Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Chris was laying on his back, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. He hadn't been aware that Jonny was awake until he felt something move beside him, then there was the feeling of warm skin on his cheek that could only have come from Jonny's hand.

 

He turned his head and his eyes met Jonny's. “What's up?” Jonny quietly asked, slipping his hand onto Chris's stomach. Chris thought for a few moments, trying to understand himself just precisely what was up.

 

“Jonny, I don't know what to do,” he muttered back.

 

“Here's what you should do,” Jonny began, scooting closer to Chris so that by the time he laid his head back on his pillow, their noses nearly touched. “You should go to sleep.”

 

“Do you think I should go back to modeling?” Chris asked, as if Jonny had never said anything in response to his previous statement. Jonny's eyes softened with sympathy, and Chris saw him wince a little.

 

Jonny's reply appeared to Chris to be rather forced, like he wasn't exactly lying, but he certainly wasn't saying how he truly felt. “If you want to, then you should,” he said. Chris sighed and looked back up at the ceiling.

 

“It's just... I don't know. I kinda want to, but...” Though it was difficult to do while laying down, Chris shrugged his shoulders. “I just don't think I'm, you know, cut out for it.”

 

“Actually, I think you're perfect for it, but that's not really such a good thing,” Jonny honestly said. He slid his hand down further so that it rested on Chris's waist. “You should do it if you want to. If you think you can handle it.”

 

“I'm not good at much else,” Chris mused.

 

“You're good at lots of things,” Jonny told him, and he brought his lips to Chris's cheek. “Like, you would make an awesome... singer.”

 

Chris snorted in disbelief, and he nearly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, OK.”

 

“I'm serious,” Jonny truthfully replied, though his laughter seemed to suggest otherwise. “I hear you singing in the shower, Chris. You have a beautiful voice.”

 

“You really think so?” Chris asked as he looked over to Jonny.

 

“Mm-hmm. And you would make a great-” Jonny began, but he was immediately interrupted by his own thoughts. “Hey, you know what? If you don't end up going back, one of the guys I work with quit last week. I could pull a few strings, and maybe we could be working right next to each other.”

 

Chris could tell from Jonny's wide smile and enthusiastic tone that he was really keen on the idea, but something held him back. “Computers confuse me,” he said, trying as best as he possibly could not to disappoint Jonny. Luckily, Chris's answer didn't seem to even faze Jonny in the slightest.

 

“Listen, Chris, if I can do that job, you can do it,” he said.

 

“But, Jonny, you're really smart,” Chris replied in protest.

 

“Yeah, and so are you.” Although in the total darkness it was hard to distinguish much, Chris could clearly see the vivid green in Jonny's eyes, and it calmed him as if he was staring into some sort of endless and discolored ocean. That was when he realized that from time to time he said the things he did to Jonny only because he knew that Jonny would reply with kinder and more uplifting and complimentary things. He desperately wished he wasn't so needy.

 

“You can pull some strings?” he quietly asked, and he turned on his side so that his and Jonny's bodies were pressed together. Jonny smiled again, his eyes lighting up.

 

“Yeah,” Jonny said. Chris smiled too, genuinely, and through the dark his lips met with Jonny's. His hand wrapped around Jonny's neck, and his thumb gently brushed Jonny's smooth skin. Jonny moaned a little as their mouths were crushed together even more, though it most likely had to do with Chris trying to fit his leg in between Jonny's thighs.

 

“Oh,” Chris said as he pulled away, leaving Jonny a little disconcerted. “What time is it?”

 

“It's probably around three or so,” Jonny answered, and Chris's eyes widened.

 

“Wow. Already?” Chris brought his hand up and stroked Jonny's cheek. “Jonny, you better get to sleep. Wouldn't want to be falling asleep while you're trying to get me a job.” Chris winked, and Jonny sighed, playfully rolling his eyes.

 

“Fine,” he dramatically said, but while he agreed, he wasn't going to leave Chris alone that easily. He closed his eyes and snuggled up against Chris, basking in the warmth of the heat Chris's body was producing. His head laid on Chris's chest, and as Chris looked down at Jonny and smiled, he wondered if Jonny could hear his heartbeat, and if it was telling him just how much Chris loved him. Chris certainly wasn't going to say it.

 

Chris closed his eyes as well, and his nose was buried in Jonny's hair as his head fell against the pillow they were now semi-sharing. It tickled a little, but it didn't bother him much; he just stayed right where he was, deeply inhaling the clean and oddly lemon scent that Jonny produced. Within a matter of minutes he was asleep, still holding onto the mass of living flesh and blood that he so dearly loved.

 

Then, as if all he had done was blink, it was morning and the sun was shining brightly through the open window to the right of the bed. The orange glow of his eyelids disappeared as he lifted them, blinking tiredly, and as he looked around he noticed that Jonny was no longer with him.

 

Chris meagerly crawled to the other side of the bed, just enough to have Jonny's alarm clock in view. The glowing numbers informed Chris that it was already ten o'clock, and from that he had deduced that Jonny must have left for work.

 

Eventually he made his way out of the room and into the kitchen, raring to make himself some delicious breakfast, since he was absolutely famished. As he walked by he noticed a small note on the refrigerator that had not been there the previous night, and so he stopped to read it.

 

Chris-

 

You've probably figured out that I left for work already. I didn't want to wake you up, because you seemed like you were dead asleep, and you looked so happy like that. So, sorry for not actually saying goodbye to you or anything, but maybe this note will make up for it. GOODBYE CHRIS, I'LL SEE YOU LATER! Mwah!

 

And fingers crossed, eh? I'm gonna get you that job, I swear.

 

-Jonny

 

Chris smiled as he ripped the paper from the fridge, fully intent on stuffing it into his suitcase once he was finished making his food. He was really glad that Jonny was just as weird as he had been when they first met.

 

 

THE REALLY SHORT STORY THAT CRESTS WROTE IN ONLY LIKE A MINUTE

 

 

Once upon a time Chris Martin was sitting, pondering the phrase "once upon a time". Then he stopped because he realised that if somebody were to write a fan that would make it really boring. Chris decided to start pondering how they get the white stuff in the middle of oreos, but he got bored of that too. He was all like freaking out and such because he didn't know what to think about and it was serious business. He pondered what to ponder and then he got bored of pondering and went outside. He started crying and hoping somebody wasn't writing a story about his pathetic life, but someone was. THE END.

 

This is just a funny little fanfic..it has to do with Coldplay and other people/bands in the music industry; I hope that's alright. :smug:

 

 

The Unforgettable Night

 

 

 

 

The Grammy Awards-2013

 

8:00 PM

 

Brandon Flowers set down his black eyeliner pen and made sure he’d gotten the entire area surrounding his eyes. He made a face in the mirror. He’d heard about athletes getting “angry” before a game. Why couldn’t he? He ran a hand through his hair and tightened his face. Ronnie walked in, uninterested at Brandon’s face-making games in the mirror.

 

“You’re a weirdo, you know that Brandon?”

 

He laughed and gestured towards his eyeliner on the counter.

 

“You should try some, it brings out your eyes,” said Brandon enthusiastically.

 

Ronnie laughed and shook his head.

 

“We’re on after Coldplay,” he added.

 

The name rung in Brandon’s head. “Coldplay,” he repeated quietly.

 

“Have you talked to Chris Martin?” asked Ronnie.

 

“No, I haven't,” said Brandon, spinning around in his seat.

 

_________

 

Matt Bellamy spotted Brandon leaving the dressing room. He wasn’t hard to miss. Brandon had a thick layer of black eye shadow and what looked like two live birds on his shoulders. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything though. There was also a large throng of people surrounding him with microphones attached to their ears and shouting commands throughout the corridor.

 

“Brandon!” shouted Matt.

 

Brandon turned around swiftly and noticed him. “Matty-boy!”

 

They shared a quick hug and talked about who would be attending this year.

The name Chris Martin somehow came up in conversation.

 

“Do you know Chris?” asked Matt.

 

“Am I the only fucking person who doesn’t?” laughed Brandon.

 

Matt made a disgusted expression and rolled his eyes. “He’s just wonderful.”

 

 

What an odd piece of clothing, thought Chris. He wondered who the man in the feather jacket was. Whoever he was, he sure was getting the attention he asked for by wearing the bizarre outfit.

 

“Hello, I don’t think I know you,” said Chris.

 

The man in the feather jacket looked up. “Nice to meet you Chris, I’m Brandon. Brandon Flowers.”

 

Interesting name, thought Chris. They shook hands firmly.

 

“I like your, um, feathery contraption,” said Chris.

 

Brandon kept a straight face. “Thanks, I get a lot of compliments on it,” he replied flatly.

 

Chris nodded to fill the silence between them. Well, this is awkward, he thought.

 

“Are you in a band?” asked Brandon, playing dumb.

 

Is he serious? thought Chris. “I’m the lead singer of Coldplay,” said Chris, trying not to sound like he was bragging.

 

“Nice,” replied Brandon as if it were no big deal.

 

“Are you in a band?” asked Chris curiously.

 

“I’m the lead singer of the Killers.”

 

The Killers, thought Chris. He’d heard some of their songs, and could’ve always sworn that the lead singer was gay. He didn’t seem too gay in person.

 

“It was nice meeting you,” said Brandon, turning to leave.

 

Chris waved goodbye. “Nice meeting you too.”

 

 

_________

 

 

Thom Yorke utterly hated awards ceremonies. It seemed they attracted the shallowest people in the music industry. He scanned the audience nervously. His eye was caught by Chris Martin’s. Bastard.

 

“How are you Thom?” Chris had a huge smile on his face.

 

Chris kept talking, but all Thom could think was, I hate you.

 

But then again, Thom felt that way about everyone.

 

Over his shoulder, Thom was carrying a rather large briefcase. But the thing was, it wasn’t exactly a briefcase. Sometimes, an occasional meow could be heard from the bag. Thom would listen for the meow every three minutes. As Chris Martin was talking his ear off about things he could care less about, Thom listened. Four minutes. Not a sound.

 

Chris had finally finished talking and went to find the rest of his band. Thom scrambled into his bag as discretely as possible. He moved his hand back and forth, but he felt nothing but air.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

 

Gwyneth was gone. Thom had snuck his cat, yes his cat, into the Grammy awards, and it was gone.

 

 

9:00 PM

 

 

Coldplay’s performance was done.

 

Guy handed Jonny a beer and he chugged the entire thing. Will and Guy headed home, while Chris and Jonny were left in the dressing room. Chris was caught up in looking at himself in the mirror.

 

Jonny observed him from behind. “You look fine Chris.”

 

“I look like a ball of sweat,” he said. Chris wasn’t too happy considering he was going to stay after a bit later to watch Paul McCartney’s performance, but he’d never shown up. They’d gotten Ringo Starr to replace him instead. Chris rubbed his face with a towel.

 

“That looks tasty,” said Jonny.

 

Chris froze. “What did you say?”

 

“That cheesecake. My, oh my.”

 

Chris hoped Jonny hadn’t seen him grin. He’d thought he was talking about something…or someone else.

 

Jonny walked over towards the table that was lined with a variety or deserts.

 

Why does he do this to me all the time? thought Chris.

 

Chris threw his towel aside and got up. He locked the door and turned around. Chris was sure that he had a smirk on his face.

 

“Jonny.”

 

“Chris.”

 

“Just admit it,” said Chris grinning hugely.

 

“Admit what?” Jonny asked; his mouth full of cheesecake.

 

“That you love me.”

 

Jonny stopped eating the cake and thought for a moment. His face was blank.

 

“Of course I love you.”

 

“Great, I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

 

“What page?” asked Jonny. “I didn’t even know there was a book.”

 

Chris buried his head in his hands.

 

“No Jonny, it’s a figure of speech.”

 

“Okay,” Jonny replied eagerly.

 

“So kiss me,” said Chris, taking Jonny’s hand.

 

“Why would I do that?” asked Jonny chuckling and pushing his hand away.

 

Chris’ expression dropped. He was frustrated that Jonny couldn’t even understand what he was saying.

 

“What do you love more Jonny, me or the cake?” asked Chris, holding him by the shoulders.

 

Jonny actually seemed to be weighing the options.

 

“Cake,” he stated.

 

Chris was fuming. “Enjoy your cake Jonny, I’m going home.”

 

“I will!” shouted Jonny, crumbs of cheesecake falling from his mouth.

 

 

11:00 PM

 

 

Chris spotted Brandon Flowers in the lobby of the hotel, sprawled out across a sofa, feather jacket and all.

 

“Fancy meeting you here,” Chris said, sitting across from him.

 

Brandon sat up and rubbed his eyes.

 

“Congrats on your award and stuff,” replied Brandon. He was obviously drunk.

 

“Have something to drink will you?” said Brandon, shoving a wine bottle towards him.

 

After his rejection from Jonny, it was just what Chris needed.

 

“Oh alright,” replied Chris.

 

 

11:50 PM

 

 

“And then he tells me to FUCK OFF. He told me to FUCK OFF,” finished Brandon, laughing uncontrollably.

 

It seemed that Chris also found the story equally funny. There were now six bottles of wine, emptied on the coffee table in front of them.

 

“You know who can go fuck himself is Matt f’ing Bellamy,” slurred Chris.

Brandon also found this hysterical. He chuckled so loudly that he snorted and fell off the couch, pounding the floor. Chris laughed at his drunkenness and laughed along with him.

 

“You heard me everyone, Matt Bellamy can go fuck himself!” shouted Chris.

 

Brandon continued to pound the floor. Someone turned around at the front desk.

 

“What the hell did you say?” said the man, walking closer.

 

It was Matt. Matt Bellamy was standing in front of them. Brandon stopped laughing and Chris stood up and brushed himself off.

 

“Say it to my face, prick,” said Matt through clenched teeth.

 

The alcohol made Chris have no fear.

 

“You’re full of yourself and you hate me for no reason. Therefore that makes you a son of a bitch!” yelled Chris, stumbling over Brandon.

 

Just as Matt grabbed Chris by the neck of his shirt, Jonny walked through the front doors of the hotel. Matt set Chris down and watched Jonny walk towards them. He was cradling what seemed to be a cat in his hands. He stroked it patiently and it seemed to be purring.

 

“Little guy was lost,” said Jonny, nodding towards the cat.

 

It was nearly midnight, Jonny was holding a stray cat, Chris was about to be killed by Matt Bellamy, and Brandon Flowers was rolling on the tile floor laughing uncontrollably. Chris didn’t know if the night could get any more bizarre.

 

Jonny was studying the cat’s collar.

 

“Its name is Gwyneth…that’s all it says.”

 

“The cat’s name is Gwyneth?” Chris asked.

 

Brandon began laughing again and knocked over one of the empty wine bottles. It clanged against the floor with a shatter.

 

“Yes,” said Jonny.

 

The cat was huge; actually it was obese. Its beady eyes were hidden by its mass of long fur.

 

“So what the hell do we do?” asked Chris.

 

They exchanged glances at one another. There was a voice from the other side of the lobby.

 

“I know whose cat it is,” said the voice. Everyone looked over. Sitting cross-legged in a leather chair was Bono.

 

“Come,” he said. No one hesitated; they all walked over in unison. Bono was a god in the music world-he was the father of them all, and respect for him was necessary.

 

“I’ll tell you whose cat it is…if you agree to take on my challenge.”

 

Matt, Chris, and Jonny all anxiously awaited his answer.

 

“I need you to get me something,” said Bono quietly, gesturing them to come closer.

 

“I need you to bring me…Paul McCartney,” he said. Their expressions turned to confusion.

 

“What?” asked Chris, trying to hold in his laughter. On the other side of the lobby, Brandon continued to laugh. “PAUL MCCARTNEY!” he shrieked in hysterical giggling.

 

“You mean like a kidnapping?” Matt asked in excitement. Bono lifted his finger and grinned.

 

“Exactly.”

 

There was an awkward pause.

 

“So get me Paul McCartney, and I’ll tell you exactly who to return the cat to.”

 

Jonny was still puzzled. “So let me get this straight, you want us to kidnap Paul McCartney and bring him to you? He didn’t even show up at the Grammy’s tonight…and why the hell-” Bono put his hand over Jonny’s mouth.

 

“Just do it. And do it by sunrise.”

 

 

12:15 AM

 

 

Through the eyes of an average pedestrian, seeing four of the world’s greatest musicians carrying a cat and sprinting through London in the middle of the night would not be normal. They stopped at the curb after running for many blocks. Matt was out of breath.

 

“If you were Paul McCartney, where would you be?” asked Chris.

 

“I’d be at home,” said Matt logically.

 

“Obviously he’s not if Bono wants us to find him,” snapped Chris.

 

Matt shook his head. “Bono was probably drunk when he told us to go kidnap Paul McCartney.”

 

“Who cares if he was or wasn’t? It’s Bono, you still have to listen to him,” said Jonny.

 

Chris and Matt nodded in agreement. Brandon just smiled dumbly.

 

“Let’s just check his house first, maybe we can find out where he went from there if he isn’t home,” Matt suggested. Chris nodded in agreement as did Jonny.

 

 

12:40 AM

 

Matt claimed he knew exactly where Paul McCartney lived. “But how the hell do you-” Matt shushed Jonny.

 

“Silence,” he said. “I have…my ways.” Jonny was very disturbed by Matt but didn’t seem to doubt his knowledge.

 

They walked about five more blocks until they turned onto Chamber Street and approached a luxury apartment building.

 

“This is it,” Matt said. They entered the open lobby and Jonny stuffed Gwyneth into his jacket. Matt led the way to the elevator, and pressed the button for floor number twenty, the top one.

 

As the elevator moved upwards, Brandon fell sideways and hit his head on the wall.

“Brandon! Are you okay?” asked Chris, helping him up.

 

Brandon moaned and threw up a clear liquid which was apparently the wine he’d drank. And then he resumed his hysterical laughter.

 

“Right here,” said Matt, gesturing towards room number three seventeen.

 

The four of them stood outside and waited for someone to say something.

 

“So who wants to go first?” asked Jonny.

 

Gwyneth meowed inside his jacket.

 

“Me,” Matt volunteered.

 

He stepped up to the door and pressed his ear against it. There was no sound.

 

“It doesn’t seem like he’s home,” said Matt.

 

He knocked on the door three times and there was still no answer. “I’m going in.” Matt pulled out a paperclip from his pocket and molded it to the shape of the keyhole.

 

“What the fuck Matt,” said Brandon drunkenly.

 

“The man’s got stalking skills,” said Chris.

 

The door unlocked with a click and slowly revealed Paul McCartney’s dark penthouse apartment overlooking the lights of London. Matt walked in with ease, gesturing for Chris and Jonny to follow. Brandon agreed that he’d keep watch outside and hold onto Gwyneth.

 

1:10 AM

 

“Paulie! Where are ya Paulie?” asked Chris in a strange voice as he walked slowly through the dark room.

 

“Chris, I think we should stay quiet,” said Matt.

 

Jonny flipped the lights on. The apartment was huge and had tall, open ceilings. The walls were lined with memorabilia and plaques that were probably worth millions of dollars. For a moment they all just admired the artifacts that had probably defined their careers.

 

Brandon’s voice from the hallway broke the silence.

 

“Get back here!” he yelled.

 

Jonny exchanged a nervous glance with Chris.

 

“Oh, Shit,” said Matt.

 

They ran for the door and after Brandon, who was at the end of the hall chasing after Gwyneth. There was a window that was open, which Gwyneth sat atop. If she made one wrong move, she’d fall off the building and into the city street. Brandon was crawling on the floor towards the window carefully.

 

“Here kitty, don’t move now. Brandon won’t hurt you,” he cooed.

 

He reached out his arm, but Gwyneth didn’t move a muscle. Jonny, Chris, and Matt kept their distance from the window, fearful that if they moved closer Gwyneth would be scared and jump. Brandon moved his hand closer, so slowly, and only a fraction of an inch. But it was too late, Gwyneth leaped from the windowsill and disappeared.

 

“NO! GODAMMIT NO!” Brandon shouted in anger and misery.

 

He pounded the floor and cursed under his breath.

 

“I shouldn’t have given it the whiskey…” he mumbled.

 

“You fucking idiot Brandon! You were supposed to be watching the goddamn cat and you gave it whiskey?” Matt yelled furiously. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“It was thirsty,” said Brandon innocently as he slumped down the wall.

 

Jonny shook his head and sat down. “You killed it. You killed Gwyneth.”

 

As Brandon cried and Matt fumed with anger, a sound came from outside the window. It was a faint meow. Jonny scrambled to his feet and looked below.

 

“Guys, there’s a roof right below us! I see Gwyneth, she’s alive!”

 

Matt and Chris rushed to the windowsill and bent their heads to see the cat just five feet below them.

 

Matt smiled and Brandon laughed nervously. “She’s alive!”

 

Chris agreed to go down and retrieve her while Brandon, Matt and Jonny watched from above. Chris bent down to pick her up, but just as he did, she turned her head and meowed.

 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” said Chris as nice as he possibly could.

 

Gwyneth was nodding her head to the right. Chris looked where she was meowing to and couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Paul McCartney, sitting in the corner, his lips sealed with duct tape and his hands were tied with rope. Chris rushed to his side and untangled him from his hostage.

 

“How the hell did this happen?” Chris asked him, ripping the tape from his lips.

 

Paul still didn’t say a word. Another shadowy figure emerged from the shadows behind him.

 

It was Ringo.

 

“Chris Martin?” Ringo asked. “Have you come to rescue Paul?”

 

“What have you done to him?” asked Chris angrily.

 

Ringo smiled evilly. “Let’s just say it was my chance to perform for once.”

 

Chris was baffled. “So you just wanted the performance at the Grammy’s? Wow Ringo, you’re fucking low. Tie up your mate to get attention. Not cool, man.”

 

Ringo picked up the rope Chris had previously untangled. “Unless you want to be next, I suggest you shut up.”

 

“You know, I won’t shut up! Look what you’ve done to him!”

 

Ringo pulled something out of his pocket that made a clicking sound. He held it to Chris’ head.

 

So this is how my life is going to end. I’m going to be shot by Ringo Starr, thought Chris.

 

Just as he thought the bullet would leave the revolver, something was launched from beneath his feet. It was Gwyneth, in full force, mauling Ringo’s face. Behind him was Brandon, holding a bottle of whiskey like it was a weapon.

 

“Get em’ girl, get him!” encouraged Brandon, raising the bottle as if he were making a toast.

 

Ringo went down hard, and was left nearly unconscious on the ground. Brandon let out a scream of victory as Jonny and Matt leapt from the window to come see what had happened. Chris rushed over to Paul to make sure he was okay.

 

“Paul, can you hear me?” asked Chris. At first, he didn’t respond, but after a moment he did.

 

“That was amazing. Thank you so much boys.”

 

Brandon nodded and offered him whiskey. He declined.

 

“It was our pleasure,” replied Chris.

 

“Is there anything at all I can do to repay you?” asked Paul.

 

There was a pause as Matt, Jonny, Chris, and Brandon exchanged glances.

 

“Do you happen to know Bono of U2?” asked Chris.

 

 

3:00 AM

 

 

Chris, Matt, Brandon, and Jonny led Paul to the hotel at approximately 3:00 AM. Bono was still waiting patiently in the leather chair, and sitting across from him was the unmistakable Thom Yorke. Bono smiled at the sight of Paul.

 

“Paul, how are you my man?” Bono greeted as he stood up to hug him.

 

“Thank you boys,” he said quietly over Paul’s shoulder.

 

Thom Yorke rose at the sight of Jonny cradling Gwyneth in his arms. “Gwyneth!” he shouted.

 

Jonny was confused. “The cat is yours?” he asked.

 

“Yes, she’s mine,” said Thom, taking her from Jonny’s grasp. She purred and licked his face.

“Daddy’s here Gwyn…I’m so glad you’re okay. She got loose during the awards.”

 

Chris was a little disgusted and at the same time amazed at Thom’s affection to the cat that he probably did not display to any other human.

 

“Thank you so much Jonny…and Chris, and Matt and Brandon…I thought I’d lost her forever,” said Thom meaningfully. Chris smiled.

 

“Well believe it or not she actually has done a lot for us as well,” Jonny added.

Matt grinned and nodded.

 

“True.”

 

“That was some night,” said Brandon.

 

Chris had realized underneath the hatred in the music industry, everyone was looking out for each other. After all, they were only human.

 

The End.

 

 

 

The Best Years Of Your Life

Chapter Twenty Six: Domestic Bliss...Are You Taking The Piss?

 

 

 

 

"You fucking idiot!" Jonny exclaimed.

 

"What?" Chris replied. Genuinely shocked that Jonny just swore at him.

 

"Why can't you be..." Jonny said, sighing as Chris stared at him with hard eyes. "Why can't you be nice?"

 

"Nice?" Chris said, tutting. "Nice? You're saying I'm not nice, you can talk, leading me on and off again all the time!"

 

"Don't start..." Jonny replied, not being able to move or get out of the argument. He was just stuck in that wheeled chair.

 

"Excuse me" Chris exclaimed. "But I'm not the one that started this"

 

Al walked into the room, eating a biscuit and just stared at the two of them.

 

"Don't argue" He said, calmly, staring at the two of them individually and then turning to Chris. "Don't mess this one up Chris!"

 

"Me?" Chris shouted, throwing his arms out in front of him. "I don't even know what I've done!"

 

"Treating Sophie like that...she didn't deserve it. She's a victim in all of this as well" Jonny said, sighing.

 

"Oh...and you're not?" Chris exclaimed. "You're in a bloody wheel chair or had you forgotten? You will never walk again!"

 

"Shut up!" Jonny shouted at the top of his voice.

 

The room- the house- went silent before Chris and Al, as sympathetically as they could went to comfort a very upset Jonny.

 

"Jonny...I'm so sorry" Chris said, holding Jonny's hand and gripping it tightly.

 

"I can't walk again" Jonny said, breaking down in tears, and squeezing Chris' hair back. "Please Chris, help me. Get me away from all of this"

 

Al, solemnly, smiled before walking upstairs- getting out of the way. Giving Jonny and Chris time together.

 

"Jonny" Chris said, holding his other hand now. "Look at me"

 

Jonny's head slowly tilted up and the two lovers looked into each others eyes.

 

Moving in his seat, Chris made a deceleration; "I love you Jonny. I really do. Now tell me the real problem"

 

"Do you really though? Do you really love me? I'm in a wheelchair for fucks sake. How can we love each other if I am in a wheelchair?" Jonny asked, crying once more.

 

Jonny didn't normally cry. Chris knew this. In the last few weeks, an almost role reversal happened between the two. They had both matured.

 

"Jonny. Do you really think that I am that shallow?" Chris said, laughing. "Silly lad!"

 

At that moment, the front door opened. It was Chris' mum. At the sight of Chris- she just ran for him. She just comforted her son. And then she comforted Jonny. Tending to all his needs. She was being like a Mother. A proper Mother. The type of person everyone needs in their lives.

 

The person Chris and Jonny needed in their lives.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

“Oh, geez,” Chris sighed as he watched the screen in front of him, a thousand words flashing by every second. His eyes widened and he felt like he was completely in over his head. He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder, and the air around his ear moved as Jonny bent down.

 

“Chris, it's just loading up. I promise, this stuff's not that hard,” Jonny said. Chris looked over at him with disbelief and for a very brief moment wished he had stayed working downstairs. But then Jonny flashed him a smile, and he knew that he had made the right choice. “Besides, I'm gonna be training you, so you've got nothing to worry about.”

 

Chris smiled back halfheartedly, and loosened the collar of his white button-down shirt. He actually felt surprisingly warm, but that could have been due to a number of things, one of them being the memory of the celebration he and Jonny had the night before in honor of Chris getting the job. Jonny's hand still resting on his shoulder did nothing to help.

 

The computer made some sort of noise to inform the men that it was ready to go. Jonny moved his hand and hit a few buttons on the keyboard. On the screen popped up several windows, but Jonny closed all except one.

 

“Start off with this,” Jonny instructed, pointing to the screen, where Chris noticed what seemed to be rather long and detailed descriptions of the functions of the program he would be using. While reading was never a difficult thing for him, he still felt overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of words before him.

 

Chris began to read, and after the first paragraph he felt like he needed a break. Jonny had gone back to his own desk, only a few feet from and in view of Chris's cubicle. Chris helplessly glanced over at Jonny, and Jonny, as if he had some sixth sense, also looked up at Chris, and he flashed his smile again.

 

After ten minutes, Chris had finished with most of the reading. He forced himself to go on, hoping that once he was done, the rest of his work wouldn't be nearly as tedious. As he read the very last line, Jonny walked over.

 

“How's it going?” he asked. Chris looked at him and sighed.

 

“Just finished, actually,” Chris replied. He sat back in his chair and let Jonny mess with the computer some more. A new window popped up as the old one was closed, and Jonny began to tell Chris what he had to do.

 

“You think you can handle that?” Jonny joked, but Chris was not laughing with him. He was staring at the monitor, fervently trying to remember everything Jonny had just said. He was definitely overreacting.

 

But, as Jonny stood over him and waited for an answer, Chris took a deep breath and fought against the voice in his head telling him You're not ready for this. Thirty minutes was hardly enough time to become a professional, but Chris tried to convince himself that it would be all right.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed. Jonny, still smiling, bent down and kissed him behind the ear.

 

“You got this,” he reassuringly said. “And if you need help, I'm right over there. Just remember that.”

 

“Thank you,” Chris said to him as he looked up. He watched as Jonny walked back to his cubicle, and for a brief moment he had a flashback to his first day of school, watching as his mother quickly abandoned him in a crowd of children. But Jonny wasn't abandoning him, he was still right there. He would always be right there.

 

Chris turned back to his computer with a newfound confidence. He cracked his knuckles, because it made him feel tougher, and scooted his chair forward to better reach the keyboard. He started doing what Jonny had told him, and he found it surprisingly easy to remember all of it. He was too busy to notice it, but the entire time he was being spied on by Jonny, who felt rather proud as he saw that Chris was no longer the self-doubting kid that he had always known.

 

Jonny went back to his own work- for five minutes, and then he decided it was time to play solitaire. Even after three years of working in the same position, Jonny could still not properly master the game of solitaire. On average, he won one game for every hundred that he played. It was often discouraging, but he just couldn't give up. He needed to win, and he was sure that he would, even if it only happened once in a great while. If he had ever put that much determination into his real work, he may have been getting paid a lot more than he was now.

 

Every ten minutes or so he would look up from the computer to first of all make sure that his supervisor wasn't looming around and wouldn't catch him slacking off, but also to inconspicuously monitor Chris. A few hours had passed, and by Jonny's judgment, Chris had done more work than Jonny had in an entire week. He also seemed to be doing it with no problem whatsoever, which was fantastic.

 

Then one time he looked up and was startled by the presence of Chris, who was standing only a mere foot away from Jonny, biting his nails and looking rather nervous. Jonny figured that Chris had probably done something and thought that he messed up the whole thing, and that he had then come to ask Jonny for help.

 

“What's wrong?” Jonny asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible, because he actually did like the idea of being able to help Chris.

 

But Chris shook his head at Jonny, and rather than frowning or looking even more nervous like Jonny had expected, he smiled. “It's eleven-thirty,” he said.

 

Jonny laughed a little, and he immediately got up from his chair. He grabbed Chris's hand, and they began to make their way out of the building, all the while discussing where they should go for lunch.

 

 

 

 

 

the end :awesome:

 

 

The Setting Sun

 

 

 

It was evening. The sun was setting on the quiet English town, a pinkish-orange hue settling over the identical suburban homes that ran the length of the street. Two boys walked down the sidewalk, one with light-colored, curly hair and the other with short, darker hair, both immensely tall and thin.

 

Chris- the curly-haired one with enough energy coursing through him to replace the sun- was a step ahead in his excitement to reach the park. Jonny didn't particularly dislike being outside as the only source of light around him began to fade, though it certainly made him uneasy. He felt much better with Chris walking right beside him.

 

“What time do you have to be home, Jonny?” Chris asked as he bounced from one foot to the other.

 

“Whenever. Preferably before the vampires come out,” he replied, casually looking over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, you don't want anyone sucking your blood,” Chris laughed, pulling off the best stereotypical Transylvanian accent he could. He turned around and proceeded to walk backwards, bringing his two index fingers to his mouth and sticking them out as fangs.

 

Jonny stared at Chris worriedly, a little absentminded as he was busy imagining what horrors could befall them if he stayed out too late. Vampires, definitely; then there was the possibility that there would be a full moon that night. Jonny shivered a little.

 

His feet carried him the rest of the way, even going so far as to bring him right to the swings, where Chris was already fervently pumping his legs. But they stopped there, and Jonny remained standing, blankly gazing into space, for several minutes.

 

Chris skidded to a halt, his feet dragging along the sand. As the swing slowed itself, Chris looked to Jonny with concern, his mouth slightly open.

 

“Jonny, are you OK?” he quietly asked. Jonny shook his head and brought himself back from his awful visions. Chris's eyebrows were drawn tightly together.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he dully replied, walking around and hopping onto the swing next to Chris. He halfheartedly began to swing back and forth, though his feet never moved far from the ground. Chris had not yet returned to swinging, merely grabbing onto one of the chains with both hands and watching Jonny.

 

“You're really worried about vampires, aren't you?” Jonny turned his head. He quickly looked at Chris, then went back to staring at his feet. He kicked some of the sand. “There's nothing to worry about. They probably don't even exist. And if they do... well, I've watched a lot of Buffy over the years. I've got your back.”

 

“It's not vampires- well, not entirely,” Jonny said. Chris shut his mouth and leaned forward a little. “It's just that... I still can't get over what happened last summer- no, no it was two summers ago, wasn't it?”

 

Jonny looked up at Chris for the answer; the sadness in his shining green eyes broke Chris's heart just a bit. Slowly, Chris nodded his head.

 

“It was two summers ago, yeah,” he said in a husky voice. “I'm still really sorry, you know that.”

 

“I do know. And I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault at all.” Jonny turned away, took a deep breath. “I mean, my mum always told me to keep her on the leash, especially at night. I should have listened.”

 

“I swear, that car came out of nowhere.”

 

Chris's eyes widened as he too remembered that fateful night. Jonny shook his head, but said nothing; he would never have told Chris that his real problem didn't actually lie with the death of his dog. Sure, he loved that dog with all of his heart, but what had really frightened him was how close the car had come to hitting Chris as well.

 

“But Jonny, you can't let that get you down,” Chris said. He reached his hand out and placed it on Jonny's shoulder long enough to make Jonny look up at him. Chris inhaled and prepared to say something, but out of nowhere came the sound of girls' laughter in the distance.

 

Both boys turned. Approximately fifty feet away stood a gaggle of teenage girls. Chris sighed, loudly enough for Jonny to take notice.

 

“Don't you like that blond one?” he awkwardly asked, as he didn't feel like being under the spotlight anymore. Chris searched the group, his eyes finally landing upon the girl in the center, whose long blond hair flowed down to her hips.

 

“No,” Chris uncomfortably replied. He quickly looked down at his feet, his face growing redder by the second.

 

“Yes, you do,” Jonny said, standing up and walking in front of Chris. He held out his hand in spite of himself. “Come on.”

 

Chris lifted his head, but didn't move otherwise. “What?”

 

“You're going to talk to her.” Chris's eyes bugged and he swallowed hard.

 

“No,” he firmly replied. “I told you, I don't like her.”

 

“Yes, now come on!” Chris diligently shook his head and told Jonny once more that he did not like this girl. Jonny let his arm fall to his side, but not for long; moments later, he had lunged forward and, with both hands planted on Chris's sides, was trying to pull Chris up himself. “Stop being so afraid, Chris.”

 

“Jonny, I don't like her!” Chris shouted, struggling against Jonny, trying not to be too loud and let the group of girls overhear. Jonny shot him a look of disbelief, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Prove it.”

 

Chris moved, and suddenly the small gap of space between them was gone, his and Jonny's lips locked, but only for a few seconds, as Chris soon realized what he had done and pulled back. He watched Jonny with worried eyes and waited for some sort of response.

 

It took Jonny less time to lean forward again than it had for Chris to pull back. Chris draped his arms around Jonny's shoulders, and while their mouths were still tightly pressed together he stood up so that their positions were less awkward.

 

“OK,” Jonny wheezed, and Chris was just as breathless as he was. “OK, you don't like her.”

 

Chris gently pulled his arms to his side as he let go of Jonny. He took a tiny step back and just stared at Jonny for a while. Then he laughed shortly, and a grin spread itself wide across his face. He reached forward and grabbed Jonny's hand, lacing their fingers together.

 

“Come on, let's go. I'll walk you home before the vampires come out,” he cheerily said. Jonny laughed like it was a joke, but deep down he was seriously relieved that he wouldn't have to be outside for much longer. Buffy or not, he didn't really think that Chris could handle even one vampire by himself, and Jonny would have been far too panicked to give any aid.

 

 

THE BIG ONE

 

CHAPTER 1

 

 

 

 

September 1914

 

Jonny blinked his eyes in the bright morning sun.

There was just a hint of autumn in the air.

Just enough crispness to tickle his nose.

And make him wish he had brought a jacket.

The walk home might be a chilly one.

He carefully unlocked the wooden and glass door of his shop.

Turning the laminated "CLOSED" sign around to show "OPEN."

He walked to the back of the tiny shop.

And flicked on the overheard lights.

He whistled as he brought out the old horsehair broom.

"Morning Fred," he said, once out on the sidewalk.

Fred was the post man.

"Summer's on it's way out," Fred said.

Jonny nodded as he began his usual ritual.

Sweeping the concrete steps that led to his door.

Sometimes there was dirt and leaves.

Sometimes there was gravel from the street.

This morning there was a few stray scraps of paper.

And a bright shiny penny.

Jonny looked at it carefully.

It was turned face up.

That meant that good luck would come his way that day.

Jonny smiled as he pocketed the coin.

He decided the entrance looked clean and neat.

Then he replaced the broom in the closet at the back.

He walked to the old plastic cased radio that sat on the shelf.

Twisting and turning the dial until he found a station.

He looked carefully at his supplies of combs and razors.

Making sure that they were all in their proper location.

And within easy reach of the lone chair in the barber shop.

Jonny looked at himself in the large mirror.

He smoothed his own hair down.

For a barber, he always had such a difficult time with his own looks.

Jonny took a deep breath.

And straightened his shirt and tie.

He hated the tie but he thought it gave him an air of professionalism.

His sister had agreed with him on that matter.

She had said it might attract a better class of clientele.

Jonny smiled to himself as he looked at the calendar.

Today was Wednesday.

His favorite day of the week.

Because it was also the day that his favorite customer always dropped by for a trim.

 

 

The Best Years Of Your Life

Chapter Twenty Seven: Playing Happy Families

 

 

 

 

"Mum...I'm so sorry" Chris said, tears streaming down his face as he just hugged his mother.

 

"Jane...are you alright?" Jonny said, smiling as he held his lover's mother's hand.

 

"Am I alright?" she said, smiling while trying to hold back tears. "Are you alright more like? Jonny...honestly, how are you coping?"

 

"I'm fine. Absolutely fine" Jonny replied, showing off his cheeky grin. "I'm so sorry"

 

"What for?" Jane replied as she sat down by the side of Jonny and Chris.

 

"For" Jonny said, grabbing Chris' hand and holding it tightly. "For this"

 

"I'm guessing you know, mum" Chris said, feeling uncomfortable as he let go of Jonny's hand.

 

"Yes..." Jane said, sighing. "I know"

 

"And what do you think, mum?" Chris asked.

 

"I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't shocked by it but, it's how you feel. Jonny is a lovely person. It is your life" Jane said, hugging her son again.

 

"And we" Jonny said, looking to Chris. "Have decided we want you to be a part of it"

 

"Huh?" Jane said. "I'm confused"

 

"Mum...Jonny's left his Mum and Dad. We would like to stay with you and Al" Chris said, itching his head. "Oh and, sorry about Dad"

 

"Don't worry about Dad. I've known about it for a while. We stayed together for your sake, I didn't know he was still with Jonny's mum, but, it's all worked out for the best" Jane said.

 

"So...can we stay with you?" Chris asked.

 

"Your my son, Chris" Jane said, ruffling her son's hair. "And you" she said, turning to Jonny. "We need you to look after us two, can you deal with this family?"

 

"I think I can" Jonny chuckled.

 

"Then why not?" Jane said, almost echoing Jonny's chuckling before standing up and making her way to the door.

 

"Where are you off?" Chris asked, not being able to wipe the grin of his face.

 

"I'm going to the shops to get ingredients to make a massive meal for you lot to celebrate" Jane said, joyfully. "Don't get up to mischief while I'm gone" were the last words she said before the door closed behind her.

 

The room was silent for a few moments.

 

"Chris" Jonny said, breaking the silence. "Kiss me"

 

 

 

The Best Years Of Your Life

Chapter Twenty Eight: You Make Your Own Luck

 

 

 

 

They just kissed and cuddled as best they could for over an hour. Enjoying each others company. Skipping school and telling jokes. Feeding each other crisps and throwing cushions at each other, playfully of course. Acting like kids- grown up kids. Which they were. Their troubles just flying away.

 

Jonny realised he was not making a mistake.

 

Chris realised that Jonny was perfect.

 

Everything was perfect.

 

The meal went very well. Much like their time to themselves. Jonny enjoyed his almost adopted mother's company and his new adopted brother, Al. They had already been firm friends. Chris enjoyed the new family unit he was a part of now and couldn't help feel good because he was getting a bit of action from Jonny as well.

 

After the marvellous dinner, Chris and Jonny went around to Phil's house for band practice which was going brilliantly. Will was happier than ever. Everyone was happy. Chris was feeling more comfortable with his singing and Jonny was finding it easier to play guitar. He had a real knack for it. He was a guitar hero as Chris put it. Chris' guitar hero.

 

They made the way home they took on the fateful night and Chris just grabbed onto Jonny's wheelchair tight, not wanting to let him go. Ever again. They arrived back at Chris' house quite late. Chris offered to lift Jonny up the stairs but he was happy enough crawling/climbing. Being as independent as he could. He had to. He didn't want sympathy not from Chris- not from anyone.

 

Jonny scrambled into Chris' bed and, carefully, Chris lay next to him.

 

"What do we do next?" Jonny asked, turning to Chris.

 

"We tell the world" Chris replied, kissing Jonny before, side by side, the two lovers, almost simultaneously, fell asleep.

 

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

 

A long line of large and luxurious summer homes ran down the street and spilled onto several others.

A woman dressed in designer clothes slammed the trunk of her Rolls-Royce.

“Well, that looks like everything,” the woman said, directing her voice to the house the car was parked outside of.

A man stepped out of the open doorway and onto the front porch.

“You're sure?” he yelled back.

The woman began to walk towards the house, nodded her head.

She continued walking even after the car door mysteriously opened behind her.

It seemed like it had opened by itself.

But a few moments later a small boy stepped out.

He couldn't have been more than six years old.

He closed the door behind him and started to follow his mother up to the house.

The woman stopped in front of her husband.

She sighed, making sure that her chest moved exaggeratedly as she did so.

“It is so hot already,” she said to him in a husky voice.

She took a few more deep breaths and fanned herself with her hand.

“Well, dear, maybe we should go inside and cool down,” the man replied in an equally seductive tone.

The woman turned her head and looked down at her small son.

Then she quickly looked around at the yard and the other houses.

She spotted another little boy sitting outside of the house to the left.

He looked like he could use some company.

“Look, Chris,” she said to her son, “there's another little boy over there. Why don't you go introduce yourself to him?”

Chris looked over to the boy his mother had pointed out.

Without saying anything, he ran away towards the other yard.

 

 

Chris stopped in front of the little boy, but he didn't look up.

His head was down, his gaze fixed on his hands.

His hands were holding a Gameboy.

Chris silently stood for a while, hoping to get the boy's attention.

“Hi,” he finally said.

The little boy looked up.

“Hello,” he said.

Then he went back to playing his game.

Chris waited a few more seconds.

“I'm Chris,” he said.

The boy looked up again.

“I'm Jonny,” he quietly replied.

Then he went back to playing his game.

Chris scuffed his bottom of his shoe on the ground.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked.

The little boy looked up at him.

“Playing games,” he said.

Then he went back to playing his game.

Chris frowned.

He wanted Jonny to pay attention to him.

But Jonny didn't seem to care at all.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

 

“So, Chris,” his mother began as she sat down with the other two at the dinner table.

She unfolded her stark white napkin and placed it carefully on her lap.

“Did you make friends with that little boy?” she asked.

Chris shook his head and mindlessly moved his fork around his plate.

“No, I hate him,” he plainly replied.

“You hate him?” his mother asked, not entirely believing that her son was being truthful.

“Yeah,” Chris said, “he wouldn't talk to me and he kept playing with his stupid Gameboy.”

Chris stabbed the fork into the pile of mashed potatoes.

He felt angrier than he had ever been before.

Being an only child, he was used to getting his way.

Being an only child to a rich couple, he was used to getting whatever he wanted.

He had wanted Jonny to talk to him.

He had wanted Jonny to forget about playing his video games.

He had wanted Jonny to give him more than just a few seconds of his time.

Chris had tasted his first lick of rejection that day.

He didn't like it at all.

“Well, did you try talking to him first?” his mother calmly asked.

“That's all I did!” he exclaimed. “All I did was talk to him, and all he did was play his stupid games.”

“Maybe you should try asking him about the games,” his father suggested.

Chris looked up with a confused expression.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because it's obviously something he's interested in. If you want him to talk to you, then maybe you should talk about things he likes,” his father answered.

“But I don't wanna talk about stupid video games,” Chris stubbornly said.

“Then I guess you'll just have to spend your summer alone, won't you?” his mother replied.

She expected Chris to freak out and agree to follow his father's advice.

But Chris just looked down at his plate.

If he couldn't get what he wanted, then he would just change what he wanted.

He wasn't going to change himself just to get what he wanted.

If Jonny wouldn't talk to him, then Jonny would not know the pleasure of being Chris's friend.

Chris would rather be alone than have to resort to talking about things he did not wish to talk about.

He was used to being alone, anyway.

His parents spoiled him.

No matter what day it was, no matter where they went.

As long as they left the house, which they did every single day, Chris came home with something new.

Some days it was a small thing, like a candy bar.

Some days he came home with a shiny new bicycle.

Or a motorized toy car.

His parents actually had a second garage built on their large estate specifically for all of Chris's vehicles.

They always gave him what he wanted.

But they never really paid him much attention.

His father was always “working” to make the money that supported their extravagant lifestyle.

His mother was always tanning or at the spa or playing tennis with her rich friends.

Chris never spent much time with his parents.

He had no brothers or sisters.

No close relatives.

Their property was so large that there were not even other people around for miles.

Chris spent most of his time alone.

Playing by himself or watching movies by himself.

He didn't see it as a problem.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

 

 

Chris didn't talk to Jonny again that summer.

But he made it a point to be around the other boy.

Every day he would go outside and play by himself in the front yard.

Every so often he would shoot nasty glares at Jonny.

But he never said another word.

And Jonny never saw his glares.

For many years after, the two families continued to spend their summers in the neighboring houses.

Jonny continued to sit outside playing his Gameboy.

And Chris continued to not speak to Jonny.

 

 

When he was ten, Chris had received a nice dirt bike.

He brought it with him to the summer home.

Jonny still sat on his porch, staring down at his video game.

Chris rode his bike up and down the street.

He made sure to pass by Jonny's house every single time.

But Jonny never looked up.

One day, Chris was trying to do tricks.

He tried popping a wheelie.

He lifted the handlebars up too far and he fell backwards.

Right in front of Jonny's house.

He involuntarily screamed in pain.

His elbows had been badly scraped.

The cuts burned and as they did so, tears stung his eyes.

The bike laid beside him, unharmed.

Jonny heard the noise and lifted his eyes.

“Are you OK?” he loudly asked.

Chris froze for a few seconds.

Then he sharply looked at Jonny.

“I am fine,” he firmly said. “And anyway, I don't want your help. I hate you.”

Chris stood up despite the pain and stubbornly picked up his bike.

He began to walk it back to his house.

Jonny went back to playing his game.

Chris walked the bike all the way back to the side of the house.

He was angry now.

Of course Jonny would pay attention the one time that he messed up.

Because Jonny was a mean kid.

He didn't have any interest in Chris.

He only wanted to see Chris in pain.

Well, Chris decided that it was all right.

He hated Jonny, so it didn't matter.

Jonny could hate him, too.

And forever they would ignore each other, only looking up to see the pain.

To see the suffering.

Chris looked over his shoulder.

He shot another nasty look at Jonny.

Jonny kept his head down.

Then Chris leaned his bike against the side of the house.

He sat down by the fence where no one could see him.

He buried his face in his hands and cried.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

 

 

Chris got a skateboard when he was twelve.

He road it in the street during the day.

He would go back and forth between his house and Jonny's.

He would stare down as he pushed himself along with his feet.

Then he would look up at the empty porch.

Jonny was never outside anymore.

“I'll bet he's inside playing those stupid video games,” he thought to himself. “And eating potato chips.”

He could picture Jonny staring at the television and blindly reaching for the bag.

It must have been a lot easier for him to ignore Chris this way.

But Chris didn't care.

While Jonny was inside being inactive and stuffing his face, Chris was outside getting some exercise.

This allowed Chris to keep his lean figure, which he used to try to impress the ladies.

He would be fit and handsome and girls would swoon over him all the time.

Jonny would end up being fat and alone and he would wish then that he had come outside.

He would wish that he had joined Chris in playing.

But it would be far too late.

And Chris would just laugh at him.

So every time that he looked up and Jonny was not there, Chris just smiled smugly.

Because he knew that life would work out well for him.

And Jonny would get what he deserved.

 

 

The only time Chris saw Jonny that summer was when Jonny came over to ask if Chris's parents were home.

“My mum wants to know if you and your parents would like to join us for dinner,” he said.

Chris stared blankly at Jonny.

He weighed his options.

He could get his parents and let Jonny invite them over.

Then he would have to associate with Jonny.

Or he could tell Jonny that his parents weren't home.

Or that they already had plans.

Then he wouldn't have to deal with this creature he loathed.

Whose mere presence made his stomach churn.

“I'll ask them,” Chris said.

He slowly began to walk backwards, towards the house.

He didn't turn around until he had reached the porch.

Then he ran up the steps and inside.

His parents gladly agreed to join Jonny's family for dinner.

Chris figured they would.

When he came back outside he sneered at Jonny and told him what his parents had said.

Jonny nodded and walked away.

Chris rolled his eyes as he watched Jonny.

It was just like him to leave without saying anything.

For the rest of the day Chris kept thinking about the dinner.

He thought about how he would have to sit by Jonny.

He would have to watch Jonny shoveling more food into this mouth.

He thought about warning Jonny, since he knew exactly what Jonny's fate would be.

But he decided not to.

After all, why would he help Jonny?

Jonny had never done anything for him.

And it was no skin off his back if Jonny did end up fat and alone.

Chris would be happy and have a wonderful family then.

So he had no reason to care.

 

 

-

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

 

At fourteen, Chris had taken up running.

He went for a jog around the block every single morning.

It was part of his plan to stay fit and attractive.

One day he was walking down the steps and into his yard.

He gently slid his earphones into his ears.

As he looked up, he noticed that someone was in the other yard.

Chris could tell by the way the person looked down that it was Jonny.

Chris slowly walked over in Jonny's direction.

He was only a little bit curious.

He had the tiniest amount of curiosity that anyone could have.

In fact, he thought that he wasn't even really curious at all.

And if he was, it was only because Jonny was standing by the fence, his gaze fixed on something that Chris couldn't see.

It was just different, that was all.

And it was only human to be perplexed by things that were different.

As he drew closer, Chris noticed that it was some sort of vehicle Jonny was staring at.

“What's that?” Chris quietly asked as he stopped by the fence.

He put his arms on the wood and leaned over a little to see.

Jonny looked up at him.

“It's a quad,” he said.

“Oh,” Chris said.

Jonny went back to what he was doing.

Chris stood there for a while and watched him.

“It looks nice,” Chris said.

Jonny looked at him again.

“Yeah...” he cautiously replied.

He stared at Chris for a few seconds.

Then he narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you care, anyway?” he asked. “I thought you hated me.”

Chris's eyes widened just a little.

He opened his mouth exaggeratedly in shock.

Then he lifted his chin high and squared his shoulders.

“I do hate you,” he firmly replied.

At that moment, he decided he'd had enough, and so he walked away from Jonny.

He stormed onto the sidewalk.

Then he started his jog.

Before he ran too far down the street, he looked back.

Jonny was doing more work with his four-wheeler.

Chris kept on running.

Stomping his feet down hard on the sidewalk.

Pretending the concrete was Jonny's face.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

 

Chris innocently walked down the stairs and into the hallway.

As he walked past the kitchen, his mother caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh my,” his mother began, “Christopher, what are you wearing??”

Chris spun around and stepped back to the doorway.

“What?” he innocently asked. “It's hot out.”

“Well, yes, but...but...” his mother stuttered.

She wordlessly waved her hand, gesturing to his figure.

Then she blinked a few times, as if it would suddenly change the reality of what she was seeing.

“That??” she incredulously asked.

Chris looked down at his clothes.

He was wearing a plain white wifebeater that fit rather snugly against his chest, and a pair of shorts that cut off about halfway down his thighs.

He didn't see anything wrong with it.

“They're just clothes,” he shrugged.

She sighed and gave him a look that said nothing could ever be just clothes.

And that he was lucky his father wasn't around at that moment to see him.

But, as always, she let him have his way.

“All right,” she skeptically replied. “I suppose it's good that you're at least not running around naked.”

“Exactly,” Chris brightly said.

Then he went outside for his daily run.

On the way he passed by Jonny, once again fixed on his quad.

“Still working on that old thing, I see,” Chris casually yelled as he walked by.

Jonny looked up and shot him an expression of confusion.

“Ah, it's so nice to run, and just so much better to not have to fuss with machinery for entertainment,” he yelled to Jonny as he stopped on the sidewalk.

He did a few various stretches that people would normally do before running.

He stretched his long arms up into the air.

He made sure that Jonny was still watching him.

Then he leaned back as far as he could go without falling backwards.

His tank top may have come up just a bit.

Then he bent forward to reach his toes.

And his shirt definitely fell down his back.

When he stood back up he fixed it.

Then he looked ahead and started to walk a little.

Some people may have called it a strut, but not Chris.

He was merely walking down the sidewalk.

“That's not running,” Jonny yelled after him.

Chris quickly turned his head back.

He flashed a big, sarcastic smile at Jonny.

Then he stuck up his middle finger and started to run away.

 

1

 

 

 

"Fucking run, Chris!" Cliff screamed, his voice hoarse as he jumped on his BMX. Chris was just staring at the guy on the floor, blood gushing from his head. Police sirens were raring in the background and that was when Chris decided it was time to run.

 

Cliff, Johnson, Jacko, Champ and Smithy all had BMX's but Chris didn't- he was on foot but he knew his way around the estate, just like everybody else.

 

Running down alleyways and back streets and over fences and walls he found himself outside a small flat. The door looked like it had been kicked in and fixed several times, it was painted red and black with most of the paint chipped off. Catching his breath, Chris knocked on the door. Chris waited almost two minutes. He knew someone would answer- someone always answered.

 

The door quickly opened and a tall, muscular man grabbed Chris and threw him inside, Chris landed on a small, dirty sofa, landing next to two men very much like the man who had just been in contact with his body. The two men were both rolling cigarettes, most probably drugs.

 

"Want a spliff?" the tall, muscular man asked. His name was Simpson.

 

"No thanks, cheers" Chris replied. He smoked. He just wasn't in the mood.

 

"Where's Cliff and the others?" Simpson asked, walking over to his girlfriend who was also smoking.

 

"I don't know" Chris replied, keeping his head down.

 

"Weren't they with you?" Simpson asked, puzzled.

 

"They were on their BMX's...they went another way" Chris said.

 

"So...did you do it?" Simpson asked after sneaking a quick snog from his girlfriend.

 

"Yeah...he's dead. He is" Chris replied.

 

Simpson slowly walked up to Chris and grabbed his chin, jolting it up. "I like you Chris" he said, smirking. "Did the coppers turn up then?"

 

"Yeah...I think so" Chris replied.

 

"You see...Chris" Simpson said, sighing before walking up to Chris one more, staring into his eyes. "You see...that is what you get when you don't give me what I want...you hear me?"

 

"Yeah I hear you" Chris replied, smiling.

 

Simpson wasn't smiling.

 

"Y'know Chris, if you did what he did to me, I would do the same to me. No one gets any special treatment, you hear me?" Simpson said.

 

"Yeah...I do" Chris said, looking down.

 

"Good...just so y'know" Simpson said.

 

"I think I better go now" Chris said, holding his hand up and turning to walk away

 

"No, no, don't miss all the fun" Simpson replied.

 

"What fun?" Chris asked, puzzled, his eyebrows raised.

 

"Someone else has been messing me around as well. Did you not know?" Simpson asked.

 

"Really...who?" Chris asked, generally scared.

 

"Champ" Simpson replied. "When he get's back here...I'm gonna get him with my bare hands...and he's gonna be out of it...he will die...slow and painfully" he said, laughing a low, strong laugh.

 

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

 

The sky was dark, the sun almost completely blocked by heavy rainclouds.

Chris looked up as he stepped into the yard.

He heard someone to his left moving.

He glanced over.

Jonny was walking along the fence that separated their properties.

He seemed to be walking towards a shed.

Chris smiled and decided that this was a perfect opportunity for him.

“You know,” he pompously began as he made his way to fence, “if you were to run instead of ride your precious quad, you wouldn't have to worry about rain.”

Jonny stopped walking and looked up at Chris.

He quickly shrugged.

“Running's not really my thing,” he said.

Chris involuntarily laughed.

Jonny looked at him questioningly.

“It's running,” Chris explained. “It's not really anyone's thing.”

“For some people it is,” Jonny told him. “It seems to be your thing.”

“Well, it's not the only thing I do,” Chris defensively said.

“I didn't say it was,” Jonny quietly replied. “Just that you seem to like it a lot.”

“It's what I do to keep in shape,” Chris informed Jonny. “Which is more than you can say, I think.”

“I'm in shape,” Jonny in a soft voice.

He looked down at his four-wheeler.

Chris took the chance to stare at Jonny for a bit.

Jonny was pretty fit.

Not as fit and lean as Chris of course, but a fair amount.

“I suppose...” Chris mumbled.

“I'm just not a runner,” Jonny added, his eyes still pointed down.

“Oh, come on,” Chris said, completely unconvinced. “You're a human. All humans are runners.”

“I don't think so,” Jonny told him.

“No, I'll prove it to you,” Chris said.

He folded his arms across his chest in an arrogant way.

“You're coming with me,” he said.

Jonny looked up at him.

He thought about it for a few moments.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I just have to put this away.”

He started to walk once again towards the shed.

Chris watched him go, his arms dropping to his sides.

He was surprised.

He hadn't expected Jonny to agree.

He just had figured that Jonny would decline in that quiet way of his and that would be that.

But Jonny was going running with him.

Chris couldn't help smiling at his triumph.

 

 

“Look, Jonny, you're doing fine,” Chris said as they ran past a house at the end of their street.

“Yep, Chris, you were definitely right,” Jonny said, “everyone in the world is a runner.”

Chris didn't miss the sarcasm.

He turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Jonny.

He decided to take the high road.

“I know,” he smugly replied.

But he couldn't just leave it at that.

Chris didn't see Jonny roll his eyes at his remark.

He was too busy staring down at their feet and making sure that his foot was over to the left far enough.

Jonny's foot hooked around Chris's.

He started to fall forwards.

But Chris had not anticipated that the trick would mess up his own balance.

And he too fell.

The two boys luckily landed on the grass in the nearest yard.

Chris had thrown his hands down to break his fall.

They ended up on either side of Jonny.

Jonny had landed on his back.

And he was now staring up at Chris.

Chris quickly crawled backwards, and for a few seconds he was frozen.

Then he bounced up on his feet and held his hand out to help Jonny up.

Jonny looked skeptical, but he took Chris's hand anyway.

“Sorry,” Chris sheepishly said. “Are you OK?”

Jonny just looked at him for a while.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” he said.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

 

Over the next two summers, Chris and Jonny became good friends.

Chris forgot all about his childish hatred.

Maybe it was because Jonny actually paid attention to him now.

They spent most of their days together.

They would run in the mornings.

Then Jonny would take Chris out on the quad.

There was a path in the nearby woods that they followed.

Most of the time they would stop somewhere in the woods and eat lunch.

Then they would drive back to their houses.

Sometimes they just laid in the grass for the rest of the afternoon and watched the clouds drift by.

Their bedroom windows conveniently faced each other.

And so at night they would make signs on scrap papers and hold them up for the other to see.

Chris became very attached to their summers together.

Even more attached than he had been before.

Before, it was always that he couldn't wait to show off his new toys and make Jonny jealous.

Now, as he sat in school and stared at the clock, he just wished that he could be back there.

Back where it wasn't dreadfully boring.

Back where everything felt right.

Back where Jonny was.

And sometimes, on his way to school, or in the middle of class... or while he was trying to sleep at night, he would think of Jonny.

He wondered where Jonny was and what he was doing.

He wondered if Jonny missed him, too.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

 

Jonny knocked a few times on the door.

Then he stood and patiently waited.

“Oh, hello Jonny,” Chris's mother said when she answered the door. “Chris will be out in a few minutes.”

“Actually,” Jonny said, “my parents wanted to know if you all would like to go camping with us tonight.”

Chris's mother made a disgusted sort of face.

She didn't even try to hide it.

“Camping?” she said with great distaste.

Suddenly, her husband walked up behind her.

“Did someone say camping?” he asked.

She turned around.

“Yes, dear, Jonny's parents have invited us to go with them tonight,” she said.

“Well, you can tell them we'd love to,” he said to Jonny.

His wife looked horrified.

“Dear, don't you think that's a little...” she said, desperately trying but failing to come up with a suitable adjective.

She waved her hand about to fill in the missing word.

“I think it's a wonderful idea,” he said. “My family would go camping all the time when I was a lad. It was great fun. I'm sure Chris'll enjoy it.”

“What will I enjoy?” Chris asked as he too walked up to the rest.

“Camping,” his father told him. “With Jonny and his parents.”

Chris looked from his father to Jonny.

“Cool,” he said, smiling.

But despite Chris's willingness, his mother would not agree so easily. “Honestly, camping?? Like, sleeping outside??”

“Well, we have a tent,” Jonny told her. “It's a pretty big tent. Pretty good shelter.”

She quickly spun around to look at Jonny.

Jonny looked even more awkward than he sounded as he stared at her.

Chris couldn't help smiling to himself at the interaction.

His mother sighed deeply.

“Since these two seem to be set on it,” she said, gesturing to her husband and son, “then I suppose we will join you.”

“Great,” Jonny beamed.

Then suddenly Chris was beside him.

Chris had actually scrambled his way in between his parents to get outside.

But he had done it very quickly and hardly anyone noticed.

“I'd imagine we'll be leaving around four or so,” Jonny said, continuing to address Chris's parents. “At least, I think I heard my dad say four...”

“Well, we can go ask them now,” Chris brightly suggested.

“Good idea,” Jonny said.

Both boys turned around and bustled down the steps.

“I think this is going to be awesome,” Chris said as they walked across his yard. “I've never been camping before.”

“I like it,” Jonny quietly replied. “I mean, we've only ever gone two or three times before."

“And this time will be extra special, right?” Chris asked. “Because I'll be there with you.”

Jonny looked at Chris and nodded his head.

“Yeah, it'll be special,” he said.

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

 

 

The moon was high in the sky.

But the campfire was still going strong.

The adults were all sitting side by side, chatting.

They were talking about boring rich people things.

Chris and Jonny had sat opposite them.

But time had passed quickly and it was soon very late.

The boys had grown tired.

Chris had closed his eyes, and then Jonny had closed his eyes.

Now they were both asleep in their chairs.

Chris's head was on Jonny's shoulder.

Jonny rested his head on top of Chris's.

They had been sitting like that for a while.

But they both looked very comfortable and peaceful, so no one bothered them.

“Oh yeah, we got our yacht from this guy who...” Chris's father was saying to Jonny's father.

Jonny's father was listening intently and nodding his head every so often.

Jonny's mother looked over at the boys.

Then she turned slightly to face Chris's mother.

“Look at them,” she said. “How cute.”

Chris's mother glanced over.

“Chris still sleeps the same way he did when he was a baby,” she nostalgically said. “They really do grow up so fast, huh?”

“They do,” Jonny's mother absentmindedly agreed.

She turned to Chris's mother.

“May I ask you something?” she asked.

“Sure,” Chris's mother replied.

Jonny's mother looked back at the boys once more.

“Do you think there's something going on between them?” she asked.

Chris's mother looked just as horrified as she had when Jonny had invited them camping.

“Excuse me?” she said, laughing incredulously. “Chris is not like that.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to offend you,” Jonny's mother said. “I just... sensed that there was something there. I could be wrong.”

“Yes, you certainly are,” Chris's mother snapped.

She huffed a bit as she stared at her sleeping son.

“I think maybe it's time we woke them up and sent them to sleep in the tent,” she grumbled.

“Yes, I think so,” Jonny's mother quietly agreed.

The two women left their chatting husbands and walked around the fire.

Chris's mother gently pushed Chris's arm.

Jonny's mother bent over and said in a loud whisper, “Jonny.”

It took a few minutes to wake the boys this way.

But they both woke and sat up at the same time.

“Oh man, I'm beat,” Jonny groggily said.

“What time is it?” Chris asked.

“It's way past midnight,” Jonny's mother replied. “Maybe even after one.”

Jonny instantly turned to Chris.

“Want to go sleep in the tent?” he asked.

Chris, struggling to keep his eyes open, nodded his head.

They both stood, and Jonny led the way to the tent.

“Well, that was easy,” Chris's mother said.

She began to walk back to her husband.

Jonny's mother stayed for a while and watched the boys walk away.

She knew that she had been right.

 

 

2

 

 

 

"He's a mate of yours, isn't he?" Simpson asked, downing a can of lager.

 

"Who?" Chris replied, looking shifty and uncomfortable where he sat- between two very muscular, strange, ugly looking men who could well have been twins. In fact Simpson and these two could well be triplets.

 

"Uhh...Champ" Simpson answered, not looking happy.

 

"Well" Chris said, put into an even more uncomfortable position. "I wouldn't say we were mates"

 

"Fuck off" Simpson exclaimed.

 

"Look...I'm off" Chris replied, smiling. As he got up and turned to walk away, Simpson grabbed him by the arm and threw him back on the sofa.

 

"You're not going anywhere" Simpson demanded, in an angry tone. His tone of voice and attitude soon changed though. "As I said...you'll miss out on the fun! They will be here any second"

 

"Well...can I at least use the toilet...I feel like my bladder is going to fucking explode" Chris said. He didn't like swearing but in situations like these with the people he is associated with- he feels he has to. It comes with the territory.

 

"You know where it is?" Simpson asked, his eyebrows raised as well as his voice which seemed to have jumped up a few octaves higher.

 

"Yeah" Chris said.

 

"Well you'll need this" Simpson said, throwing a key at Chris. He caught it.

 

"Why do I need a key?" Chris asked.

 

"In case the cops come, I can lock it, y'see, it's got some stuff in there I wouldn't want the police to see, you get me?" Simpson said, grinning and showing several of his gold capped teeth.

 

"Yeah. Cheers" Chris said, opening a door and walking through it. Simpson watched him as he did so.

 

Chris made his way to the toilet and promptly unlocked the door and walked in. As soon as he closed the toilet door he got out his mobile phone and started to make a phone call.

 

"Champ" he said. "Run"

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

 

 

Chris was tired, but he couldn't fall asleep.

He felt very, very confused.

For the better part of ten years, he had hated Jonny.

Or so he thought.

He had also thought that it wasn't totally weird for him to think about Jonny after the summers had ended.

But now they were together and he was still thinking about Jonny.

Thinking about how close their bodies were.

Their sleeping bags were less than half of a foot apart.

Jonny was turned on his side facing Chris.

His eyes were closed tightly and his chest rose and fell steadily.

And Chris laid there, staring.

He stared at Jonny's hands, laying underneath his cheek.

Chris felt a longing he had never felt before.

A desire to reach out and grab Jonny's hands and just hold them in his own.

He wondered what it would be like if he could feel Jonny's breath on his neck.

If he could feel Jonny's bare skin under his fingertips.

If their lips brushed, even for a moment.

He suddenly found it very difficult to breathe.

He wasn't sure what to do with himself.

So he just kept staring and imagining.

“Chris,” Jonny mumbled.

Chris's eyes flew open and he jumped a little.

Jonny didn't even look like he was awake.

“Maybe he's just dreaming,” he thought. “And saying my name...”

But Jonny wasn't dreaming.

“You can't sleep either, can you?” he quietly asked.

On closer inspection, Chris realized that Jonny's eyes were indeed opened, if only a little bit.

“No,” Chris said, as inconspicuously as possible.

He could see Jonny's eyes shine through the darkness.

He looked very uncertain.

“Do you keep thinking about it?” Jonny whispered.

“About what?” Chris asked.

Jonny sat up, and Chris followed.

Jonny chewed his lip for a bit, then turned to Chris.

He opened his mouth to say something.

But no words came out.

Chris watched Jonny for a long time.

Before either of them knew it, they were only a few inches a part.

And Chris found himself slowly leaning forward.

Until their mouths met.

It was like they had both swallowed bombs set to go off in their stomachs at the same time.

Chris brought his hand up to Jonny's face.

He cupped Jonny's jaw in his hand.

Jonny let his own hand rest on Chris's leg.

“About that,” Jonny breathed.

Chris stared into Jonny's eyes.

He wasn't sure whether or not Jonny expected him to say anything.

And he didn't care.

He just leaned forward and kissed Jonny again.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

 

“Do you think our parents will be in any time soon?” Jonny quickly asked as he finally managed to momentarily pull his lips away from Chris's.

It had been a nearly impossible task.

“I suppose,” Chris said in between kisses.

“Yeah, it's probably... really late now,” Jonny said.

“Mm-hmm,” Chris replied.

Neither of them intended on stopping.

And it was too hard to focus on much.

So they just focused on each other and blocked out everything else.

For a while it worked really well.

Until there was a sudden and bone-shattering scream from the opening of the tent.

Chris and Jonny did not scramble away from each other like some others might have.

But they both just sat, frozen, with only an inch of space between them.

“Christopher Anthony John Martin!” Chris's mother's shrill voice yelled. “I can not believe that you... you...”

For some reason he couldn't explain, Chris quickly became very angry.

Angrier than he had ever been before.

“That I what?” he snapped, turning to look at her, but still keeping his hands on Jonny.

“That you would do something like this,” his mother replied.

“Hate to say I told you so,” Jonny's mother quietly interjected.

Her comment was immediately ignored.

“Christopher, you get over here right now,” Chris's mother demanded. “We're leaving.”

“No,” Chris firmly said.

“Excuse me?” his mother replied.

Chris slowly stood up and walked over to his mother.

“No,” he repeated with the same amount of vigor.

“Well, last I checked, I was your mother, and what I tell you to do is what you must do,” she said with a strong emphasis.

“Well, last I checked, you always let me have what I want,” Chris said.

He folded his arms defiantly across his chest.

“And I want Jonny,” he added.

“How could you even say something like that?” his mother asked through clenched teeth.

“Mum, you see, it's all very scientific and there's something involving wires from the brain and vibrating vocal chords and all that,” he replied. “I'm not an expert, I can't exactly explain it.”

It was easy to tell just by the air around them that Chris's mother was way past fuming.

“We are going home,” she angrily repeated. “Now.”

Chris dropped his arms to his side.

His temper was as far gone as his mother's.

“Since when the hell do you care about what I do?” he yelled.

“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked.

“All my life, it's always been, 'Oh, Chris, go run along and play,' while you and dad attend to more important matters,” he loudly explained. “Now that I've finally found someone to play with, you've suddenly decided to butt in and take that away from me.”

“Play with?” Chris's mother replied in a deep, horrified tone.

Chris just took a deep breath.

And shook his head.

“Fuck you,” he said.

And he did just what his mother asked him to.

He left.

 

 

THE BOYS OF SUMMER

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

 

The two fathers were still engaged in conversation when Chris stormed up.

They kept talking even as Chris sat down by the fire.

Though Chris's father looked over at him.

“Chris,” he called. “What's up?”

Chris looked up at his father.

But he didn't say anything.

He just turned back to watch the fire.

A minute later Jonny appeared.

He carefully sat beside Chris.

And Chris instantly leaned into him.

Jonny wrapped his arms around Chris's back.

Chris's father looked very confused.

Before he could ask again, his wife walked into the scene.

She stopped in front of her husband and threw her hands on her hips.

“We need to talk,” she sternly said to him.

“All right,” he agreed, despite his lack of knowledge on the situation.

The two went off to speak in private.

A lot seemed to have changed in the past minute or so.

Jonny's father was the only one who had remained still.

He was also confused, but he figured he would know what was going on soon enough.

His wife calmly sat down beside him.

“They're cute together, don't you think?” she asked, nodding to Jonny and Chris.

He looked back and forth between the two boys and his wife.

“Them?” he asked.

She nodded her head.

He looked over at the boys again.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, shrugging.

His wife smiled at him and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For not freaking out,” she replied.

“Well, it's Jonny's life,” he said. “As long as he's happy.”

She smiled even wider and kissed her husband on the cheek.

Meanwhile, Chris's parents were arguing in the distance.

Chris's mother was insisting that they leave.

Chris's father just wanted to know what has happening.

But she refused to tell him.

“Why don't you just ask Christopher?” she said. “I'm sure he'd be glad to tell you.”

“Fine,” he said.

Without another word, he turned around and went back to the campfire.

He returned not long after, Chris trailing behind him.

“Good,” Chris's mother said, “now that you've got him, let's go.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Chris firmly said.

“Oh, will you stop being so childish?” she snapped.

“I am not being childish,” he said, though his tone actually suggested otherwise. “Will you actually listen to me for once? Listen to what I have to say?”

She looked to her husband.

He was staring blankly at her, though something behind his eyes seemed to tell her she should hear her son out.

Then she turned to her son.

“What is it you have to say?” she snarled.