Date: Thu, 14 Dec 2000 10:41:39 -0000 From: Jamie Subject: Chris-and-Jamie Chapter 15 Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories of love between two boys. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Death is never a way out. The monster does not end suffering - it adds to it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ `You bastard!' I couldn't stop yelling at him. The tears began to rolls in torrents down my cheeks and my anger was passing the point of no return very quickly. `How could you? How the fuck could you?' Reaching the desk I picked up the only thing that was actually available -- my modem. It was hurled crashing into the wall behind the cowering Chris's head. `Jamie I'm so sorry.' He pleaded. It fell on deaf ears -- I couldn't take any more lies. ------------------------------------------------------- Almost six months had passed since Christmas. It was the beginning of June and summer had instigated its warmer spells amongst the green hills. It was getting dark when Chris came into the Music Studio, where I was working on my composition. `Jamie, I'm going out for a while. You coming?' `Sure.' I agreed instantly. The thing I omitted to ask was where we were actually going. We arrived at the train station a half hour later. This surprised me, as Chris usually told me what he was up to. On this occasion, however, he would say nothing. No matter how hard I tried to get it out of him, he wouldn't reveal our destination. The train was cramped and confined. As we searched for seats in the crowded carriage, Chris spotted two lone ones in a quiet corner. We sat on the blue fabric and sank into the seats, whose suspension had been shot to bits over years of depreciation. `Where the hell are we going?' He wouldn't answer. This silence was beginning to annoy me. Getting out at Kings Cross Station, Chris pushed me towards the underground. The air began to get colder as we descended the escalator to the ground level and followed the densely packed signs to the trains. I emerged into the bustle of Tottenham Court Road and followed Chris as he turned the corner into Oxford Street. There were so many people there that day, most of them carried heavy bags from this store or that store. As we travelled down the road, bumping into nearly everyone that came close to us, I glanced over to the left. Outside a small Hare Krishna Temple were these four monks. They were dressed head to foot in flowing orange robes and were carrying out some weird dance that involved a lot of shouting and clapping of hands. When they had finally finished a huge bell sounded from the depths of the temple and they retreated, in silence, into the inner sanctum. It was an extraordinary event -- since I had never seen or heard of this religion before. Chris turned to me and nodded his head in the direction of the Palace Theatre. Now I knew where we were going -- Les Miserables. I could've punched him. So this was what he had been building up to. The familiar "I'm-to-cute-to-do-anything-wrong" smile appeared on the American's face. Any thoughts of violence immediately left me, as I looked into those deep eyes. `Thanks.' I said, leaning in for the kiss. His lips closed around mine and he began to massage my top lip. As I entered the theatre and we prepared to go into the auditorium, it was revealed to me that he had booked a box, so that we could have some time alone. I didn't have to think to hard about that to tell what he meant. His ambition of having sex in a room with more than 100 people in was, I thought, just a fantasy -- why do they always have to come true (especially with me as the main course). Unlocking the door to the box and entering it, I sank into the soft folds of the red auditorium seats. Unlike the train they were cushioned to the highest standard, with a silky finished that had not begun to wear away. The difference from British Rail was extremely apparent. The show began and an hour into the performance I began to get restless. Looking over at Chris, it was apparent that he was not enjoying the musical. His direction had been directed, for the past half an hour, at a boy sitting at the front of the upper circle. He was grinning back at him. The boy lifted his hand and pulled it through his hair. The long blond mop fell back into its original state almost at once. I envied the short hair, cut to an exact length; the eyes were shining as the light from the stage reflected off of them; a cute complexion matched the aforesaid graces with the utmost aesthetics. I saw as the boy winked at Chris and nodded his head towards the door. Chris quickly excused himself and exited the box. Apparently he thought that I had not noticed. However, my suspicions had been aroused and I crept after him. They had met outside the main door to the upper circle and were nonchalantly leaning against the doorpost engaged in a solid conversation. This seemed surprising to me as they had never met before and just spoken to each other for the first time. `Chris? Won't you introduce me to your friend?' I said, breaking the flow. He seemed slightly put out that I had followed him, but flashed a smile and introduced me to the handsome boy. His name was David, and I later learned that he was fourteen -- like myself (and Chris now, who's Birthday had been in April). Joining his Grandmother for an afternoon out, he had finally ended up in the theatre. He quickly asked if we wanted to go and get something to eat, whilst he left his Grandmother to finish watching the production. Since Chris agreed, and I was too jealous to let him go by himself, I joined them on their travels to find a small cafe. We again wove through the crowded streets. They strode out in front, walking two-by-two. I was thrown behind and took up a lagging pace, which was not my custom. I would not have minded this if David had not moved his hand to Chris's back and began to stroke it. What heightened my jealousy higher was the relenting of my boyfriend to this obvious gesture. As a small cafe was found on the corner of Oxford Street, we settled into hard-backed chairs, which were not as comfortable as the soft confines of the auditorium. The conversation began and I was soon shut out of it. I don't know if it was my imagination enhancing the blackout, or if it was real. Whichever it was, I felt lost without Chris to talk to. He seemed to be more interested in David than me. `So David, where do u come from?' Chris asked eagerly. `Rhode Island.' He replied. `Grew up in Pawtucket and then moved to Boston, MA.' This seemed to please Chris - a fellow American for him to flash his smile at. It was clearly evident that he was flirting with David, and David was flirting back. I stepped in to make it perfectly clear that Chris and I were an item. David didn't bat and eyelid, but just flashed another grin in Chris's direction. `I hope he treats you well, Christopher.' That really heated me up. His parents and I were the only people who ever used his full name. This boy was really pissing me off with his "I'm-so-perfect" attitude. They both ordered another round of drinks. Since we all looked much older than we really were, and because of Chris's fake ID that he had edited on the computer -- getting drinks was not a problem. A tequila sunrise for Chris and David and a small orange juice for me duly arrived. I must have eventually fallen asleep, as I woke up to find the table empty -- but not as yet cleared. I found an extra 6 tall empty glasses and guessed that they had really been at it. They wouldn't have left without me -- would they? I looked around, but could not see anyone. Looking in the direction of the cafe's interior I spotted the toilets and wondered whether they were in there. Crossing the cafe I arrived at the wooden swing-door. I pushed it open and saw Chris and David. They were locked in each other's arms, and their lips were crushed against each other's. My heart broke into two; I turned and ran from the site. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Looking back, I never thought I'd ever run that far. From the point when I saw them together, I took to the dark street and tore around the corner down into Tottenham Court Road. Sweat began to form on my chest and forehead, as the road became Charing Cross. Finally I turned into Trafalgar Square and circled it until I collapsed on the foot of one of the great lions. The stone statue seemed to give me some comfort, but not much. I couldn't believe what Chris had done. What had I done wrong? In a hail of more confused emotions I began to run again. Down across the Jubilee Walk and through the Sovereign's Gate. Downing Street was, as always, full of tourists from abroad, as I ran past the entrance. Finally I came to the Palace of Westminster and ran through the entrance to the House of Lords. After pleading with a secretary for about ten minutes, she finally let me through to my Dad's office. He sat there, with his hands resting on his desk as I poured out the whole thing to him. `You've run all the way from OXFORD STREET?' He yelled in disbelief. Rushing around the desk he put his hand to my forehead and felt the burning pain contained within. A button was pushed on his desk and he shouted for an ambulance. It duly arrived and whisked me off the St. Mary's in Paddington. After all of the regular tests for blood pressure etc. had been carried out, my Father drove me back home. The journey was made in silence; I could tell that he was trying to think. However, questions like these were rarely answered at all. We pulled up outside the house, and I flung the door open, dodged my Mom and hurried to my room. Once I got there I threw myself on the bed and buried my head in my pillow. Chris silently came out of the Music Studio and reached over to touch my shoulder. I whirled around and finally snapped. He caught my hand on the left side of his face as I slapped him hard. `Get out of my room!' I screamed at the top of my voice. I was in internal agony, and just looking at him was making it worse. I jumped up and ran across the room to my desk, it a ditch effort to get away from him. `You bastard!' I couldn't stop yelling at him. The tears began to rolls in torrents down my cheeks and my anger was passing the point of no return very quickly. `How could you? How the fuck could you?' Reaching the desk I picked up the only thing that was actually available -- my modem. It was hurled crashing into the wall behind the cowering Chris's head. `Jamie I'm so sorry.' He pleaded. It fell on deaf ears -- I couldn't take any more lies. Paul soon turned up at the head of the stairs and began to pull Chris out of the room. `Jamie, I love you!' He cried after me. `I'm sorry.' I just wanted him out. I didn't care where he went or what he did, but he wouldn't do it anywhere near me. He turned and ran. --------------------------------------- Hey guys (and gals), that's the last of the story until after Christmas. We're going on holiday until December 27th, but I assure you that when I get back there will be more stories. Merry Christmas mail me - virus@dial.pipex.com