||The OFFICIAL Coldplay FanFic Thread 2||CUZ WE IZ COOL

[coldplayisawesome]

"Double Date" by J-M-P-16

Prologue

Chapter 1

[coldplayisawesome]

"Double Date" by J-M-P-16

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[*MX*ColdplayObsess3d]

 

And now...

 

 

 

 

It began like any other normal concert. The band came onstage, played a song, Chris did his usual 'It's great to be here, etc..." and bantered back and forth with the crowd. They played 3 more songs, then Chris spoke again.

 

"Now, this next song here none of you have ever heard before. Not ever. This song is another classic Coldplay love song, but it's just a little different. I know that some of you will absolutely love this song," he said, looking at a small group in the front center, "and some of you will probably hate it. Oh well, 'cus we're gonna play it anyway."

 

Two of the spotlights went out, the ones that illuminated Will and Guy. Chris stood up from the piano, taking with him a blue acoustic guitar and a microphone. He motioned for Jonny to sit next to him, and said, "This is Jonny and I's love song."

 

Before anyone in the crowd could even start to blink, let alone ask the person next to them if they had heard Chris correctly, they began the song.

 

The song that followed Chris's statement was the best Coldplay song ever heard. It was also the biggest love statement the world had ever seen. Of course, it was stating that Chris and Jonny were in love with each other and that they didn't give a shit what the world thought of that, too bad for those that disagreed.

 

Some people in the crowd made disgusted faces and left. Others were unsure, but stayed. Fortunately, they were the minority. Cries of "Told you so!!!" and "I knew it!" filled the arena. The aforementioned group sitting at front center stood up, and one of them, named Brooke, started to chant, "BUCKIN' LOVE! BUCKIN' LOVE!" until the whole place was chanting and standing. When the song was over, those who didn't already have their phones on video to tape the song whipped them out, and almost everyone in the front got some amazing snapshots of Jonny and Chris kissing.

 

After a moment, they stood up, the lights went back to normal, and the concert continued without interruption. That meant that there were multple times where Chris went over to Jonny and hugged him and looked over his shoulder, etc.

 

The Buckin' fans that were on the computer at home watching the live feed were dancing around in circles. In one hour, the 'Chris and Jonny' thread on Coldplaying almost doubled its page count due to all the excited comments and amazing new pictures and videos.

 

The next day, for those that hadn't watched the live feed, they posted the announcement on the Coldplay homepage, Twitter, Facebook, Last FM, MySpace, and Tumblr.

 

Of course, the press was immediately on them, wanting interviews and photos of them together. They got none of that because Jonny and Chris, expecting such a reaction, refused all interviews.

 

Playing their song at every concert became traditon after the third concert of the tour, where they almost didn't play it until the crowd became so ugly at them they had to play it, or lose the audience.

 

After 3 months of touring North America, Coldplay retreated back to the Bakery. The two that were there most often though, were Will and Guy, because Chris and Jonny were too busy working on something else over at Chris's flat :sneaky:.

 

All in all, everyone lived happily ever after to the end of their days. And remember those that had given up on Coldplay because of this happy occaision? Well, they all went deaf within 24 hours of that incident. Nobody knows why. :whistle:

 

[coldplayisawesome]

 

Part One

 

 

He thought it odd that such a proper woman would conduct an interview in the kitchen of her home, rather than the sitting room – or even the dining room, for that matter. The kitchen was elegant, of course, but he concluded that therefore the rest of the house could only be nicer. Why interview him in the kitchen? It wasn't as though she would offer refreshments.

 

Her long, fake nails, painted crimson, scratched against the crisp surface of his résumé, which only took up about half a sheet of paper. “How old are you, boy?”

 

“Nineteen, ma'am.”

 

She didn't look up, yet he could feel her eyes on him, boring into his soul. “Oh, a rather young one. No university for you?”

 

“Can't afford it, ma'am.”

 

“Ah, but surely with your good grades, you could get in on a scholarship.”

 

He laughed. “Actually, my marks were, let's say, less-than-average.”

 

“And why is that?”

 

“Oh, I'm not stupid. I just didn't try.”

 

“That sounds pretty stupid to me.”

 

“All right,” he quietly replied.

 

When she did finally look up at him, he was far less frightened than he thought he would be. She was only a human, after all. In fact, she had that same maternal softness to her eyes that his own mother had. It calmed him. It gave him back his confidence.

 

“Why should I hire you?”

 

“Ma'am, I'm the oldest of five, and my parents are both very hard-working people. Not only have I inherited their work ethic, I've also babysat a lot.”

 

“You've watched your own brothers and sisters. How about anyone else's children?”

 

“Well, no, but – well, children are children, right?”

 

“Right,” she said with obvious sarcasm, “children are children.”

 

“So, do I have the job?”

 

She was silent for a long time. “You know, I have a nineteen-year-old boy as well.”

 

“Why not have him do the work, then?” he asked in jest. She did not laugh.

 

“He is furthering his education.”

 

“Oh. That's good. You should be proud.”

 

She returned to him the résumé. At first he thought it was a bad sign. Unfortunately, this woman never seemed to show any emotion, so he couldn't really tell. “You start tomorrow. I want you here at six a.m., no later.”

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

"Double Date" by J-M-P-16

Chapter Five

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Two

 

 

Five minutes after the mother – who had demanded that he refer to her only as Mrs. B. – had left, he realized he was in way over his head. And the children weren't even awake yet.

 

Mrs. B. had left him a rather long and intricate list of things which needed to be done around the house. There were the basics, like feed the children and make sure neither of them dies, but there were also a few extraordinary tasks, such as:

 

Ensure Claudia practices piano between one and three o'clock. She must practice for ten minutes, rest for three, and repeat.

While Claudia practices, Dylan must fold the laundry in the green basket to the left of the washing machine. He is to fold in this order: shirts, then pants, socks, undergarments.

 

He didn't feel overwhelmed, though. He thought that while these demands were odd, they should be easy enough to accomplish.

 

He was wrong.

 

Claudia woke up first, came downstairs, and screamed when she saw him – him, a strange man she never knew, lounging in their sitting room and plotting to kidnap her or kill her or something, and loot all their valuables and sell them for drug money. At least, that was what she hollered at him as he stood in a panic, waving his hands to quiet her so he could explain. She did not stop yelling for a good ten minutes.

 

But he had no time to explain when she did stop, for the noise had woken Dylan. Dylan, in all of his bravery, had grabbed the toy sword that sat on top of his toy chest in the corner of his room and had gallantly come down the stairs to save his younger sister. Dylan was only eight years old, only four feet tall, yet he did not seem threatened by the six-foot-two man in the sitting room. He ran right up to the stranger and whacked him in the knees with the sword, causing the man to fall to the ground.

 

“Who be thee, monstrous intruder?” Dylan had the sword pointed at the man's neck now.

 

“I'm your nanny, I'm here to watch you guys. Jesus Christ!”

 

“What?” giggled Claudia. With brave Dylan by her side, her fears seemed to have disappeared. “A nanny? But you're a boy!”

 

“Boys can be nannies, too,” the man said. “Now, will you stop shoving that thing at my throat so I can get up?”

 

“Why should we believe you?” Dylan asked.

 

“Your mother hired me yesterday. Look, she even wrote me a list of things for you guys to do.”

 

He pointed at the chair he had been sitting in. On the seat was the list. Claudia bounced over and grabbed the paper. She held it up to her face.

 

“Chuh-er-is, th-ease-e ah-r-e s-oh-me th-in-guhs th-ah-tuh–”

 

“Give me that, you can't read!” Dylan shouted. He leaped to his sister, allowing Chuh-er-is to stand and rub his sore knees. “Kuh,” Dylan corrected, shooting a smug look at Claudia, “ris, these are suh-um thuh-ings that nee – need to bee...”

 

While Dylan continued to butcher the words (though to a lesser extent than Claudia had), Kuhris seized the opportunity to sneak up behind Dylan and slide the toy sword out of his hands. Claudia shrieked when she saw.

 

“Dylan, he's got your sword!! We're going to die!!”

 

“No one's going to die,” Kuhris reassured her. “Will you please settle down?”

 

“How do you know that no one's going to die?” Claudia asked. He couldn't tell if she was serious or if she was trying to mock him. “Are you psychic?”

 

“I'm not psychic, but one of the things your mother told me was to make sure that neither of you die. And I fully intend to do my job and do it well. So, no one's going to die.”

 

“What if you die?” Dylan asked. He consulted the list still in his hands. “This doesn't say anything about you not dying.”

 

“I'm not going to die, either,” Kuhris answered, though he wasn't entirely convinced.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Three

 

 

At lunch, Claudia refused to finish her food, and Dylan threw half of his onto the floor.

 

“I hate macaroni and cheese!” Claudia screeched. “I hate it!”

 

Chris thought of all the things he hated as well (platform shoes, contemporary jazz, the way his neighbor always added extra letters to the word 'hello') and how Claudia was very rapidly making her way to the top of that list. But he kept it to himself and shoved the plate closer to Claudia.

 

“I don’t care if you hate it, I don’t care if your grandmother choked to death on a piece of macaroni when you were three, you’re going to eat this,” he told her. Claudia looked up at him with teary eyes, her lips trembling slightly.

 

“Why would you say that about Grammy?”

 

“Oh, geez, Claudia, I just want you to finish eating. Look at your brother, he—”

 

Chris had intended to point to Dylan – who, until that moment, had been satisfactorily eating his lunch – and turn his currently good behavior into an example for Claudia He had been relying heavily on Claudia’s admiration for her older brother; unfortunately, Dylan had other plans, plans which involved knocking his own plate (still half-full with macaroni) off of the table.

 

After the clinking sound of plate-on-floor ceased, Dylan smirked at Chris. Chris sighed and threw a hand over his eyes. A few moments later, he leaned over to observe Dylan’s fallen macaroni, and then calmly sat up straight.

 

“All right, Dylan, looks like you’ll be eating the rest of your lunch on the floor.”

 

“What?” Dylan protested. “No way, you can’t make me eat that! It’s all gross, I’ll die from it!”

 

“The floor isn’t that dirty. And anyway, you should have thought about that before you threw it.”

 

“You’re mean,” Dylan said, folding his arms over his chest. He made a point of not moving down from the seat to where his lunch now rested. Chris stared at him, hoping that his expression was intimidating enough.

 

It wasn’t.

 

“Fine,” Chris eventually said, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. Neither of you have to finish eating.” Claudia and Dylan were preparing their shouts of glee, Chris could tell. “But you both have to sit in the coat closet until one o’clock. And then, Claudia, you have to practice piano, and Dylan has to fold clothes.”

 

“No!” they both shouted.

 

“That’s so boring,” Dylan whined.

 

“The closet is too dark and scary!”

 

“It’s either that or finish eating,” Chris said. The two children looked at him indecisively, then at each other. They seemed to be conversing telepathically.

 

After a moment, Claudia turned back to Chris. “Actually, it's not that dark, and Dylan will protect me from all the closet monsters. Right, Dylan?”

 

“I guess.”

 

Chris stared at the children with disbelief. They had to be joking, surely. What kind of child in their right mind would rather spend half an hour or better stuck inside of a closet than eat a tiny bit of macaroni? “Seriously?”

 

Then again, Chris could hardly say that either of the children was in their right mind. Honestly, he had been relieved when he got the job, but now he was beginning to see a potential reason why; Mrs. B. must have just been desperate to find someone else to watch her children, so desperate she would settle for hiring a nineteen-year-old boy with hardly any experience. He started to think that maybe he should have just taken that job at the convenience store.

 

“I hate macaroni,” Claudia said.

 

 

 

Part Four

 

 

Chris felt like he was going to pass out. Not only had the children been extremely difficult – Dylan refused to fold the clothes in the correct order, and Claudia wouldn't stop banging on the piano – but he had now been at the house for fifteen hours straight.

 

Luckily, it was the children's bedtime. Chris thought it would have been harder to get them both to sleep, but he wasn't the only one who was tired. Claudia fell asleep almost as soon as she lay down. Dylan appeared to be wide awake still, though Chris decided that as long as his sister was asleep, Dylan didn't seem to pose much of a threat.

 

He sat down on the couch in the living room and took a deep breath. If he was expected to do this kind of work every day... well, Mrs. B. might just have to find another nanny. Chris felt a wave of guilt at the thought of quitting after only one day, but surely Mrs. B. must have known just how awful her children really were. Or maybe they had inherited their personalities from their mother.

 

Chris closed his eyes, though he remained awake. An indeterminable amount of time later, he thought he heard the sound of the doorknob turning. His heart sped up with rejoice as he wondered if Mrs. B. had finally returned home and would relieve him of his duty.

 

The figure that burst through the door moments later was certainly no Mrs. B., though. In fact, it wasn't a Mrs. at all; the man who Chris saw in the doorway looked very young, possibly even the same age as Chris.

 

“Who are you?” Chris could hear the panic in his own voice. He knew that the question sounded awkward, but he hadn't thought about it beforehand. He was just worried now at the sight of this unknown man walking into the home he was supposed to be watching over.

 

The man looked up at him, and Chris thought he saw an equally startled look across his face. “Well, I could ask you the same thing. I live here. Who the hell are you?”

 

“You live here?”

 

“Yes, idiot, I just said that. Who the hell are you?”

 

Chris's eyes widened and he suddenly felt livid. Did this man just seriously call him an idiot? He had absolutely no right to sling such insults, considering he didn't even know Chris.

 

“Mrs. B. hired me to watch her children—”

 

“Oh, so you're one of them, then,” the man said, dismissively. While the man seemed to have gotten his answer, though, Chris felt cheated. The man made to walk into the other room, but Chris stopped him.

 

“And who are you, then?” he asked, his tone snippier than he would have liked. The man stopped and dramatically turned around, an action which, oddly, reminded Chris of Claudia.

 

“Listen, when she hired you to watch her children, she meant them,” he said, pointing to the area of the ceiling where the children's bedroom was located. “I don't need you to watch over me, too.”

 

Chris felt very confused – until he remembered something that Mrs. B. had said to him the day before:

 

You know, I have a nineteen-year-old boy as well.

 

“You're the college boy.”

 

This statement seemed to spark an unexpected anger in the other man. “I attend university, yes. That doesn't make me a college boy.” He spat the words, as if Chris had referred to him with some unforgivable slur.

 

“I'm sorry,” Chris said, sincerely, “I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that your mother told me you were in college. I'm sorry.”

 

The man's anger washed away at Chris's apology. “It's OK.”

 

“I'm Chris, by the way.”

 

“Jonny.” He looked around the room, briefly, and Chris thought his cheeks were flushed. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his earlier outburst. “Do you want something to drink?”

 

“Um...”

 

“I mean, like water or soda or something. I may be in college, but I'm not much of a partyer or anything.”

 

“No, yeah,” Chris said, nodding. “I'm fine, thanks.”

 

He found himself once more surprised as Jonny made his way over to the couch and sat down beside him. He thought Jonny would have just gone on to the kitchen to get a drink without him, but apparently he was wrong.

 

“So, this is your first day with the brats?”

 

“First day, yeah.”

 

“And last?”

 

Chris looked at Jonny. As his tone had suggested, Jonny seemed to be pleading with Chris through his eyes, begging Chris to answer in the negative. The expression made him feel slightly uncomfortable, though, strangely, not in an entirely undesirable way.

 

“I really need the money,” Chris said. Jonny smiled at this.

 

“Most of the people my mum hires only stay for about a week, then they leave, screaming and ripping their hair out.”

 

“Well, your brother and sister are certainly a handful,” Chris laughed. “How is it that you've managed to keep your locks in tact?”

 

“I don't have to watch them,” Jonny told him. “I don't really have to have anything to do with them. And I'm nineteen. By the time Claudia could talk, I was practically an adult.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“But you should see my dad. I swear, the man's got a bald spot the size of London.” Chris laughed as Jonny motioned to the top of his head.

 

Despite Jonny's earlier similarity to his sister and the bit of attitude he had given Chris, Jonny was really nothing like either of his siblings. First of all, he was actually tolerable. Excluding the complaints about his siblings, Jonny didn't even whine once during the whole conversation. He was easy to get along with, at least from Chris's point of view. Chris found himself becoming more and more relaxed as the night went on.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Five

 

 

Chris and Jonny had been talking for what felt like hours – and what technically was hours; two whole hours, in fact – when the sound of the doorknob turning came once again. This time, Mrs. B. really was the one at the door. She smiled when she saw her eldest son before her.

 

“Hello, Jonny!”

 

“Hey, mum,” Jonny answered.

 

“I see you met the new help,” she said as she made her way across the room. Chris noticed the harsh look Jonny gave her afterward, which he thought was peculiar. “How were they for you?”

 

Chris just barely realized that she was speaking to him now (and he figured that she had not properly addressed him, because she couldn't remember his name). He tore his gaze away from Jonny and stumbled over the decision of whether or not to tell her the truth.

 

“Could have been better,” he said with a shrug. “And... well, I guess they also could have been worse.”

 

“Doubt it,” Jonny muttered. Mrs. B. appeared not to have heard it, but the remark was only just audible to Chris, who then stifled a laugh.

 

“Good, good. I'm just going to freshen up in the ladies' room. I'll leave you two to your chat.”

 

Chris watched as Mrs. B. exited the room, and then he turned to Jonny again. Jonny had his embarrassed look on.

 

“So, what were you saying before? Something about a band...”

 

Jonny's expression turned to a pensive one. Then he seemed to remember where he had left off. “Oh! One of my friends says he wants to start a band, but... I don't really see it happening. I think it's just another one of his harebrained schemes.”

 

“Aw, what a shame. You should join him. You two could rise to fame and take on the world.”

 

Jonny gave a look which indicated how unlikely he thought that to happen, and Chris smiled. He felt like he had hardly stopped smiling during the past two hours, though. He wondered how his cheeks weren't sore.

 

Then Jonny's voice took on a rather serious tone. First, his face went blank and he leaned forward a little. “Listen, Chris...”

 

“I'm all ears,” Chris told him. He waited for several seconds before Jonny finally continued.

 

“Never mind. It's... it's too soon.”

 

“No, come on. You can tell me.”

 

Jonny let out a sigh. “I can't tell you, otherwise I may as well just do it.”

 

“Then do it.”

 

He shot Chris a skeptical look. “You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?” Chris shook his head, the most innocent expression on his face. He wasn't sure why Jonny was suddenly so somber, but he was certain that whatever he had to say couldn't have been so bad.

 

After a while, though, Chris realized he wasn't going to get Jonny to speak. He became suddenly all too aware of his tiredness. “Well, I guess I should get going home, then.”

 

Jonny didn't reply. Chris walked out of the room and towards the coat closet. He wasn't sure where Mrs. B. was exactly, but he didn't feel like looking for her to bid farewell. She could probably figure out for herself that he had left.

 

When Chris walked back through the living room, Jonny was exactly where he had left him, sitting on the couch. It wasn't until Chris was already out of the house that he became aware of any movement at all from Jonny.

 

“Chris, wait.”

 

Chris pulled his foot back from the top step and turned around to see Jonny on the other side of the porch, in front of the door. He didn't know if he should walk back to Jonny or just stay where he was. Jonny, on the other hand, took several steps forward, until he and Chris were within a foot of each other. He seemed nervous.

 

“Same time tomorrow?”

 

Chris smiled at him and nodded. “Yeah.”

 

There were a few moments of silence – comfortable silence, not awkward, though Chris could tell that Jonny was still anxious. Jonny's foot tapped on the ground a few times, as if he were willing himself to move forward. Why he would want to move forward, Chris couldn't guess, since there was almost no room between them even now—

 

In what felt like the blink of an eye, Jonny finally pushed himself forward, his lips crashing into Chris's cheek, and quickly he pulled back again, and Chris could see the fear flash through Jonny's eyes, and the somber nervousness suddenly made sense.

 

And then Jonny was gone, disappeared through the door before Chris could even really register what had just happened...

 

What had just happened?

 

 

 

Part Six

 

 

Chris tried very hard the next day to forget about the incident on the porch. He wasn't trying to act as if it hadn't happened, though; he still did not fully understand what Jonny did, and he really did not need any stress additional to that associated with caring for Claudia and Dylan. He simply wanted to focus on watching the children and wait until Jonny returned that night to dwell.

 

The children had new chores this day. Now, Dylan was to practice piano and Claudia was to dust the living room. Like the day before, neither cooperated. Dylan ran his hands up and down the keys constantly, refusing to actually play any of the sheet music in front of him. Claudia simply skipped around the room with the duster in her hand, pretending to be a fairy. When Chris asked her to stop, she tried to dust his face instead.

 

“Claudia, knock it off!” Chris shouted through the duster, before he could think of his own diction.

 

“Knock what off? Knock this vase off?”

 

Claudia moved across the room, and Chris could finally see again. But now he panicked – he had never gotten the hang of wording commands correctly around children, and now his lack of talent was going to cause him big trouble.

 

Luckily, Chris managed to grab Claudia's wrist before she could even touch the vase sitting on a table in the corner of the room.

 

“That's it, you're going in the closet.”

 

“What! No!”

 

Immediately, Claudia calmed. Her arms fell to her sides and she looked solemnly at Chris.

 

“Well, if you can't behave yourself, then you're going to be punished.”

 

“What about Dylan?” Claudia asked with a bit of hope. “He's not behaving, either! He should have to go in the closet, too.”

 

“Dylan hasn't tried to break anything,” Chris answered. “Yet.”

 

“But it's really scary in there.”

 

“Good.”

 

Claudia looked as if she were about to cry, her eyes shining and her lips trembling. She seemed genuinely afraid, not simply trying to manipulate Chris, but it had no effect wither way. Chris had to stick to his threat or else she'd never learn.

 

He grabbed her wrist again and led her to the closet. He realized that some people may have frowned upon forcing a six-year-old to sit in a dark closet as a punishment, but he merely thought of it as a time-out. There was just no other room in the house in which the children would not have access to items they could play with – or break.

 

He did feel guilty when he closed the closet door and heard Claudia whimper, but he knew it was for the best.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Seven

 

 

After the children went to bed, Chris sat on the couch as he had the night before. He stared at the front door, waiting for it to open and reveal Jonny. As the minutes passed, the burning sensation in his stomach intensified and his chest seemed to tighten with every breath.

 

But Jonny never showed up. Chris waited for two hours, and when the door did finally open, he was disappointed to see that Mrs. B. was the one entering the house. She came in and greeted Chris, inquired about how the children had behaved that day. Chris told her about Claudia's disobedience, but Mrs. B. hardly seemed to honestly care.

 

He did think it curious that she also didn't care about Jonny's whereabouts; perhaps she already knew where he was, or perhaps he stayed out late quite often. He was an adult, after all.

 

Ten minutes later, once Mrs. B. terminated their conversation about her children, Chris grabbed his coat from the dark closet and prepared to leave. Maybe he would have the chance to speak to Jonny tomorrow instead. At least now he knew that no matter what Jonny's intentions had been, he clearly regretted his actions. Chris wasn't so sure that was a good thing, though.

 

An owl hooted in the distance as he closed the door to the house behind him. He slowly turned, and that's when he noticed the man sitting on the porch swing to his left. The man was mostly just a silhouette, but Chris knew exactly who he was. He looked like he was trying to blend into the darkness.

 

“Hello,” Chris said in a flat voice. Jonny didn't look at him.

 

“Oh... hey... It's a nice night out, huh?”

 

Despite his tiredness, Chris walked around to the empty space on the swing beside Jonny and sat down. He let out a deep sigh and stared with Jonny into the dark lawn before them. Jonny was fidgeting, though it seemed like he was trying his best not to.

 

“Why did you kiss me?”

 

Jonny groaned, and his head fell into his hands. Chris turned to him. He thought of what he could say next, but he wanted to give Jonny plenty of time to speak first. Jonny didn't seem to have any intention of speaking, though. Maybe he was waiting for Chris's reaction, the reaction which he had missed the night before.

 

“Jonny?”

 

“I always do this, you know,” Jonny mumbled through his hands. “I always do things without thinking about them first – well, I think about them, but not about what comes after, and then I just... well, what does come after is just...” He made another groaning noise, though this time it more closely resembled a whine.

 

“So... you didn't mean it or...?”

 

“No, I did mean it, that's the problem!” Jonny finally lifted his head and met Chris's eyes, continuing in his distressed tone, “Listen, Chris, I had a really great time talking with you last night and you're hilarious and all those other predictable compliments. But I'm a complete idiot. There was absolutely no reason for me to... to kiss you. Even if it was only on the cheek.”

 

Chris watched Jonny for a while, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I'm not sure I understand. You meant it?”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean I should have done it!”

 

“Well, you don't have to sound so upset about it,” Chris said with a sudden dejected quality to his voice. Though he now better understood why Jonny had kissed him, he still struggled to comprehend Jonny's reaction. Had Jonny changed his mind?

 

That was probably it. Jonny had felt attracted to Chris, but then once he actually kissed Chris, he realized that his expectations had not been met – or something along those lines. Chris frowned; he felt that was highly unfair. They hadn't even properly kissed. What was there for Jonny to judge?

 

“I'm sorry,” Jonny said. “I'm an idiot, I know.”

 

Then Chris simulated Jonny's earlier words by acting without thinking of the consequences; he quickly leaned forward and kissed Jonny on the lips. Jonny was clearly startled, but after a few seconds he started to kiss back.

 

Chris was apt to say that it was strange, but really it was only strange, because it didn't feel strange. He had never kissed another man, but it felt no different from kissing a woman. He thought he might have just stumbled upon an unexpected discovery regarding his sexuality – but there was plenty of time to worry about that later.

 

When they pulled apart, the confusion that Chris had felt earlier (and would probably soon begin to feel again) was clearly strewn across Jonny's visage.

 

“I certainly didn't expect that,” Jonny murmured.

 

“I just thought that if you were going to reject me, you might as well know what it actually feels like.” Chris wasn't sure if he had made much sense with that statement, but it seemed to spark something in Jonny's mind, judging by the way his eyes lit up.

 

“I wasn't rejecting you.”

 

“You weren't?”

 

Jonny rubbed one of his hands over his forehead. “I feel like neither of us is being very clear about anything in this situation.” After a moment, he let his hand fall down to his legs and took a deep breath. “Chris, I really enjoyed talking to you last night and I was sad that you were leaving, because I wanted to talk to you more and maybe do some other things, too, and that's why I kissed you, but I'm an idiot, because we barely know each other to begin with and I had and still have no idea how you feel about me, so I was just apologizing for not considering your feelings before, but not rejecting you.”

 

Chris stared at him for a few seconds, and then gasped a little. “Oh, is it my turn now? Right. Jonny, I really enjoyed talking to you last night as well, but then when you kissed me I felt really confused, because I didn't realize that you felt that way and I actually wasn't sure exactly which way you did feel and then you apologized and said there was no reason for you to do it and I just thought that it was because you thought it was awful or something, but it wasn't even proper, so I figured that I would show you what it was like to properly kiss me and then you could reject me based on that. I'm not sure how I feel about you, either. Before the kiss was one thing, but now...”

 

“Maybe for now, we should just talk. Get to know each other better.”

 

“Yeah,” Chris said, smiling a little. “I'd like that.”

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Eight

 

 

Chris stood in the doorway of Claudia and Dylan’s bedroom. Thinking back on the day, he was surprised to find that not once had he needed to punish either of the children. They had both been extremely well-behaved, never acting out or arguing with Chris, just doing exactly as he asked.

 

Now, the children lay in their beds, staring back at Chris. Once they were both settled, Chris flicked the light switch and said goodnight.

 

“Goodnight, Chris!” the children chirped back. Chris briefly wondered if this moment wasn’t simply part of a dream; then he left the room, smiling, headed downstairs to wait for Jonny.

 

Chris had been working for Mrs. B. for a month now. Jonny told him that was the longest anyone had ever stayed. Chris felt a rush of pride at hearing this information. Although Claudia and Dylan were a nightmare when he first arrived, the two had really grown on him, and he was pretty sure he’d grown on them as well.

 

And, of course, every day he looked forward to talking with Jonny. They hadn’t discussed their relationship since that second night, but Chris had a feeling that Jonny was still attracted to him, and to be honest, Chris was attracted to Jonny as well. He thoroughly enjoyed their nightly chats, but he felt now that he was ready for more. The only obstacle was tackling the nerve to tell Jonny this.

 

Jonny was already waiting for Chris on the couch when Chris finally arrived downstairs. He didn’t seem to hear Chris enter the room, though, so Chris smiled to himself and snuck up behind Jonny.

 

He waited for a few seconds, and then quickly reached around and covered Jonny’s eyes with his hands and said, “Guess who?”

 

“Oh my God!”

 

Clearly, Chris had been right in thinking Jonny hadn’t noticed he was there. Chris kept his hands over Jonny’s eyes and chuckled. “God? Jonny, I’m flattered, but no.”

 

“Well, you took away my eyesight, I could only assume you were some divine being,” Jonny said. “By the way, can I have that back now?”

 

“Hmm… maybe. What’s in it for me?”

 

“I do have my own hands, you know. I could easily remove yours.” Chris took note of the fact that while Jonny could, he didn’t. He smiled again and slowly pulled his hands away, and then leaned over Jonny’s shoulder to see his face.

 

“Better?” he asked. Jonny looked at him.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You're back kinda early tonight, huh?”

 

“Traffic,” Jonny replied.

 

“You mean there wasn't any?” Jonny nodded. “Are you sure you didn't just want to see me?”

 

“Well...”

 

Chris walked around the side of the couch and flopped down in the seat beside Jonny. “Your siblings were well-behaved today.”

 

“I don't think I've ever heard those words uttered before in my life – at least, not when directed at me,” Jonny said, smiling. “You must be some sort of miracle worker, Chris.”

 

“Yes, well, just because I'm not God doesn't mean I can't have some divine powers, right?”

 

Jonny rolled his eyes. “Oh, right, you just reek divinity, you know, from those huge sparkling eyes to those golden curls.” Jonny flicked a lock of Chris's hair. Sometimes Chris thought that moments like this were nice enough by themselves – did he and Jonny really need to declare anything to each other? Their feelings were obviously mutual.

 

“Well, what about you?” Chris asked. “You've got those green eyes... I never see anyone with green eyes around.”

 

“Green eyes are a sign of witchcraft,” Jonny said. “Clearly satanic.”

 

“So, I'm divine and you're satanic? That's quite a match.”

 

“It's like you're some sort of angel and I'm just a lowly wizard.”

 

“No, I don't think you're lowly.”

 

Chris felt a burning in his throat; it seemed as though he and Jonny were moving closer to each other with every second that passed. His heartbeat sped up and he thought this might be the perfect time to gather up his courage.

 

But at that precise moment, a noise came from the stairway. Chris and Jonny whipped their heads around to look; there were no visible bodies at the top of the stairs, but the two men could hear a noise which distinctly sounded like Claudia giggling.

 

Chris exchanged a glance with Jonny. He turned back to the staircase and loudly said, “Claudia.”

 

The giggling only grew louder. Chris was about to stand up when he noticed that Jonny was already making his way up the stairs. Chris decided to follow him anyway.

 

When they both reached the second floor of the house, though, Claudia was nowhere in sight. Jonny walked to the doorway of the children's bedroom.

 

“Claudia?” he whispered.

 

“Jonny?”

 

“Go to bed, Claudia.”

 

“Wait, Jonny!”

 

Chris stood a few feet away from the door frame. He heard several muffled noises which he thought might have sounded like feet on carpet; several seconds later, Claudia appeared in the doorway and threw her arms around Jonny's waist. Then, without saying another word, she disappeared once more into the darkness of the bedroom.

 

Jonny turned to Chris, looking as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't decide what to say. At the very least, he seemed surprised by Claudia's actions. Chris smiled at him as if to say that it was all right. Eventually, Jonny simply shrugged and nodded toward the stairs. The two men returned to the couch.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Nine

 

 

As usual, Chris and Jonny spoke for roughly two hours before Mrs. B. returned. Chris told her about how well the children had behaved, but she didn’t appear to be truly listening. He thought maybe there should be someone watching Mrs. B. and her parenting methods as well as her children, although she had managed to raise at least one respectable son.

 

Jonny rolled his eyes as his mother left the room, and Chris laughed. “If she came home one night and you told her that Dylan went on a shooting rampage at the park,” Jonny said, “I bet you she’d just nod and say, ‘All right.’”

 

“Probably.” Chris stood up, but hesitated to move further. “I’ll be right back.”

 

A minute later, he returned with his coat, pushing his arms through the sleeves. Jonny stood now, too, and he walked towards the front door, which he then held open for Chris.

 

Once Chris was on the porch, he turned and waited for Jonny, who closed the door and faced Chris. Jonny seemed to expect Chris to speak first, perhaps because he, like Chris, felt no desire to bid the other farewell. Chris didn’t even feel tired; after spending so many days working long hours, he had become accustomed to staying up late. All he wanted to do was talk to Jonny until the sun rose and he had to watch the children again.

 

Chris was unsure of how much time lapsed while they both just stood and stared at one another. It felt like no time at all, though he was vaguely aware of the minutes rapidly passing by. He had so much he wanted to say, but none of the time or bravery to say it. He had so much he wanted to hear Jonny say, but he figured that he and Jonny were probably stuck in the same boat. He suddenly became aware that he was tapping his foot, in very much the same way Jonny had done that first night they met…

 

Something sparked a fire inside his body, and he felt himself move forward without any consciousness of what he was doing. But once he felt his lips brush against Jonny’s, his mind went blank and he found the he simply didn’t care what he was doing anymore; this was the moment he’d been waiting for all night, if not for the past several weeks.

 

Jonny didn’t hesitate. As soon as Chris kissed him, he had his arms wrapped around Chris’s waist, pulling him closer. Chris slid his hands up to Jonny’s neck, fingertips brushing the ends of Jonny’s hair.

 

As they finally pulled apart, Chris whispered, breathless, “Same time tomorrow?”

 

 

[*MX*ColdplayObsess3d]

 

Chapter 1

 

Chris had the same general morning routine that every other high-schooler in England did.

 

Get up. get a shower, get dressed, put shoes on, eat breakfast, go to school. But Chris wasn't satisfied with that. There was something missing for him.

 

His problem was his shoes. They were normal, beat-up, plain, average, sneakers. Just like everyone else had.

 

But Chris always liked to be different. It got him beat up occasionally, but he didn't care. Chris was stronger than he looked.

 

He wanted Converse. He knew of nobody else with those amaxing shoes in his 10th grade. If he had Converse, he would be different, he would be unique, he would stand out in the crowd.

 

There was only one problem with him trying to get Converse; the shoe store that sold them was in London, many miles away, and he didn't have his driver's licsence yet.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"So Dad, your conference is on Saturday, right? Tomorrow?" Chris inquired. He already knew, but asked anyway.

 

"Yes, tomorrow."

 

"In London?"

 

"Yes."

 

Chris did a little dance in his head. Now all he had to do was get his dad to take him with him and all would be well.

 

Chris's dad saw the look on Chris's face as he plotted, for it was plain on his face that he was doing so. "Christopher, are you going to ask me if you can come with me? It would be easier if you just asked instead of standing there like a blockhead."

 

Chris grinned. His father knew him so well. "Yes, I was going to ask you such a question. I'd like to buy myself a pair of Converse and see the city." Well, he thought, I probably won't be able to see much of London because I'll be too busy with my first Converse, but oh well.

 

His father sighed. "Okay, you can come with me. I know you've been asking for Converse for a long time. But first, you must agree to a few things. One is that-"

 

"Okay!"

 

"-let me finish, Chris! Don't talk to strangers, don't get in any trouble, and buy your Converse with your own money. I'm not paying for them."

 

Chris ran over and hugged his dad. He had enough money for two pairs of Converse, and two pairs he might just buy. Tomorrow would be a glorious day.

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Ten

 

 

Claudia poked at the peanut butter sandwich on the plate in front of her. Despite her request of a crust-less sandwich, Chris had left the bread completely in tact. He stood on the other side of the counter, preparing another sandwich for Dylan. He paused, butter knife hanging in the air, and stared at Claudia.

 

“You're supposed to eat it,” he said. “Not poke it.”

 

“You were supposed to leave the crust off,” she retorted.

 

“Eating the crust won't kill you. It's good for you.”

 

A few off-key notes rang out from the piano in the other room. Chris glanced at the doorway.

 

“Dylan, stop messing around,” he shouted. Moments later, the small boy appeared in the doorway, hands behind his back.

 

“I wasn't doing anything,” he said with a slight smirk, which gave him away.

 

“Well, now you are. Come over here and eat.” Chris slapped a piece of bread on top of the one which he had already slathered peanut butter on. He was never much of a cook, really.

 

Dylan hopped up to the seat beside his sister. Unlike Claudia, Dylan was much more willing to eat the crust from the bread. He tore into the sandwich with a vicious jerk of his head that made Chris glad he hadn't put anything in the sandwich which could fly across the room. If he had made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he'd have quite a mess to clean up.

 

“Chris,” Claudia began, still looking at her sandwich with distaste, “I think my brother likes you.”

 

Chris paused. He had, until that moment, been returning the jar of peanut butter to its rightful place and was right in the middle of setting the butter knife in the sink. “What?”

 

He turned. Claudia poked at her sandwich. She shrugged, indifferent. “Jonny was home all weekend from school and all he talked about was you. He only does that with boys he likes.”

 

“Well, all right. That's kind of... that came out of nowhere.” Chris finished his previous task. He thought about washing the butter knife while he was right there, but then decided against it. They would have another snack in a few hours, anyway. He walked over to the counter.

 

“I was just thinking about how sad it would be if you were together and you made him a sandwich. He doesn't like crust either.”

 

“Well, I'll keep that in mind.”

 

With this, Claudia perked up in her seat. She narrowed her eyes and smirked at Chris. “Do you like him?”

 

“I-”

 

She squealed. Loudly. Chris almost flung his hands over his hears in response. “You do!” she cried, and then proceeded to sing. “CHRIS AND JONNY SITTING IN A TREE–”

 

Dylan decided, with a mouth full of sandwich, that this would be an appropriate moment to join in. The children's voices rang through the room, echoing off the walls and into Chris's ears. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

 

“Oh, my God.” Chris buried his head in his hands. He sincerely hoped that this serenade would be over soon enough.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Eleven

 

 

When Jonny first came home, he and Chris sat on the couch and talked, something they did every night. Jonny spoke about his classes that day, and Chris told the story of the lunchtime singing session. Jonny looked slightly embarrassed afterward, but he shook his head and rolled his eyes, making a comment about how typical that was of his siblings.

 

An hour and a half later, they were no longer conversing, at least not in the conventional way. Occasionally, a low grunt would rumble through vocal chords – a gasp for air heard every so often. Hands spoke more than words could, fingertips brushing over bare skin. Neither laid on the couch, but their positions were far from sitting; Jonny's back pressed in between the back of the couch and the arm rest as Chris leaned into him.

 

They broke apart momentarily for air, during which time Chris took the liberty to slide his hand further under the hem of Jonny's shirt. He wasn't sure where exactly they were going with this, how far they would end up going, but he acted on instinct and decided to just follow along until something felt uncomfortable. His fingers skimmed over the slight patch of hair on Jonny's stomach as they continued to travel up.

 

Chris caught the look glimmering in Jonny's eyes, which seemed to be pleading, begging for more. They brought their mouths together again, each frantically fighting for the upper hand, just as Chris's hand stopped. It rested over one of Jonny's ribs, as far as Chris could reach without being in an awkward and probably painful position.

 

It was strange for Chris to think about how natural being with Jonny felt. He was well aware – especially with their bodies pressed together as they were now – that Jonny was not a girl, like he was used to, yet not one ounce of his person seemed to care, body or mind. True, he had thought about it and had come to the conclusion that if Jonny actually were a girl, he might like him (or her) even more, but that didn't stop his heart from racing whenever the other boy was near, when they just sat on the couch talking and their hands brushed.

 

Jonny was exciting, and funny, adorable, honest, and he made Chris feel like he had never felt before. Though Chris was the oldest in his family and therefore the only one of the children who had ever experienced what it was like to be an only child, the title hadn't lasted long at all, and he had spent almost his entire life surrounded by siblings who needed just as much attention as he did. He never went to a private school, as he assumed Jonny probably had; he had gone to a public school with far too many children, the classes filled with thirty or more students. Chris was used to being only one of many.

 

But Jonny had a way of making Chris feel, as cheesy as he knew it sounded, like he was the only other person in the world. He could have gone without the attention, but it created this connection between them which Chris decided, in his youthfulness, he never wanted to give up.

 

And so, as they rested, making out on the couch, Chris never even considered the fact that they were in a rather public area of the house. Neither boy considered the possibility of Mrs. B. returning home half an hour earlier than her usual time, only to find that her nanny was practically lying on top of her son. They only just heard the sound of Mrs. B. clearing her throat as she stood in the doorway.

 

They broke apart again, now for a much longer span of time. Chris sat back, though he did not turn his eyes away from Jonny. He could tell already that the situation was no good.

 

“I cannot believe this,” Mrs. B. said in an unusually calm tone. Chris had thought she might flip completely and start throwing at him any random objects within close proximity, but such was not the case. She was clearly angry, but as Chris kept his gaze on a spot just to the right of Jonny's nose, he heard no movement coming from her direction.

 

“Mum –” Jonny, who had braved a glance at Mrs. B., began, but he was almost immediately cut off by her next statement.

 

“You're fired.”

 

Chris actually turned to face her now, devastation slowly sinking in. There had to be a way to fix this. He couldn't lose his job.

 

Jonny decided to fight back first, though. “Mum, that's not fair! You can't fire him just because he and I are togeth–”

 

“Oh, I don't care about that,” she snapped, in a way that made it seem as though Jonny had protested similarly in the past, despite his mother's acceptance of his sexuality. Briefly, Chris wondered if she had ever caught him like this with any other boys...

 

But then Mrs. B. continued, and Chris broke free of his thoughts. “You,” she snarled, pointing a finger directly at Chris, “are supposed to be watching my children, not feeling them up and snogging them into the cushions.”

 

“But, Mrs. B., Claudia and Dylan went to sleep almost two hours ago,” Chris protested. He knew he should have stood at this point, walked over to Mrs. B. to apologize, but a fear kept him glued to his seat. His hands started to tremble. “They've been upstairs ever since.”

 

“Well, what if one of them had woken up and needed something? You'd have been too busy fooling around with my son to notice.”

 

“He would have noticed!” Jonny shouted, so loudly that Chris thought he might have woken the children. “He's not some stupid kid, he takes really good care of them and you can't just fire him like this.”

 

Chris sighed and put his hand on Jonny's arm. “No, she has a point,” he quietly said. Jonny turned to him with a look of confusion, but Chris ignored him. He stood up and left the room to grab his jacket. When he returned, Mrs. B. and Jonny remained where they had been before. He faced Mrs. B. and tried to look directly at her, though he still felt some of the fear from earlier. “I'm sorry. It was irresponsible of me. I hope you have a pleasant night.”

 

With that, Chris headed straight for the front door and the outside world. Jonny followed him, as he thought the other boy might, and so when Chris stepped onto the porch, the front door did not close all the way behind him. He paused, waited, but he didn't feel like turning around to actually face Jonny. After a few moments, he heard the door close and felt the air behind him move as Jonny stepped forward.

 

“It really wasn't fair of her to fire you like that.”

 

“Actually, it was.” Jonny exhaled, very loudly and in a way that suggested he was tired of trying to convince everyone that he was right. Chris looked at him and reestablished his grip on his jacket. “I don't blame you or anything. I'm not mad. But I understand where your mum was coming from.”

 

Jonny took another step closer to Chris. “She's never going to find anyone who can handle those kids like you could. Maybe... maybe if you just give it some time, she'll realize that and then you can come back.”

 

Chris raised an eyebrow. Listening to the way Jonny spoke, it sounded as if he was afraid that the end of Chris's job as a nanny meant the end of their time together. “I'm not leaving you,” Chris told him. Jonny gave him a pained look, one which meant he knew that Chris wasn't leaving him, but that he was still worried about their future together.

 

“We won't be able to see each other if you're not here anymore.”

 

“What do you mean? Of course we could.”

 

“I'll be at school all day, and you'll be working, and then you'll go home to your house and I'll come here.” Jonny folded his arms over his chest, whether because he was cold or because he was trying to protect himself, Chris was unsure. It was a bit chilly, after all. “We'll never see each other.”

 

“What about weekends?” Chris asked. Jonny continued to frown, indicating that it would still not work out. Chris sighed and tried to think of something else. He didn't want to agree with Jonny, though he realized that Jonny was, to an extent, absolutely right. They'd never have time to meet up.

 

Several minutes passed in silence. Jonny kept his arms over his chest, though Chris noticed that there were no goosebumps on his skin. Chris had thoroughly searched his brain, but had come up with nothing so far; however, he firmly held onto his reluctance to accept defeat. There had to be a way around this mess.

 

“What if we got a place together?” Chris finally spoke. “I've been thinking about moving out of my parents' house for a while now. I could, and... and you could move in with me. You could go to school all day and then come home to our place.”

 

After he finished speaking, Chris realized how ridiculous the proposition probably was. He and Jonny had known each other for a very brief amount of time, two months at the most. Jonny would surely think this a sign that they were moving too fast.

 

And yet, the look on Jonny's face certainly didn't portray any hint of disapproval. He stared at Chris for a few seconds; then, slowly, a grin broke across his face.

 

 

[LilyC]

Hey there! :) It's been a long time and I haven't posted the second chapter of my last fanfiction :confused: I don't even know if you will remember it :lol:

But here's the second chapter :p And again, thank Brook for your help with my poor english :)

 

A Special Gift

 

Part II

 

 

"The lasagnas were really tasty," Jonny said as they went out of the restaurant an hour later.

 

"Yeah, even if I prefer the vegetarian ones," Chris joked, taking Jonny's hand.

 

"Of course," Jonny nodded. "What are we gonna do now?"

 

"I have a surprise for you," Chris simply replied.

 

Jonny couldn't say anything else as Chris started to walk. He shrugged and followed him, still silent. Even if it was a winter night, it was nice to walk with Chris, hand in hand, on the sidewalk. No one had recognized them yet, and Jonny loved that they could be in the middle of a crowd and be normal people.

 

When they went back to the underground, Jonny wondered where Chris was bringing him. He didn't ask anything, though, and they climbed onto the subway train. After two stations they went off and Jonny keep following Chris, getting more and more curious. They arrived in a residential area. The streets were lined with lovely houses of Victorian architecture. Jonny looked around before Chris stopped walking.

 

"Close your eyes now," he simply asked.

 

Jonny narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he finally closed them. He felt Chris putting his hands on his shoulders and he started to guide him in the street. They walk few minutes before Chris stopped them.

 

His hands left Jonny's shoulders, but he still stayed near him and glanced at the place where they had arrived. He took a deep breath and he whispered in Jonny's ear:

 

"You can open your eyes."

 

Jonny did, and looked around him before turning back to Chris's smiling face, his sweet blue eyes staring at him. Chris leaned toward Jonny; he kissed his lips gently and rested his forehead against Jonny's. He smiled and Chris held something out to him :

 

"This is for you. Happy Valentine's Day."

 

Jonny looked down Chris's hand and he saw a little box. His heart beat faster and he wondered what was in the box. He finally took it and Chris watched him open the present, waiting for his reaction.

 

When Jonny saw the thing in the box, he was totally perplexed. He didn't know what he had been waiting for, but this... He didn't understand why Chris offered him a such thing.

 

"A key," Jonny said. "What does it open?"

 

"A door," Chris answered with a mischievous look.

 

"Uh, really?" Jonny sarcastically replied.

 

"This door," Chris added, pointing at something behind Jonny.

 

He turned back and saw what Chris meant. It was a house. A big and elegant house silhouetted against the dark sky. He knitted his brow and looked at Chris again. He didn't understand what was happening.

 

"Come on," Chris said, holding out his hand.

 

Jonny grasped it and he started to follow Chris again. They crossed a courtyard before reaching the door. Jonny sceptically looked down at his key and finally put it in the lock. The door opened and Chris invited him in.

 

They entered a little hall. The lights turned on and Jonny looked around, curious. Chris was still silent, staring at his lover to see his reaction. Jonny start to walk and went into the first room on the right. Chris followed him as they arrived in a spacious living room.

 

The following minutes were also silent. Jonny was discovering all the rooms in this mysterious house. The ground-floor was made up of a spacious living-room, a fully-equipped kitchen and a study. There were two other rooms – one of them could be used as a guest room, because of its adjoining bathroom.

 

Then the two men went upstairs. The first floor consisted of a spacious bathroom and four others rooms. The whole house seemed to be bright during the day, thanks to the big windows which occupied the walls.

 

Jonny explored this place with a growing curiosity. He started to get an idea about what was happening. At first he was surprised by Chris's present, but now everything started becoming clear. If his suspicions came true, it would be wonderful. He needed to make sure, though, so he turned back to Chris when they had seen the last room. He was staring at him, expectantly, and finally asked:

 

"Do you like it?"

 

Jonny hesitated a moment before saying, "It's for us, eh?"

 

"Yeah, it is," Chris approved. "We spend all our time between your place and mine and I thought this house could be ours... If you want to move in with me."

 

"You're offering me a house." Jonny sighed, taken aback by Chris's last words. "It's... Gosh, Chris, it's too much."

 

"You don't like it," Chris simply said.

 

When he heard Chris's voice crack, Jonny looked up and caught Chris's ocean eyes. He could see a light of sadness that he had never seen before, and his heart raced for a while.

 

"No, don't think that," he softly said. "This house is wonderful."

 

Chris barely smiled ,and asked, "What's wrong then?"

 

"It's just.... Amazing. This present for me... I don't think I deserve it."

 

"Of course you do," Chris exclaimed. "There's nothing that I wouldn't do for you and I wanna live with you, Jonny."

 

Jonny beamed, feeling something in his stomach – maybe it was happiness. Ever since Chris and he became a couple, every day was a new surprise. This moment was more than perfect, though. He took a few steps closer to Chris and held him in his arms. Chris hugged him back and they both closed their eyes.

 

"I want this house to be ours, too," Jonny whispered. "But I don't even know how to thank you."

 

"You don't have to thank me more than you already do." Chris replied. "Being with me everyday is enough."

 

"I love you," Jonny gently said.

 

"I love you, too."

 

Chris leaned up to Jonny and pressed their lips together, kissing him passionately. Jonny replied positively to his kiss and reached his hand behind Chris's neck. They spent a few minutes there, just kissing and enjoying this lovely moment. They knew it was totally cheesy and schmaltzy. They didn't even mind.

 

"This could be our room, eh?" Jonny asked after a moment.

 

Chris looked around and shrugged. "Good idea, it's fine by me." He turned back to Jonny and said, in a low voice, "But we do have two or three rooms we could... test."

 

Jonny narrowed his eyes before laughing when he saw Chris's face. They stared at each other for a while; then they finally left the house to go back to Jonny's place.

 

This house would be theirs, soon...

 

[coldplayisawesome]

soooo, this is a short [and pointless] story i wrote which was basically adapted from a Roadie #42 post. :P

in fact, you can see said post here. :cheesy:

 

Something Rather Sweet

 

 

 

Chris was on the first tea run of the day – not the Chris, of course, the fabulous Mr. Christopher Martin, the first and sometimes only Chris people think of when it comes to the band, but rather the assitant Chris Green (after all, Chris is hardly a rare name). The rest of us (save for the other Chris, and Jonny, which is another story) were all scattered about the Beehive, groaning in fatigue and eagerly awaiting his return. To be truthful, it was far more of a coffee-and-snacks run than tea, but the point is we were all just sitting there, waiting. Having unintentional staring contests across the room as we struggled to keep our lids from closing. It was, as they say, the norm.

 

In a studio filled with instruments and people, especially exhausted near-zombies, the occasional abrupt noise in the background is not so uncommon, as those near-zombies walk around with a balance that would get you about an inch on the tightrope before the free-fall into the giant net below. Combined with the fact that every single one of us was a near-zombie, this allowed for assistant Chris to reenter the building without anyone even noticing, despite all of our aches for his nourishment-clad arms.

 

He told us he was there for ten minutes before we realized. I think he was pulling our collective leg, so-to-speak, when he said that, mostly because when I got my coffee from him it was still hot enough to burn my tongue on the first sip.

 

The drinks were dispersed and the snacks, pastries, and fruit, as well as tubs of yoghurt and granola, placed on a nearby table for anyone who pleased to take them. I myself was about to snatch a particularly delicious-looking Danish when for some reason I stopped, noticing Will beside me grab a generous portion of yoghurt. He walked away and straight over to the desk where Rik Simpson, the sound engineer, presently sat. He obviously had not expected Will's presence, judging by the confused look on his face when he glanced up at the drummer.

 

“And I want to see this eaten now,” Will told Rik, not in a sarcastic or nasty tone, but sounding more like a caring father, “not still on your desk at 4pm.”

 

I always thought Will seemed more like a family man than the others – no offense to them, of course, as the whole lot of them are amazingly caring people – and this simple act did nothing but confirm it in my eyes. As if his command (while not intentionally harsh, Will can still be intimidating when he wants to) wasn't already enough to make Rik obey, Will stood behind him as he continued to work and feed himself large spoonfuls of yoghurt every minute or so.

 

Indeed, by 4pm that afternoon there was not even a hint of the yoghurt left at Rik's station, not even the container. Under Will's supervision, Rik had scarfed it down within ten minutes while simultaneously clicking away on his computer. I've no idea how long it will be before Rik's eating habits return to nearly nonexistent, but in the meantime, it's always nice to see people caring for one another.

 

R#42

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

Part Twelve

 

 

Chris flipped the page of the newspaper. He knew it had been a bad idea to move out of his childhood home and into a new apartment before finding another job, but he had saved up quite a lot of money working for Mrs. B., and Jonny was still being supported financially by his parents. For now, they need not worry about being able to make rent, though Chris did look through the paper every morning to see what was being offered.

 

He circled a few of the advertisements, though none really caught his attention. He was merely looking for a job so that he could maintain his lifestyle, he didn't need anything fancy.

 

Jonny stumbled into the room, looking like a zombie as he staggered towards Chris. Chris tilted his head back so that Jonny could lean over and kiss him while he stood behind the chair. After Chris went back to looking at the paper, Jonny chuckled and muttered, “Lazy.”

 

Chris spun around to face Jonny, who was already at the counter now, grabbing the items necessary to make a pot of coffee. He narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Jonny.

 

Even though Jonny's back faced Chris, he must have known what Chris was doing. “If you want to keep that tongue of yours, you better put it back into your mouth.”

 

Chris smirked. Living with Jonny had turned out to be a lot better than he had planned. Sure, it was his idea in the first place, but he knew that often a person can change – or, rather, one's perception of another person can change when those two people live together. He had been excited by the prospect of sharing a flat with Jonny, sure, but he was also wary at first. He knew now, too, that things could still go downhill for them. No reason he shouldn't enjoy himself in the meantime.

 

He had also been surprised to find that Jonny's parents had let their oldest son go without much of a fuss. Chris had worried that they might try to hold on to Jonny longer, especially since they were still paying for his school and everything else. Of course, he had never met Jonny's father, but Mrs. B. was certainly not too fond of any of her children. Chris wondered if she would have minded if he and Jonny had asked to take Claudia and Dylan as well.

 

Chris's parents seemed eager to be rid of him, too. He understood their reason, though; even having one less child to support relieved a lot of their stress. They would miss him, of course, and Chris had very plainly seen both of his parents hold back tears on the last night he spent in his childhood home (he'd kept back a few himself, too).

 

“Can you make me a cup, too?” Chris asked, referring to the coffee Jonny was in the process of making. Jonny snorted in response.

 

“How long have you been up for? You could have made some yourself.” Jonny walked across the tile floor and sat down next to Chris at the table. “And you're not helping to prove yourself not lazy.”

 

“I never said I wasn't lazy,” Chris said, grinning. “I just asked if you could get me coffee.”

 

Jonny shook his head, laughing along. Chris continued to smile at him for a while, watching as Jonny's face slowly transformed into a concentrated look. He seemed to be reading, but Chris didn't feel like turning to see what he was looking at. Jonny was nice enough to look at, and Chris especially liked the way Jonny's eyebrows curved toward each other just slightly when he read.

 

“How did you like being a nanny?” Jonny asked. Chris shook his head, though only to bring himself back to the moment.

 

“What?”

 

Instead of properly answering, Jonny pointed to the newspaper lying on the table. Chris glanced over and saw in the middle of the page an advertisement which said the following:

 

WANTED

Full-time nanny for three boys, ages 5-9.

 

Chris stopped reading right there (the rest of the advertisement only contained contact information, anyway). Did he like being a nanny? Over time, he had grown fond of Claudia and Dylan, and he did enjoy taking care of them. But that didn't mean he would feel the same being a nanny for a completely different family.

 

On the other hand, he was in no position to turn down any job offer that he was qualified for. After having tamed Claudia and Dylan in a retrospectively short amount of time, he felt certain that he could handle whatever was handed to him next. And, he thought as he gazed at Jonny again, sometimes being a nanny for a bunch of bratty kids can lead to a happy ending.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Enddddddd.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

a new story???

yes, but i am only going to be posting the chapters on Sundays, because they are really long and i figure there's enough there to last for a week. :P

The Alley

 

Chapter One -- Part One

 

 

Receiving the news that he would require braces was the worst thing to have ever happened to him. Even now, two years after he first got them, they still bothered him to no end and he still couldn't keep his mouth closed for more than a few seconds at a time. The latter was no real hindrance, of course, because the day he would keep his mouth shut for a whole minute (yes, even when he was by himself) would be the day Hell froze over. It was as if he needed to make some sort of noise or else he would implode.

 

Then there were the glasses. Thick-rimmed and black, they were constantly falling down the bridge of his nose. He would scrunch up his nose to slide them back sans hands. This action was ineffective, of course, and thus he had to repeat it every five seconds.

 

At least they helped him to see. He could have dealt with his crooked and gapped teeth just fine the way they had been (which made worse his annoyance at being forced to wear the braces), but his eyesight was far too awful. Even his current glasses didn't make everything crystal clear. He had a bad habit of squinting.

 

His backpack, heavy with loaded textbooks, was weighing him down, the straps cutting into his shoulders. He slid his hands over his shoulders and gripped the straps to relieve some of the pressure. He could see his house now, just down the road from where his feet were meeting the pavement.

 

For a few brief moments his eyelids closed with the intention of reopening immediately thereafter, but a very large amount of things changed in that very small amount of time: He could no longer see the house, as his eyelids provided him with only a view of a reddish-orange glow; there were several bodies gathered around him; someone else's hands held the straps of his backpack; and he was now being shoved into the side of the nearest building. As his eyelids lifted, his view was changed from reddish-orange to a dull green, the eye color of the boy who was pinning him to the wall.

 

He could sense the other bodies moving, but he focused only on the other boy's dull green eyes. There was something about them that seemed off, some sort of emotion in them that maybe shouldn't have been there. He tried to figure out the exact problem with this boy's eyes, but he was mentally jerked by the feeling of hands in an all-too-personal lower region of his body. His eyes widened, and the boy with the green eyes laughed and looked at his companion.

 

“Having fun feeling him up?” he asked in a hoarse voice, the kind that could only mean this boy was a frequent smoker. His breath confirmed so. He was met with an equally gruff, albeit ashamed, voice.

 

“I thought maybe he'd have his wallet in his pocket.”

 

The green-eyed boy looked up again, hands still tightly wrapped around the backpack straps. “Where's your money?” He couldn't answer the green-eyed boy, because he was too busy being frightened and his elbows were badly shaking. This did not bode well, and the green-eyed boy, with increasing anger, pushed him even further into the building. “I said where is your goddamn money?”

 

“I-I-I don't h-have any on m-me-”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” For a few seconds the green-eyed boy stared at him blankly, and he was afraid that this boy would continue to slam him into the brick until he was the brick, but the boy's green eyes rolled up quickly and he was pleasantly surprised to find himself being harshly thrown to the ground.

 

He gathered his body from the pavement and sat back so that he could see his attackers. The green-eyed boy was in the middle, clearly the leader of the three, and was wearing a thick jacket that was far too big and consequently sagged down past his knees. The boy on the right, whose clothing was similar and whose ginger head was ducked in humiliation, seemed to be the one who had touched him. The third boy was glaring at him with the same vicious look the green-eyed boy was producing, but was wearing a much more form-fitting sweatshirt.

 

“Listen here, you little dweeb,” the green-eyed boy spat, “none of us wanna see you around here again, you got it?”

 

“B-B-But my house–” he tried to protest, weakly indicating with his hand a point not far behind him.

 

“You got it?” the boy repeated, with such intensity that he had no choice but to nod his head. What he was going to do about getting home from now on – well, that would have to be pondered later. He watched the boys as they sneered at him once more and left. He was only now aware that his heart was beating at an unsteady pace, and he figured it must have done so for quite a while. Somehow he hadn't noticed it.

 

He made the rest of the journey home unharmed by any other thuggish boys. His mother appeared as soon as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, hovering over him and bombarding him with the typical questions he should have expected.

 

“Chris! You're home! How was your first day at school? Did you find everything all right? Do you like your teachers? Are your classes difficult? Do you have much homework? Chris, how was your day?”

 

There were just so many questions thrown at him at once that he felt a little dizzy (or maybe it was a repercussion of being tossed to the ground). He took a second to clear his head before he even attempted to answer her.

 

With a dry throat and slightly unfocused eyes, he said, “Well, I met some boys outside...”

 

For a second his mother seemed dissatisfied; then she perked up and grinned at him, leaping forward to embrace him in what actually felt, in his opinion, like an attempt to smother him. Smother him with love, maybe.

 

“Aw, that's great, Chris! I'm so proud of you, making new friends already,” she said to him as if he were three years old.

 

“Actually–”

 

“STEPHEN!” she hollered over her shoulder, slowly letting go of Chris. “STEPHEN, CHRIS HAS MADE SOME FRIENDS!”

 

Moments later Chris's father was in the room, and like his son he too needed to shove his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose, which he did using the back of his hand. After quietly observing, he walked over to where they stood and placed a firm hand on Chris's shoulder.

 

“I'm proud of you, son.” Then he took his hand back and fixed his glasses. Chris gaped at them both, which didn't look much like gaping because his mouth was always open anyway. He tried to tell them what actually had occurred, but the words were not leaving him. Before long, his parents had grown tired of the silence.

 

“Well, Stephen, I think we should let Chris get to his homework. Don't want to start your second day on a bad foot, huh?”

 

“No,” Chris replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “if I start on a bad foot I might trip and break my glasses.” He stared at both of his parents with a serious expression, before cracking a smile. His mother chuckled, and his father broke out into a laughter packed with snorts. Chris stood still, basking in the success of his joke, as his parents headed for the other room.

 

“Might break his glasses... ah...” his father softly repeated to himself, with one last lift of the thick-rimmed frames before he disappeared from sight. Chris heaved a sigh and began to climb the mountain of stairs to his bedroom.

 

He had some definite plotting to do.

 

Chris opened the door to his bedroom and cautiously walked in, setting his hefty backpack on his tidy mattress. The one window across the room was calling his name, and though the shades were pulled down and had been for the entire week since they moved in, he knew that lifting them would bring a sight not any more pleasant than that of the off-white blinds.

 

Their house was more of a house than any other building around – though certainly less of a house than any other building he had lived in during his fifteen years of life – as they were nestled in a sort of alleyway, almost, with a large industrial building in front that stretched the length of the block and then some, and more industrial buildings on either side of their quaint little home. Quaint was actually a rather generous adjective, unless used purely in sarcastic tones; little, on the other hand, was accurate. The house had two stories, sure, but there was far less space than Chris was accustomed to. But desperate times call for desperate measures, as his father had said when he and Chris's mother had to explain why they were moving for the umpteenth time since Chris had started his high school career.

 

Exeter, Bath, Sheffield, Derby, Plymouth, Manchester – it all amounted to the same thing: They would spend no more than six months in one place, then off they went to the next.

 

He thought he could see the boys still in one of the legitimate alleyways nearby. He squinted, his index finger pressed to the glass, and tutted to himself. “Mum really wanted you to make friends,” he said. Of course he hadn't. When did he ever? It didn't help that he never felt like they even stayed in one place long enough to make friends – but he couldn't tell his parents that. It wasn't their fault that his father's job forced them to pack up and leave so often. The money for his imperfect teeth and near blindness had to come from somewhere.

 

Chris dropped his hand from the window and pushed up his glasses.

 

There was another way to reach the house, which was to come in from the opposite side of the large industrial building, and maybe that would satisfy the thuggish boys' request. The only problem was that it would take him roughly five times longer to walk home from school if he took that route. Perhaps that wouldn't be a problem on the way home from school, especially since the weather was still very warm and nice, but there was no way that he could leave early enough to walk to school on time. It seemed impossible.

 

In the morning he checked the window again. There was no sign of any hoodlums lurking about the area, and so he decided it would at least be safe to take the short path to school. He did hear something moving behind him as he passed the alley where he thought he had seen the boys standing, but when he turned he found nothing.

 

On the return journey, he was not so lucky. He was luckier than he had been the day before, though, in that he was not shoved into the brick of the nearby building this time. And it seemed to be the green-eyed boy operating solo. Still, Chris was unnerved when he heard that slightly familiar gruff voice:

 

“I should have known I'd have the pleasure of shoving your face into the pavement again today.”

 

Chris stood still for several moments (scrunching his nose a total of three times), waiting for the green-eyed boy to hit him, but it became clear after a short time that he was waiting for nothing. He turned.

 

“You like it rough, huh? Is that why you came 'round here again?” Chris decided that it was probably best if he said nothing at all, and so he did. The green-eyed boy stepped closer to him, and that was when Chris noticed the lit cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but my friend isn't here today, and I don't do that sort of touching free of charge.”

 

Only vaguely aware of what the green-eyed boy was talking about, Chris upheld his vow of silence. He did, however, blink dumbly several times. His backpack straps were starting to dig into his shoulders again; if only he could get his locker to open, then maybe carrying all his books at once would not be necessary. The green-eyed boy was about to speak again.

 

“You know what?” he said, then took a drag from the death-stick in his hand. As he exhaled, he made sure to blow the smoke right in Chris's face. Chris involuntarily wheezed. He kept the cigarette in his mouth so that it looked as if it were going to fall out with every word he spoke. “I'll let you off the hook for today, since the others aren't here. But the next time I see you, I won't be so kind.”

 

Chris stared at this other boy's mouth and wondered how – and possibly why – the cigarette had not fallen out. “But how am I,” he began, unsure of where to go after that, because he had been expecting the green-eyed boy to cut him off without giving him a chance. The green-eyed boy stared at him, waiting. “How will I get home tomorrow?”

 

“You live around here?” Chris nodded. “You live in that house over there?” the boy asked, pointing. Chris nodded again. The boy took another quick drag and threw the cigarette to the ground. Somehow, Chris felt even more intimidated; perhaps it was that now both of the boy's hands were free and he could therefore use them to hit Chris, or worse. And he had taken another step closer. “I guess you'll just have to go another way.”

 

“But that's gonna take... too long,” Chris protested, dismally. The green-eyed boy didn't seem to care. He was very close now, and Chris could smell the smoke as if he had sucked it in himself. He was a very intimidating boy. Yet, Chris thought he saw that expression again, the one that shouldn't have been in this boy's eyes. He still couldn't place it, though.

 

“Well, that's too bad, isn't it? Unless you really do like it rough. Then keep coming by. I'm sure the others will love having something to do every afternoon.”

 

Chris cringed a little; he felt like he had a lump in his throat and a sudden understanding of something he did not wish to understand. Or maybe he was misinterpreting. “Are – are you... are you threatening to r-r-ra–” He felt a wave of hyperventilation coming, and could therefore not finish his sentence (not to mention that he hadn't the courage to even think it). He was more frightened by the green-eyed boy's seeming apathy, as it almost confirmed his worry.

 

“I certainly couldn't tell you what my friends might do.”

 

Chris sighed and his chest buckled as if he were trying to sink into his backpack. He really didn't want to be sexually assaulted, even if a part of him did believe that this boy was just yanking his chain. He could never be too sure.

 

“All right,” he mumbled, unhappily. The other boy let out a deep laugh as Chris began to trudge along the sort-of alleyway towards his house.

 

He did not see the green-eyed boy watching the entire time as he walked away, though he could almost feel those green eyes upon his person. He wondered if maybe the mornings would be safe for him, and then he would only need an alternate route for after school.

 

“Chris, you look unhappy,” his mother cleverly noted when he quite loudly shut the front door behind him and started for the stairs. “Did everything go all right today in school?”

 

“School was fine,” Chris said with an absentminded shrug. He tried to sound happier. “Basically the same as yesterday.”

 

“Well, good. I hope tomorrow is just as well, then.”

 

Chris slowly, awkwardly, nodded. He pushed up his glasses. “I'm gonna do my homework now,” he said, pointing to the stairs. His mother dismissed him with a smile.

 

Once again, the window had his undivided attention when he finally arrived in his room. Pacing the open floor at his bedside, Chris tried with great desperation to formulate a new plan, one that would allow him to get home within a reasonable amount of time while simultaneously keeping his dignity. He was struggling, to say the least.

 

Every now and then he would glance out of the window. The green-eyed boy was still hanging around by himself. As far as Chris could tell, he was there for the whole night without his friends. Chris wondered if all those boys really considered themselves friends. It seemed likely, but not truthful.

 

There was nothing. He could come up with not a single way to solve his problem that was different from his previous solutions. As he lie in bed that night intent on sleeping, he thought about how his parents may have been able to think up something. But he couldn't tell them about the problem. He felt like it would let them down somehow, like he would let them down. He couldn't do that – what kind of parent wants to be disappointed in their only child? And what kind of son would he be if he disappointed them?

 

If Chris wiggled his toes wildly enough, he could just barely see the blanket moving at the end of the bed. It entertained him, if not only momentarily. Of course, he wasn't even entirely certain that it was the blanket moving, since his glasses were far from his face, resting instead on his nightstand. For all he knew, there could have been some sort of shapeless monster at his feet.

 

If there was one, it had disappeared overnight. Chris awoke the next morning to a monster-free and well-lit bedroom. However, had it not been for the noise she made when she saw that he was awake, he would never have noticed that his mother was standing in his doorway with a glass of milk in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.

 

“Good morning, Chris,” she said, and Chris knew right then that she had some sort of ulterior motive. First of all, it was easily distinguishable in her tone. And she never, never, brought his breakfast up to his room. It must have been important. And not just I-don't-want-to-speak-to-you-about-this-with-your-father-around important (as she surely had waited until Stephen had left for work), but so important that she needed to corner him as soon as he was conscious. So, he wasn't exactly cornered. Boxed in. It all ended the same.

 

“Good morning, mum,” Chris answered with a dry throat.

 

He subconsciously licked his lips as his hand blindly skimmed over his nightstand. He skipped the glasses, and went first for a small tube of lip balm. His lips always chapped overnight like nobody's business. Really, it never had been anyone's business, and he didn't see that it would be any time soon. He couldn't even make friends.

 

Before he could even shove the thick-rimmed frames onto his face, his mother was sitting at the edge of the bed, holding his food out for him. He took the toast first, as his throat may have been dry, but he didn't really think that milk would be helpful anyway. He set the cup on the nightstand where his glasses had been.

 

“Are you feeling better?”

 

“Better?” he repeated with a mouth full of bread. He looked down at the toast. “I'm not sick or anything.”

 

“Oh, I know. You just seemed kinda... down in the dumps yesterday.” Chris swallowed the toast and braced himself. He knew it was coming. Only a matter of seconds now. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

 

It wasn't the first time his mother had asked him that. It wasn't even the fifty-eighth time. He probably couldn't count the number of times those words had come out of his mother's mouth, directed at him. Too many.

 

And it always meant something else. She didn't care if he wanted to talk about anything or not. She wanted him to tell her. Sometimes it was hard to know what information she was trying to extract from him, though now it seemed clear. Obviously he was not a skilled liar. But he tried anyway.

 

“Well, I was just thinking,” he began, staring down at his toast in case his eyes accidentally gave him away, “it's an awful long way to walk to school. Do you think maybe you could just drive me everyday? And pick me up from school, too?”

 

“You know we can't do that. We've only got the one car, and your father needs it for work. He's long gone by the time you even wake up in the morning.”

 

“Well, all right. But what about after school? He's usually home by then.” It wasn't working. He could sense it.

 

“Chris, look at me.” Yeah, the jig was up. He reluctantly obeyed. “Why don't you want to walk to school? It only takes ten minutes.”

 

“I guess I'm just lazy,” he shrugged.

 

She shot him a sort of motherly look and patted his leg. “You're not a lazy boy, Chris. You're just... unmotivated.”

 

Chris chuckled lightly. “What's the difference?”

 

“Get ready for school,” she told him, shortly, then she stood up and walked out of the room.

 

He had been right in his assumption that the mornings would be safe for him. The thuggish boys were never around so early. Chris was very glad for this, because he did not particularly wish to be late for school every day. As for the afternoons, Chris warded off suspicion from his mother by telling her that he was staying late at school, which accounted for the time his extended journey home consumed.

 

His backpack only became heavier, his locker still stubbornly refusing to open, as the days passed. To walk from the school, around the lengthy industrial building, and back through the sort-of alleyway to his house took him an hour at the least, and that was when his backpack was light. He was starting to feel like a hunchback.

 

Even when he did take the alternate route, he still could not escape the presence of the thuggish boys (not to mention he swore he had seen two of them walking through the halls of his school). They never approached him, but they would stand at the opening of the nearby alley and call out to him.

 

“Hey, dweeb!”

 

“Aw, dweeb's home? Hi, dweeb!”

 

“Can I borrow your comic book collection?”

 

“But not any of the ones with the pages stuck together.”

 

“Yeah, not those ones.”

 

Chris could no longer hear their voices as he tried his hardest not to slam the front door, but he was positive they were laughing. It made him angry like nothing ever had before. Some days he would watch them from the comfort of his bedroom window and wish harmful things upon them.

 

Dweeb. All right, so he wore glasses and braces and laughed obnoxiously and was a bit of a loner – an entire month and a half gone by, still no friends – and maybe he did have a comic book collection, but that didn't give those boys a right to tease him. Part of him wished one day his mother would accidentally open the door before he did and overhear their cruelties, because he certainly wasn't going to tell her about them, but he felt like he was being eaten alive having to keep it bottled up. And he wanted them to stop. More than anything, he wanted them to stop.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

it wouldn't all fit in one post...

The Alley

 

Chapter One -- Part Two

 

 

There did finally come one afternoon when he just couldn't take it anymore. The final rock had been thrown, and now Chris was storming upstairs, waiting for the moment when he shattered into a million pieces. It was another one of those days when the green-eyed boy was by himself. He hadn't said anything to Chris that was worse than any of the other insults, but Chris was struck with an idea, and there was no way he was going to let the opportunity slip. He raced back down the stairs minutes later.

 

With shaky breaths, a hand deep in the pocket of his jacket, he walked toward the alley where the green-eyed boy stood. The other boy looked up as Chris drew nearer, flicked his almost nonexistent cigarette to the ground, and transformed his mouth into something of a grin.

 

“Well, hello,” he began, slyly, and Chris knew what was coming next, “dweeb.” It invoked a sort of anger in Chris that he could feel pumping through the veins in his neck. The muscles of his hand tensed as he stopped in front of the green-eyed boy. “What do you want, then?”

 

Chris said nothing. He had nothing to say; his actions would surely convey everything clearly enough. He breathed for a few moments, then began to pull his hand out of his pocket. It was a movement slow and deliberate, so that the green-eyed boy had to focus on it. He had to.

 

The entire time, Chris watched him with a weird sort of pleasure. He watched as the other boy's smile melted, watched as the color drained from his face the moment he saw that shiny, cold metal in Chris's hand. At first he was probably afraid that the barrel was pointed at him, but within seconds that changed as Chris lifted the gun, trembling, to the space just above his right ear.

 

“What are you doing?” the green-eyed boy asked without breathing, almost trembling as badly as Chris was. Chris inhaled deeply through his nostrils and slowly closed his eyes. “No, no, don't! Please, don't. Please.”

 

Chris opened his eyes again, but kept his arm raised. “Why not?” he replied in a melancholy tone, his voice thick with sadness.

 

“Because. You don't – Just don't. Please.” This time, the look in his eyes seemed right. His expression was a mix of anxiety and nausea. Chris kept his eyes locked on the green ones with determination, but he began to lower the gun slowly.

 

“Will you–”

 

“Give me that,” the green-eyed boy cut him off when Chris's hand was in a position that easily allowed him to grab the gun with little effort. Chris started to panic.

 

“NO, I need that back, that's my dad's!” he cried. “If he finds out that I took it, he'll kill me!”

 

The green-eyed boy looked at him suspiciously, one eyebrow raised. “You were just gonna...” He glanced with disgust at the gun in his hands. “Why would you care if he killed you?”

 

Chris gulped, trying not to show just how flawed his plan had been. But the green-eyed boy realized it anyway. He turned his attention once more to the gun, which within moments he discovered was completely devoid of ammunition. He thrust it back into Chris's hands with contempt.

 

“You're a prick,” he ferociously spat. “You can't just walk up and – You're a fucking idiot! Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

 

Chris was surprised to feel guilt rising in his chest. “I-I just–”

 

“You just thought you'd come out here and be a total prick? Well, good job.” The green-eyed boy's jaw visibly tensed and he folded his arms across his chest. There was something about his appearance that made Chris pity him. He actually felt bad now.

 

“I just wanted you to stop. I was only pretending–”

 

“What would you have done if I had just let you go on?”

 

Chris took a moment to answer. He hadn't thought about that at all. “I thought maybe it would make you stop,” he said in a low voice. Frowning, he stared down at his feet. He felt like a bit of a failure.

 

“You are so incredibly stupid.”

 

For a few moments Chris did nothing but silently stare. His eyes became glassy and his bottom lip quivered. “Will you stop? Will you leave me alone? You and your f-friends.”

 

“Go home,” the other boy said, coldly. Chris lifted his eyes to him, pushing up his glasses. “And put that back where you got it before your dad finds out what an idiot you are.” Whether or not he thought his time had been well spent, Chris could see no other option but to nod and walk away. “But come back,” the boy added. “We'll talk.”

 

Chris gazed over his shoulder. He tried to give at least a tiny smile. “Thank you.” Then he moved again, and as he shuffled further away he could hear the green-eyed boy once more remarking on his stupidity. At least he had a reason this time.

 

Chris was quick to slip inside the house then back out without either of his parents noticing. It helped that he left the front door open as he ran upstairs, and so there was hardly any noise made to give him away. His insides twisted as he quietly walked down the stairs and towards the door. The green-eyed boy had disappeared from sight when he stumbled outside. He knew the boy had to be around, though.

 

“Perhaps...” Chris began, his eyes setting upon the corner of the building next to the house.

 

Cautiously, he walked towards the alley where the thuggish boys so often gathered. At first, he thought it was empty – save for what seemed to be a few piles of garbage in the corner – but upon closer inspection he realized that the green-eyed boy was sitting in a shadow with his knees brought up to his chest. He was staring hard at the ground, and stayed completely still until Chris spoke.

 

“Um,” Chris began, unsure of what else to say. He had never known the green-eyed boy's name, and had no idea what else to call him. But the boy looked up anyway, and without saying anything he gave a quick nod to the space next to him, commanding Chris to sit.

 

Chris knelt down, then sat cross-legged facing the other boy. For a while they just watched each other. The expression the green-eyed boy was giving no longer looked angry. He was frowning now, and his eyes were tired and sad. Chris felt guilty again, like he was a puppy who had just gotten into trouble for disobeying his owner.

 

“I'm sorry,” Chris finally said, his voice a bit hoarse. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry from being open for so long.

 

The green-eyed boy thought about his apology for a while. “It really bothered you that much?”

 

Chris sighed helplessly and let his shoulders sag down. “It takes me an hour and a half to walk home every day, but you all still harass me anyway. I may as well just let you... you know. Assault me.”

 

“You couldn't just say that in the first place?”

 

Chris shook his head and gave a tiny, condescending smile. “Would it have changed anything if I just asked you to stop?”

 

“Good point,” the green-eyed boy replied, and then he laughed. He actually laughed. His smile was short-lived, though, and moments later his mouth was twisted. He appeared to be thinking once more. “I'll tell my friends to cut it out. But you can never, I mean never, do anything like that again. Got it?”

 

“They'll really stop?” Chris asked with slight skepticism, though some tiny part of him was hopeful.

 

“Yes, I will make sure they stop, even if I have to beat them to a pulp first. Just as long as you never do that again.”

 

“OK. I promise.”

 

The green-eyed boy's eyes gazed over Chris's face, as if he was trying to determine whether or not Chris was being truthful. Chris stared back innocently and pushed his glasses up. Then he slowly looked around the alley.

 

“Where are your friends, anyway?” Chris asked.

 

The green-eyed boy shrugged. “They're not always around. You know, sometimes they have jobs... girlfriends...”

 

“And you don't have either of those?”

 

The other boy faltered momentarily, then replied, “No.” He scratched the back of his neck and his face grew a slight reddish tint, which Chris remarked with a bit of wonder. It wasn't exactly out-of-character – rather, it seemed as if the boy was actually revealing part of his true self to Chris. Or maybe Chris was just being misled.

 

For a few minutes afterward, the boys were silent. Chris persistently scrunched up his nose, as he was too lazy to simply lift his hand every time his glasses slid. The green-eyed boy stretched out his legs and watched Chris. Nearly laughing, he asked, “What's your name?”

 

“Chris.”

 

“I'm Jon. Well, everyone calls me Jonny,” the boy said. Chris tilted his head to the side. Somehow, it was a fitting name.

 

“Would you prefer to be called Jonny?” The green-eyed boy gave a careless shrug. “Well, then, it is nice to meet you, Jonny.”

 

Chris held his hand out. Jonny eyed him briefly, then hesitantly shook Chris's hand. “It's nice to meet you, too, Chris. Maybe we could be friends. Put the past behind us, that sort of thing.”

 

“Sure.” A genuine smile spread across Jonny's face, not one that was sarcastic or mocking. Then Chris realized that the look in Jonny's eyes that had seemed out of place must have been some sort of kindness. As he saw this boy smile, he knew there was no way that he could really be such a cruel spirit.

 

Chris didn't stay around for much longer. It was growing dark and he knew his mother would want him in for dinner. Plus, he had homework to finish. But he found during the afternoon that he and Jonny got along quite well, and he actually felt sad to part from the green-eyed boy. He promised Jonny that he would return the next day, as long as Jonny's friends weren't around.

 

Jonny laughed. “Should I tell them to bugger off if they are here?”

 

“Only if you really want to,” Chris said with a shrug. Jonny narrowed his eyes, then shook his head.

 

“Goodbye, Chris,” he said with amusement.

 

“Goodbye.”

 

Chris spun around and began to walk away. He could hear Jonny laughing behind him, but this time it was harmless. In fact, Chris found himself smiling as he went along.

 

“Oh my God.” Chris stopped dead in his tracks at the end of the alley. He held a hand up to his chest to make sure that his heart was still beating, that he was still in the real world and not some strange sort of afterlife. “I made a friend!”

 

He laughed – snorted, rather, and merrily continued down the path home.

 

That night Chris sat at his window, staring unsuspectingly at the alleyway. He could not shake off thoughts of the afternoon's events, and of Jonny's surprisingly kind smile. And those green eyes – he knew he had seen something different in Jonny, something that set him apart from his juvenile friends.

 

Chris absentmindedly licked his lips, trying to focus his eyes past his reflection in the window. He considered getting up to shut off the overhead light, but he didn't have the willpower to actually do it. Anyway, he was too busy thinking.

 

Maybe we could be friends.

 

Chris kept replaying it over and over. The words, the slight upwards curve of the corners of Jonny's mouth as he spoke them. That hopeful feeling rising in his chest.

 

It was only because he was still in great shock that he had made a friend. He had not realized such a thing was possible. It was, at the very least, improbable.

 

He thought he saw something flicker by the alley, which was odd. It was fairly late, and he would have expected Jonny to have returned home by this point. But as he never saw another movement from that direction, he reasoned that he must have seen some animal scurry by.

 

Chris briefly looked down at his lap to find that his math homework was still resting on his legs, unfinished. He glanced at the problem he was in the middle of completing, but found that he had no interest in doing the rest of the work. He closed the book and set it aside. There would always be time to finish it during the following day; though Chris had made a friend, he still did not have anyone to socialize with during any of his classes, and so he had quite a lot of time to himself.

 

As he gazed out the window once more, he turned his attention to the sky. The moon was full and very bright, and Chris couldn't help thinking of what life would be like if he were a werewolf. Transforming must be painful, and with the coarse hair and gnarly teeth and sharp claws, he imagined it wouldn't be pleasant at all. Especially since he hated the idea of hurting anyone. Although, it would probably be better than being a vampire.

 

“At least werewolves transform once a month,” he mumbled to himself, “where as vampire is a full-time job.”

 

As a few seconds passed, Chris realized he was talking to himself and may have unintentionally discovered a reason he always struggled to make friends.

 

“You've gotta stop doing that,” he said, shaking his head.

 

Although, if he were a vampire, it might be easier to refrain from harming others. He was certain that once he transformed into a werewolf, any trace of his human mind would temporarily vanish. Who knew what he could end up doing then? And would he be able to forgive his own actions?

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. His head turned alertly and he hollered, “Come in!” The door creaked open ever so slightly, enough for Chris's mother to stick her head through the crack it produced.

 

“It's almost eleven, Chris,” she said.

 

“Oh. All right.” Chris pushed his glasses up.

 

“Did you do your homework?”

 

“I... did.” He blinked several times in quick succession in a fruitless attempt to be inconspicuous. His mother seemed not to notice.

 

“Did you finish it?”

 

Chris thought briefly of his closed math book. He gave a slight shrug. “Well...”

 

His mother beamed. “Good. Well, uh,” she briefly and awkwardly glanced around his room, “see you in the morning, then. Night, Chris.”

 

“Goodnight, mum.” Chris stared at the door until his mother left and silence was restored. He stuffed his math book into his bag, then headed for his dresser. His pajamas – a plain white t-shirt and blue plaid flannel pants – were lying in the bottommost drawer, awaiting his arrival. He gently lifted them from the drawer and proceeded to remove the clothes he was already wearing.

 

Once he changed, he turned off the overhead light and crawled into his bed. The moonlight shining through the window allowed him to see his nightstand. He applied some lip balm in hopes of preventing his lips from chapping overnight, then removed his glasses and settled under the covers.

 

He fell asleep feeling very satisfied with himself; he had accomplished quite a lot that day.

 

 

 

 

also, here is a picture i drew which coincides with this chapter:

 

 

Chris made a friend

 

 

until next Sunday, my friends...

:P

 

 

 

 

[Viva_La_Coldplay]

-

[coldplayisawesome]

The Alley

 

Chapter Two -- Part One

 

 

Jonny almost hated being friends with Chris. Every day that they spent time together, he was reminded of Chris's little stunt, and it hurt him more than he could explain. When Chris was chatting his ear off, he was fine, but once Chris stopped talking and silence fell over he couldn't help remembering that look in Chris's eyes, the cold and hateful look.

 

At this point, Jonny would glance at Chris and, seeing his truly kind blue irises glaring back, would instantly feel better. But it was a never-ending cycle, and when Chris left every evening, Jonny felt rather drained.

 

He did like talking to Chris, though. They had great conversations, even if nothing either of them said ever meant anything. Chris was far better than his other so-called friends. They would always leave him as soon as something better came along – or, at least, as soon as some loose girl came along. With Chris, Jonny got the impression that there was no other option for him. Jonny knew it was pathetic, but he liked that Chris had nowhere else to go. It made him feel safe.

 

It became routine after a while: Jonny waited by the alley until Chris came by, lugging his still overly large backpack. Jonny laughed and let Chris know just how ridiculous he looked. Chris went inside his house and returned a few minutes later.

 

Sometimes he would tell Jonny about how he just couldn't understand why his locker was so stubborn or why the kids at school liked to throw things in his general direction while he ate lunch, and sometimes he would ask Jonny how his day went instead. On those days, Jonny guessed that Chris wasn't particularly happy with himself. He would make up outlandish stories about how awful his own day was then just to make Chris feel better, though he did so without really thinking about it.

 

“I was at the store earlier and this old lady came up to me,” Jonny began one day, after Chris dropped his overloaded backpack right by Jonny's feet and didn't bother to even check in with his parents. “And at first I was like, OK, fine, it's just some old lady. But then I was grabbing something off one of the shelves and she started yelling at me, saying I was in her way and that I should learn some manners. Then she hit me with her cane.”

 

Chris eyed him with a great deal of skepticism. “Really?”

 

“I've got the mark to prove it.”

 

“Let me see it, then.”

 

Jonny drew a sharp breath and thought as quickly as possible. “Can't. It was kinda a... private sort of blow. Oh, that's a good word to use.”

 

“I'm sure it was,” Chris said in a disbelieving tone, though Jonny did not even have to look to know that Chris was smiling at him. Jonny smiled back.

 

“You should go tell your parents that you're out here so they don't send a search party for you,” he told Chris, who shrugged slightly and pushed up his thick-rimmed frames. But he obeyed Jonny's suggestion, and heaved his backpack over his shoulder then quickly disappeared.

 

Jonny walked into the alley while he waited for Chris to come back. He felt strange, which he attributed to the fact that he had not even thought so much about his friends in the past few weeks. And they seemed to have forgotten him as well. Luckily, he had Chris to distract him.

 

As soon as he sat down, he felt a whoosh of air rush past his head, and he knew instantly that it was the result of Chris plopping himself down on the ground. He was a surprisingly speedy kid.

 

“Jonny, do you ever talk to yourself?” he asked, before Jonny could even properly register his presence. Jonny waited a few moments before answering.

 

“No.”

 

“Oh.” Chris ducked his head, a light flush coloring his cheeks. “Not – not even when no one else is around?”

 

“Never. But I'm guessing you do.” Chris gave a shrug. “I don't think it makes you weird or anything.” He didn't even know what made him say it, but he was glad he did, because Chris looked up at him and smiled again.

 

“Well, I think it's a good way to organize your thoughts,” Chris said in a serious manner. “And, also, most of the time I don't even notice that I'm doing it at first. It just sorta comes out and then I realize that I'm alone and speaking to myself.”

 

“Have you always done that?”

 

“Not always, no. I don't remember doing it before I was about ten or so. And I don't know why I do it, either. Like I said, it just happens.”

 

“Sometimes I hum when I'm by myself, and I don't realize that I do it,” Jonny said. Then he couldn't remember if he actually did hum when he was alone, or if it was another lie to make Chris feel better. “Except, I'm an exceptional hummer and so I wouldn't really care if anyone else was around to hear.”

 

“I'm sure you're the most talented hummer around.” Chris was silent for a few moments, then he scrunched up his nose and started to laugh out of nowhere. Jonny looked at him with confusion for a few seconds before deciding that it just wasn't worth questioning, and he joined in.

 

When Chris left to eat dinner, he told Jonny that he might not return until the next day, so he wished him a good evening, night, and morning, just in case. Jonny smirked as Chris bowed to him, then ran off.

 

Jonny felt certain that Chris would not return, as he never did when he claimed that he had homework to do (and Jonny wholeheartedly believed him), so Jonny planned to spend the rest of the evening alone. If he had remembered that he really did hum when he was by himself, he would have done so.

 

Assuming that Chris would stay indoors, Jonny rummaged behind a few of the discarded bags of garbage and pulled out a thin book. He could not remember exactly where he had left off, so he simply flipped through the pages until it stopped looking familiar.

 

For half an hour he sat there, completely focused on the book and unaware of anything else around him. He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching as Chris walked towards him. He didn't hear Chris sit down, didn't hear Chris breathing into his ear, didn't feel Chris's stare piercing the side of his face, until Chris suddenly asked, “What are you reading, Jonny?”

 

Jonny let out a startled cry and slammed the book shut, stuffing it under his legs to hide. Surely, he thought Chris would have made another inquiry, but he remained silent, staring at Jonny expectantly.

 

“I wasn't reading anything,” Jonny quietly and calmly replied. Chris scrunched his nose up, but Jonny had a feeling it had nothing to do with his glasses.

 

“Yes, you were, Jonny. I saw you.”

 

“I wasn't reading,” Jonny insisted.

 

“But I saw you-”

 

“Chris, I don't care what you saw, OK? I was not reading anything.” Jonny averted his gaze, his heart pounding against his chest more rapidly than usual. His cheeks grew hot as the blood pumped urgently through his system. The silence should have worried him, but he was too busy being embarrassed to imagine Chris shooting him a nasty look.

 

“Oh. Sorry.” Jonny safely glanced at Chris and bit his lip.

 

“I thought you said you had stuff to do,” Jonny said. Chris nodded slowly and absentmindedly, then shrugged. But he didn't say anything, which for some reason made Jonny feel just a little better, and he smiled. “What, you just thought you'd come out here and waste time with me instead?”

 

“Yes.” Chris pressed a finger to the bridge of his glasses and slid them up his nose. “I'll have to go inside at some point, though. I can't sleep out here or anything.” Chris laughed his obnoxious laugh, and Jonny chuckled at him, though shortly. Then silence fell again, and once more Jonny was too distracted to worry. In fact, it seemed that Chris was worrying more, staring at Jonny with his eyebrows squished together.

 

After a while, Jonny noticed that Chris was looking at him, and he started to feel a bit anxious. He felt a confusing desire to both tell Chris everything and to simply never speak again. His face was still hot. He knew that Chris would not ask him what was wrong, or if he wanted to talk about anything, and for that he was grateful. But he figured that he would never say anything if Chris didn't ask.

 

“I'm surprised I wasn't humming when you came back,” Jonny muttered. He wasn't sure what he was doing. He never felt sure around Chris. “But that wouldn't have been...” What? Embarrassing? Jonny wanted to smack himself, so that maybe he would stop talking. Chris had dropped the subject without even knowing what the subject was, why was he trying to bring it up again?

 

“I would love to hear it.”

 

Jonny looked up at Chris. If he had said something like that, he could have known what it meant. He knew what he was like around other people, and how different he acted around Chris. But he had no way of knowing whether or not Chris acted this way all the time. He seemed like a genuinely nice kid. Jonny thought it highly unlikely that it was only for him.

 

“I wasn't...” Jonny hesitantly began, realizing that once he said it, he could not take it back. Once he started, he basically had no choice but to go the whole way.

 

Chris nodded in an understanding sort of way. “I know, Jonny. You weren't reading.” He paused for a moment, then added in jest, “You were just... staring at the pictures?” He smiled, but Jonny did not return a grin like he normally did.

 

“I wasn't reading, because...” Jonny inhaled deeply and stared at the ground. No taking it back. “Because... I don't... know how...”

 

Jonny held his breath as the alley went quiet. Chris appeared to be startled, having expected Jonny to add more to his mutterings. “You don't know how... to read?” he asked. Jonny glanced at him. “Really?”

 

Jonny felt like sinking into the wall behind him and disappearing forever. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. He could already sense Chris's disapproval. “I never learned,” he said. “Well, my... It's a long story.”

 

Chris scooted closer to Jonny, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Will you tell me?”

 

Then, despite his fears, Jonny turned to Chris and, upon seeing the kind look he gave, knew that everything was going to be all right. Anxiety still burned in his stomach, but he was used to that with Chris.

 

“When I was five – no. No, I was six. Right. I was in first grade, and one day I came home and the house was completely silent. It was really creepy.” Jonny paused momentarily, trying to register Chris's intense stare. “I searched almost the whole place for my parents, but there didn't seem to be any sign of either of them. And then I walked into the kitchen...” He watched as Chris's shirt moved ever so slightly with every breath he took. “And they were both laying on the floor...”

 

“Oh.”

 

“They k-killed themselves.” Jonny flicked his eyes back up to Chris's. “I was six. I didn't know... what to do. I just left. Somehow, no one ever found me. I never went to school after that, I never... did much of anything after that.”

 

“Jonny...” Chris gaped, and unable to come up with anything else to say, he just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Jonny's shoulders.

 

Jonny closed his eyes as his cheek rubbed against the skin of Chris's neck. He was no longer thinking of his tragic past now, as Chris probably assumed. He felt incapable of thinking of anything, actually, other than how warm Chris was and how he thought he could feel both of their hearts beating together. Guilt rose in him, but he decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. After all, how often could he expect this much physical contact with Chris?

 

His owns arms found their way around Chris's waist, tightening without being too tight. He could sense all the awkwardness in Chris's hold, but he loved that Chris tried to comfort him anyway. His fingers curled around the fabric of Chris's shirt. He had no idea what he was doing.

 

Jonny stopped himself before he went too far. The last thing he wanted was to freak Chris out and mess everything up. He slowly withdrew his hands and pulled back.

 

“I could teach you, if you want,” Chris said, only an inch or two away from Jonny's face. “To read, I mean.”

 

Jonny breathed shakily as he looked into Chris's eyes. “I've been trying to teach myself.” With his now otherwise useless hands, he reached under his legs and grabbed the book. It was a book intended for small children, with picture examples of things that began with each letter of the alphabet. “I know what the pictures are, and I try to memorize what the words look like. But... I'm not doing so well.”

 

He stared down at the book in a slight attempt to hide his embarrassment, which he was sure had to be apparent. Chris followed his gaze.

 

“I could teach you,” he repeated, covering Jonny's hand with his own. Jonny held his breath as Chris pried his fingers off and seized the book. He brought it closer to his face, and Jonny exhaled. “This is pretty clever, actually.”

 

“Really?” Jonny chanced a glance at Chris, who was slightly smiling. “There are only so many words to memorize, though.”

 

“But it's a good start.” Chris flipped through a few of the pages. Jonny watched him in silence. “So, you can read a little then, right? If you were to see these words somewhere else you'd recognize them?”

 

Jonny shrugged. “I guess.”

 

“Then I think you're doing very well. Can you say what they are without the pictures?”

 

“I'm... not sure.” Jonny bit his lip in uncertainty. He figured that Chris was going to test him now, and he feared he would fail miserably and become even more embarrassed than he already felt. What kind of person can't even read a child's book?

 

But Chris seemed to sense this, as he tilted his head and stared at Jonny through narrowed eyelids. “Jonny, you don't have to look so worried. I'll help you. And...” Chris looked down at the book in his hands, then held it out to Jonny. “We can do this tomorrow. I really should be going home now.”

 

“Of course. Have fun doing homework or whatever.”

 

Chris grinned, and Jonny felt the warmth from his smile flow through his own veins. “See you tomorrow, Jonny,” he crooned.

 

“See you tomorrow, Chris,” Jonny chimed in reply, trying not to appear too pleased. Containing himself became even more difficult when Chris sat for a moment longer, just staring at him. He smiled still and Jonny felt his knees go weak, even though he was sitting down. Then Jonny watched as Chris finally stood up and walked away. He waited until Chris was gone from sight before releasing a hefty amount of air from his lungs and leaning his head back against the wall, his eyes shut tightly.

 

For a few brief moments he went back in time, the ghost of Chris's arms lingering over his shoulders. Jonny had seen all of this coming long ago; he knew it would have only been a matter of time before he developed what he figured was a ridiculous crush on Chris. It wasn't exactly that he really went for the nerdy type – though all of Chris's endearing quirks did make him smile – but more that Chris was incredibly gorgeous. Even with his thick-rimmed glasses and braces, Jonny could still tell.

 

But it seemed pointless to him to feel that way. He and Chris were just friends, which he accepted, but at the end of every day he and Chris spent together he could feel his hope rising, and he really wanted it to not do that. He felt certain there were still things about him that Chris didn't know and wouldn't like if he did, and therefore even the truthfulness of their friendship could be questioned.

 

Of course, Chris certainly didn't help with his random questions; for example, a few weeks later they were in the alley again, Chris trying to teach Jonny to read. The book they were using was different from the one Jonny originally had, as Chris figured it would be best for Jonny to learn from a completely unfamiliar book. They had decided to take a short break, because Jonny was getting tired of reading the same page over and over again and getting stuck in the same place each time.

 

“Jonny, how come you don't have a girlfriend? Or a job?” Jonny's eyes involuntarily widened.

 

“What?” was the first thing he could think to reply with.

 

“Well, you said that your friends have girlfriends and jobs,” Chris said. “How come you don't?”

 

“I don't think anyone would want to hire me. I can't even read,” Jonny mumbled. Then he glanced sideways and noticed Chris was staring intently at him, as if he hadn't yet received the answer he was looking for. Jonny took a deep breath. “I did have a girlfriend once. When I was twelve.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Jonny smiled slightly. “It lasted all of two weeks before I realized it was a complete mistake. I didn't even fancy her, I fancied her friend. But I always saw them together and I just attributed those feelings to her. I don't think she liked me very much either, especially not after I told her I fancied her friend...” Jonny looked up at Chris and cautiously continued, “who was a boy.”

 

Chris looked completely unfazed. “Oh. I've never really fancied anyone before.” He shook his head and looked up, as if he was thinking, making sure that what he said was correct. Much to his own surprise, Jonny laughed.

 

“You would,” he said in response to Chris's questioning gaze. “You're totally asexual.”

 

Chris gave a slight shrug. “Jonny, I think if I was asexual I would have offspring sprouting from my, I don't know, arm all the time.” Jonny laughed again and shook his head, which in turn caused Chris to shape his mouth into his usual goofy grin.

 

“You know,” Jonny began, then quickly decided against it and sighed. “I think we should get back to this, probably.” He lifted up the book in his lap to inform Chris of what he meant by 'this,' and Chris nodded his approval.

 

He did eventually get past the sentence that had been a hindrance, and when he did so he found that the rest of that day's reading was relatively simple. He knew there was still quite a bit of work left to do before he was totally literate, but to him that only meant more time spent with Chris.

 

And Chris was a wonderful teacher, Jonny felt. He was always patient, even when it took Jonny over ten minutes to fully read one sentence, and he would compliment Jonny's work when Jonny felt like he had failed. Jonny's embarrassment dwindled with each lesson, and eventually he started to feel confident in his abilities.

 

 

[coldplayisawesome]

The Alley

 

Chapter Two -- Part Two

 

 

Then one afternoon, after Chris had returned from checking in with his parents, he was startled by a sudden pull on his arm. As he looked up he saw that Chris had taken hold of him and was dragging him down the alley towards his house without even the slightest explanation. But Jonny didn't bother to question him, either.

 

The only bit of information Chris gave came after they stepped inside and were headed for the stairs. Chris turned quickly towards Jonny, hand still gripping Jonny's arm, and said, “We're going upstairs.”

 

“OK,” Jonny weakly replied, and then Chris pulled him onward again. Jonny looked over the railing as they ascended the stairs, thinking of how strange it was to be inside someone's house. He hadn't seen the inside of a house since...

 

Chris stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs, causing Jonny to nearly bump into him. Luckily, Jonny's reflexes were quick enough and he avoided collision just in time (though if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't have minded the contact). Chris reached his arm towards the ceiling and pulled open a hatch.

 

Chris stepped aside as a ladder came down in front of Jonny. He gestured toward the ladder and said, “Jonnys first.'

 

Cautiously, Jonny climbed up to what appeared to be a very small attic. He couldn't stand up completely, so he chose to crouch down and quickly make his way to the corner of the room. Chris was next to him almost instantly, reaching into a cardboard box that Jonny hadn't noticed at first, probably because it was pushed into the dark shadows in a discarded sort of way.

 

“My parents kept all of this stuff in case they ever had another baby,” Chris explained, still searching the box. “After ten years, it's really unnecessary for us to still have this, especially since it's stayed packed for the entire time, but we still have it anyway.”

 

From the box, Chris withdrew a thin book – Jonny should have guessed – then he crawled back to where Jonny sat. For the longest time, he just stared at Jonny, quite intimidatingly by Jonny's standards, and Jonny stared back for a lack of anything better to do. Then, slowly but steadily, the book rose in between their faces until Chris was no longer visible, apart from the fingers he had wrapped around the book.

 

Jonny reached over and grabbed the book away from Chris. Chris smiled furtively and scooted closer, an action which Jonny both appreciated and resented. Jonny stared at the cover of the book, trying to work out what the title was. He had a rough idea, but he also had a fear of being wrong, so he waited for Chris to speak up again.

 

Of course, Chris didn't really say anything helpful. “Think you're ready?” he asked, and Jonny glanced at him.

 

“Is it difficult?” he said with a hint of worry. Chris pondered his question for a few moments.

 

“I think you're ready.” Jonny gave a halfhearted smile and went back to deciphering the cover. “It's not a novel or anything, that's for sure, but it's definitely... more challenging than the other ones so far. Real sentences and everything,” Chris said with a bit of a laugh.

 

After deciding that the only word of the title he could actually read was, 'moon,' Jonny gave up and flipped the cover open. He wondered if Chris would ask him about it. “It's worth a shot, right?”

 

“Right!” Chris rested his hand on Jonny's shoulder, despite the awkward position it created for him. “This was actually the first book I ever learned to read. My mum used to read it to me when I was really little, and eventually I decided I wanted to be able to read it, too. So, I followed along whenever my mum read it to me and learned it that way–”

 

“You taught yourself to read?” Jonny interrupted, throwing an incredulous look at Chris. Chris laughed.

 

“That's what my mum said, too.” Jonny sighed and went back to examining the book. He should have known; Chris was probably smart enough to be considered a genius. Chris shrugged. “I taught myself to read this book.”

 

“What's it called?” Jonny casually asked, pretending as if he just had skipped over the cover too quickly to see the title in order to hide his embarrassment.

 

“Goodnight Moon.”

 

“Ah, Goodnight Moon.” Jonny coughed a little and turned to the first page of the story. With a nod from Chris, he began to read.

 

Many of the words in the story repeated themselves throughout, which Jonny was glad for. Not only would it probably help him to remember the words in the future, but it would also help in the short term. Chris sat beside him, silent, the entire time. Even when Jonny struggled, he remained quiet and let Jonny work it out himself.

 

“Goodnight... no.. no...” Jonny muttered a few sounds under his breath, just softly enough that Chris would not be able to make out what he was saying. He took a deep and confident breath. “Goodnight no-noises ev-every... everywhere.”

 

Chris beamed and turned slightly to face Jonny. “Jonny! You're getting really good at this.”

 

Jonny turned with the intention of replying, but found that Chris was just far too close and smiling far too widely. His mind shut down and his body took over, discounting every single effort Jonny had put into restraining himself in the past weeks as he leaned forward until his lips met Chris's. As he looked at Chris a few seconds later, his mind restarted and he suddenly became very anxious. Panic coursed through his veins and he began to feel a bit nauseated. What the hell did he just do?

 

But Chris remained totally calm, or he appeared to be calm at the very least. “Well,” he said, then he licked his lips, “that's certainly a new experience for me.”

 

“What, you mean you've never had anyone kiss you before?” Jonny nervously asked, more to inform himself of what he had done than anything else, as he knew full well what Chris's answer would be. Or he thought he knew what part of Chris's answer would be, and it came with a shrug of Chris's shoulders.

 

“No, but can we do that again?”

 

Jonny exhaled a breath of relief. Of course, another few seconds passed before he realized what Chris had said. Then he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He stared at Chris with some confusion, then decided that he may as well go for it, regardless of Chris's actual reply.

 

He leaned in again, this time at a much slower pace, and judging by Chris's lack of retraction, he seemed to be doing something right. Both of their mouths were conveniently already open and slid together with perfect ease. It wasn't until after Jonny felt Chris's braces hit his teeth – which didn't hurt as much as he thought it might have – that he really became conscious of what he was doing. What he and Chris were doing. He smiled a little, and a few seconds later Chris grabbed his right hand.

 

“You know, for an asexual, you're pretty good at that,” Jonny breathed, his lips still less than an inch away from Chris's.

 

“Well, maybe I'm not so asexual after all,” Chris replied. He laughed, and even though it was as breathy as Jonny's speech, it still managed to carry with it a slight hint of a snort. Jonny thought it sounded remarkable. He smiled again as Chris scrunched up his nose to lift his glasses. When they slid down almost instantly afterward, Jonny took the liberty to push them back up for Chris.

 

Then Jonny became occupied with staring into Chris's eyes, those stunningly blue eyes that sometimes were hidden behind the glare off of Chris's glasses. But at this particular moment they were clear in Jonny's view, looking back at him with a soft and kind expression. He wanted to smile just thinking about how close they were now, but he quickly realized that he was already smiling and probably hadn't stopped since the first time.

 

Chris asked him something, but he was too busy drowning in his own happiness to hear properly. “What?” he replied in a dazed sort of way.

 

“I said I think I should ask my parents if you can stay for dinner tonight,” Chris quietly repeated, which made Jonny think that maybe he had gotten away with not hearing it the first time because Chris had mumbled then as well. “I don't think they would mind.”

 

Jonny's raised his eyebrows. “Do they even know I'm here now?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Chris bit his lip – innocently, though that didn't stop Jonny from taking notice – and stared at the ground. “Well, I guess they'll know when I ask.” Then Chris moved his eyes again, and Jonny followed his gaze to see that it had been set upon their hands, still combined. Jonny ran his thumb over Chris's and out of the corner of his eye he saw Chris look up at him again. “I'll go ask now.”

 

Chris took his hand back and prepared to stand. For a few moments he remained still, though, looking at Jonny as though what he really wanted to do was stay in the attic forever, which also happened to be what Jonny wanted to do. But then Chris finally turned and disappeared through the hatch.

 

Jonny took a deep breath and prepared to be alone for a few moments when Chris reappeared with an urgent look. “You can come with me, you know,” he told Jonny, and he didn't leave until Jonny had cast Goodnight Moon aside and crawled over to the hatch.

 

Going down the stairs was just as weird an experience for Jonny as going up had been. He noticed this time that several pictures of Chris were hung up on the walls. The photographs seemed to have been taken recently, as Chris looked roughly the same age and still wore braces. In a few of them, Chris was outdoors in a rather nice-looking house, much nicer than the one Jonny was currently walking through, and he couldn't help wondering where the location was and why Chris's family was no longer there.

 

“Your folks really like you, don't they?” Jonny asked as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pointing to the nearest picture of Chris doing what appeared be homework. “If I were them, I wouldn't have such awfully boring pictures hanging about everywhere.”

 

Chris turned to look at the picture. He scrunched his eyebrows together and narrowed his eyes a bit to create his usual pondering expression. Then he looked at some of the other pictures on the wall. “I put those there,” he decidedly announced. Jonny laughed, whether or not Chris was actually being serious (which was always very difficult to tell with Chris). He must have been joking, though, because he smiled at Jonny before leaving the room to find his parents.

 

Jonny followed him, but he hadn't quite caught up before he heard Chris speaking to his parents. “Hello, parents. I would like you to meet my friend, Jonny– Oh. I thought he was right behind me.”

 

Jonny quietly laughed from the other room; he could practically hear Chris pushing up his glasses and squishing his eyebrows together. He wondered if Chris's parents would think Chris was making up his existence if he just stayed where he was. But he decided that might be too cruel, and so he kept going until finally he was standing right where Chris was gesturing to.

 

“Oh! Jonny, parents,” Chris said, moving his arms to point towards his mother and father. “Parents, Jonny.” He turned back to Jonny and flashed a quick smile, which Jonny involuntarily returned.

 

Both of Chris's parents responded with “Nice to meet you”s in Jonny's direction, and Jonny suddenly grew uncomfortable, light-headed and nauseated as he realized the room they were standing in was the kitchen. He didn't have time to worry about the vast number of eyes pointed in his direction, he just inhaled a shaky breath and tried to keep his own eyes from staring at the floor. Flashes of memory threatened to overwhelm him, but he just kept breathing and did his best to fight them off.

 

He hadn't thought he would be so affected by the measly sight of a kitchen, but apparently he had thought wrong.

 

Chris noticed Jonny's behavior and was staring at him with a great deal of concern. Then his expression changed as he seemed to understand what was wrong. He quickly turned to his parents and blurted, “Can Jonny stay for dinner, mum? We can wait upstairs until it's ready.”

 

“Well, your father and I were just talking about going out for dinner. But... Jonny is welcome to come with us, if he likes.”

 

“Oh, he likes,” Chris immediately replied. Then he spun around and grabbed Jonny by the wrist, dragging him out of the kitchen. “Come on, Jonny, we can go wait outside.”

 

“We'll be out in a few minutes,” Chris's father called after them as Chris pulled Jonny through what appeared to be the living room, then the front door. As the outside air hit Jonny, he finally began to calm down. He and Chris continued walking, past the alley way and towards the nearby road, until finally they reached an old-looking, dark blue, four-door car. Jonny guessed that it must have been at least Chris's age, if not older. Yet, it appeared to be in decent shape. The two boys stopped in front of one of the back doors, and Chris placed his hands on Jonny's shoulders.

 

“Are you OK?” he cautiously asked, his eyes rapidly moving around to examine every inch of Jonny's face. Jonny gathered his strength and nodded. “I'm really sorry about that, Jonny, I didn't think–”

 

“Neither did I,” Jonny tried to say in a reassuring and even forgiving voice, but it came out hoarse instead. He coughed and attempted the correct tone again. “It's not your fault or anything. I haven't even been in... since – but, listen, I didn't even know. So...”

 

Chris nodded to show he understood Jonny's broken speech, but he must not have felt that the gesture was good enough by itself. Jonny found himself being pulled into Chris's arms a few moments later, which for some reason made him laugh. It was a soft, nervous laugh, but Jonny nevertheless thought it seemed a bit out of place.

 

“I think the worst part about it was just that I got that feeling again,” Jonny began, though he wasn't sure why. He didn't really want to talk about it, but he couldn't stop himself. “That feeling... when it first happened... You know, like... I never knew why they did... So, I always just assumed that it was because of me.” He laughed again, more apprehension leaking through, as if trying to convince himself that it was ridiculous to feel that way. Chris pulled back sharply, the look on his face more serious than Jonny had ever seen before, to the point of being frightening.

 

His voice was equally imposing, Jonny discovered, as his hands clamped down on Jonny's shoulders and he said, “Jonny, why would anyone kill themselves because of you?”

 

A darkness – not intended to appear angry, but undoubtedly did so – fell over Jonny's face. In silence Jonny watched Chris's expression soften greatly as something in his mind clicked, and for the second time that afternoon he understood Jonny without needing words. The look that washed over him resembled regret, and he retracted his arms and sighed at the ground.

 

“I – If I had known–”

 

“No,” Jonny interrupted forcefully, having realized that Chris was attempting to blame himself for something that wasn't exactly his fault. “Don't do that. Don't apologize. Just... it's over, OK? Everything's fine.”

 

Chris carefully looked up. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

At that moment, Chris's parents joined them, oblivious to any bit of the boys' conversation. Chris just gave Jonny a look meant to substitute a hug, then he held open the car door for him. Once Jonny was in the car, Chris walked around to the other side and slid in himself. By that time both of Chris's parents had also managed to get into the car, and the click of Chris's seat belt coincided with the revving of the car's engine.

 

Jonny and Chris didn't speak much during the car ride; Chris's father had the radio up so loud – tuned into what seemed to be the oldest oldies station around – that Jonny could barely even hear his own heartbeat. But he was content with this, as he now had time to just stare out of the window and think.

 

Cars were another thing that Jonny was not used to anymore. He did feel a tiny bit of motion sickness along the way, but he tried to swallow it down and focus on more important things. Like the fact that since he had some time to spend inside his own head, he remembered that to a certain extent he could now say he knew what Chris tasted like, what Chris felt like, and be entirely truthful.

 

And Chris could say the same thing about him.

 

Jonny felt a shiver run down his back. The memory seemed too fantastic to be real. It couldn't be real. There was no way it could be real. Especially since Chris was still there, sitting next to him, still wanting to have anything to do with him. He hardly ever got that reaction from other boys. He had half-expected Chris to have run away, screaming. But, miraculously, he didn't, and Jonny had to work his brains very hard to convince himself it wasn't all one enormous dream.

 

He glanced over at Chris, who was also staring out of the car window. He was trying to sing along with the song that was blaring from the speakers, and he sang with surprising volume. Jonny could actually hear his voice quite clearly. Chris didn't exactly have the most beautiful voice in the world, but Jonny found there was still something quite lovely about it. He was so entranced by Chris's singing that he stared until finally he became aware that the car had stopped moving, the music had been turned off, and Chris looked at him with flushed cheeks.

 

“You can get out of the car now, Jonny,” he quietly said. “Or it might be hard to eat through the building. Not – not eat through the building like eating the building, I mean, eating through it like... eating – Well, the food will be inside and you'll still be out here in the car and...” Chris stared down at his hands, his face growing even redder. “Usually my jokes work better than that.”

 

“I know, I've heard them before.” Chris smiled and pushed up his glasses. There was a tap on the window behind him.

 

“Are you boys coming or what?” Chris's father asked, his voice muffled through the glass. Chris nodded.

 

“Come on, Jonny, I'll race you!”

 

As soon as Jonny got out of the car, Chris grabbed his arm and, running, pulled him towards the building. “You know, I don't think it's a race if you're dragging me along,” Jonny breathily shouted at Chris, who merely laughed in response. They both entered the restaurant far earlier than Chris's parents did, so they waited for a while by the door.

 

Jonny's heart was racing, but not because they had run inside. Chris never technically let go of Jonny's arm, he merely slid his hand down until both of their hands were touching. They weren't exactly holding hands, but Jonny's hormones couldn't tell the difference.

 

A waitress with light brown hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail showed them to their table, after an embarrassing incident in which Chris's father miscounted the number of people in their party several times. They were seated at a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, next to a family which appeared to have too many people to sit in a booth. Jonny figured that Chris's father and mother would sit together, so he followed Chris.

 

“I'll sit on the inside, Jonny,” Chris informed him, already halfway into the booth. With a snorting laugh he added, “That way you don't have to feel like you're trapped.”

 

Chris's parents laughed along, and Jonny noted that Chris's laugh appeared to have been inherited. Oddly, Jonny found himself too happy to actually laugh with them; he just grinned and took his seat beside Chris.

 

The pile of menus the waitress had left behind sat at Jonny's end of the table. Chris's father, who sat opposite Jonny, took the liberty of distributing them throughout the party. Jonny had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he opened the menu. It may as well have been written in Greek. He discreetly looked up to see that Chris's parents were both heavily involved in their menus. He also noticed the rambunctious family at the table next to theirs and figured they were uproarious enough that he had no reason to fear being overheard.

 

“Chris,” he urgently whispered, but Chris did not respond. He waited a few seconds more before he tried again to capture Chris's attention. Chris innocently looked up and blinked a few times. Jonny gestured to the menu in his hands.

 

“Oh,” Chris finally responded. Then he turned back to his own menu and flipped through a few pages. Jonny bit his lip and watched in anticipation. Chris shot a glance at him again and flatly asked, “Do you like pizza?”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jonny said with a shrug. He couldn't even remember the last time he ate pizza, though. If he ever had.

 

Chris reached over and grabbed Jonny's menu. He closed it and stacked it on top of his own menu, then placed the two on the tabletop. “Mum?”

 

“Yes, Chris?”

 

“Um,” Chris pointedly clasped his hands in front of himself in a very business-like manner, “Jonny and I request to share a pizza.”

 

Without even looking up from her menu, she replied, “All right.”

 

Chris gave Jonny the thumbs-up sign, until his thick-rimmed glasses slid down and he had to attend to that matter instead. When he turned back to Jonny, he looked as though he had been struck with a thought. “Oh. Is just cheese all right, Jonny?”

 

“Yeah, that's fine.”

 

“Good. I don't usually eat toppings on pizza, other than cheese. It just doesn't taste right.” Chris shrugged, then suddenly he flung his arm out and grabbed the salt shaker from the center of the table. He placed the shaker on top of the stack of menus, then did the same with the pepper shaker. Then he proceeded to add various bottles of condiments – the ketchup, the mustard – to the mix. After a while he looked at Jonny, who had been watching the entire time, and simply explained, “I have nothing better to do.”

 

Jonny shook his head in semi-disapproval, but the smile plastered on his face suggested that he wholeheartedly approved of Chris's weird quirks. Which he definitely did.

 

 

[coldplayer#16]

 

Part 6:

 

 

 

Double Date - Part 6

by ~J-M-P-16

 

           I couldn't believe my eyes, Mae had slapped her new boyfriend, what the f*ck just happened?! I heard a smack and everything through the glass and . . . well, I did what (I think) any normal person would do . . . run out and see what the hell just happened. To my surprise, however, outside were Mae and the other Jon, arms around each other and a rather annoyed little girl close by.

 

           "What the hell just happened?!" I yelled, catching the couple off guard.

 

           "Where the hell'd you come from?" the other Jon asked.

 

           "My mum," I answered, "Now, seriously, what just . . . she slapped you!"

 

           "No I didn't!" Mae laughed, "It was acting, stupid!"

 

           "Acting?!"

 

           "Yeah," the other Jon said, "I have a play coming up and . . . something else son top of that, so in one of the scenes my character's slapped."

 

           "And you practice in public?" I asked.

 

           "See how convincing it is," he said, "and, by your reaction, it was."

 

           "But . . but I heard the slap and . . ."

 

           "That was me," the little girl said, clapping her hands, "I was helpin'."

 

           "And you did a great job, Curls," Mae said, messing up the little girl's hair, "C'mon, that was enough fooling around, lets get you to your mom's shop."

 

           "Okay!" the little girl said, smiling, "but is there gonna be cocoa?"

 

           Mae laughed, "Maybe, if you ask nice enough."

 

           The little girl's eyes widened and she had the same toothless smile I'd seen before, "C'mon, lets go!"

 

           "Alright, alright, see ya Chris." Mae said, taking the little girl's hand and then the other Jon's hand.

 

           "Bye?" I said, and the three of them left without another word.

 

           "Chris, get in here, this stuff is amazing!" Jonny called, a smile on his face.

 

           "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." I said, walking back into the store.

 

    "Look at all of these!" Jonny said, excited and acting like a little kid in a candy store, "I-I mean, all of these guitars and . . . just wow."

 

    "I'm glad you're impressed, British boy," we heard from the entrance way. The owner of the store had come up from his place at the desk and came to talk, "It's not everyday I get someone as appreciative of these babies as I am."

 

    "They're beautiful, sir," Jonny told him, turning to look at more guitars, "How'd you get them all, I mean, keep them so well taken care of and . . ."

 

    "I run this place and I run it well," the owner said, "Been doin' it for years."

 

    "I applaud you then, mister . . .?"

 

    "Just call me Buzz."

 

    "Buzz?" I asked.

 

    "Buzz," the old man replied.

 

    "Local nickname," Forest cut in, "I'm still tryin' ta figure out why."

 

    "Don't have to," Tom said, strumming the guitar, "It's just how it is."

 

    "Yes sir," I said, smiling.

 

    "Hey, Forest, you've been here a while, right?" Jonny asked.

 

    "Two years, but that ain't long."

 

    "Is it long enough for you to know who 'Mae Wadsworth' is?" I knew what Jonny was trying to do, make me mad, but I tried my best to hid it . . . which wasn't working.

 

    "Yeah, I know her," Forest said, drawl thick and voice low, "She's a little whore."

 

[coldplayer#16]

(2 parts in one day, WHAT?!)

Part 7:

 

 

The words rang in my head, “little whore”, and I lost myself with anger. Without thinking, I brought a fist up and swung as hard as I could across the Southerner’s jaw, “YOU BASTARD!”

 

“Whoa, what’s your problem?!” Forest spat, literally.

 

“Don’t you DARE say that about my Mae again, got it!”

 

“Your Mae?!” I heard Jonny blurt, but I was a little more focused on Forest, who was laughing darkly.

 

“And here I thought you were a f*cking pansy!” he laughed, “But nah, your the vixen’s latest victim! Did you not see her with that other boy?! She’s a ruthless heartbreaker!”

 

“SHUT UP!!!” I roared, my face probably red and I could feel my heart pounding.

 

“Make me,” Forest threatened, just rising up to his feet.

 

“Don’t tempt me,” I warned. Jonny put a hand on my shoulder, but I just shrugged him off and brought another fist up, but my swing was stopped.

 

“Chris, STOP IT!” It was Jonny. He had both hands over my fist to stop me.

 

“Ha, looks like your boyfriend knows who to root for!” Forest laughed.

 

“Hit him,” Jonny said darkly, letting my hand go, “Hit him hard.”

 

“With pleasure!” I said, swinging my fist into the redneck’s stomach.

 

Forest jerked back and gasped, crossing his arms over his gut and his knees buckled under him, “Damn!”

 

“Don’t you ever talk about Mae that way again!” I hissed.

 

“And no one says that about me!” Jonny added.

 

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” Forest blurted, looking to Tom.

 

“You deserve it,” Tom said simply, “Just because you have something against Mae doesn’t mean these two do, so sometimes, it’s better to keep your mouth shut.”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

“Plus, it saves me the trouble of dealing with you.” Tom looked at us, “I’m willing to over look this, only if you two get out of here now and forget about this.”

 

“Forget about what?” I asked, understanding Tom’s point of view.

 

“Exactly, now, get out of here, before he gets up.”

 

Jonny and I listened and left, apologizing to Buzz, of course, and then back out to wander around. We didn’t say anything to each other for a solid twenty minutes, just walking, not a word or look. It was awkward, but we both needed a chance to chill out.

 

“What did you mean by ‘my Mae’?” Jonny finally asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Dunno,” I admitted, “I snapped, I just . . . I don’t know J, I didn’t mean it though.”

 

“So sure?” Jonny asked.

 

“Yes, J, I’m sure,” I said, grabbing his hand, “Mae’s gone.”

 

Jonny just smiled and laced his fingers through mine, “And so is Sara.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, and then Jonny stopped and hugged me, kissing me and not letting go for what felt like forever. I didn’t mind.

 

Jonny finally came up for air, but I came right back and kissed him, holding him in my arms and feeling his body press up to mine. It was wonderful! I didn’t care if it was bitter cold, or if we were in public, or . . . oh, it was just bliss.

 

“Wanna go get a milkshake?” I asked out of nowhere.

 

Jonny just laughed, “What the hell, why not?” I smiled and let him go, lacing my fingers through his and going up to the nearest sweet shop, which just so happened to be the Cues.

 

“Hello?” I asked, walking into the store.

 

“Chris?” I heard, seeing Mae come from around the corner, “What are you guys doing here?”

 

“You guys serve milkshakes?” I asked.

 

“Not normally,” I heard someone say from the other side of the room, “But I could make an exception for friends.”

 

“Friends?” I asked, turning to where the voice was coming from.

 

“Yes, you guys clearly know Mae,” I heard, “So, any friend of Mae’s is a friend of mine.”

 

“Okay?” I said, still nsure of who the voice belonged to.

 

“Chris, over there,” Jonny said, turning my head over to the side counter and down through the glass.

 

“Oh, sorry,” I heard, and then a woman came up from behind the counter, “I was just cleaning up a bit. I’m Mrs. Cue.”

 

“Chris,” I said, “and this is Jonny.”

 

“Hi,” Jonny said, waving slightly.

 

“Pleasure to meet you boys, so, milkshake huh?” Mrs. Cue asked, pulling out a big glass, “I normally just do root beer floats, but if you boys want something else, I think it can be arranged.”

 

“Aren’t floats and shakes the same thing?” Jonny asked.

 

“Not totally,” Mrs. Cue said, “but what do you boys want?”

 

“Root beer float sounds good to me,” I said, “You good with that, J?”

 

“Fine by me,” Jonny said.

 

“Alright, good choice, JON!” Mrs. Cue called, and the other Jon came out into the room, “Float, fill ‘er up!” Mrs. Cue shot the glass down the counter and the other Jon caught it and popped it off of his arm, catching it like it was nothing.

 

“Yes, auntie,” the other Jon said, wandering off into the back room.

 

“‘Auntie’?!”, Jonny and I said, confused and also surprised.

 

“Yes, my nephew, good kid, just a bit clueless.”

 

“I can still hear you!” the other Jon said.

 

A small boy, only about four, came out all dressed up in a long sleeved dress shirt and vest, his arms out like he was playing airplane, “You made Jonny mad, mommy!” he giggled.

 

“I know, buddy, I know,” Mrs. Cue said, “Why are you all dressed up?”

 

“I dunno,” the little boy said. He continued running around with his arms fully extended and I saw blond curls bouncing with each energetic step he took.

 

“Hyper little guy, ain’tcha?” I said, bending down to the boy’s eye level. The boy stopped and looked at me, big brown eyes staring me down and smile now gone. He turned and ran back to his mother and hugged her leg.

 

“Mom . . .” he said, looking over at us.

 

“It’s alright, Bennett,” Mrs. Cue said, lifting her son onto the counter, “they’re just customers.”

 

“MOM!” we heard a high voice say from the back room, foot steps coming in pounding and fast.

 

“She’s lying, whatever she says, she’s lying!” we heard another voice say.

 

“Oh no,” Mrs. Cue said, “what is it this time?”

 

“Mom, Alex ruined my drawings!” It was the same little girl who attacked us with snowballs earlier, Curly Cue.

 

“No, I didn’t, I was showing you a better way to do it and then you went crazy and ruined it yourself.”

 

“Guys, I don’t have time for this,” Mrs. Cue said, “What did he do that was so bad, Curls?”

 

“Ruined my drawing!” Curly Cue repeated.

 

“Alex?” Mrs. Cue said, eyebrow raised at the older looking boy.

 

“I was just showin’ her how to do it right, and then she sent the marker all over the page when I grabbed her hand.”

 

“Okay, one, you should never do that to show someone something, Alex, and two, you guys were supposed to be watching Bennett.”

 

“I told her/him to do it!” Alex and Curly Cue said together, pointing to the other person.

 

“Oh, Mae!” Mrs. Cue called.

 

“Right,” Mae said, taking the older children’s hands, “C’mon, you guys are coming upstairs with me.” Mae took the kids to the other room and was out of sight, Mrs. Cue now busy with her youngest child.

 

“What are we gonna do with them, Bennett?” she asked.

 

“You could give their snacks to me from now on,” the little boy said.

 

“Nice try,” Mrs. Cue said, lifting her son off the counter and putting him down, “Could you show these boys to a table, buddy?”

 

The boy looked over at us and then at his mother, who nodded and smiled at him. He walked over to us and held both hands out, “Coming?”

 

“Bennett!” Mrs. Cue said, shocked by her son’s words. J and I looked at each other and then at the little boy, who still had his hands out, and we started laughing.

 

“What?!” Bennett asked innocently.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, still laughing slightly, “he’s fine.”

 

“Yeah,” Jonny said, “He’s how old?”

 

“I’m four!” Bennett said, holding up four fingers at us.

 

“Exactly, he’s young! We understand,” Jonny said.

 

“He knows better,” Mrs. Cue said, voice flat.

 

“Don’t they all?” I asked, feeling the little boy’s hand come up to mine. I looked down at him and he was looking up at me blankely, and then he turned and led me and Jon over to a nice little booth by the window.

 

“Here okay?” he asked.

 

“Perfect,” Jonny told him.

 

“And you have perfect timing, Bennett,” we heard the other Jon say.

 

“I do?” Bennett asked, looking at his cousin with confusion.

 

“Yep,” the other Jon said, placing a big root beer float on the table, whip cream on top with a couple of cherries, as well as two straws and spoons on either side of the glass.

 

“You made this?” I asked.

 

“Yeah, not that hard,” the other Jon said, lifting his younger cousin onto his shoulders, “You guys are lucky though.”

 

“How’s that?” Jonny asked.

 

“Mae picked up your tab, so in a way, on the house.” The other Jon walked off with Bennett on his shoulders into the back room and Mrs. Cue followed them out.

 

“Picked up the tab, huh?” Jonny said, taking a sip of the float, “That was nice of her.”