going to take a leak" Thom announced, pushing his chair out and walked to the bathroom.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Colin hissed to the group: "What are we going to do about the Thom situation - he practically raped my little brother. He needs to be punished."
"Like exposing all of his deepest darkest personal secrets on a webcast?" Nigel sarcastically offered.
Jonny used his hand to half-hide his face. "Colin, it's fine," he said.
"No it's not," Colin said. "He needs to be humiliated."
"Like, presenting a lifetime achievement award to Green Day?" Jonny suggested.
"I was thinking that he should be forced to be our slave for a day and crawl around on his hands and knees, completely naked, ordered to do our every command. I have plenty of whips and handcuffs that I could supply as well," Colin said.
"You are a dark and twisted person," Stanley said. "I like that."
"I'm giving the lot of you puppy and kitty calendars for Christmas," Phil said.
"Colin, you just need to drop it," Jonny said. "This does not concern you."
The group seemed to be siding with Jonny.
"Fine," Colin said nastily. "I'll drop it." "He left the table and went to look for Thom.

***

Colin found Thom as Thom was leaving the bathroom.
"We're not done," Colin announced to Thom. He grabbed him roughly by the arm and half-dragged him to a large storage room. On one side of the room, piles of discboxes waiting to be dispatched were stacked against the wall.
Colin closed the door and locked it. He stood close to Thom's face.
"You're an insult to the human race," he said, louder than necessary.
"I've apologized to Jonny; I've apologized to you even though it's none of your fucking business. I don't know what else I can do," Thom spat back.
"You think saying 'sorry' will get you out of everything?"
"Fuck you."
Colin lunged at Thom; his attack knocked them both to the floor. They wrestled around for a few minutes. Thom almost had Colin in a headlock when Colin bit Thom in the arm, drawing blood.
"Did you just fucking bite me?" Thom said. His rage gave him a temporary advantage and he pinned Colin below him. He struck Colin's face with his hand and blood started pouring out of Colin's nose.
Colin looked stunned. He wiggled an arm free and winced as he felt his nose. He pulled his hand back and saw the blood, red and wet, covering his fingers.
"You fucker," Colin said. "Let me up."
"So you can bite me again? I think not."
"Let me go!"
"As soon as you can relax and assure me that you're going to chill the fuck out, I'll let you go."
"Fuck you."
"Be that way."
Colin kept trying to squirm his way free, but Thom kept his advantage.
"Did you think of me when you were forcing yourself onto my brother?" Colin asked.
"Like the time I gave you this scar from when we did it in the neighbor's gardening shed?" Thom slid Colin's shirt halfway up and ran his thumb across a faint scar.
"You've always been an opportunistic bastard," Colin said, struggling less.
"If you promise not to hit me, I'll let you up and we can get some ice for your nose."
"Fine." Colin said. He laid perfectly still.
Thom slowly lessened his hold on Colin. As soon as Colin's arms were free, he dragged Thom's face to his and kissed him hard.
Thom hesitated for a moment before struggling to sit up, glaring down at Colin.
"What the hell was that for?"
Colin sneered. "You liked it."
"No, I did not!"
"Well, you're taking my belt off as we speak."
Thom looked down and notice that his hands were, in fact, pulling impatiently at Colin's belt. He didn't remember telling them to do that, why were they doing that? He continued to glare down at Colin as if it was all his fault. "I'll have you know, there is no way you're getting away with that." The buckle came undone with a clink "I'm probably going to get some sort of infection."
"Serves you right." The belt was pulled from it's loops.
"And I'll let Ed write songs before I fuck you again." Colin's fly was undone, jeans pushed off hips and tossed away carelessly.
"You'd better get him a pen and a pad of paper, then." Colin said confidently as his boxers joined the growing pile of clothing and Thom pounced.

***

Back in the studio, the others had grouped around a large table and were sipping at mixed drinks. (Jonny at a glass of chocolate milk) and Ed was standing a little ways off to the side, thrashing about wildly as if he were drowning.
"Jaws!" Phil called out and Ed shook his head.
"It's two words, Phil," Nigel reminded him. "and I think it's Open Water."
"I hate charades." Stanley moped, only to receive a thwack to the back of the head as Ed sat down.
"You're next, freak."
"I refuse to play this game." he crossed his arms and looked away. Ed rolled his eyes.
"You guys," Jonny spoke up, putting his cup down. "I think we should go try and find Cozzie and Thom, before they kill each other."
Nigel had pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. "Let them sort it out, one of them is bound to lose their voice sooner or later, after all that shouting."
"Or lose a limb." Phil contributed. "That Thom bites."
"So does Colin." said Ed.
"Yes," Phil nodded. "But Thom has rabies. He's part wolf, you know."
"I must admit that being bitten by Thom is not funny at all" Ed said sternly
"How d'you know that?" Jonny said, frowning.
"I had an argument with him about a setlist once. He didn't want to play Paranoid Android"
Phil nodded. "I was there; when I said Ed was right, he just bit him, out of nowhere. I bet his mother used to let him bite customers at the grocery store when he was a child, he's never lost the habit..."
"Holy hell, we'd better make sure my brother is okay..."
"Fine, but I'm taking thick leather gloves first, in case I have to touch him..."
"Maybe you could use a stick," Phil suggested "like they do for snakes, you know."
"But Thom doesn't have venom in his teeth"
"Or so you think, Jonny. Let's go."

***

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Thom was lying on the floor, leaning back against the wall. Colin had placed his hands on either side of his head, on the cold tiles, and was riding him shamelessly. Holding him firmly by the hips, Thom was matching his movements and pounding hard into him.
"So..." Colin panted, "What do you think... ooh, yes, Thom, just like that... wha' d'you think... Ed's first song... will be about?"
Thom tried to catch his breath. "About... oh, god... about screwing up sexy bassists, I hope" he replied with difficulty, as Colin quickened his rhythm, knocking the air out of him. "He likes you, by the way" he added, his right hand now trailing from Colin's hip to his cock. Colin cried out as Thom started stroking him, and Thom pulled him into a deep kiss to muffle the noise.
"I knew it," Colin said hoarsely when they pulled away. "but right now... please Thom, harder!... I don't... really care...'fter all... fucked my brother..."
He threw his head back and clenched his teeth. He was feeling himself nearing climax when he heard footsteps in the corridor.
Having heard it too, Thom managed to whisper, "Did you hear that?" his head turning towards the door and Colin moaned in response. "Damnit, Colin! Listen!"
On the other side of the door, Jonny turned to Ed, who shrugged. "Just open it. They might be unconscious."
"I hope they're not bleeding, I can't stand the sight of blood." Jonny shivered and Ed sighed, pushing him away.
"Here, I'll fucking do it." he grabbed the door handle and turned it. The door didn't open. "I think it's locked."
"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Thom struggled to get out from under Colin, who wasn't helping in the least bit. Instead he had started riding even harder. "Stop...fucking...squirming!" he said through clenched teeth.
"Get off me, then!"
Jonny shook his head. "The lock is broken on that one, you just have to give it a shove." Ed turned back to the door and did as Jonny said, the door opening with a thump. Ed's arm fell down against his side and the two stood gapping at the scene infront of him. Thom was mid-struggle, attempting to pull up his jeans and Colin was still ontop of him, slumped lazily against the wall.
"Just what the hell is going on here?" Ed bellowed and Jonny whimpered out that it would have been better if they had been bleeding before he ran off with a sob.
"Now look what you did!" Ed turned back to the pair. Thom had managed to push Colin onto the floor, yank up his trousers and was now scrambling to his feet. "You two are the most unbelievable pair of people I have ever met. One minute you're about to tear each other throats out and the next you're shagging on a bathroom floor!"
"Thom's very confused." Colin nodded in agreement and received a death-glare from him.
"You're the one who came onto me!"
Stanley, after hearing the commotion, had wandered into the hallway and was now standing next to Ed with a blank look on his face. "Colin, I believe your trousers have fallen off."
"Look, I don't care who started it, just...God," Ed shook his head in disgust. "This is the worst Christmas ever."
"Listen, Ed, he undressed me and-"
"Wanker! I undressed you because you fucking kissed me!" Thom snarled.
"Because you started talking about the time we were shagging"
Ed covered his ears with his hands. "Enough! Enough! You two are impossible! What am I still doing here with you?"
"Yeah, I was wondering, too" Thom retorted "What band on earth needs three guitarists anyway?"
Ed wasn't expecting Thom's nasty remark. Even Colin seemed suddenly struck by lightning. They had had more than a few serious arguments about this issue and none of them could believe Thom had dared to bring up the subject again.
Ed felt like punching Thom square in the face and maybe make his eyes finally match, but he knew this wouldn't lead anywhere.
"You want me to quit? Fine. I quit." he said icily, turning on his heels.
Thom and Colin watched him leave, speechless. Then Colin turned to Thom, his face black with anger.
"Very well done Thom! Why d'you have to fuck things up constantly?"
"This would never have happened if you had not kissed me in the first place!"
"YOU started talking... oh, fuck that. Let's go and try and fetch Ed. Maybe he hasn't left yet..."
Colin walked out the bathroom, and Thom followed in silence.

***

"Where's Ed?" Colin asked as he came back into the main room. Nigel and Phil looked at him glumly. Colin looked away and his eyes fell on his brother, sitting on a wooden chair and sobbing openly. Thom approached Jonny and put a hand on his shoulder, but Jonny shrugged it off violently.
"Don't touch me! It's your fault! He left and it's your fault!"
"I'm sorry! I- I didn't want that, I just wanted him to stop talking and-"
Jonny let out a bitter laugh "Ha! If someone needs to shut the fuck up here it's YOU!"
"See, Thom? I told you you had a gift for spoiling things"
"Shut your fucking face, Coz. You're as responsible for this mess as he is!" he spat, tears still running down his cheeks. He took his head in his hands and muttered. "I hate you."

Colin whimpered, "You don't mean that." Jonny merely sniffed.
"Okay," Thom let out a defeated sigh. "I'm going to go look for Ed and try and talk to him."
Colin turned to him "What makes you think he's going to listen to you?"
"He might not listen to me, but he'll probably listen to you."
"But - "
"Colin."
"Fine." he mumbled. "But I hope you have some devious plan up your sleeve, because I doubt he's going to come willingly."

***

Ed hadn't left yet. Instead, he wandered angrily into the forest, muttering under his breath the whole time. He felt unappreciated and disgusted and - and confused. And he didn't like feeling so many things at once when he was so used to having one emotion - high. Spitting angrily, he sat down on a fallen log, pulling out a joint and lighting it. He wasn't far into the woods, had he turned around he would have still been able to see the house through the trees, and he would have seen the two figures step out from the back door. After a moment or two of staring off at nothing, inhaling and exhaling smoke, he got up and absentmindedly wandered deeper into the trees.

Barely two steps away from the back door and Thom and Colin had started bickering again about which direction to look in; neither of them had noticed the tracks leading into the woods. Colin called Thom a "whiney prat" and was given a face-full of cold snow.
"You think this is fun and games, Colin?" he asked. "What if we don't find him, then what?"
Colin brushed the remaining snow off his face and sighed. "We'll find him. For once in your life, Thom, try to be optimistic."
"Hey," Thom interrupted, pointing at the forest "there he is."
"Fine. Let's go and talk to him. I hope you have your apologies ready, smartarse."
"Gimme a fucking break, Coz."
They walked to the spot where Ed was sitting in silence, approaching him from behind. Ed heard them coming closer, but didn't turn around. Thom cleared his throat.
"Hey..."
Ed remained silent. Thom planted himself in front of him, but Ed refused stubbornly to look up.
"Listen, I know I fucked up. I should never have done that. It was stupid, and childish and... and not even true. I mean, of course we need you! We're five in the band, that makes our sound richer than other bands, and if you weren't there, who would do the backup vocals? Phil's voice is not as great as yours, Jonny lisps too much, and Colin sings SO out of tune he would just destroy the songs-"
"Hey!" Colin protested "Don't go too far!"
"-and all the effects and stuff, you know..." Thom continued, ignoring Colin's intervention "I'm really really really sorry..."
Silence.
"Ed... say something" Thom pleaded. Ed glared at him and spoke up.
"I don't know what's the worst here. The fact that you hurt me -again- or the way you used to get back at Jonny and me for having slept together... And you," Ed said, turning his gaze to Colin "you're no better than him. You're just the same kind of depraved pervert; you wanted to beat the shit out of him, how the fuck did you end up with his cock up your arse?"
"Let's say it's just hard to resist him; at least as hard as resisting Jonny. It doesn't show, but they're just a pair of sluts - do I need to remind you Jonny sucked off half the people in rock that are about our age?"
"What? I thought he was closer to 75%" Thom said in a mock surprised tone. Colin let out a short laugh, glad to see that Thom was doing his best to lighten things up.
"I'm really sorry. Thom is a great fuck, but I've always liked you, I promise..."
Thom chuckled and sat on Ed's lap, throwing his arms around Ed's neck.
"Now I can be your slut too if you want to get back at Coz" he said playfully, obscenely licking his upper lip with the tip of his tongue. Ed couldn't help but smile at this.
"That won't be necessary, but thanks anyway. Keep that kiss for Jonny, yeah?"
"Yeah, Jonny... or anyone else the slut Colin says I am will feel like doing."
"Good," Colin beamed. "Now that we've got that settled. Erm, Thom...mind if I have a word with Edward?"
Thom stared blankly at the two of them and Colin's eyebrows raised. "Alone?"
"Huh?" Thom blinked. "Oh, yeah. Sure Coz, I'll erm, just go back inside I guess." and he waved to them both, turning on his heels and heading back towards the house, unable to avoid hearing a dangerous growl escape a throat and the sound of bodies tumbling over a fallen log.

***

Nigel had just managed to calm everyone down when the back door flew open and in stepped Thom. He let out a sigh, glancing at Jonny, who's eyes were still red from crying. "Well, there goes all that, then."
"I'm fine, Nigel. Thank you." Jonny sniffed, pulling his knees up under his chin. "Where's Cozzie?"
"Erm," Thom looked around a the group of them. "He and Ed are...talking...in the woods."
Phil arched an eyebrow. "Talking..."
"Yeah."
"In the woods..."
"Yep. Having a chit-chat in the old woods." Thom nodded. "Anyway, do you guys mind? I have to speak with Jonny."
From his angle on the chair, Jonny couldn't see that Thom was holding something behind his back. Stanley, however, noticed and left the room immediately. With a shrug, the others followed and the two were left alone. Cautiously, Thom moved away from the door, attempting to keep the object concealed until he was standing infront of his friend, who looked away angrily.
"Jon, please. I bought you something. It's your Christmas present."
"I don't want it."
"Yes, you do."
His brow furrowed, though he still wasn't looking at Thom. "How dare you think that you can just buy my forgiveness. I don't want it."
Thom plucked one of it's strings from behind his back and could almost see Jonny perk up at the noise, so he did it again. "Are you suuuure, Jonny?"
"Yes." he said, though Thom was unconvinced.
"Are you positive?"
"Uhm..."
Grinning, Thom held the instrument out infront of him and Jonny finally turned his attention towards him.
The banjo he was holding looked expensive, and of the best quality. It was hard to resist when Thom had such an argument. He was grinning at Jonny, highly amused to see him struggling not to reach out and seize the instrument. Jonny finally folded his arms and tucked his hands under his armpits.
"Take it back where you found it. I said I didn't want it" Jonny snapped impatiently.
"Listen, Jonny, don't do that, I'm sorry. Please. I wish nothing had happened."
"You're always sorry..." he hissed. He got up, ready to leave.
"I mean it; and to prove you how sorry I am, I'm ready to..." he breathed in deeply before carrying on "to let you play it on our next record."
Jonny knew how much it cost to Thom to give in, and he softened immediately. He gave the offer the thought it needed.
"The permission to play the banjo in exchange for my forgiveness?"
"Well, yeah, basically that's it..."
"Agreed." Jonny smiled, taking the instrument from Thom's hands and putting it down on the chair he had just vacated. He extended his hand but instead of a handshake, Thom pulled Jonny towards him. He leaned in and, standing on tiptoe, placed his lips gently against Jonny's full ones, savouring their softness and the warmness of Jonny's breath.

***

Meanwhile, in the woods, Ed and Colin weren't talking anymore. For the first time they had managed to speak to each other directly. Awkwardly at first, but it had not lasted long. Colin was now sitting on Ed's lap with his back pressed against his chest. Ed's arms were wound around Colin's waist and he was nibbling at the delicate skin of his neck. Colin's eyes were closed, and his head was tilted to allow Ed a better access; he could have stayed like this forever. However, he couldn't help but worry about his brother.
"Hey"
"Mmm? What is it, Cozzie? You want me to stop?" Ed whispered against Colin's neck.
"Jesus no," Colin sighed "But I think we should go back inside and check on Thom and Jonny... before Jonny threatens to leave the band, too."
Ed gently bit Colin's neck one last time and pulled away.
"I guess you're right. Let's go." he agreed, getting up.
He put his arm around Colin's shoulders and they started walking back to the house slowly.
"You know, Ed..."
"Yeah...?"
"I haven't visited the first floor of this house yet. So if Thom and Jonny are fine - or at least, not killing each other - how about taking a look at the bedrooms upstairs?" Colin said, glancing mischievously at Ed.
"Sounds like the best plan ever to me." Ed replied, grinning. "Thom and Jonny should better not be fighting..."
They heard a loud shriek as they approached the back door of the house and Colin sighed. "Damnit, why can't everyone just get along?" When they stepped inside, Jonny had pinned a giggling Thom to the floor and was tickling him everywhere he could reach. He looked up when his brother and Ed entered, cheeks blushing.
"Er, hi." he said and Colin blinked, surprised.
"Oh, so...you guys aren't fighting, then?"
"Yes!" Thom gasped, out of breath. "Get him off me! Jonny, your knees are boneyOW!"
"Say it!" Jonny leaned over, growling.
"Never!"
Gently, Ed nudged Colin away from the scene and the two of them vacated the room, hearing Thom wheeze out "The banjo is the great - Jonny, I caaantOUCH, stop pinching me!" They climbed the stairs up to the first level and Colin tugged Ed into the first bedroom he saw, pinning him against the door to shut it and reached up, pressing his lips against his neck.
"Cozzie, this room is full of boxes."
"We'll make a fort later, Ed. Right now I don't care so kiss me, damnit!" he pulled backwards, past the piles of boxes and stumbled onto the bed against the far wall, Ed toppling down ontop of him and planting kisses over his face.
"It even smells like boxes," he muttered around Colin's lips and felt teeth bite down gently.
"If you don't shut up about boxes I'm going to blindfold you."
Ed grinned mischievously at this. "This one time, I found a box in an alley-way..."

***

"Okay, now saaaaay, 'I am Thom Yorke and IIIII...uhm...smell like cheese'."
"Jonny - "
"Thom, you don't want me to leave the band, do you?" Jonny asked, pulling off his best wounded-puppy-dog look. Thom sighed.
"I am Thom Yorke, and I smell...like cheese."
Jonny broke into a fit of giggles and Thom sat up off the floor, glaring at him. "This could be considered abuse, you know."
"I'll make it up to you." Jonny smiled, leaning in to kiss him when Nigel stomped into the room shouting "You're all a bunch of whores!" He picked up his glass from off the table, holding it out. "I forgot this." and with that he stamped back out of the room muttering under his breath.
"He's just jealous." Jonny whispered.
Thom nodded. "Yeah, and he's going bald."
"Oh, that reminds me." Jonny sat up again, looking down at him. "If you want me to stay in the band, the beard has to go."
Thom ran his hand over the hair on his chin, eyes on the verge of watering. "M-my beard?"
"Yes." Jonny nodded. "All of it. You look like a hobo, Thom."
"I thought it was sexy!"
Jonny visibly shuddered. "Stubble is sexy, we can all deal with stubble. But...not the hobo-beard."
Thom sighed, wiggling his way out from under Jonny, who still had him pinned to the floor, and made his way into the bathroom, the other following him. Once inside, he pulled open a drawer and fished out a package labeled "emergency razor".
"Can I be alone, Jon? Please?" he asked, glancing over to his friend who nodded, stepping back into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.
"Well, it's been fun." Thom said to his reflection. "Guess it's good-bye, then."

***

They lay on their backs, eyes glancing up towards the ceiling and contended sighs escaping their lips. After a few moments of allowing themselves to calm down, Colin came up with an idea and lazily smacked Ed's thigh.
"What was that for?" he asked, pulling the t-shirt that had acted as a blindfold away from his eyes.
"You should roll us a joint." Colin said, stretching. Ed got off the bed and pulled on his jeans. "Where are you going?"
"I have a better idea." he said with a grin. "Wait here."
Darting down the stairs, he almost hit the wall on the opposite side, right where Jonny was sitting, staring at the bathroom door. Ed blinked and Jonny smiled, whispering. "Thom's shaving."
"Really?"
Jonny nodded, grinning. "What should I have him do next?"
"I don't know, I'm sure you can come up with something good." Ed shrugged, moving his way towards the back door to put on his boots. He couldn't wait to see the look on Colin's face when he handed him the rainbow bong.

When he came back from fetching Colin's present from his car, Jonny was still leaning against the wall, staring at the bathroom door as if it were going to explode open at any second. Rolling his eyes, Ed climbed up the stairs and burst into the bedroom. Colin was still lying on the bed, humming loudly and moving his feet to the beat of the song in his head.
"Oh Coozzzieee!" Ed called and Colin looked up.
"What is it, Edddieeee?"
Ed thrust the rainbow bong forward and Colin's eyes lit up.
"Oh, Ed! You really did get me a rainbow bong!" he took it gently from his hands and stroked the sides of it affectionately. Ed blinked.
"What do you mean, 'I really did get you a rainbow bong'?"
Colin hesitated. "Erm, well...me and Jonny had this plan, see. I was going to talk to Thom and find out what he got for Jonny, and...Jonny was going to talk to you, to find out what you were getting for me."
Ed was silent, so Colin continued. "And, well...he told me that you got me this."
"Oh," Ed said, clueing in. "Well, do you like it, Cozzie?"
"I love it!" he grinned, leaning in to kiss Ed on the lips. "Now, get your weed and lets smoke a bowl!"

Downstairs, Jonny was just about fed up with waiting when the bathroom door creaked open and his heart leapt into his throat.
"Thommy?" he asked. "Are you done?"
"It looks weird, Jonny." said a voice behind the door. "It feels weird."
"Oh come on, Thom. I'm sure it looks fine, now come out from there."
The door opened further and out stepped a clean-shaven Thom, eyes averted to the floor. He heard a loud squeal of delight and Jonny flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around his neck and dropping kisses on his face. "You look ten years younger!"
"Ehhgh." he groaned.
"You're face is so smooth and soft now!"
"Ehhgh."
"Oh shut up, Thom." Jonny laughed, holding him close. "Now, uhm. You have to come upstairs and...wait out in the hallway while I get your present ready."
"You don't have to give it to me now," Thom said. He kept running his hand over his throat and chin.
"Don't you want to know what it is?" Jonny asked, slightly hurt.
Thom turned back to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. "I think I need a few minutes."

***

"Nachos"
"With lots of cheese"
"And bacon"
"Jalapeños"
"Salsa"
"Sour cream"
"I think it's your turn to go get food," Ed said. "I got the sundaes last time."
Colin lifted his head off Ed's chest and looked at up at him. "Your eyes are all bloodshot."
Ed laughed. He lifted his hand and slowly traced Colin's eyebrow. "So are yours." They both giggled. Colin kissed Ed's chest and pushed himself up. "I'll go make us some nachos."

Colin was busy in the kitchen. He had just decided that peanut butter would probably not be a good addition to the large plate of nachos he was working on when Thom walked in and stood next to Colin. Colin didn't look up and gave Thom a slight nod. It was a moment before Thom spoke.
"Cozzie, I think I've made a huge mistake."
"It's cool; we can just bleach all of your pink stuff back to white. You've just got to remember to double check your whites so that nothing red gets in, though."
"It's not my laundry."
Colin looked up Thom and focused on his chin. "It'll grow back," Colin told him. "Looks great though. Just give yourself some time to get used to it."
Thom self-consciously rubbed in chin. "It's not that."
Colin was confused.
Thom stepped into Colin and Colin could feel Thom hard against his leg. Thom whispered into Colin's ear: "I think I choose the wrong Greenwood. I don't want Jonny; I want you."
Colin was astonished. "Beg your pardon?" he said, taking a step back.
"You heard me. I'm making a mistake."
"Obviously; so now get rid of this hardon and go back to my brother so he can lick your shaven cheeks as much as he wants."
"Coz, it's exactly what I'm talking about! How can I be in love with someone who makes me shave when I don't want to?"
"Try to understand, he doesn't like hair too much."
"Who is he to talk? He has more hair than I have on his chest! The whole world could see that during thumbs_down!" Thom replied, rolling his eyes.
"Ask him to wax, then. What do I care? It's none of my business. Now, if you'll excuse me, Ed's waiting..."
Colin picked up the tray of food.
"No, wait," said Thom, snatching it from Colin's hands and setting it back on the table. "I'm not taking no for an answer. I've chosen, and it's you, full stop."
Colin frowned. "You should have said that when we were fucking in the bathroom; it was a rather appropriate moment, don't you think? But no, once again you decide to be selfish. Oh, yeah, let's get back together, woohoo! What do you think will happen? You just convinced Jonny to forgive you, and he is happy as fuck that you sorted things out. And so is Ed. Do you want to break their hearts again?"
Thom pouted. "I'm not going to ignore my feelings, now, am I?"
"I'm afraid we- you'll have to."
"You said 'we'."
"No I didn't."
"You want me back too."
"Look, Thom," Colin sighed. "Yes, you're sexy. Yes, I want to fuck you. Yes, I'll always have a thing for you considering all the... history we have. But I care about Ed, too. I care about my brother. And I care about the band. So I'm telling you no. We can't. It's not right, get it?"
"They don't need to know." Thom stated coldly. With that he pushed Colin against the nearest wall, pinning Colin's wrists above his head. He crashed his lips onto his and forced his tongue inside Colin's mouth. Thom started grinding into Colin, and to his satisfaction he felt Colin getting hard against him, in spite of his determination to reject Thom.
Thom let one of Colin's wrists go so he could work at getting Colin's trousers off for the second time that day. Colin used his newfound freedom to push Thom back a few steps.
"Thom, no!" Colin said forcefully. "After years and years, we're both about to finally going to be with the people of our dreams. We should try to not fuck it up for once."
"But I want to be with you."
Colin sighed. "No, you don't. We worked when we were young because we were just fooling around and it didn't mean anything. But you've got to face that we're adults now."
"Things were much simpler back then."
"You've fought a long time for Jonny, don't give up now just as everything's about to be great."
"I know. I do love him."
"Then let's not fuck this up."
They heard Ed's voice from the corner of the kitchen: "Are you two quite done?"
Colin and Thom sprang apart and turned towards the voices. Ed was leaning against the door frame and Jonny was standing next to him, a wrapped gift in hand.
"Here's your present, Thom," Jonny said, holding the gift out. "If you still want it."
Thom walked towards Jonny and wrapped him in a huge hug. "I'm a screw up. But I do love you and want to be with you."
"You are a screw up and that's why I want to be with you," Jonny laughed into Thom's hair. They pulled back from each other and Thom took the gift from Jonny's hands.
"What did you get me?" he asked.
"Open it!" Jonny said.
Thom opened the gift and lifted the lid off the box. Inside were a week's worth of boxers, with Thom's initials embroidered on each pair.
Jonny was grinning. "This way, there won't be any other underwear mix ups."
Thom laughed. "I don't know, it's a strange path, but sometimes finding someone else's boxes when doing the laundry can lead to someplace very good."
"That might be true in this case, but I never want to go through this again," Jonny said, leaning over to kiss Thom's cheek.

Patrick Meets Thom

Patrick wasn't feeling well. His life was fine, he had enough money, his job was okay, and his was healthier than ever. But he just didn't feel well. After talking to his girlfriend about it, she suggested he go away for a few days and be by himself to think. He adored his wife for giving him so much freedom and allowing him to find and be himself without heartache or dissatisfaction. After spending a few days with her, he was on his way from a last minute decision to go on a 200 mile drive to a music convention. After driving for two days, sleeping one night in an icky motel, one in his cramped car, and eating Snickers and Dr. Pepper for breakfast, he was finally there at the huge eye-sore of a collusium style building not worth remembering the name of.
Patrick cued up and eventually presented his online ticket to one of the several red-faced men herding people through the entrances. They stamped his hand like a child at a state fair and gave him a pass for two of the 4 days it was going on, then Patrick was free to wander. While observing his vast surroundings, Patrick felt good about not having to worry about anyone right now. He cleared his mind and sighed. He was no longer Patrick, he was 'Random-Convention-Guy'. He spent the first 6 hours browsing new guitars, basses, drumkits, digital mics, old school equipment, recording setups, headphones, amps, pedals, picks, pick-ups, attachments, wires, software, and alot of useless shit thrown in there as well. After growing tired of a demonstration of some sort, the tired Patrick made his way to a cramped section of old vinyls. He was scarfing down an overpriced hotdog as he thumbed through boxes of ancient music, most people he didn't at all recognise, nor could he place it's genre. He shoved the rest of the hotdog in his mouth and choked it down, absent-mindedly moving to the next box of curious unknown bands.
The only thing he found interesting was a foreign techno-band's vinyl, presented in a horrid neon yellow and pink sleeve. As he went to pull it out of the box and towards him for observation, he noticed that it wouldn't budge. He saw on the other side of the record, a hand. Connected to that hand was an arm, to that arm a body, to that body and face, and to that face, blazing blue eyes and a challenging smirk. Patrick blushed and turned away. He hated making eye contact with complete strangers in public. He hadn't realised the grip he had on the record, and he hadn't realised the look the strange man was getting in his eyes. He was confident looking, and held himself well, without letting the record go, he scratched his chin and began to speak.
"Give it up, boy, this record is as good as mine." He was obviously trying not to laugh at this poor kid fighting to keep a death grip on a crappy unknown techno record.

Patrick looked up at the man again, slowly, and thought the man to be very familiar. But he averted his eyes soon after, and politely digressed. "Well, i mean, rightfully, i got to it first, so rules usually...um," Patrick didn't know what to say to this man. For no good reason, he wasn't giving him his music and thats all that mattered. "Silly rules like that don't apply to me, Boy, give up, fingers off."
But Patrick wouldn't give up. He was surprised by this man's smug confidence that he was actually going to take his property! Patrick was trying to focus on how pissed off he was with this bastard, but his face was throwing him off. "Dude, just...let go, ok? Why are you-?!" The look on Patrick's face was frustration mixed with confusion. The man placed his left hand on his hip and threw his head back in hearty,nerdy laughter, right hand still claiming the neon eye sore. He took a good look at the young man he was struggling with and Patrick took advantage to do the same thing.
The man's eyes were wise, educated, warm and somewhat deviant. They were blue as eyes could get, but not the same as Patrick's. The man's eyes were a deep ocean blue, bottomless and beautiful, deep and wild, whereas Patrick's were steal blue and solid, like the color of clean, calm, shallow water, or that of a new born baby's. He had a scruffy almost-beard and wore a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeved rolled up. The man's smile only got bigger. It was his eyes that were so familiar. His left one was a bit off...

The very second Patrick gasped with the realisation of who the man was, he lost his grip and it was snatched away in the blink of an eye. The man walked up to a fat, hairy geek in charge of the records and dropped a large bill on the skirted table at least quadruple its worth. He knew that Patrick figured him out. "Look! I got it! i told you," he said in a quiet squeaky voice, more to himself than to the young man bewildered before him. The older man waved him off with the record and walked away with the confidence and well being that could only belong to him.

Patrick's jaw dropped open. "T-Thom Yorke?" Hearing his name, Thom smiled to himself and turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the young man's face. Yes priceless of course. He enjoyed that moment, finding it amusing that the young man bore a striking resemblance of his younger self. That was fun, but now Thom had to find something else to do. Walking across the huge building to the other side, he joined a group of people enjoying an old black man play blues on a steel guitar. He became lost in thought, and barely noticed the light tugging in his hand a few minutes later.

It was that boy. He had his grip on the record again. He didn't even bother looking up at Thom this time. "I found you. Give it up, Mr. Yorke," Patrick grumbled, attempting a twist-move to loosen the singer's grip. Thom was both amused by the respectful title and appalled by the way it sounded. Thom turned around and faced the young man, who still had a hand on the record.

"Dear boy! I may be getting on in years, but I am by NO means a Mr. I bet im younger at heart than you," Thom cooed, "And obviously stronger. Are you struggling?"

"No! Im not struggling! Just want my record back!" Patrick said, both hands on the vinyl, pulling.

Thom scoffed. Something about this kid was growing on Thom, and when Patrick's childish blue eyes jolted up and snatched Thom's in a selfish rush accompanied by frustration, Thom's heart fluttered. How adorable was this kid? he thought. Thom was instantly reminded of his Jonny, and his clever way of making Thom give in with poutty faces and tantrums. He recognised Patrick's behavior as a plee for something he didn't know he wanted, but Thom knew all too well. A warm smile occupied Thom's face as he returned the man's look with comprimise.

Thom pretended to be annoyed and rolled his eyes. "Look, boy. Why don't you come with me to me room and listen to it first before you continue trying to steal it from me all night. I didn't come here to wrestle with a child."

Patrick darted from insult to shock, his eyes widening as he looked up at Thom with uncertainty. "Go with you?" he said quietly. Patrick may not have given Thom credit for his status during the record-scuffle, but he was giving it to him now. Thom Yorke had just invited him back to his room. Thom yanked the record away again and shoved it under his other arm protectively. He turned and began to walk away. "or fine, don't go, I could care less."

Behind him he heard the young man skip to catch up to him, and excitement boiled in Thom's belly. It has been so long since Thom has played this game, and back then he was the same age as the boys he played it with. When they got outside Thom stood as tall as he could and looked out at concrete and people and was happy to be somewhere where no one knew who he was. He wondered if that boy was still behind him.

"What's your name, boy?" Thom asked, not bothering to turn around.
"Patrick. And Im not a boy..." Patrick felt childish responding to Thom's statement that way.
"Oh yeah? How old are you?" The answer to this question was very important, Thom listened anxiously for what he had hoped to be a legal age.
"Im 22. How old are you, 43?" Patrick asked. Thom felt a great relief that he kept to himself. This boy was more than old enough for Thom. He only looked like a boy. "How did you know my age, Boy?" Thom turned around, playing with his beard. He had no intentions of treating Patrick like an adult, he wasn't one yet. But knowing he was 22, and remembering himself at that age, he shifted his mood from authoritive to inquisitive. Patrick kicked a cigerette butt into a crack in the ground, shy after feeling the look Thom was giving him. "My girlfriend, she loves Radiohead, so your birthday is a private holiday for her. We both went to the In Rainbows concert in '08, the one in Texas. You guys fucking kicked ass. I never felt as euphoric and inhuman as i did at that concert. You alone blew my mind open. You always have."

Thom was flattered by Patrick, blushing even. But he was too curious about the boy's personality to let everything be about himself. "Come. Walk with me, Boy." Thom began to walk towards the sidewalk that led into the city, away from the convention. Patrick caught up side by side with Thom. They both walked at the same pace, so they could walk with eachother easily. Neither of them looked at eachother, but conversation insued.

"Does it bother you, that im 43?"
"No? Why would your age bother me?"
"Dunno, just asking. You might think im too old to bother with."
"Your Thom Yorke."
"This is true."
"Where are we going?"
"Up the street here. Ive got a room in this swanky hotel I probably didn't need."
"Are you by yourself?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Mh-hm, I needed time to think. I haven't been feeling well. So I came out here to be alone."
"Are you looking for something?"
"Hm...no, well. Maybe. I just don't know this feeling. Thats why I am here."

Thom understood this feeling. It was years ago but he remembered it. Thom knew that what this boy needed, Thom could give him. He even wished he had someone there for him when he was Patrick's age. While they were walking, Thom studied Patrick from the corner of his eye, allowing his feelings for the boy to show to the smallest degree. They were just about the same size, Patrick being about an inch shorter or so, and he liked the mole Patrick had on his left cheeckbone, right below his eye. Patrick eventually noticed and stared back. Then looked ahead, then looked at Thom again, then his face scrunched up and he looked at the sidewalk. Thom wasn't looking away.

"Why are you staring at me?"
Thom shrugged, still looked at Patrick.
"Can't I look at you?"
Patrick had no answer to this. All he knew was that Thom was making him have butterflies in his stomach. "So, Boy, what do you think about me?" Thom suggested, the flirtation in his throat causing his words to hum. Patrick looked confused. "What do you mean?" Thom smiled. They stopped at a crosswalk and waited with a group of people that could care less who they were. "You know. What do you think of me. My looks? My appearance?" Thom was trying not to laugh, because the look on Patrick's face became twisted and shocked. He looked to be suffocating.

"Well. Well...well..." Patrick was looking for words. His face was beet red and he was fidgeting nervously. "Your a...you..."

"Do you think im good looking?" the group started walking so Thom and Patrick followed assuming that it was time to. "Well?" Thom pressed, now playing with the record in his hands to entice the boy.

"Well...you...yes, you are good...looking...i mean i never have thought about it." Patrick was dizzy with embarrassment. Thom Yorke was talking to him. Holy fuck.

"Well, I think your very good looking, Patrick." Patrick stopped in the middle of the street at the sound of his name. That was the first time that Thom called him by name, it sounded very odd. He got the chills. So did Thom. "Your gonna get ran over!" Thom yelled behind him and heard Patrick catch up again. The hotel was a block away, and no more words were exchanged until they were in the elevator to Thom's room.

The hotel was a block away, and no more words were exchanged until they were in the elevator to Thom's room.

"Are we going to end up in some crazy presidential suite on the top floor?" Patrick asked flatly.
Thom rolled his eyes. "Nooooooooo..."

The elevator stopped with a ding on the second floor from the top. Thom led the way down a large corridor with significantly less rooms on it than the floors below. They reached a room at the end and Thom swiped his card in the door until it finally let them in. Patrick was dumb-founded by the large house-sized room that sprawled out endlessly before him. Granite marble, black appliances, white and cream colors, real gold and crystal, a crazy balcony, even a water fountain was heard in the distance.

"You said you weren't in a crazy presidential suite!" Patrick squeaked, still shocked by the size of the room. Thom looked behind him. "Not in the one on the top floor, I said. I'm in the one bellow it," Thom cut his sentence off with stifled laughter and turned around to walk to the right. Patrick shook his head, trying to remind himself that this was Thom Yorke after all. He could hear Thom talking in from where ever he went to.

"Its not that I ask for these rooms," Thom spoke up, zipping something up and throwing something on the floor, "Its just that when the staff find out who I am, you don't have to stand in the doorway, Boy, poke around a bit I don't mind, when the staff realise im Thom Yorke from Radiohead, they...oh shit...they put me in this type of room...did I brake this thing?" Thom began talking to himself and became distracted by something very clanky.

Patrick decided to go in and walk to the left side, yes there were sides in this damn room. Right infront of Patrick there was a small sitting area with two big, white, leather sitting chairs and a glass coffee table, over looking the city in a yellowish haze of pollution. A blue jean jacket was thrown across one of the chairs, as well as a pair of jeans and a shirt. Patrick tried to imagine why Thom would get naked in that particularly revealing spot or if it was even Thom that did get naked right there. Oh well.

Next he traveled down a dark hall way with no windows and no lights, into a room that was quite small. In the room was a guitar, a piano that probably belonged to the hotel, lots of scattered papers, empty take-away boxes, and another full outfit piled in the floor. Patrick could only conclude that Thom liked to get naked at random times in random places for no particular reason and walked out, only a little disturbed.

Patrick walked down the dark hallway again, noticed a door to his right that he over looked and opened it. It was some kind of sauna, looking to be untouched so far. Thom doesn't like saunas, Patrick concluded from this, and walked away.

Time to go to the right side. When he walked passed the low ceiling-entrance and into the next division, he saw a large, open kitchen, one that would and should be in a mansion but not in a hotel by any means. It seemed out of place and pointless, but dirty pots and pans were scattered about, on the stainless steel electric stove and in the stainless steel sink with gold faucets. There was a glass table across the kitchen with two chairs to it. Plates littered that area and Patrick couldn't help but stack them up a little better, as two were on the edge and close to dropping on the clean, white, marble floor.

"You alright, Boy? Making a lot of noise there," Thom mumbled loudly, making a seperate racket of his own. His voice was coming from down the next hall. Patrick walked through it, encountering another random pile of clothes swept against the wall, and stood in the doorway of the last room in the suite.

It was the bedroom of course. A huge bedroom. Gigantic. The bed alone was bigger than a king-size, probably custom-made for the room. But even the bed looked tiny when placed in such a huge environment. The sheets and blanket were twisted together and some pillows were tossed on the floor It was too white all over the place, but the position of the sun had dimmed the room enough to bare its stark-whiteness.

"Thom?" Patrick spoke out quietly, not wanting to intrude on him. He took a few steps deeper into the huge room and tripped on a pile of clothes. A black shirt and jeans and this time boxers; the outfit that Thom had on today. Was Thom naked? Patrick wondered if he should back out now or keep looking for Thom when he heard a voice from deep within. "You in here, Boy? I thought I heard you." The sound of running water disturbed the calm of the surroundings. "Im...standing by the door," Patrick said and stepped back into the doorway. More noise and clattering and a zip. "You can come in. Your welcome to do whatever you want, just dont run up my bill, its high enough already."

So Patrick walked back in. The only thing he truly wanted to do in here was jump on that bed. It was so big he could help the impulse. "Can I per chance jump on your bed?" There were more sounds of something dropping and Thom swung around a corner by the wall sized window Patrick didn't notice. There must be a bathroom back there. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but thats all Patrick could see. Thom looked very amused by Patrick's question.

"What?!" Thom laughed.
"Well, ive never seen a bed so huge. I wanna jump on it." Patrick blushed. That was a weird thing to ask to do. "No, Im mean go nuts, Boy. I guess I never thought about it. Seems tempting enough." Thom disappeared around the corner again. Patrick did his personalised happy-dance and positioned himself for a proper jump and landing. This sort of thing made Patrick very happy, though he could never find out why; getting to lick cake batter out of the bowl, driving fast, winning a video game,obtaining shiny objects, jumping on hotel beds, things of that sort. Before jumping, Patrick removed his shoes, out of politeness, and his leather jacket, so nothing will damper his speed. He took a few large steps back, aimed, ran as fast as he could and jumped as high as he could.

When he landed on the bed on his back, he bounced high a few times, cool air whooshed up from under him and some of the sheets fluttered up and fell across his legs. Patrick laughed out loud in pure joy, and one would have. All in all it was a very good decision, and the bed was extremely comfortable. The instant he hit, his eyes got heavy, and he closed them. Patrick loved cold sheets, he stretched out and forgot where he was for a few seconds. He would love to have a bed like this, minus the white sheets for several reasons. The sun was going down and the room was getting dark. Patrick wondered what the hell Thom was doing.

Then he noticed Thom standing by the huge window, with a huge grin on his face. Patrick heard the sound of running, Followed by a swish of clothing in mid-air. Finalised by a body landing heavily beside him. Thom had jumped on the bed, too. He was laughing out from the fun of it. Patrick sat up akwardly, not knowing if he should get off the bed or stay where he was. Thom didn't seem to care though, he wasn't even looking at him, he had his eyes closed. After a minute of laying there, Thom let out a delayed "Weeeeeeeee". Then he looked over at Patrick.

"What next?" Thom asked, scratching his beard.
"Huh? I dunno.." Patrick was distracted by what Thom was wearing, a white wifebeater and a pair of baggy trousers. Thom noticed.

"What? Do I look funny?" Thom smiled.
"No, its just that, ive never seen you in clothes like that before."
"Well, you don't show up to photoshoots and interviews in underclothes, Boy." Thom giggled. Patrick felt stupid. Thom closed his eyes again and sighed with his mouth closed. Patrick looked at him closely, ready to divert his eyes at the moment Thom opened his. Patrick liked Thom's face, it was gentle, but harsh at the same time, he didn't have very many lines or wrinkles for his age either. Just a bit of a beard, with bits of grey in it, that gave his age away.

"Stop staring at me." Thom mumbled. Patrick jolted his head away and felt immense embarrassment. "Im just kidding, gah. Chill out, kick back, whatevah," Thom whispered, swinging his arms about like he was conducting an orchestra, before dropping them out to his sides. "Hey!" Patrick remembered. "Weren't we going to listen to that record?"

"Hm?" Thom said in a high pitched, girly tone.
"Thats why im here, right? Where's your record player?"
"Record player?" Thom said this like it was outrageous. "I don't have a record player."
"Then...why am I here?" Patrick asked suspiciously.
"You followed me remember?" Thom smiled, eyes still closed.
"What? No, I didn't-you said! I mean, if you hadn't-" Thom put his hand up and gestured that Patrick was talking too much. Patrick was offended. "What?! Hey! You were the one who-"
"Blah blah blah," Thom whispered, and sat up suddenly. His eyes were glazed over and seemed almost dangerous. Patrick felt uncomfortable. Again.

Thom scratched his eyes with both hands and groaned. The sun was almost completely gone, and Patrick could only see Thom's silhouette. "Sooooooo," Thom breathed heavily, his hands landing in his lap with a mild slap. "Why are you here?"

"What do you mean? Here with you?" Patrick was confused.
"Why did you leave home?"
"Oh, I told you, to get away."
"No, Boy. The real reason."
"I told you, because I didn't feel well."
"Ok, how do you feel now?"
"I-well...ok i guess."
"Why? You know what? You should just start from a point in your life, and tell me about yourself to the present." Thom tucked his legs underneath him and scratched his head the same way Thom is always seen scratching his head. "Why do you always scratch your head?" Patrick didn't mean to say outloud. Thom shrugged and made a look of annoyance. Patrick didn't want to annoy Thom, god forbid. Sighing outloud, not wanting to go into a personal information, Patrick prepared to spill his life to Thom. He started from around high school and work his way up his life, until he got to the present, where he even told Thom about the record and following him and how they are sitting on the bed. "The End." Patrick let himself fall back. Thom fell back, too, legs still tucked under him in an impossible way.

"You talk alot, like how Colin talks. Never even takes a breath," Thom said. Patrick was about to point out that Thom had asked him to talk, but he was more interested in what Thom just said. "Colin Greenwood? Really?" Thom snorted. "Yep, Colin." Patrick nodded. "Wow, Colin Greenwood."
"Yeah wow. Jonny Greenwood," Thom stated for no reason.
"Yeah Jonny," Patrick said, amazed that he was with the man that knew these people.
"And good ol' Ed O'Brien," Thom sighed.
"Wow...Ed."
"And Phil," Thom said matter-of-factly. "Eh," Patrick said. "Yeah, eh," Thom agreed. A few minutes went by with no words, until the room was completely dark. Patrick turned his head to see Thom but saw nothing. "Gonna turn a light on?" Patrick asked. "Nah," Thom answered. He reached down and all out scratched his balls. "Gross!" Patrick laughed, sitting up and hopping off the bed. Thom laughed a lazily laugh and kept scratching. "Im sorry, but I have to," Thom sang out in the dark. "Dude I know thats not scratching!" Patrick spoke up after a minute. Guilty laughter from the bed. "Cut it out!" Patrick yelled, feeling grossed out but intrigued that he was doing that when he was there.

"Number one: you are in my room. Number two: You can't see so it doesn't matter. Number three: Its not like im wanking it, im just fiddling with my junk." Patrick's reaction was priceless, throwing his head around and screaming like a woman. Thom laughed out loud and swung his legs over the bed, indulging in an involuntary stretch. "So your here to find yourself, Patrick?" Thom asked seriously. Patrick flinched, but agreed. "Yeah...yeah I guess so."

Thom got up and clicked on a very yellow, dim lamp, a white lamp of course. Thom then crawled across the bed, and sat over the edge and hung his legs on either side of Patricks, who was standing there rather awkwardly. He want to take a step back because their legs were touching. Thom was leaning forward and looking at Patrick's stomach, only inches away. Patrick couldn't breath right, he could hear his heart beating in his ears. He really wanted to move but he couldn't. He was standing between the legs of Thom Yorke, dammit. No one walks away from that. When Thom looked up at Patrick with glazed, serious eyes, Patrick stopped breathing, and thinking. His heart stopped, too.

"Alright, listen, Boy." Patrick listened.
"Im gonna show you why I brought you here, yeah?" Patrick nodded.
"And your going to be still and let me, ok?" More nodding.
"If you don't like what im doing then tell me to stop." Patrick swallowed hard.
"Ok..." Thom whispered, and, placing a comforting hand on Patrick's hip, he pushed himself as close to Patrick as he could get. Patrick wished that Thom had left the light off.

Patrick wasn't feeling well. His life was fine, he had enough money, his job was okay, and his was healthier than ever. But he just didn't feel well. After talking to his girlfriend about it, she suggested he go away for a few days and be by himself to think. He adored his wife for giving him so much freedom and allowing him to find and be himself without heartache or dissatisfaction. After spending a few days with her, he was on his way from a last minute decision to go on a 200 mile drive to a music convention. After driving for two days, sleeping one night in an icky motel, one in his cramped car, and eating Snickers and Dr. Pepper for breakfast, he was finally there at the huge eye-sore of a collosium style building not worth remembering the name of.
Patrick cued up and eventually presented his online ticket to one of the several red-faced men herding people through the entrances. They stamped his hand like a child at a state fair and gave him a pass for two of the 4 days it was going on, then Patrick was free to wander. While observing his vast surroundings, Patrick felt good about not having to worry about anyone right now. He cleared his mind and sighed. He was no longer Patrick, he was 'Random-Convention-Guy'. He spent the first 6 hours browsing new guitars, basses, drumkits, digital mics, old school equipment, recording setups, headphones, amps, pedals, picks, pick-ups, attachments, wires, software, and alot of useless shit thrown in there as well. After growing tired of a demonstration of some sort, the tired Patrick made his way to a cramped section of old vinyls. He was scarfing down an overpriced hotdog as he thumbed through boxes of ancient music, most people he didn't at all recognise, nor could he place it's genre. He shoved the rest of the hotdog in his mouth and choked it down, absent-mindedly moving to the next box of curious unknown bands.
The only thing he found interesting was a foreign techno-band's vinyl, presented in a horrid neon yellow and pink sleeve. As he went to pull it out of the box and towards him for observation, he noticed that it wouldn't budge. He saw on the other side of the record, a hand. Connected to that hand was an arm, to that arm a body, to that body and face, and to that face, blazing blue eyes and a challenging smirk. Patrick blushed and turned away. He hated making eye contact with complete strangers in public. He hadn't realised the grip he had on the record, and he hadn't realised the look the strange man was getting in his eyes. He was confident looking, and held himself well, without letting the record go, he scratched his chin and began to speak.
"Give it up, boy, this record is as good as mine." He was obviously trying not to laugh at this poor kid fighting to keep a death grip on a crappy unknown techno record.

Patrick looked up at the man again, slowly, and thought the man to be very familiar. But he averted his eyes soon after, and politely digressed. "Well, i mean, rightfully, i got to it first, so rules usually...um," Patrick didn't know what to say to this man. For no good reason, he wasn't giving him his music and thats all that mattered. "Silly rules like that don't apply to me, Boy, give up, fingers off."
But Patrick wouldn't give up. He was surprised by this man's smug confidence that he was actually going to take his property! Patrick was trying to focus on how pissed off he was with this bastard, but his face was throwing him off. "Dude, just...let go, ok? Why are you-?!" The look on Patrick's face was frustration mixed with confusion. The man placed his left hand on his hip and threw his head back in hearty,nerdy laughter, right hand still claiming the neon eye sore. He took a good look at the young man he was struggling with and Patrick took advantage to do the same thing.
The man's eyes were wise, educated, warm and somewhat deviant. They were blue as eyes could get, but not the same as Patrick's. The man's eyes were a deep ocean blue, bottomless and beautiful, deep and wild, whereas Patrick's were steal blue and solid, like the color of clean, calm, shallow water, or that of a new born baby's. He had a scruffy almost-beard and wore a black long-sleeved shirt with the sleeved rolled up. The man's smile only got bigger. It was his eyes that were so familiar. His left one was a bit off...

The very second Patrick gasped with the realisation of who the man was, he lost his grip and it was snatched away in the blink of an eye. The man walked up to a fat, hairy geek in charge of the records and dropped a large bill on the skirted table at least quadruple its worth. He knew that Patrick figured him out. "Look! I got it! i told you," he said in a quiet squeaky voice, more to himself than to the young man bewildered before him. The older man waved him off with the record and walked away with the confidence and well being that could only belong to him.

Patrick's jaw dropped open. "T-Thom Yorke?" Hearing his name, Thom smiled to himself and turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the young man's face. Yes priceless of course. He enjoyed that moment, finding it amusing that the young man bore a striking resemblance of his younger self. That was fun, but now Thom had to find something else to do. Walking across the huge building to the other side, he joined a group of people enjoying an old black man play blues on a steel guitar. He became lost in thought, and barely noticed the light tugging in his hand a few minutes later.

It was that boy. He had his grip on the record again. He didn't even bother looking up at Thom this time. "I found you. Give it up, Mr. Yorke," Patrick grumbled, attempting a twist-move to loosen the singer's grip. Thom was both amused by the respectful title and appalled by the way it sounded. Thom turned around and faced the young man, who still had a hand on the record.

"Dear boy! I may be getting on in years, but I am by NO means a Mr. I bet im younger at heart than you," Thom cooed, "And obviously stronger. Are you struggling?"

"No! Im not struggling! Just want my record back!" Patrick said, both hands on the vinyl, pulling.

Thom scoffed. Something about this kid was growing on Thom, and when Patrick's childish blue eyes jolted up and snatched Thom's in a selfish rush accompanied by frustration, Thom's heart fluttered. How adorable was this kid? he thought. Thom was instantly reminded of his Jonny, and his clever way of making Thom give in with poutty faces and tantrums. He recognised Patrick's behavior as a plee for something he didn't know he wanted, but Thom knew all too well. A warm smile occupied Thom's face as he returned the man's look with compromise.

Thom pretended to be annoyed and rolled his eyes. "Look, boy. Why don't you come with me to me room and listen to it first before you continue trying to steal it from me all night. I didn't come here to wrestle with a child."

Patrick darted from insult to shock, his eyes widening as he looked up at Thom with uncertainty. "Go with you?" he said quietly. Patrick may not have given Thom credit for his status during the record-scuffle, but he was giving it to him now. Thom Yorke had just invited him back to his room. Thom yanked the record away again and shoved it under his other arm protectively. He turned and began to walk away. "or fine, don't go, I could care less."

Behind him he heard the young man skip to catch up to him, and excitement boiled in Thom's belly. It has been so long since Thom has played this game, and back then he was the same age as the boys he played it with. When they got outside Thom stood as tall as he could and looked out at concrete and people and was happy to be somewhere where no one knew who he was. He wondered if that boy was still behind him.

"What's your name, boy?" Thom asked, not bothering to turn around.
"Patrick. And Im not a boy..." Patrick felt childish responding to Thom's statement that way.
"Oh yeah? How old are you?" The answer to this question was very important, Thom listened anxiously for what he had hoped to be a legal age.
"Im 22. How old are you, 43?" Patrick asked. Thom felt a great relief that he kept to himself. This boy was more than old enough for Thom. He only looked like a boy. "How did you know my age, Boy?" Thom turned around, playing with his beard. He had no intentions of treating Patrick like an adult, he wasn't one yet. But knowing he was 22, and remembering himself at that age, he shifted his mood from authoritative to inquisitive. Patrick kicked a cigarette butt into a crack in the ground, shy after feeling the look Thom was giving him. "My girlfriend, she loves Radiohead, so your birthday is a private holiday for her. We both went to the In Rainbows concert in '08, the one in Texas. You guys fucking kicked ass. I never felt as euphoric and inhuman as i did at that concert. You alone blew my mind open. You always have."

Thom was flattered by Patrick, blushing even. But he was too curious about the boy's personality to let everything be about himself. "Come. Walk with me, Boy." Thom began to walk towards the sidewalk that led into the city, away from the convention. Patrick caught up side by side with Thom. They both walked at the same pace, so they could walk with eachother easily. Neither of them looked at eachother, but conversation ensued.

"Does it bother you, that im 43?"
"No? Why would your age bother me?"
"Dunno, just asking. You might think im too old to bother with."
"Your Thom Yorke."
"This is true."
"Where are we going?"
"Up the street here. Ive got a room in this swanky hotel I probably didn't need."
"Are you by yourself?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Mh-hm, I needed time to think. I haven't been feeling well. So I came out here to be alone."
"Are you looking for something?"
"Hm...no, well. Maybe. I just don't know this feeling. Thats why I am here."

Thom understood this feeling. It was years ago but he remembered it. Thom knew that what this boy needed, Thom could give him. He even wished he had someone there for him when he was Patrick's age. While they were walking, Thom studied Patrick from the corner of his eye, allowing his feelings for the boy to show to the smallest degree. They were just about the same size, Patrick being about an inch shorter or so, and he liked the mole Patrick had on his left cheeckbone, right below his eye. Patrick eventually noticed and stared back. Then looked ahead, then looked at Thom again, then his face scrunched up and he looked at the sidewalk. Thom wasn't looking away.

"Why are you staring at me?"
Thom shrugged, still looked at Patrick.
"Can't I look at you?"
Patrick had no answer to this. All he knew was that Thom was making him have butterflies in his stomach. "So, Boy, what do you think about me?" Thom suggested, the flirtation in his throat causing his words to hum. Patrick looked confused. "What do you mean?" Thom smiled. They stopped at a crosswalk and waited with a group of people that could care less who they were. "You know. What do you think of me. My looks? My appearance?" Thom was trying not to laugh, because the look on Patrick's face became twisted and shocked. He looked to be suffocating.

"Well. Well...well..." Patrick was looking for words. His face was beet red and he was fidgeting nervously. "Your a...you..."

"Do you think im good looking?" the group started walking so Thom and Patrick followed assuming that it was time to. "Well?" Thom pressed, now playing with the record in his hands to entice the boy.

"Well...you...yes, you are good...looking...i mean i never have thought about it." Patrick was dizzy with embarrassment. Thom Yorke was talking to him. Holy fuck.

"Well, I think your very good looking, Patrick." Patrick stopped in the middle of the street at the sound of his name. That was the first time that Thom called him by name, it sounded very odd. He got the chills. So did Thom. "Your gonna get ran over!" Thom yelled behind him and heard Patrick catch up again. The hotel was a block away, and no more words were exchanged until they were in the elevator to Thom's room.

What the campfire saw

Ed’s POV

We decided to spend Cozzie’s birthday on a lake, in the wilderness, and honestly I still don’t have a bloody idea who first came to think of it.
Only absolutely everybody excited.
We would take two cars, Phil’s and mine, and drive there (when Thommy cringed Colin threatened that he’d tie him up and stuff him in the trunk), grabbing sleeping bags and a tent. Neither of us did have a tent, to be exact, what we had was a huge piece of dirty-greenish rough fabric of some sort that smelled like earth and made Thom absolutely giddy with the anticipation of our adventure.
When I showed up at Thom’s house they were all hanging out on the front lawn and it took me every bit of self-control from laughing my arse off. Apparently neither of them knew what the hell we were doing. Thom (or the thing that seemed most like him) looked like a cross between a shepherd and some sort of a crazy artist from the late XIX century – his jeans were rolled up to his knees and he was carrying an old leather messenger bag that probably had his notebooks and sketches. He was lying on the ground, a guitar case under his head and a blade of grass was dangling between his lips – a rather poor substitute for a cigarette (he was quitting at that time; I guess it dawned on him that his voice was getting raspier). I saw that he was barefoot – his sneakers next to him and his feet resting in the bright green lawn that was still shining with the cold dew.
Jonny was a pirate. I don’t know how Thom’s striped sailor shirt ended up on him, but there he was – his collarbones jutting under the harsh material as he was fumbling with the strap of his backpack – and I noticed that his lips were crimson because he was biting them too much. He was shifting from foot to foot and glancing at Thom once in a while, as if he was contemplating joining him on the grass. Next to him was Colin and I must say that he was the only normal-looking person in this whole composition; with his worn-out jeans and a comfortable black hoodie he seemed like a normal college student placed at least 100 years back. But oh my god, my whole mental tirade of Cozzie being the best ended when I saw a huge fishing rod in his hand.

“Hullo,” I parked my car near the sidewalk and leaned against it, crossing my arms on my chest, taking in the view.

“Hi,” – Colin and Jonny answered in unison and of course it took Thom Yorke bloody ages to pick up his head, shield his eyes from the sun, look at me, register the face, compare it with the images of friends he had in his head, think of the proper greeting and mutter a “Hiya”.
Phil peeped at me from behind the opened trunk of his car, nodding. His eyes darted quickly to the guys and we shared a knowing smile.

“So okay, let’s hit the road already, we have to get there early enough to set up and cook, plus if you want to do anything else today we really got to hurry up,” I started hauling the stuff they prepared into the trunk, casually taking the fishing rod away from Colin and shaking my head, “No way, mate,” I said quietly to his mute protest and he sighed.

“Who’s got the food? Booze? Little sour candies so that Thom doesn’t throw up all over the car?”
“Jonny’s got the food in his backpack and Phil’s trunk is full of booze,” Colin reported, “As for Thom…well, he said he um…”
“I’m riding a bicycle,” Thom propped up on his elbows, his cheeks flushed with the morning sun.
“Cozzie, get me the rope, would you? And Phil darling, we’ll have to leave some booze, ‘cause Thommy here is riding in your trunk today.”
“Why in mine? I don’t want to scrub vomit off my car.”
“Because yours is smaller. It’s going to make him suffer more,” Phil waggled his eyebrows and smiled, rubbing his hands together.
“Okay, okay,” Thom sighed and got up, “I’m not driving though.”

He climbed into my car and stretched on the backseat, and in that single action he defined the whole arrangement of who’s-going-with-whom, because Jonny crawled into my car as well, resting on the passenger spot and reclining his seat so that he was almost at the same plane with Thom. I shrugged and couldn’t feel sorry seeing Cozzie following Phil in his car – I was really looking forward to spending some time with him.

..::..

We arrived there some four hours later and I realized that there are certain advantages of being short: our darling Thommy climbed out of the car after a long nap purring and yawning while Jonny and I were tired and restless cracking our backs and massaging our swollen necks.
But it was worth it. The lake was deserted at the time, except for the two fishermen that seemed to spent the past 10 years there (Colin glanced at them longingly and somewhat jealous. Poor lad, I should take him fishing someday so he would realize that he hates it); the water was placid and it was absolutely marvelous to sit on the soft grass and look at the other side with its thick sunburned brush. Thom was shining with happiness because our small spot was surrounded by trees and he whispered something in Jonny’s ear that made him giggle and shiver nervously.
Phil and I decided to set up a shelter between our cars, placing them parallel to each other and dropping the fabric over them so that we could completely shut ourselves down from the mosquitoes and possible rain. Of course it was flimsy and Yorke laughed at us, but it actually worked pretty well when we spread some blankets on the ground, creating our little shelter. Thom snorted and spread a blanket on the grass, declaring he was going to sleep under the open sky.
Which was good. I had a groin trauma from us sharing a bed one day (don’t ask), and I got it nobody was looking forward to sleeping next to Thom (how wrong was I).

It got dark soon and the crickets filled the air as we sat around the fire, wrapped in the blankets and shivering, drinking beer and eating whatever we could find out of Jonny’s bag.
“They say minks are rampant here,” Thom noticed casually, taking a swig out of his bottle.
“I doubt there are any minks here…plus, they are not bigger than a cat.”
“Yes, but what about the wild minks, eh? They could creep up to you in the dark and use their little pointy teeth to chew through your throat,” we all noticed a flash of Thom’s teeth in the dark and it didn’t take a long time to recognize his wicked smile.
“I think we have more weasels here in UK,” Colin noticed and I thought it was nice to hear his warm voice so close.
“What’s the difference between a mink and a weasel?” it was Jonny now – his speech slightly slurred from the all the alcohol taken unnoticed in the dark.
“There are otters too,” Phil scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“See? This forest is fool of wild animals that wait ‘til we go to sleep to feast on our flesh,” Thom was looking around himself, as if he could see the slithering tales of weasels, minks and otters flashing in the grass.
“I think they prefer fish.”
“…European polecats…”
“What the hell is a European polecat?”
“Same thing as an otter, weasel, and a mink. Only it looks different.”
“Okay,” Thom giggled, “I say, Jonny is a mink,” he poked Jonny in the rubs playfully, receiving a flash of smile.
“Then Colin is defiantly a weasel.”
“Who’s Thom?”
“A prick.”
“No! Like an animal…”
“European polecat,” I thought about it for a while, “Yeah, it suits him.”
“So Phil and Ed are a pair of otters?”
“Exactly,” Thom clapped his hands, amused, “I would even agree to be an European polecat on such terms.”

We wished Cozzie a happy birthday and Thom leapt out of the circle and brought the new bass we bought for him, tackling him to the ground and tickling ‘til they both lost their breathes, which was quite disturbing since all we could hear due to the dark were the moans and pants and the sound of the clothes being ruffled and ripped slightly. Coz and I settled closer by the fire while he tried a few bass lines and I got out the acoustic we brought, taking random cords and playing melodies that would swim into my mind. Later on, as Thom and Jonny settled on the blanket, talking softly and gazing at the stars, Phil joined us and we messed about with a few songs.
I could catch Thom’s and Jonny’s phrases as their conversation flowed naturally, but for the most part they were chuckling and giggling silently as they clung to each other, sharing the heat. At some point Phil kicked the fire by accident and it flashed in the chilly air, showing Jonny’s head resting on Thom’s shoulder as their arms were wrapped around each other. They were completely motionless, barely breathing, although it was obvious that they were not asleep – and I thought, that they looked like they found the most comfortable position ever and were too afraid to change anything.

..::..

Phil was long snoring in the back of our tent when Colin touched Jonny on the shoulder lightly and dragged him out of Thom’s embrace and into the shelter. They crawled inside the dropped the flap closed, so now it was me, the dying fire, and Thom who sat up and shook his head.
“What, is our little Cozzie afraid of sleeping in the open?”
“It’s more like he is afraid of European polecats,” I noticed, smiling at Thom.
“Got me there, Eddie,” Thom laughed, getting up and stretching. His eyes fell on the tent and I was already thinking of mocking him about wanting to go inside when I saw his eyes glazed with mischief.
“Afraid of polecats, eh? Well, the polecats love fear,” I saw him licking his lower lip, calculating something, “Ed, you go from the other side, and I’ll try my luck on this one. It seems to me that Jonny’s limbs are closer to here…”
His sick games can be quite engaging. We shared a look before I crawled silently to the other side of the shelter and I was lucky – Colin’s foot in a sneaker was sticking out – an easy prey.
I heard Jonny’s high-pitched scream and realized that Thom was already attacking. Without thinking twice, I grabbed Cozzie’s foot and started dragging it out – and holy fuck, he was struggling like crazy, kicking and I think I heard a low growl from inside the tent. Startled, I released his foot and got a mind-blowing kick in the groin before falling down and hitting my head. Somewhere I heard Thom’s raspy chuckles and pants and before long he slapped me on the face and we scooted to the fire.
Colin’s angry face appeared and Jonny was peeking behind him, laughing. “Fuck off, we want to sleep!” we burst with laughter as the flap closed on us again.
I got up hastily hoping to get Phil this time, but Thom stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “They are ready for us now. Wait 15 minutes.”
We were getting ready thoroughly for the next attack. As Phil resumed his snoring, we gathered some like water in the plastic bottles and took off our shoes so that they wouldn’t wake up by our drunken feet shuffling. We spent about seven minutes figuring out where they were sleeping – now they were clustered along the farther end, and of course no feet were sticking from inside now. Finally, we crawled quietly to the tent, gesturing for each other to freeze if we heard something. I remember feeling the wetness of the grass as I felt the fabric and I remember the rash of warm air in my face as we lifted the fabric and jumped inside with wild screams.
I don’t know how Thom found Jonny, but my aim was perfect as I landed on top of Colin and Phil, yelling and wrestling with their sleepy bodies. I was actually good, because it took them a while to tackle me to the ground and pin my arms down. I laughed and turned my head to see how Thom was doing, but what I saw made my breath hitch, because they were not rough-housing at all – instead, Jonny’s hands were wrapped tightly around Thom and their bodies were pressed together; they were rolling slightly on the ground in one dark heap. I heard Jonny’s faint sigh and I saw the outline of his body arch up and his lips touched Thom’s – both of them moving in one fluid rhythm, their silhouettes visible in the light of fire outside.
Then it was a snap again as I felt Phil punch me a little too enthusiastically; I turned my head to find Colin staring intently at me, and I realized that he was probably more awake than I was and more aware of the things that were happening few feet away. That surprised me the most were the pained helplessness and his unspoken questions to me: why did I let Thom do this? Why didn’t I drink him to sleep?

5 Days Before Christmas

Jonny ran uphill as fast as he could. He was late and he didnt want Thom to think he was standing him up. There were a lot of times where either one of them would be more than late meeting up with each other, but this time is different. Thom had something important for Jonny. He specifically said 'don't be late, i have to do something and it has to be tonight'. Angry at himself for letting time slip by, Jonny sprinted like the athlete he wasn't until he was half way between almost there and so very far still. Mud was caking on his shoes and slinging onto the bottom of his pants, but he could care less. It did cross him that his hair would be a tosseled mess when he got to the top, but there were more important things to think about than his physical appearance. Thom needed to see him, he said so. That thought alone pushed Jonny to run faster and further than he ever had. Jonny finally locked his knees and caught his balance at the top of the hill, where a gust of wind greeted him with friendly haist.

"Thom?" He couldn't tell how loud he was speaking because of the mild hum in his ears from so much movement. He didn't see his friend until something bolted up from the tall grass and turned his way. Thom was lying on the ground and supporting himself up on one arm lazily. "Joooooonnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Thom strained as he stretched like a cat, "Ive been lying here waiting for you-" Jonny skipped up to Thom gracefully and knelt down beside him. "Thom Im so sorry! I didn't mean to be late! I lost track of time! School has me tied up in three different rehearsals, but thats no excuse!" Jonny was apologizing to Thom as if he were some form of authority he feared disappointing. Thom giggled with great amusement. "Jonny! It's okay! I was going to say that im glad i had the time to lay here and thing about everything before you got here," Thom concluded with a big, flushing smile. Jonny, out of breath and still racing upstairs, stared into Thom's eyes with a blank expression.

"Oh," was all Jonny could get out, before Thom jolted up like a spring and bounced on his toes. His movements stirred tiny bugs in the grass and they jumped around and disappeared like they had never existed. C'mon, lets go sit by the tree so we can talk." Thom scratched at his arms and skipped ahead of Jonny with an energy he never seemed to carry before. He seemed more alive than usual, not that he wasn't alive enough. Jonny followed him with insane curiosity and foreboding. He could feel change in the air. The color of the sky was different this evening.///

By the time Jonny had walked that small distance to the tree, Thom was already sitting cross-legged and ready to do whatever it was that he was going to do. A few feet away, and Jonny stopped walking. 'Neverminds' of all sorts raced through his head at the speed of light and he couldn't take another step. What was about to happen? Why did today feel so off? Why was Thom so out of character? Why did his stomach hurt so bad?

Jonny frowned and took one, tiny, unnoticeable, ineffective step back, but Thom had jumped up somewhere in there and grabbed Jonny's wrists. "Hurry, mate! The sun's goin' down without us!" Thom pulled Jonny four long steps to the big, gnarled tree and pulled Jonny down with his own body weight. They both hit the ground without concern and then it was official. Jonny was sitting there with Thom, something he had been imagining all day. Thom scooted closer to Jonny, and tried to get him to look up at him. There was no way he could look at Thom though, with his silly face and his blue eyes, and his short hair and his black sweater. He noticed that it was way too big, and thought it looked just like Colin's that he lost a while ago. "Jonny?"

Jonny snapped back and suddenly he was impaled deeply by violently intrusive eyes, so intense that he felt he was being probed and interrogated by his friend. Thom was being a snake again, Jonny thought. Its easier to strike when your prey is hypnotized by your gaze. Jonny began to sweat as Thom's eyes softened, and he plopped his hands in his lap childishly. "So? How was your day, JonJon?" Thom asked casually.

"What did you want me here for?" Jonny shocked himself with his own words, being so blunt, direct and to the point. Thom couldn't help but smile, and he rested his chin on his knees. "Well, Jonny, I have something to give you."

"A present?" Jonny perked up. Jonny loved presents, especially wrapped ones that he could open and squeal about. Jonny always got a lot of presents, each of them equally as surprising as the last.

"Well, yeah. Basically, Ive got two things for you." Jonny sat up at this news. Two presents? The night's hostility seems meaningless now as the thought of Thom presenting Jonny with two personalized, thoughtful gifts. No one outside of his own home had ever giving Jonny a present. This was a first. Jonny's impatient personality was kicking in. He only knew he was about to receive, so nothing else mattered.

"What? Can I have them now? Please?" Thom giggled and shook his head. "Are you sure? Its a very big present." Jonny was confused. If it was so big then where was Thom hiding it? Did he expect Jonny to hunt for it? It was Christmas not Easter! "Thom what are you going on about? Give me my presents." Jonny was getting poutty and cranky from having to wait seconds longer than he anticipated. Thom scratched his arms where the bugs had eaten him in the grass.

"Alright. One of them is in my pocket." Jonny's eyes landed on Thom's trousers. "The big present is?" Jonny looked for signs of hugeness, but found none. The confusion was increasing. Thom was laughing out loud now, his eyes sparkling in the last of the sun's dim light. "No! The big gift is right in front of you."

Jonny thought about Thom's mind games. "Your not giving me YOU for Christmas are you?" Jonny said flatly. "No! Just shut up Jon, you git." Thom was looking out at the fields, where the sun was a streak of hot light being pressed down by a mild night-sky.

"Im going to give it to you now, ok Jonny?" Thom whispered this part. Jonny was washed in goosebumps from head to toe. The sun was gone now, but it wasn't dark yet. Jonny could still see Thom, but not very well. Thom got up on his knees and scooched a few inches closer to Jonny. Alarms went off in Jonny's head as the space between them decreased. Thom's face was so close to Jonny's that he could smell him and feel his breath. What did this have to do with his big present?

Thom supported himself with his hands on his knees and leaned forward until his lips fell into Jonny's. He had leaned so far that Thom was resting his full weight on Jonny's mouth. Thom's eyes were open but Jonny's eyes had rolled shut. He groaned quietly, Thom heard it very well. He wanted to be able to watch Jonny's reaction without it being too noticeable, so he chose this time of day, not quite night but not evening anymore. It was grey outside, but it was glowing. Thom felt Jonny lean in more and he felt relieved that Jonny didn't freak and run or worse. He wasn't too worried though, he knew Jonny wanted him this whole time, just as Thom hungered for Jonny. The kiss lasted until it was alarmingly dark. The night caught them by surprise. Thom pulled away, his arms stiff from supporting himself. They were staring at each other, even if they couldn't see it happening.

"Was that...my big present?" Thom said a quiet mh-hm. Jonny was just as shocked and overwhelmed by the kiss as he was disappointed that it wasn't an actual large wrapped box with an item inside it. Oh well. "Oh, um, but you said there were two, right? One in you pocket?" Jonny was still high from the kiss. Thom sighed happily and drove his hands in both pockets. After a bit of fiddling he pulled out a folded piece of paper. He passed it to Jonny in the blackness.

"What is it? A note?" Jonny asked. Thom nodded, though it wasn't very helpful. "I wrote to you, Jonny. Its um...personal stuff...about, well. Read it later." Jonny raised an eyebrow. "Why would you give it to me at night? I cant read it!" Jonny tossed his hands in the air.

A smile formed on Thom's mischievous face. "Exactly. Read it later, mate." Thom looked in Jonny's direction a bit longer before standing up. "Well, Im off now. Im going out of town with my family for the holiday and i wanted to spend my last night here with you." Jonny was touched and happy and confused and excited and upset that Thom was leaving. "When are you getting back?"

"Next year!" Thom ran off that quickly and that easily. Leaving Jonny sitting there alone in the dark. He was freaking out about the amount of time Thom said he would be gone, until it occurred to him that next year was less than 2 weeks away. He could wait. Looking at the note folded by unevenly by careless hands, Jonny decided to wait for as long as he ever could to open the note. Days went by, then months, Jonny and Thom reunited and life went on as usual. Years went on and the note was forgotten.

One day Thom was going through a drawer and the note came up. He handed it to Jonny and Jonny looked at it hard. He didn't want to open it. Not yet. Thom understood. It was something more now. It might not ever be read. Whatever Thom had to say back then, Jonny thought to himself as he wrapped his arms around his Thom in affection, it was being said now.

Fuckstick

Jonny sat in the grass outside, playing with a small limb that had been torn from the tree in bad storm two nights before. In front of him was Ed, who was leaning against the old, battered tree, watching Jonny intently. "Today sucths," Jonny mumbled to himself. He was in a particular "Thom-mood" and Ed found this very amusing. "How does it suck, Jonny?" Ed smiled. Jonny flicked dirt at Ed's left leg and shrugged childishly. "You want to stop doin' that?" Ed asked in annoyance. "No," Jonny retorted and flicked more dirt. "It's is making me feel better, this tree branch." Jonny scooted forward and started hitting Ed lightly on both legs with the stick. "Im going to keep this as a weapon and use it on sucky dayths. I dub this my fuckstick!" Jonny said and thwacked Ed in the shin hard. "Fuck!" Ed hissed, grabbing his leg in pain. "Yay! It works!" Jonny giggled mischievously. "Jonny," Ed growled angrily. "You annoying pest!" Jonny stuck his tongue out at Ed and flipped him off right in his face. "Talk to the fuckstick cuz Jonny don't wanna hear no mo'!" Jonny piped like a girl, shoving the branch at Ed. "I'll show you a fuckstick!" Ed yelled and tackled Jonny. "AaaAAAaaaH! No Eeeed!?" Jonny squealed and tried wiggling away from the gigantic man mounting him. Ed worked at Jonny's pants with ease. "Jonny why are your pants so easy to get off?" Ed added in while he worked at Jonny's shirt. "They get ripped off a lot!" Jonny struggled as Ed flipped him over. "Wait! Im sorry! I'll never hit you with a stick again!" Jonny bargained. "Well I can't promise the same, Jonny," Ed said and propped himself up for the big moment. "Now, lets see how well my fuckstick works!"

Miles away, the word fuck could be heard ringing throughout the hillside as Ed's fuckstick worked just fine.

Beginnings

Colin’s POV

Honestly I don’t remember when it happened and how they were actually introduced (I was probably the one who brought them together), but Thom and Jonny met when I was about 17.
That makes Jonny 14.
We lived in a splendid little house with whitewashed walls and a smell of Italian villa; honestly I could imagine the crawling wild grapes covering its walls and lively farmers running around barefoot with their skin sunburned. Only that image would come only for a few days in a year, since most of the time our town was soaked with rainwater. I could still remember Jonny running into the house in his wet school sweater and dripping hair, his eyes dashing madly to check if Thom’s shoes were at the door (our mom believed we had nice carpet). Sometimes they were there, and in that case he would hide his eyes and a content expression from his face under his silky eyelashes. On the other days, his lips in a tight pout and a sigh caught in his throat, he’d climb upstairs heavily. Sometimes I was quite jealous of Thom.
Thom’s usual way of greeting Jonny was opening his arms wide and yelling out a high-pitched “Jon!” Something that would make a child run up to you for a hug; but Jonny was 14 and he could only smile shyly and giggle in response before going on with his usual business, which was then being apart from us.
That was probably the crucial point.
It took a while for me to figure out, but it turned out that Thom took it for challenge if a certain person didn’t pay enough attention to him. I’ve never thought that such person would be my baby brother though.

I was telling Jon that Thom and I were to go to the pub with the rest of the guys while lecturing him on his undone chores (something that made him blush and dip his head down), while Thom was leaning against the doorframe and looking curiously around the room.

“Quite a collection you got there,” Thom clicked his tongue at the massive record shelf. Jonny looked at it thoughtfully, as if he’s never registered its size.

“Yeah well, half of the stuff he stole from my room,” my sideways glance was enough to register a look of genuine curiosity on Thom’s face. I was about to tap him on the shoulder and drag him downstairs, but he stunned me by actually continuing his nonsense of taking interest in my brother:

“Mind if I take a look?”

Jon nodded and scooted over closer to the bed, freeing the territory. I shook my head and crossed my arms in front of my chest, listening to the soft sounds of Thom’s feet paddling its way to the other side of the room. Somewhere in the daze of smugly skepticism in my head I thought that this particular day might bring some changes to our future lives.

Jonny’s POV

It was a dull blow when Thom went away to college.

I think I’ve never realized what separation meant before it. Sure it was sad as any goodbye; but my mind wasn’t taking any precautions. I thought I’d just go on with my usual life and before I knew it Thom would come for summer vacation (he said that he’d stay at school for Christmas) and we’d lock ourselves up in our universe of being around each other.
That’s why probably I wasn’t catching on to every detail of his presence. I can’t recall his last day in Oxford – and shame on me, for the most of it we spent together. First in my room, fighting over the records and digging in my closet for the clothes he’d left there long ago; then at the pub, there all of us drank persistently until Phil retired to his girlfriend’s with a pat on Thom’s shoulder and a friendly hug, until Ed squeezed him in his bear embrace and went back home and until Colin shook hands with him and buried his face in his shoulder before nodding to us and retiring as well. So we were left together surrounded by empty glasses and spilled booze, sitting across each other. This is one moment when my memory gets clear: I remember him playing with the napkin, leaning to the table as my brother was exiting the pub, throwing one last glance at us. Thoroughly drunk, I still came to realize that we were probably left together for some purpose, that it wasn’t right, and that it wasn’t usually like that with normal friends.
That night was unbelievably chilly for summer and the stars above our heads seemed like bleach dots on the soft velvet. We giggled and leaned against each other’s shoulders, making our way to my house (because Thom was older and he always walked me back), laughing and singing our favorite songs. When we got there, we sat on the porch and gazed up at the sky, and Thom told me that it felt like that we were sitting on a deserted planet without an atmosphere to block the view of the cosmos. I laughed at him and told him that he sounded like a bad science fiction writer, to which he answered with a warm chuckle – something that made me always think that I was wrong at some moment. So we continued on staring up and saying nothing at all, and I don’t remember how that evening ended. I just know that the following morning when I woke up to realize that I’ve missed his departure, some dull splinter stuck to my brain and it began to ache.

...::…

It was bad.
I kept to myself all my feelings, especially feelings about him, and so most of the time I was silent. I’ve never told him about that period of my life, and I think that I never will, for it was probably the single most horrid thing I had to overcome.
We used to write each other letters. They weren’t consistent at all – sometimes we would go for months without any, and sometimes I’d get a couple every week. His letters reminded me of our conversations a lot; they could cut off abruptly, with him not saying goodbye at all, as if he’d stand up and walk away from me to muse about something that had just struck him. Or they would continue for several pages of mad scribbles and inner dialogue, filled with bits of his poems and lyrics, drawings, clips from magazines and newspapers, random pictures. At times he’d lose me and immerse in continuing his own thoughts that would naturally flow from his mind onto the paper. I loved it. Every bit was him. Every deformed letter.
I still keep them in a box in the back of my closet. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep at night, I look at them one by one and smile to myself, tracing the old yellowish paper. I must say that I’ve never read a single one completely. For some reason, I would feel an incredible pain in my chest once I would try to follow his syllables; so after 5, 10, 15 years I still discover new details about him from his letters alone.

Thom’s POV

Coming home from college was probably one of the most delightful feelings in my life; I was shivering from electrical excitement inside, I could barely sit and all I could do was stare out of the train’s window and claim that every second the trees and the sky looked more and more like those from my childhood. Which was foolish. To be honest, my college was three hours away from Oxford; however, I’ve never visited and I’ve never allowed others to visit me for some reason. I had a cover for this situation, I usually said that “it was my view of college life”, but to be honest, I guess I was just thirsty for new life.
From which I wanted to run away after the first year.
Nobody knew the exact day of my arrival. That was probably my ritual – to get off by myself and then walk home early in the morning, clutching my bag hanging from my shoulder. I think I just had to breathe in that air, feel the familiar crevices of the sidewalks against my feet. The town didn’t feel real at all; I imagined that I was an amused passerby in that little fairytale village bathing in the honey-and-lemon sunshine. It seemed like a drawing from that cubist era of architecture – with its perfect shapes and eggshell colors. Not English at all.
Everything seemed small. It was probably so because I could imagine that place from every angle possible and…well, maybe because I used to think about it so much when I was away – imagining the little people running around like ants and remembering the way warm stones of the buildings felt against my palm. I was a Gulliver in the land of Lilliputs, watching the life from the height of bird’s flight.

I arrived to my house when Andy was just exiting through the front door. Seeing me standing there, he sprinted toward me and clutched me in the strong embrace, mumbling something in my ear. He was big now; bigger than me, and there was much more strength in his arms, although he was the youngest. “Bastard,” he whispered and then added with his normal voice, “You should’ve said! I would’ve picked you up from the train station,” he drew back, his hands still on my shoulders and I felt like a kid in front of him for the first time in my life.
My parents paid me a rather cold welcome – and I was amazed how even a year of separation wasn’t enough fuel for them to keep up for one day. Of course, on the surface there were smiles and clumsy embraces, for by that time I was mature enough to understand that I was there for about two and a half months and there was no need to reform out whole relationship. They would keep away from me; I would keep away from them.
Standing in my old room and dropping the bag on the floor (a clatter of something inside – I guess I forgot I had something fragile in it), I was flooded with the overwhelming feeling of being home. I dived onto my bad and enjoyed its homey smell before rolling onto my stomach and noticing that the phone was still there, sitting silently on the little table. Instantly my mind told me that my friends were just a phone call away and my fingers trembled with the anticipation of dialing their numbers. Ed. Phil. Stanley. Colin. Who should I call first? My breath hitched and I let out a shaky sigh, feeling a nervous knot in my stomach. Jonny. I sat up on the bed, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes. He’s there somewhere, probably still sleeping. The image of him in the bed with his black eyelashes on his cheeks quickly pushed away other thoughts and settled in the center. I realized that I wasn’t ready to call him just yet; I wasn’t myself still, and I had a feeling that going back to what we were would be a process, not an action.

“Hello?” I cleared my throat before answering.
“Hi, um, is Ed there?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s not. Do you want to leave a message?”
“No, I’ll just call back. Thank you.”

Nice smooth start.
I sighed and began unpacking, thinking that I’d do everything tomorrow. I’d call them all and we’ll meet, and we’ll talk, and we’ll drink, and of course he will be there, and of course we’ll establish a new channel of communication, and of course it’s all going to be okay. I found myself fantasizing about the way we would greet each other – a friendly hug? A strong embrace? Maybe I’ll let my cheek graze his naked neck. Or smell his hair. Or let my hands slide up and down his back – slowly and thoroughly.

..::..

It was four days after my arrival that I saw them. Him.
On the next day I had a 105-degree fever and I was sweating and shaking, mumbling something incoherent and a tasteless liquid was running from my eyes. My hair was sticking to my forehead and I remember clutching the sheets in my fingers as Andy was holding me. Later he told me the bits of rubbish that I was saying and I was relieved to learn that I didn’t say any names, didn’t name any feelings coherently.
I spent the next couple of days fighting the fever that would claim me until finally it seemed to go away.
That was when Phil called me, his usual quietness replaced by utter excitement.

“How come you know I’m here? I haven’t told any of the guys and Andy promised to be quiet,” I couldn’t stop grinning, content to hear a voice of my friend finally.
“Ed’s mom recognized you, and then she called Ed, but Ed was away and then he came back and told me and now I’m calling you…he’s probably on the phone with Colin now, oh man we need to meet, right now, today, I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you sod...”
“Okay, okay,” I stopped for a second to close my eyes and just smile, “Listen, how about tonight, at the pub, at our usual spot, eh?”
“Sure mate, no problem, I’ll call people, we can have a party…”
“No, no…just the five of us, okay?”
“Oh, alright…”
“Good. I’ll be wearing a red hat and a yellow raincoat so you’d recognize me.”
“Oh sod off, we still remember your face.”
“Good.”

Colin’s embrace knocks the oxygen out of me and I feel my lungs flatten. Ed’s behind him and now he’s throwing his arms around both of us like a father would do to two of his sons and I feel Phil joining in. We giggle and I feel tightness in my throat, a certain feeling of being home.
We are missing one though.
“He couldn’t come,” Colin whispers against my shoulder, “He has an exam tomorrow and mom wouldn’t let him go. You should’ve seen the way he thrashed and screamed.”
I gulp and close my eyes. Somewhere in the thoughts of his musical professionalism and the maturity of the feelings I have for him I forgot that he was three years younger and still subject to parental control.
“He told me that he’d wait for you tomorrow after school.”
I nod and shiver at the thought of facing him for the first time in the whole year tête-à-tête.

...::..

Our awkward and clumsy embrace draws several looks from his classmates as we are standing close on the pavement in front of his school. He blushes and I squirm a bit, but fuck them, there is no other way – there had to be some kind of physical contact. And I’m already regretting hugging him here. We should’ve waited ‘til a deserted alley to make appropriate and different.

“That was horrible,” I mumble and his eyes widen; I’m hasty to explain myself, “I mean it’s nothing compared to the hug your brother and I shared yesterday,” I see competition in his eyes now, “I think we have to reenact that, because you don’t want to lose to Colin.”

He is laughing, but his eyes are interested. Flattered. There’s a hint of playfulness though and I find it easier to think of him as of an object of desire than of friendship. A modest half-smile settles on his face as I pull him by the sleeve around the corner and into the empty park, there the shade of the trees provides intimacy.

“Okay,” I face him before looking around casually, “Jonny and Thom meet each other: take two.”

I grin from ear-to-eat and open my arms wide, a squeaky “Jon!” loud on our ears. He laughs and for the first time he does that I always wanted him to do in this situation: he wraps his long arms around me and buries his face in my shoulder. I close my eyes and bring my hands to his back slowly so that their movement wouldn’t shatter the loveliness around us. We stand embracing like that for a moment and his cheek rubs against my neck slightly as I caress his spine gently.

A year of separation was worth it. Not coming home for the holidays was worth it. Biting my fingers till they bled was worth it. Because that gave us an excuse to linger in each other’s arms for a little longer than a minute.

Jonny’s POV

“Joooony’s got a giiiiirlfriend.”

We were in the pub, all of us pissed, lukewarm, and happy. Thom’s arms were around Ed’s and Phil’s shoulders and all three of them were sitting on the orange sofa, grinning like mad. Colin was on the floor, nestled comfortably between Ed’s legs (I noticed that he was getting quite comfy around Ed), and I was sitting across of them, jealous of my brother with his frivolous manner of behaving.
The girlfriend was just rubbish. A friend of mine was too much of a coward to ask the girl he knew out, so he talked me into a double date. That was how I met Blanshee - a girl of blonde hair and cute gray eyes that seemed pretty enough for my brother to notice her with me and tag her as my girlfriend immediately.

“Is that right?” Thom looked over at Ed, amused, smile never escaping his face.
“Yessss, she’s pretty, she’s blooonde, her name is Blanshee,” Colin and Ed started giggling and Thom looked over at me with his brilliant grin.

“G’job, tiger,” he roared and pawed in the air and the four of the four of them were laughing hard now, although I could see a bit of despair in Thom’s eyes when he glanced quickly at me from under his eyelashes.

“I hear wedding bells,” Colin smiled at me, “Awww, they grow up soooo fast…”
“I know, right? And so this Blanshee girl, does she like him a lot?” Thom was getting enthusiastic now and I could sense a little annoyance toward me.
“Oh yes. She attended a couple of rehearsals…she couldn’t take her eyes off of him,” Ed and Colin giggled again.
“Don’t listen to them, Thom. It’s nothing, it’s rubbish…” I finally defeated my stupor.
“Uh-huh, sure Jonny,” he mumbles, not even looking at me, “And so do they hold hands?”
“Oh yes, they do, and he pecks her on the cheek every day and carries her books after school.”
“Colin! That’s not true, I haven’t even spoke to her since that date, Thom, please…”
“And what a sweet date it was! Jonny came home with his eyes sparkling and his lips were raw,” Colin blinked at me, a toothy grin on his face, “Ah, come on, Jonny, we’ve all been through it.”
“Invite me to the wedding, will you, mate?” it was Thom now and somehow his genuine smile was burning a hole in my chest, “And name your firstborn Thomas.”
“Thom…”
“Here’s to Jonny and Blanshee!” Thom raised his bottle of beer and everybody followed suit, “To everlasting love and…and never-ending commitments,” he added quietly and I saw pure sadness in his eyes as he looked down at the table. But just for a second. After that his shield was on again and he was clinking bottles with everybody, taking a large gulp so I could see a drop of beer dripping from the corner of his mouth.

In two hours, outside of the pub, I gripped his arm and tugged him gently to my side, thinking that we would walk home together, as always, sharing a small talk and trying to clear our heads a little before our parents would see us. But he snatched his arm away and glared sideways at me, stumbling backwards slightly.

“Go ‘ome with Colin,” he added quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I think Ed and I will have some more fun tonight.”

“Thom, I think we need to talk.”

“No, Jonny, you think wrong,” he closed his eyes and stopped for a second, composing himself, “We’ll talk. Tomorrow. In a month. In a lifetime. Just not today, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nodded and walked away from me, disappearing in the night. He didn’t wait for Ed, or anybody else; instead, he went straight to his house, to his room and undressed silently, climbing into his bed and sighing soundly, glancing out the window at the yellow shining of the streetlight. He fell asleep with little pangs of pain shocking his chest.
I know this because exactly the same happened to me that night.

Colin’s POV

Sometimes Thom gets hit in the head with a huge blimp and he comes up with the craziest ideas.
When he called me one summer day of his break from college and invited me to the cinema, I was delighted. Nevermind the fact that he chose the theater that was further away than any other and decided to walk there. I think all of us were used to his spazzes about cars and I must say I thought it would be nice for all of us just to spend some time together while clear-headed.
Well, it was raining quite hard that day and I called him to say that I think I’ll pass. From his angry ramble I learned that Ed and Phil did the same and I thought that for once we’ve defeated him, but I must’ve known better, because at the same minute Jonny appeared in front of me – his hair combed perfectly, his skin emitting some kind of cologne and his clothes impeccable. I thought that if I he was a girl and I wouldn’t be his brother, I would kiss him right away. He smiled toothily and ran his hand on his hip – his usual gesture of checking if jeans were clinging tight enough.

“We are not going,” I mouthed to him while still on the phone.

“What?”

“We are not going,” I sighed, “It’s raining and Thom wants to walk, so I guess we have to reschedule.”

“Well…maybe you are not going, but I am,” he turned around and put his tennis shoes on before exiting through the door and into the pouring rain.

“Okay, Thom,” I sighed, rubbing my forehead, “I guess Jonny and I will go.”

I was the only one who thought about taking an umbrella, but Thom shook his head and took it away from me before I could open it. After first 5 minutes in the rain our clothes were soaked and hanging heavily on our bodies, but Jonny and Thom didn’t seem to care – they were chatting about music and walking straight ahead, not minding the puddles that were seeping through their shoes. Every so often Jonny would shake his head and tiny drops of water would fly everywhere – and Thom laughed at that, clearly amazed and happy to be there.

The people in the passing cars looked at us like we were crazy, and I think they sped up and splashed the muddy water on us on purpose – but I couldn’t care less, there was no way we were getting any more wet.

The craziest thing happened when we got lost. I guess I had to pay attention, because at some point we found ourselves on an empty meadow – and suddenly it didn’t look like Oxford at all.
Jonny and Thom were giggling like mad.

We spotted a motorway and started moving along it, Thom and Jonny in front of me, their shoulders brushing and voices heavy with smiles, while I was just staring at the wet ground and feeling like I was a third wheel in their madness.

“Cozzie, isn’t that great? When was the last time you were soaked to the bone?”

“The last time I was with you, Thom,” I sighed and caught up with them a little. The ground was mushy now and our shoes were sinking in the mud with every step.

“I think it’s awesome,” Jonny slowed down a bit and waited till I was along them, then he put an arm around my and Thom’s shoulders and we continued with our journey.

Thom started humming slightly and before long he started whispering, and before we knew it he was singing – his eyes closed and torrents of water trickling down his face and under his shirt – small bubbles of rain popping soundlessly on his skin, glistening with the light from the passing cars. I fixed my eyes straight ahead, not wanting to see Jonny turning his head in his direction, drinking in the sight of him giving away to the music, playing with his voice and more of anything I didn’t want to see that twinkle in Jonny’s eyes, the way he would fix them on Thom so that everything else was blurred out, the way his fingers would grip Thom’s shoulder tightly.
I was thankful that Thom opened his eyes and whispered “Join me” to both us (but of course it was more for Jonny), but I was mistaking, because now they were screaming on top of their lungs together – off the key and nowhere near the melody, their voices muffled by heavy pants and curses and the steady drums of the rain, but they were laughing and clutching to each other tightly in their wet shirts and sweaters.

And then Jonny slid and hit the ground with a loud yelp, bringing Thom down with him as they rolled off the slope and into the thick green grass, and for a second I heard nothing but a ringing silence in the air, for then I peeped carefully at them their lips were obscenely red and they were opening their eyes simultaneously, staring at each other for a split second before Jonny’s eyes flicked to me and the laughing and wrestling resumed.

The ticket lady eyed us with shock as I handed her our wet money. In the dark room they were shifting restlessly, soaking the seats and giggling in their hands, their wet heads bumping with each other and shivering bodies searching for warmth. I felt a lump in my throat and my stomach was sick. Never in my life have I paid so much attention to the film, because I was genuinely afraid to look at them in the audience.

Jonny’s POV

“Local woman goes on adventure of exploring the town’s restaurants,” Thom rolls his eyes, tearing the page, crumpling it and throwing it across the room. Then, picks up the newspaper again and goes on with his reading, “A group of rebellious students put down by the police in London.” The same destiny with this one. “Politics: how long until the collapse of communism?”. Sports section, stocks section, “family and garden”, and media – the floor is full of crumpled pages. I make a random observation: the button on Thom’s trousers is too little and it’s on the verge of popping open every time Thom is lying down on his bed.

“You hate press?” Colin is sitting on the floor, engaged in the reading of some colorful magazine, sucking his thumb and getting hit with the blobs of paper once in a while.

“I hate the way they write articles in the local newspapers,” Thom puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes. I make a random observation: Thom has a thin white t-shirt under, soft and worn out, it’s wrinkled whiteness making you think of the way it would ride up every night when Thom would be taking off his sweater or long sleeve.

“Why?”

“They sound like people who never read books. Or rather, like people who read pseudo-intellectual books. And the sentence structure…God, you can use a semicolon here and there, for Christ sake…”

“It’s quite easy to tag everything in the world pseudo-intellectual,” Colin is rustling with the magazine pages now, and I am a bit amazed that he doesn’t agree with Thom on the spot.

“I’d say “dumb”, but it’s too angsty.”

“Oh yes,” Colin is smirking now, “I forgot that we are not teenagers now. Everything angst-related is sooo infantile.”

“Oh shut up,” Thom rolls over on his stomach and pokes into Colin’s magazine with a grin on his face. I make a random observation: Thom is wearing slightly baggy trousers. That mean now they are tightly wrapped around his hips.

“What’s new, eh? NME, oh God…you read that? That shit’s expensive. I could get a beer for the cost of this rubbish.”

“Well of course everything narrows down to the cost of beer,” Colin slaps Thom across the head lightly.

“Oh, Cozzzie, I love it when you are rough with me,” Thom purrs and Colin giggles, “What’s that? Go back to the chart…whoa, Kylie Minogue’s doing nice.”

“I’ll write to her and tell her she’s got the biggest fan on Oxford.”

Thom laughs and rolls over to lie on his back, putting his hands on his stomach and staring at the ceiling. I make a random observation: he’s wearing white socks and I follow the line of his small foot until my vision is blocked by the trousers.

“I wonder if we are ever gonna be on these charts,” we are all silent for a moment before Thom laughs, “God, I’d hate to be on it.”

I make a random observation and blush immensely, ducking my head and hoping that Thom can’t read minds.