Date: Mon, 21 Aug 2017 15:33:12 +0000 From: Secret Writer Subject: Beyond A Colour - part 4 *----- Beyond a colour - 04 Hi This is, a you probably know, a story. Fiction, not reality, and so no, it's not about you, whatever you might believe. As usual, if you shouldn't be reading this for whatever reason, or you don't like the idea of guys being gay and falling in love, then don't stay here and read this. If you enjoy this story, or anything else on this site, please donate at http://www.nifty.org/donate.html And finally, your (constructive) feedback is always welcome, you can contact me at secret_writer@outlook.com There's now a mailing list for (occasional) updates and new stories from me, you can subscribe at http://eepurl.com/b1EzqL -----* I woke up with a jolt, or, I sort of did. It's more accurate to say that I became aware that I was sort of awake. Actually I was dreaming, but I knew I was dreaming, so I don't know what you call that state. At least I've always assumed it's a dream. The weird thing about it, or perhaps *a* weird thing about it, is that it's a dream I know I've had before. Not for two or three years now, but it's immediately familiar. The roaring, deafening noise, like if you've ever been in an earthquake you'll know how it's a noise that seems to come from everywhere. I have been in an earthquake, but nothing serious, and no, that's not the genesis of this dream, because this dream started happening from when I was very young. It's one of my earliest clear memories. And it's always the same. I sometimes feel it coming on before I actually `see' it, if you know what I mean, because there's a very distinctive feeling that also comes with this dream. A unique, as in, I've never felt it at any other time, feeling in my chest, a heavy tightness, which is somehow connected to a taste. You know how a smell can sometimes have a taste? It's like that, only it's a physical sensation that has a taste. I'm pretty sure I don't have synaesthesia because it only happens in this very specific circumstance. Anyway, the taste is like metal, steel maybe, in my mouth, I don't know how I know that. The dream itself then comes in to focus, the noise has an explanation, not that I need one because I know what it is already. Always the same. Two huge beings, giants I suppose, almost human but not human, made of earth and clay. Hundreds of feet tall, properly enormous, they both look basically the same. And they are fighting, always in the same way. Instead of hitting each other, they tear up the earth below them with their huge hands, grabbing tonnes of rock and earth at a time and hurl it at each other. The noise, so loud, is the sound of the earth being ripped apart. This continues for an unpredictable amount of time, sometimes just a minute or two, sometimes an hour or two. I can watch them fight like this, I can move around. I never get hurt. But eventually the feeling in my chest gets too much, the taste in my mouth gets stronger and stronger, and just at the point where I think I'm going to be sick, I actually wake up. It's 4:17am. And as I already knew would be the case, there's the sound of thunder rumbling somewhere not too far away. There's always thunder when I wake up from that dream. I'm sure that there must be a connection, I just don't know what. Previously, in my more `compromised' times, lacking sanity and a firm grip on reality, I've believed that I actually caused the thunder. The dream isn't scary, in fact the familiarity of it is oddly comforting. But it still takes me a few minutes to properly wake up. Damn it, I hate waking up this early. Then I remember yesterday. Damn him. I get out of bed and open the window. I love the smell of thunderstorms. And the rain, when it comes down so hard it's bouncing off the pavement. The white noise of rain like that is just amazing. Instinctively I reach over and pick up my phone. Then I realise it's turned off, and then I remember why, dropping it on the bed next to me as I glare at it. I don't know what difference I think glaring will make, but you never know. Checking the time again, it's 4:53am. I must have zoned out somewhere. Still, it's still very early, and so probably a safe enough time to turn my phone on. I wanted to read any messages there might be from Chris without the risk of him trying to call me or anything. They started to appear almost immediately, the unread backlog. I'm so sorry... all my fault... I didn't mean to... please... blah blah blah... I get it, you're sorry. It was relatively easy to ignore all of that shit, but his last message was proving more of an obstacle. `I know this is my fault, but please at least let me try and fix it' I could picture his pained, hurt, sad face, desperate to make things OK again. Grrrr. I turned my phone off again and tried to get back to sleep. It didn't go well, but I managed to at least close my eyes for a few hours. The voices were getting all uppity but the moments of giving in and listening to them made for interesting insight. They didn't know what to think about Chris either. Ha ha, the psychotically maniacal bits of my brain were just as fucked up as the rational bits of me. OK, so it's more like mutually assured destruction than an actual victory, but so what. The only thing the voices seemed to agree on was that I should never speak to Chris again. So obviously, that was probably what I should do. Even though it's always way harder work, in general, doing the opposite of what they are saying is better for me. Eventually. Probably. But then, fuck him. It was very tempting to agree with them. It's often very tempting to agree with the voices though, just because it's easier and all I want if for them to shut the fuck up for a moment. But this time, I was actually a little bit agreeing with them. Hmm, that's not a good sign is it? I got up properly just after eight, having made no progress at all on deciding what to do about Chris, so I left my phone switched off. Being a Saturday, there were even fewer plans than usual for the day. Mum was around all day, on and off, mostly on, and I drifted along doing nothing at all productive. I almost turned my phone on about thirty thousand times, but never quite made it. OK, so maybe not quite every second of the day, but it felt close. Somehow it got to be late in the evening and I still hadn't turned it on. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day for dealing with things like that. It wasn't an awful day, but hardly a good one either. You know how alcoholics reach that point of constantly topping up, so at any give moment it looks as though they're only drinking a little, but that's because they are only having to add just that tiny bit more to reach whatever state it is their body needs. The voices were at that point. Ostensibly a low level background mild annoyance, but somehow were also already permeating every part of me. This wasn't good. Sleeping wasn't good either. By which I mean, it was terrible. I took some extra meds, again, around midnight, but sleep never really took hold properly. Just occasional pointless physical rest, which was completely useless in the short term. It's just a blip, that's all, nothing serious. It happens. I know this. It's happened before. Things will calm down again any time now. Except, they didn't. By breakfast on Sunday I was losing the will to even try and function. But at least some part of me was feeling better, the voices had finally decided on the best form of attack. Oh you think you're so fucking clever don't you? Well, maybe you are, because you always manage to find it, don't you? Find the thing that's going to be most debilitating, or most upsetting, or most provocative. Yes, not only will Chris not want to patch things up with me, it will actually be my fault now. I drove him away. I'm so unbearable, and unpleasant, and ugly, and nasty, and selfish, and self-centred, and incapable of emotion for another human being that he couldn't stand the thought of being anywhere near me. Yes, how they loved this realisation, this was how to get to me. And off they went, shouting and screaming their torment at me as they danced, in a way that I imagine has never actually happened, like witches around a bubbling cauldron. "Morning honey, how are you doing?" Mum was already up and working when I went down for some breakfast. "You know, fine." I poured a big glass of orange juice and slumped down at the table. "Uh-huh." I banged my head on the table, just as an experiment to see if it would knock the voices off balance for a few seconds. It didn't. Sometimes it does, but I try not to do it in front of Mum because she gets pretty stressed by it. "So maybe not quite `fine' then?" "No, not quite." "Do you need some extra meds?' "I can't, not yet, I had some earlier." "Oh..." I knew she was still talking, but I just couldn't focus enough to make out what she was saying. "Blue!? What time? Sweety, try and concentrate, please." "I don't know, earlier, midnight, and then seven, maybe half past. I cant have any more yet." The maximum extra meds I can take is one every four hours, but only four in any 24 hour period. So I have to try and regulate. Unfortunately I was already at two, and it wasn't even mid-morning. "OK. Blue? I really need to go in to the office and pick up some case files. Do you want to come with me?" "No. I'll be fine here." "Are you sure? I'll be about an hour?" "I said I'll be fine!" The yelling probably conveyed a slightly different meaning. It got to around 10 and I could tell that she wasn't really convinced that either I was fine, or that I would be. I was trying everything I could to find some peace, or just to feel the tiniest bit better, and nothing was working. Things had somehow gone too far for me to concentrate on anything properly, so watching TV or distracting myself somehow was no longer possible. And even the music wasn't working. I hate times like this. There's literally nothing I can do. Mum went in to the office anyway. And I regretted telling her it was OK immediately. Stupid idiot Blue. I know she can't make things feel better, but it's just more reassuring to have someone familiar with me. Well, usually it is. I tried my headphones again, and then even took advantage of having the house to myself and blasted music out loud, which feels very different, but still wasn't helping, so I gave up, resigning myself to just pacing around between repeated attempts at relaxing. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't do so well at the relaxing. It's a weird feeling, those times, my world seems to get smaller, everything becomes kind of distant, except for the incessant shit in my head, which gets somehow closer. The doorbell was ringing, a lot. I wonder how long that had been happening for? And who rings the fucking doorbell, on a Sunday morning? A Sunday!? I answered it, more for something to do than anything else, at least that's one noise I can stop. Although I regretted that as soon as I did. "Oh, it's you." "Hi" "What do you want?" I aware that I was still gripping one side of my hair with my hand and tried to stop doing so without drawing more attention to it. "To see you. To see if you're OK. To apologise. Jesus Blue, you look like shit, are you OK?" "This is a really bad time." "Yeah, sorry. Again. I'm sorry if this is all because of me." I was walking away when I laughed half-heartedly, turning back towards him. Poor, stupid, clueless Chris. I also seemed to be about to cry. "Don't flatter yourself. Things are just... bad right now. I can't deal with your shit at the moment." Yeah, definitely seem to be crying, again. You're such a catch Blue. "Are you parents home? I'm really worried about you. Should I call someone?" "It's fine. Mum will be back later. Why are you even here? What do you want?" "Can I at least come in and wait until she gets back?" "And then what? Somehow pretend that everything is all better? Like none of this ever happened, and I'm not... I'm not like... this." Chris stepped into the hallway, towards me. "This is all you're fault! And you don't even understand what you've done to me. I hate you, I wish I'd never met you and seen your stupid face and never thought about you and never gone to your stupid party and never talked to you and never watched your stupid rugby and never waited for you and never..." "Blue!" Chris was holding my wrists, one in each hand. I didn't remember being that close to him. "Will you stop hitting me, please? Its kind of difficult to listen to you when you're doing that." "Then just fuck off!" "I can't, I can't leave you on your own like this." "I don't want you here. I don't want..." I knew I was yelling. Yelling and crying. "I just want to try and make things better?" "Do they look fucking better? I don't want you to be here, to see... this. You'll never like me like this." Oh. Ohhh. So that was it. Yes, of course, why wouldn't that be it? Didn't I tell you? We all told you. We knew it. Everyone knows it. Love? No. He. Won't. Even. Like. You. "Shut uuup!" There was silence between us. All of us. Chris was no longer holding my wrists, but was holding my hands. I tried to remember when that had changed, he'd only arrived a minute or two ago, but I didn't know. He pulled me towards him, hugging me, the front door still open behind him. His arms were around me, holding me against him, my face against his chest, and I couldn't even find the energy to fight it. As he spoke, I could both hear and feel his voice. It sounded deeper than it really is as it resonated through his chest. "You can hate me another time Blue. Right now, I think I need to try and help you more." I remember feeling tired, more than tired maybe, exhausted, in the widest possible sense of the word. I closed my eyes, no energy to fight any more. Just for a moment. It was bright when I next opened my eyes, much brighter than I remembered it being. And... different. I was looking up, at the ceiling. Except, most of my view of the ceiling was obstructed by Chris, my head resting on his thigh, an arm holding on to him. "Where...? What are you doing here?" Chris smiled. "Hey." I sat up, realising that we were on the sofa in the lounge. I could hear my Mum somewhere close by. "Shit, sorry. I, erm..." "It's cool." "Didn't I yell at you and tell you to leave?" "Yeah, pretty much. But you didn't let go of me so I just kind of waited here until your Mum came back, but you fell asleep before then." I rolled my eyes but also lay back down, he was pretty comfortable. It also meant that I didn't have to look at him, because the sense of shame rolling over me was immense. "Sorry. But you could have just left me, it's OK." "Don't be stupid, there's no way I could have done that, although it was kind of scary. I nearly called an ambulance." I sat up again, the thought of it dragging me instantly fully awake. "What!? No, never, please don't ever do that. Things need to get a lot worse than this before I want to be in hospital again." "Yeah, well, that's kind of what your Mum said too." "How long have I been asleep?" "An hour nearly." "I'm sorry. You, erm... it's OK if you just want to go. I understand." "Do I get any choice in it?" "Well yeah, I suppose." I could feel his arm around me, holding me, squeezing me a little. "Good. I'll stay a bit then. If you want me to." "Why though?" "Because you're amazing, and yeah, it's a bit weird, but so what? I still like you, a lot, and I still want to go out with you." "Then you're obviously deficient." "I'm sure I am, but you don't get rid of me that easily." I hugged myself against his pleasingly solid body, enjoying the closeness, and the warmth, and the feel of him. It was pretty nice. Mum must have heard us talking because she appeared in the doorway to check how I was doing. After some apparently convincing reassuring words, because I wasn't actually sure how I was doing at all, she disappeared back to whatever she was doing, leaving Chris and I to go up to my room. We chatted for a bit and put on some music and videos and stuff, but I wasn't able to concentrate on anything and could tell he had questions, there was clearly something that both of us were carefully yet casually avoiding. "It's OK you know, you can ask me." "What?" "Whatever it is that you keep not asking." "Oh, well, like, what happened? Earlier I mean?" "You mean when I seemed to freak out and turn into a raving mentalist?" "Erm... yeah. Your Mum just said that sometimes you get kind of overwhelmed by things?" "Yeah, so, you remember when I told you I was properly a mentalist? Well that's what happens, sometimes. I have these voices, in my head, and mostly now I can deal with hem, but sometimes, it's just way too much and I can't." "OK." There was a pause. "So, is it OK to talk about it?" "Yeah, it's fine Chris." "So like, are they there all the time?" "Mostly yeah." "Wow, that must be annoying. Sorry, of course it is." "Ha ha, yeah, it can be." "So, if it happens again, what can I do to help?" "Hmm, OK. Honestly, it's going to happen again. I'm getting better at managing it, but it's definitely going to happen at some point. But if you're there when it does, just be you. Try and keep me safe and give me a hug, that's all I need. Well, and time, and maybe some extra meds! Ha ha." "Wow. How can you laugh about this? It's scary Blue." I abruptly stopped laughing. "And so what am I supposed to do? Just be terrified all my fucking life? I don't think so." "OK, OK, I didn't mean that... but it's, a lot to deal with." "For me, or for you?" "That's not what I meant. I just... I don't know what I can do?" "Yeah, well, I don't know what I can do about it either. Sometime it's better, sometimes it's worse, I can't always tell what's going to happen. And, you kind of make it better I think." "I do?" "Yeah, I don't know how, but you do." Chris hugged me again, which evolved into a kiss, which made me hold on to him even tighter. And so the game begins. Again. Not with Chris, but with my own head. I've known this for a while now, there's a pretty direct correlation between me feeling happy, and in love, being loved, like this guy actually properly likes me and turns me on, and the voices going fucking batshit crazy in my head. One brings with it, inevitably, the other, so moments like this, which feel pretty damn good, are always a balancing act. If only it worked the other way around, where the voices caused beautiful boys to appear in my life! How far am I prepared to let this go? How much fun can I allow myself? Because how much of the vengeful aftermath can I cope with? One of the many problems here is that I'm also not a perfectly logical robot boy, and I fucking like the good feelings that Chris is able to conjure out of nowhere. Well, not actually nowhere, my lips, and my tongue, and my neck and my ears. We were sat on the edge of my bed as I squeezed his thigh, before pulling away from him, knowing that this was too much of a risk, moving too quickly, and maybe even further jeopardising whatever fragile grasp on this relationship I had. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, it's just, I need to take this slower. Sorry." "OK. Slower, like, how much slower?" "Sorry." "Stop saying sorry Blue!" "OK. But I don't know. It's hard to explain." "It's fine. I'll try not to push things if that's what you want." "It's not what I want. But it's what I need." "OK. I think you're scared, and wrong, but OK. Whatever you say." There it is again, that tone of annoyance. With me. Bollocks. We just sat there looking at each other for e few moments, I don't know how long really. How can this be so difficult for me? "You're right, I am scared, mostly that you'll get bored of me being such a freak and realising that you can just go and get a better, normal boyfriend like you deserve." "Then you're definitely wrong as well." "You say that now." "I'll always say it. Maybe I am rushing in to things, but I've been thinking about this, about you, for a long time. So, I don't know, would it help if we started again, properly?" "How do you mean?" "Well, I'm not going to ask you out again, because that was probably awkward enough for both of us already. But how about we go out, like on a date, a proper date." "A date? Seriously, you're a shit hot looking gay teenage boy, don't you want to just get slightly drunk and then fuck me?" "And is that what you want?" "Ha! A little, maybe, yes! But no, not really." "Good, so stop worrying about it and lets be old-school and go on a date." "OK, lets try. Chris?" "What?" "Did you really get suspended?" "Only for two days." "That was stupid you know?" "I know, because he totally deserved it." "You know that's not what I mean." Chris looked away from me, not speaking, so apparently he did know. "OK, so, I have to go Blue, I got a match later and stuff to do." "Oh, OK." I tried not to sound disappointed. I don't think I managed it. "So, I'll come and pick you up on Friday night?" "Huh?" "For our date?" "Oh, right, yeah, sure. But won't I see you before then?" "Well yeah, maybe, if you want. But I don't want to pressure you if it's going to make things worse." "OK, yeah. Well at school maybe, you're back on Wednesday?" "Sure." "So..." Chris had stood up to leave, and I stood up to next to him, hoping he'd change his mind. "Can I kiss you again?" "I know I said slow, but we don't have to stop completely! Let's just assume you can always kiss me, right?" Chris smirked, before holding my face so gently, and kissing me, not so gently. God damn he's good at this. He's probably had a lot of practice. Wait, no, I don't like that idea, because that means he's kissed a lot go boys before. He's mine. I put my arms around him and pulled us closer together which seemed to make him moan as we kissed, sending shivers all through my body. He pulled away and just stared at me, swallowing hard, as he, I think, tried to control himself. I know I was having to make an effort. "Fuck, I like doing that." I smiled. "Me too." "But I really have to go. Message me later or something, right? Please?" "Sure." I followed him downstairs and watched as he left. I went through to the kitchen to get water and realised too late that I should have just gone without the water and disappeared back up to my room. Mum appeared behind me, effectively trapping me in the kitchen. OK, so not trapping me, it wasn't a horror movie or anything, not quite. "So?" "So?" "Chris seems nice." "Yeah, I told you, he is nice." "And?" "And what? Nothing." "Nothing?" "Nothing! We're going out on Friday, after school." "Ohh." "What?" "I remember being young, going out, with boys, after school, on a Friday night. What did we call it back then? Oh yes, the Friday night `we're just friends and this is nothing' night I think it was." She was smiling, so I knew she wasn't being serious. "Fine, it's a date, alright." "Good. He seems nice." "You said that already. What did you two talk about, earlier?" "You mean when you were curled up next to him on the sofa asleep. Awww, you look so cute." I don't tell my Mum to fuck off, not generally anyway, but I gave her a look that conveyed the sentiment. "Well we started with the baby photos, he thought it was sweet. Oh, do you remember that one of you and Ry in the bath together when you were little? Awwww, you just stood there with bubbles on your head..." "You'd better be joking!" It wasn't a certainty. "Yes, of course I am, honestly, what kind of mother do you think I am? Don't answer that. We just talked about school, and what he likes to do, sport, normal stuff." "Good." "He really likes you you know." "Apparently." "No, not `apparently', I could see it. He kept running his fingers through your hair and then stopping when he realised that I'd seen. But the he'd do it again." "You're a bad mother, letting some stranger molest her own son while he's asleep, right in front of you. It's weird. And creepy." "It was nice. You don't usually look so relaxed when you're asleep." "What? That's ridiculous, I was asleep, I'm always relaxed when I'm asleep." "No you're not! You have your face all scrunched up, and your hands clenched in fists usually." "I do?" "Yes, particularly if you're having a bad time with... everything." "You know you can just say it, with the voices Mum, it's OK." "Well anyway, you do. And earlier, you didn't." "Oh." Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. She didn't have any reason to lie to me, but then, really? Do I really sleep like that? Hmmm. "I'm going up to my room for a bit." "OK sweety. Say `hi' for me." "To who?" "Huh?" I left with a slightly melodramatic exasperated sigh and went to kill some time just watching music videos online until it was a kind of reasonable hour. Reasonable enough anyway. I scrolled through my contacts and clicked on Jo. It seemed to ring for ages before he answered, and his beautiful face filled the screen. Well, part beautiful, part asleep. "Babe? Is everything OK?" "Yeah, of course why?" "Because it's really early." "It is? Oh, sorry. Isn't it like 8am?" "Yeah, on a Sunday, on my day off." "Ohhh, sorry. Shall I call you back later?" "No, I'm awake now, sort of. Oh my god, fuck, what happened to you?" I could see him sitting up in bed, and realised that he'd answered on his mobile. "Oh, it's nothing." "No, it looks like you've been in a fight! Are you OK? Did someone do this to you? Is this him?" "No, calm down! Some boy at school hit me a bit, that's all." "Some boy?" "Yes, but it's sorted now. Although Chris did beat him up pretty bad when he found out." "Chris? Oh, the boyfriend one?" "Yeah, I guess." "And you're really OK? So what's he like?" "Yeah, well, so, like... ohmygod." "Wow, you don't mess around do you if he's already making you make those kind of noises! Ha ha ha." "Fuck off! I'm not that kind of boy, as you know! We've just kissed, a few times." "Uhuh..." "No, really, that's all. God, but Jo, seriously, he - is - GRRR." "Really? So it's going well?" "Well kind of. I'm pretty sure he likes me, he got suspended for getting in a fight, for me." "Wow." "Yeah. It wasn't good actually, but anyway, we're going on like a proper date next week." "You seem pretty happy about him." "I am, he's, you know, amazing, and he seems to be kinda OK with me, you know, and, god, I dunno, but he's just... amazing, and he makes me feel so much better than usual." I could feel myself smiling just thinking about Chris, but my happy feelings didn't seem to be transmitting across the Atlantic to Jo, who, just for a second, looked anything but happy. "Jo?" "What? Yeah, it's really cool Blue, I'm happy for you." "Really?" "Yeah, sorry, of course." "OK, now you're making me worried." Well this was derailing quickly. "Honestly Blue, I am, happy for you. But it's, well, it's kinda weird thinking about you going out with someone." The happiness seemed to be able to desert me in record time. "I'm sorry, it's just going to take a bit of getting used to is all." "Right." "No, don't look like that, please, C'mon, you know I'm happy for you. I love you." "As friends Jo, right, like we agreed was best? Because this is really shitty timing to have any other kind of conversation." I wanted to be mad with him for even allowing the possibility to exist, and I also wanted to stop remembering just how I had felt about him, and how great things might have been, if things were different. "Are you going to move here Jo? Is that it? Come and live over here, so that we can see what happens?" "Blue, don't, please." "But are you?" "You know I'm not. That's not what I was saying. But if you're going to get stupid about it, are you going to come back here?" "What? And end up in that fucking hospital again? No fucking way! Jo we talked about this. I just thought you might be happy for me." "I am! But that doesn't just make the other feelings disappear. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." "No, you shouldn't. I'll talk to you later." "Oh c'mon Blue, baby, please..." "And I think you should stop calling me that. Have a nice day Jo." I closed the laptop lid, leaving him with my best LA accent. I barely have an American accent unless I deliberately try and I knew Jo would correctly interpret the sarcasm I intended. Fucking stupid Jo, I hated fighting with him. He called me back later, and I ignored it. And again, and again. I went downstairs to get a pack of Oreos and a big glass of milk. Mum gave me a severely questioning look. "What? I'm eating, alright. You always tell me I don't eat enough. It's like no one can make their mind up today." "Everything alright?" "No, Jo's being an idiot, which I can do without, and..." I paused for a couple of seconds, needing to check out that what I was about to say was actually true. How weird, it was. "...and I'm fine, actually. Just hungry." Really weird, like, I'm never `fine'. Back in my room, smiling, I messaged Chris and we chatted on and off for a few hours, until it was time to sleep. Back at school on Monday, I know, get me, but it was oddly lonely knowing that Chris wasn't there. Not that we would have seen each other all the time or anything, but still it felt strange. Mr. Kent checked in with me to see how I was, and also told me that Gardener had been suspended for two weeks. It was good to know that I wouldn't be seeing him any time soon, a relief actually. Although it did seem a bit unfair, I mean, what Chris did to him was actually way worse than him punching me just once. But the school had dealt with Gardener as a homophobic incident, so it has a bigger response. Despite messaging with Chris, a lot, I realised that I was really missing him, so Wednesday morning was feeling pretty exciting as I sat down with Mum having breakfast. There was a loud knock at the door, I checked the time, 8:05am, maybe Chris had come to call for me so we could walk up together? Yeah, I had it bad. I was still enjoying this fantasy as I opened the door, despite knowing that it was kind of early to be leaving for school. It didn't matter, it was a UPS guy. How dull. And also, how stupid do I feel imagining it would have been Chris? I tossed the parcel on the table towards Mum as I sat back down. "Thanks honey, although I don't think I'm... oh, it's for you." "Huh?" She handed it over to me and I read the label. Yeah, definitely for me. "What is it?" "Jeez Mum, hang on and I'll use my x-ray vision to find out. How do I know?" "You might have been expecting something." "Well I'm not." We both just stared at it for a moment. I genuinely had no idea, it was nowhere near my birthday or Christmas or anything, and I hadn't ordered anything. "Well open it then!" "OK, OK." I shook it, it felt and sounded heavy. I ripped open the lid and started to work through the always way too much packing. Pulling open the plastic bag inside I smelt it before I could see it. The stupid dumb fuck. I pushed it all back into the box and returned to eating breakfast, begrudgingly allowing myself a small smile. "Well." "It's brownies." "Brownies? Why are you ordering brownies?" "I didn't. It's from Jo." "Jo?" "Yeah, we kind of had an argument at the weekend, this is probably him saying he's sorry. But who does that? He's actually UPS'd brownies? Are you even allowed to courier food?" I messaged him on the way to school to say thanks, and promised to talk to him later. School was just as much nicer for Chris being back as I had hoped, not like life changing nicer, but definitely better. Despite my frequent and persistent questioning, he wouldn't tell me where we were going on Friday, other than it's very casual. This narrowed things down by nothing at all, but it didn't stop me trying. I'm not great with surprises. Right up until after school on Friday, I'd had an entirely notably mundane week. I was actually feeling OK, although nerves finally overcame that and I was back in much more familiar territory as I stood in front of my wardrobe considering not what I should wear, but whether to not I could back out. I know, stupid. But I convinced myself in the end, after all, Chris had been true to his word, no pressure, not pushing things, it had all been very easy so far. In fact we hadn't even kissed again, which I was sort of missing. Not that it had happened enough to be habit forming or anything, but you know, it's kinda nice. After finally settling on a plain white t-shirt, dark gray jeans, and some red trainers, I spent an equally long time trying to wrestle my hair into something vaguely acceptable. The t-shirt was very fitted and kind of one of those deep v-necks, so I dug through my draws to find a necklace put go with it. I'm not usually into accessories, but I thought it looked better. Probably. With only ten minutes to spare, I went downstairs for a last minute check-in with Mum. "So, what do you think? Do I look alright?" Mum was making some dinner for herself and didn't look at me immediately. "What? Oh, are you going out dressed like that?" "Yes, why, what's wrong?" She half smiled and half sighed. "Nothing honey, I just want my little boy back. Why do you have to look so... like that?" "Seriously? It's a date Mum. Remember? I'm trying to convince some stupid idiot boy that he wants to out with me." "Of course I remember. You look fine honey. You should go." "Huh?" "Your stupid idiot boy is here." "He's not stupid, don't say that. Love you, I'll see you later." "Blue? Are you going to be late?" "Let's say yes, so that you can worry slightly less about it alright? Although I don't know, last time we did anything like this deliberately I ran away after about 2 hours, so lets see." "OK. Have fun sweety." The doorbell rang, and I was already on my way to open the door. And there he was, looking, frankly, fucking way out of my league. He was wearing a long sleeve sweatshirt that was thin and clinging in all the right places, much like his jeans. "Hi Chris." "Wow, yeah, Hi." Chris just stood there, so I decided to leave the house anyway, avoiding any possibility of more conversation with my Mum, and we started to walk into city centre. "So, can I know where we're going now? And, well, you look amazing by the way." "Ha, yeah, you too, fucking hot. How am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that?" I smiled, it seemed like a good start. I guess it wasn't a totally random choice of clothes. Chris stopped walking, and grabbed my hand. "Sorry, I just..." He pulled me towards him, and kissed me, like, in the middle of the pavement, properly, on the lips, kissing. "OK, I can concentrate now." I'm pleased he could, I wasn't so sure but I knew I could smile, and I was doing that alright. "You still haven't told me." "Of right, yeah. So... we're going bowling." "Bowling?" "Yeah!" "Bowl-ing?" "What? Do you hate it or something?" "No, it's just... nothing, it's cool. Actually I was the Junior Tri-State Area Champion." "Shit, really?" "No! I've never been bowling in my life, it's going to be fun." "Never? I though you grew up in America, you're Mum said..." "Ha ha - yeah, but not in the 1950's! And only until I was 10. It's fine, honestly, I'll try anything at least once." And what now? Mum hadn't mentioned anything about have any sort of real conversations with Chris last weekend. "Besides, we were West Coast, I don't think it's as much of a thing over there." We talked all the way to the bowling alley, mostly about nothing significant at all. I think maybe we were both a bit nervous. I was anyway. And also pleased that he didn't ask anything about growing up and how I come to be here. This was supposed to be a happy time, so I didn't want to fend off questions like that. So. Bowling. Turns out, it's way fucking more difficult than just throwing a ball at some pins. The place was quite busy, and they had a bar that Chris got us some drinks from. There was no way I would get served. I wasn't actually terrible at bowling, and improved quite a bit after Chris gave me some pointers, which seemed to involve a lot of him standing right behind me and touching me. I didn't mind that bit at all. We were next to a group of four girls who were actually worse than me so I felt a bit better for that. I think they were trying to flirt with Chris because one of them would keep asking him questions and stuff, and every time he would just answer politely and then turn back to me. I don't even know if he noticed. Chris got through more beers than me, but I think we both relaxed a bit and I had a properly fun time. Like actual, not pretending, I'm really enjoying this fun. After playing a couple of games we grabbed a table while we finished our drinks and decided where to go for food. While we were debating options, the group of girls came over to us. Obviously one of them had been elected to speak on behalf of the group. "Hi, so, like, we were wondering..." I looked at Chris and was happy for him to speak for both of us. It was him that she had been trying to talk to all night anyway. "Hi, yeah?' "Like, we're going out now, for like, Japanese food, and then on for some drinks. Do you guys, like, want to join us?" I nudged Chris' leg with my own under the table, which he returned. "Oh, thanks, but I don't thin that's going to work for us." "Are you sure, it might be, you know, fun." "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. We're on a date. With each other." Ha, yeah, fuck you, he's mine. I know, it was a childish response, but it was how I felt. As if for emphasis, Chris leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "But thanks for asking, have a good time." She walked away, either amused or annoyed, I wasn't sure. But for me, it felt pretty good to see Chris telling people he was on a date, with me. We finally settled on an American diner for food, Chris said it was good, and I didn't really have any other suggestions because I don't exactly have a buzzing social life. Chris ordered another beer and I went with diet soda as we worked through the menu of a crazy number of different burgers. When our food arrived the only thing wrong with it was how huge the portions were. Definitely American style! It was a completely great night really. Chris was so easy to spend time with, and we always seemed to have something to talk about. And also, there had only been a couple of moments where my nerves temporarily diminished my defences against the voices, threatening momentary but manageable intrusions into an otherwise great time. Things only started to become slightly awkward when we had finished eating. We'd split the bill and had just the last few sips of our drinks to finish. "So, what do you think? What do you want to do now? You want to go on somewhere?" I really didn't want to disappoint him. "Oh, yeah, OK..." He looked at me in a way I couldn't interpret. "Really?" "OK, no, not really. Sorry. I've had an amazing time though." "Really?" I shifted around the table so I was sitting right next to him. "Yes, of course really. Thank you." Chris put his arm around me and pulled me close to him in a hug. "Cool, me too. He kissed me, not like outrageously intensely or anything, but on the lips. It was still enough to send vibrations throughout my whole body, in a good way. Chris held my hand as we walked towards home, we both lived in the same general direction. It felt so good, knowing that he wanted to be with me. I know it might sound a bit high maintenance, but it was reassuring. I'm all too aware of my many limitations, and on paper I don't believe I really `stack up' against most other people. We didn't talk so much, but it felt comfortable. Better than comfortable, it felt good. All too soon we were in the midst of suburbia, a world away from the energetic and noisy city centre. We were stood by small park at a non-descript residential road junction, presumably a notional gesture by the architects towards family life. "So, I live this way." Chris indicated the road opposite to the direction of my house. "Oh, OK." "I've had a great time with you tonight." "Thanks, I mean, I have too, with you I mean." "Blue? Can I kiss you again?" "I thought we agreed that you can always do that?" "Yeah, I just wanted to check." To call it a kiss would be like calling a Lamborghini `a car'. It is, but like, seriously, it's not the usual kind. I don't think things could have felt any hotter if we'd actually just started having sex right there on the grass. The smell of him, the taste of him, and most definitely the feel of him holding me like that, pulling us together, his arms around me, touching me. Out bodies grinding against each other just enough to make me realise that we should stop before things get too far. I gently pulled away from him after a few more minutes, unable to trust myself any longer, and was thankful that he didn't ask me to go back to his, because I probably would have done. His absence made my few minutes walk feel even more lonely, but I was soon back in the familiar comfort of home. Mum was still up, watching TV. "So how was it? I hope you're not too drunk are you?" "What? No. And it was... really good. Great, actually." "Yes, I can see that." "What?" "You're smiling. So where did you go?" "Bowling. I'll tell you about it in the morning, I'm tired." "Bowling?" "I know! But I had a great time. Goodnight Mum." "Sure, goodnight." I was quickly ready for bed, only pausing to message Chris to confirm just how much I'd had a great time. As I lay there, the memory of kissing him earlier kept coming back to me, the sensations surging through my body, as they had at the time, making me hard. But now I didn't have clothes restricting me, and I replayed those memories over and over, as well as the fantasised continuation of making out with Chris as I relived the tension in the best way available to me. Damn - it felt like a long time since I'd felt like this. The meds have a distinct `softening' quality on my sex drive, but not that night. After several minutes of mind-numbing pleasure, the pressure of all that good feeling was too much, images of Chris filling my mind completely as my body spasmed over and over. It was a bigger clean up than usual, but I'm really not complaining. I did my final checks, phone on charge on the drawers next to my bed, headphones next to it, emergency meds in the drawer. All good. Pulling the duvet up and over me, I was aware that they were back, the voices. I smiled, relishing the feeling that was almost as good as the one I had just given myself, because I couldn't remember how long they had been missing for. Take that, fuckers. For today at least, I won. *----- Don't forget to support this site: http://www.nifty.org/donate.html If you haven't done it already, you can now subscribe for (occasional) updates and new stories from me, just go to http://eepurl.com/b1EzqL -----*