Date: Thu, 15 Feb 2001 19:56:03 -0000 From: Jamie Subject: Chris-and-Jamie Chapter 25 Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories of love between two boys. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Every mountain shall be exalted, every mountain and hill made low. - Handel's "Messiah" To mysticier - congrats on coming out so young, I hope it's what u really want. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ `How ya feeling?' Chris said as he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me to my feet. Roused from the most gloomy reverie that had come my way since the funeral, I looked into his eyes and a vague smile lifted my facial features slightly. Halfway down the corridor leading to the hall there was a small stairwell that led to the old PE Office. However, since no one ever used it, it had become the place were I went to get away from everything. Sitting down there I could be on my own...well...almost. `Like shit. You?' He laughed and pulled me into a hug. `Don't let the bastards grind u down!' He said into my hair, as he leant into me. I felt safe, warm and happy again. ------------------------------------------------------------- `Thanks to you all for coming to see the cutest guy in the UK turn 15.' Chris was in his element. `Whoever can get Jay drunk the fastest gets £50 from me -- make him have a night to remember!' Well that prospect was a daunting one -- I intended to avoid too much alcohol tonight. My birthday had come around again, and the day was becoming evening quickly. My Father had laid on a huge marquee in the back lawn. The large white tent spanned the size of a football pitch and had been filled by my friends and relatives -- most of whom I hadn't seen since childhood. However, they were always up for a good party, and I knew before it began that it would be a good one. The clock touched eight as Chris put down the microphone, after making the introduction speech that I was too frightened to get up and say myself. At this signal the first song of the night rang out of the loud speakers. A soft melody of "I Will Always Love You" reached our ears and we stepped to the dance floor. It had already been said that we would start the evening with a slow dance -- just the two of us on the polished floor. Chris was in his element, smiling at me as we glided to the four corners in our dance. Swaying from side to side was tremendously calming, and I looked into his eyes as he gently swung me from foot to foot. Sliding across the large ballroom was an intimidating experience for me, because as well as friends and relatives there were friends of my Father's whom I had never met before. Every one of them clapped their hands in time to the beat of the music, and I laid my head on Chris's shoulder, closing my eyes tight and saving the moment forever. As we reached the end, the music morphed into a heavy disco beat and everyone joined us -- I was in heaven. `Fifteen today.' Chris was grinning from ear to ear as we moved gracefully in the centre of the dance floor. I was about to shoot an appraising glance at him, but my Mother glided up behind me and pointed out my Aunt, who was dancing like a lunatic with Ciaran in a corner. He looked as though he needed to be desperately rescued from the aged fifty-something. However, he never flinched at her advances and just kept smiling. I admired him for that; his ease to interact with those who he found slightly estranged was commendable. Eventually the song again changed, and I decided that it was time for us to take a seat and relax for a while. Knowing full well that Chris was going to be asked to dance with all of my elderly female relatives I snuck off to the bar, leaving him to be picked up by the first one to him. In a small corner of the large room was a built in bar, with a small room behind it to carry the extra alcohol that would soon be needed when my Dad and his brothers started descending on the bar, in the next hour. Leaning up against the polished mahogany I was soon joined by a breathless Ciaran. `You ever invite me to meet your aunts ever again, and I will have you shot!' He grinned, his cheeks flushed at the turns that he had been forced to take. `Preferably with a blunt bullet!' He added as I handed him a small orange juice. He looked at the tiny glass and shot me a withering glance. `If I am to entertain your family for the rest of the evening I want something a little stronger than that, thank you.' My response was a smirk, but I assured him that by the end of the party he would not be able to walk farther that the French-windows to the house. It was meant to be an exaggeration, but the hyperbole turned on me. The one thing that Britain has over America is the drinking law. Whilst you can drive at sixteen etcetera in the States, you still have to be twenty-one to drink. The UK has a more relaxed attitude to drinking, and it was considered appropriate for us to consume at least something more alcoholic than Pepsi on a fifteenth birthday. I sipped at my own drink, nursing a tall Sprite, and looked over at the mass of surging people having a good time with the music. Every now and then Chris would come spinning as if from nowhere followed closely by one of my relatives and then be returned to the throng. The look on his face was to die for -- pure desperation. Once he even managed to get as far as the edge of the wooden floor before being pulled back into a quick jive by one of my Godmothers. Eileen was watching intently from a side table, taking little drafts of white wine as she did so. Her expression registered humour; it was obvious that she was enjoying seeing her son get exhausted by my family. She twisted her head and looked over at me. I shrugged my shoulders and she laughed. Neither of us were going to put a stop to the obvious hilarity that was being played out in front of us. As she turned back to her drink, Chris came spinning like a top from the dance floor and crashed into a large collection of chairs at the side. My Aunt Brenda came out from the mass of people and picked him up by the scruff of his neck. After dusting him down he was again led away to join the merriment of the music -- much to our amusement. The shrill guitar distortions of Radiohead came over the airwaves and I took Ciaran's hand. Leading him onto the dance floor, we took up position next to Chris, who was currently partnered by my Mom, and we danced a slow tribute to Simon; He had been with me for every birthday since I was ten, but noticeably absent from this one. Unfortunately the karaoke cry when up and the extreme members of my family took up the first few songs. Warbled melodies from "Grease" and "Diana Ross" were bellowed across the tent at full volume while the inebriated women wailed at the top of their scrawny voices. The worst part to this was that I knew at any minute I would have to sing. A slight fear came over me and I shrunk down in my seat and tried to hide behind Chris, avoiding the sweeping glances for the next pop star. I could only remain unnoticed for so long though, and soon my godmother came bounding over and grabbed me by the hand, pulling me up to the stage. All I could do was follow her strides -- there was no way I was going to argue with a woman who was capable of flooring Mike Tyson in one round. She was large, not the point of being obese either, it was all pure muscle. The weird thing was that I knew for a fact that she didn't work out at all, it just happened naturally. As I was swung up onto the stage, her husband came over to me and whispered something in my ear. I smiled and raised the microphone to my lips. `Okay, okay, I'll sing. But I will only do it, if darling Christopher helps out.' I said sarcastically. I saw him visibly shrink down the back of his seat -- all eyes in the room pinned on him. After a lot of whimpering from myself Chris joined me on the stage and we performed a surprisingly realistic rendition of "You're the one that I want". At this point I was just having fun, and not above making a complete fool of myself. Hey, it was my party -- and I'll do what the hell I like -- hehe. When the song finished the hall erupted into a hail of laughter at the stupid moves that we had performed. Eileen and my Mother were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes as they watched. My father was helping. By standing at the bar and continually pointing at me, he made me as nervous as anything. ------------------------------------------------------- Eventually the clock struck one and of my friends only Chris and Ciaran remained. We were stationed at a small table within shouting distance of the bar, so as not to run out of drinks. Only the really active remained on the dance floor. I was surprised to see the fast disco dancing led by my grandmother, who was swinging her hips and slicking her fingers to the harsh chords of some synth solo. The shot glasses had been coming for the last ten minutes, and the table was completely flooded with the small crystal-cut glasses. Ciaran's head was teetering forward, his mouth hung wide open, exposing the red and black orifice within. Chris, however, would not be outdone and was matching my uncle shot for shot. Whilst Ciaran and I were a little behind they were really reaching for it. I could see that tomorrow Chris would be able to do nothing other than groan and sleep -- the hangover would be a bad one. A last round of tequila slammers, started off by my Uncle and continuing around the table until it reached Ciaran, put the young fourteen year old out of his senses and he crashed forward and began to snore heavily. At this point, I had managed to have only had a few of the rounds, being unnoticeably absent for the others. I was nowhere near drunk, and didn't intend to be this evening; but looking at Chris slurring his words with my uncle was enough to know that he would not move from our bed until late in the afternoon, and that would only be to get an aspirin. I looked over to him, he was grinning at my uncle and his sexy teeth were showing a glistening white. I licked my lips, imagining the teeth in my mouth. `Hey lover boy, wake up.' My Father stood over me, smiling. Looking over at Ciaran he made some remark or other about carrying him to bed. After that short interlude he left us, Ciaran carried between him and my uncle. Chris was still laughing, although I didn't know the joke. He was very clearly drunk out of his skull. This both filled me with pity for what he would feel like in the morning and also filled me with loathing because it was my party and he was meant to be there to support me. Maybe it was just my selfish side showing again, but when he staggered from his chair and collapsed giggling inanely into my arms, I shrugged him off and he fell with a thud to the floor. Although he didn't know where he was, curled up and just went to sleep right there in the tent. It later took the combined efforts of both parents combined to get him up the two flights of stairs to our room. I, still determined to enjoy my last few hours, waltzed out onto the dance floor and joined my grandmother in a quick few moves. It amazed me how my grandmother had taken it so well that I was gay. At first she seemed shocked, but then subsided and held up her hands. She said that it didn't matter, but was a little disappointed that she would not have any little great-grandchildren. It had come as more of a blow to my brother in that department. She soon got over it, however it was still lurking there at the back of her mind. `What did you do to him?' My Grandmother indicated Chris, who was being carried from the tent motionless. `Ha ha...He's just a cute American kid who can't take his drink.' I laughed. `He was doing pretty well when I was watching him. Him and your uncle David were having a right go at the tequila bottle.' She began to laugh, but broke into a chesty cough, a sign of years of chain-smoking -- long since given up on. I rested my head on her shoulder and finished the evening in style, with a huge smile on my new fifteen-year-old face. The George and Ira Gershwin tune played over and over in me head; I was in heaven. `I got rhythm, I got music, I got my man who could ask for anything more? Who could ask for anything more?' -------------------------------------------------------------------- He slept gently, not snoring, with his chest easing forward and then as the exhalation came, dropping back down again. The bed was warm and he was snuggled up close to me, his arm across my own chest and his face buried in my shoulder. A tangle of naked legs made it impossible to tell where one of us began and the other finished. However, this was hidden in the soft folds of the heavy duvet. My mind had stopped racing and was gently coming to a slow stop. The party had been one to remember, one that I would remember, and one that Chris would never forget -- the hangover still loomed heavy for the morning. But he was unaware of this fact now, and was dreaming about something sad, because he kept twisting and nuzzling my neck in an effort to break free of something hidden in his subconscious. I just pulled him closer and he seemed to calm down slightly. On the floor below me I could hear my Dad trying to get everyone into bed. This was a task since most of them couldn't walk in a straight line further than the next door. It was funny to listen to him reason with them, telling them that if they went to bed he would wake them up with a huge breakfast. At this point in time it seemed like a good idea. However, nothing could prepare them for the onslaught that came the next morning -- Ciaran and Chris threw up every time food even crossed their mind. --------------------------------------- Okay, i got bugged by so many people that this story was a bit rushed, but the next chapters will be more coherant - i promise. If u like what u read, mail me - virus@dial.pipex.com AOL IM: jam0015 C Ya round