Waiting for you

I’m waiting, pacing, fidgeting. Where are you?1

It’s late. Dark, and the moon is only crescent; two boys, howling with laughter and falling into the road, arms over each other’s shoulders, the other clutching empty two litres. Both are unbalanced, and as every car passes swerving and swearing the boys collapse into hysterics once more. Their words are slurred yet perfectly legible to the other. Years had taught them to understand. 2

One of the boys’ arms slips further down the other’s waist, unnoticed. The two slow now, the mood dropping as clouds begin to form overhead. They continue to walk, stumbling as if in a three-legged race; the boy on the left, long blond hair framing his soft face, peers to the sky. His companion, choppy brown bangs alighting sharp, angular features, turns to look at his friend. The dim moonlight sends deep green eyes into shadow. The blond boy twists from the night sky, and in one electric second their faces are so close, so close, noses touching, breath clouding the others lip, eyes boring to one another and- 3

You said you’d be here by now, long before now. Where are you? I don’t want to be angry with you, not when... today means a lot to me. I hope it means a lot to you, too. So where are you?4

A blond boy is walking, slowly. He cockily spits his cigarette butt into the dewy grass. There are people seemingly everywhere; the atmosphere is warm, comforting, a campfire for friends not long for this town. Another boy sits alone in the distance. He is under a tree, facing the forest in front of him. His brown hair has grown. The blond boy joins him, mimicking his defensive stance by letting his arms drape loosely over his bent knees. Silence, broken only by background laughter, drunken. 5

‘I’m gonna miss this place, you know?’6

The other boy knew. He sighed, lay back against the thick turf. Without looking at the blond boy, he spoke.7

‘I’m going to miss you, Jude,’8

Jude pushed his golden hair from his eyes, rubbed his temple briefly. Silence, again, but this time thick with disappointment and unspoken tension. He joins his friend looking at the stars. The two remember the night, weeks gone now, journeying home, the moment they had both missed. Suddenly, and without warning, Jude swung himself onto his side and over until their eyes meet centimetres apart- their lips touch, just for a moment.9

Just for a moment. Jude’s eyes snap open, and he’s on his feet and running before the other boy could stop him.10

I...I don’t know what to do with myself. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour. I tried to read, but the words dance in front of my eyes and pages are turned until I realize I haven’t taken anything in. I stand in the hallway, just before the glass door where I know I will see you before you see me. See your lanky frame lent in my doorway, nonchalant and casual, arrogant wolf grin revealing white teeth. But you aren’t there, and I don’t know where you are. 11

A pub, far enough from civilization to not be plagued with police. A boy sits on a wall; his shoulders are slumped with the weight of a world unable to be drowned in his half-empty pint glass. He sits outside to break from the happy, bubbling, Friday night chatter that overflows from the buildings very walls as if to spite him. Not just Friday, but the last Friday. And Jude...Jude. The brunette boy sighs; leaving his Carlsberg alone on the brickwork, he throws his hood up against the stuttering rain and begins the dreadful lonely mile descent. A silhouette in the distance- a bike, a boy on a bike; blond hair flying. He skids to a halt. 12

Two boys face each other. Jude lets his bike clatter to the ground, spraying water from puddles forming fast from the free-flowing rain; he walks towards the other slowly, as if not to scare him. One step. Two steps. They are as close as they were, so many nights ago. Jude raises his hand, pulls down his friends hood and brushes his hair from his face. The other boy leans forward. Their clothes stick to them, sodden and cold as they hold one another against the torrent: kissing, long and slow, indulgent. The brunette boy holds Jude’s waist close as his friend loses his fingers in brown locks.13

It’s too late, now. I know it’s too late. You’ve had second thoughts. You’ve realized it was a mistake. You’ve already left. You’re not coming at all, are you? And you won’t tell me. Just leave me, here, alone as I wait by the window like a homesick child. It’s raining, now. You’ll be cold, if you’re coming. But you’re not, you’re not, and I mustn’t get my hopes up. But...where are you?14

It’s raining, and both boys crash through the door and fall to the bed. Their skin is still damp, fresh from the downpour yet there is a heat between them; they are kissing passionately, pulling the other closer and closer and closer as if they cannot get enough of their body. The brown haired boy slips his hand under Jude’s shirt, tracing his cold hands over Jude’s muscular back. Jude stops, pulls away...15

‘Simon... I...’16

Simon stopped, both still panting as their chests rose and fell in sync. Jude opened his mouth as if to say something, but Simon was already fixing his clothes and walking towards the door, and in that moment Jude felt uncontrollable loss, pain and loneliness. He reached a hand... Simon turned back at the door. 17

‘Jude, I get it. I won’t bother you anymore. I...I’m sorry.’ 18

Blinking back angry tears Simon looked away. A jacket was collected from the floor, and he was just throwing it over his shoulder as he felt Jude’s hand on his waist. Their eyes met in a second, a second, a flash of static and passion and need and lust and! Simon dropped his jacket, pushing Jude to the bed once more.19

Later, they lay together. Both on their backs, facing the ceiling, the crackling heat between them dulled to comfortable warmth. Jude brushed his blonde hair from his face, turning on to his side away from Simon. His voice was quiet. Almost... ashamed. 20

‘Please... just don’t leave me tonight, Simon.’21

The bed sighed as the other boy moved, and for a brief terrible moment Jude knew he was up, he was leaving, he was gone but then... a strong arm curled under his own, pulling his torso into the hot skin of Simons chest. Simon buried his head in Jude’s hair, kissing his neck and whispering ‘I’m not leaving. I promise.’22

So now I wait, I'm waiting, I'm fucking waiting STILL and I don’t know where you are I'm panicking now because there’s no more time, we’ve run out of time and I know you’ve already gone. You’ve already gone. You’ve left, forever. And you promised you wouldn’t leave, Simon. You promised. You gave me your word. 23

I move to the table slowly, a dead man walking. This is torture, rereading what you sent to me. The torn white paper of your scrawled note, folded and faded from the inside of my pocket for so long. So little words. They mean more to me then a twelve page sonnet. Five words, you know. Only five. In that blue biro, the one you borrowed off me for exams in year eight, and never returned. I laugh as I remember how petty we once were... but we aren’t ‘we’ anymore, are we? Personal pronouns a further stab at my heart. I replay that night, that wonderful night, bright and over-contrasted in my mind; your face so close to mine, eyes opening to stare at mine as you would find new, startling ways to make me feel better than ever before. The touch of your skin to mine... I crave it. I rely on you, you know? Your body almost as familiar as my own but with wonderful newness every time we are together. I’d find a bruise on your hip, stroke the long jagged scar over your shoulder. You remember when I pushed you out of that tree? You never forgave me, but that scar never ceased to impress me nonetheless; lying with your warm weight upon me, you sleep into my collarbone as I lightly run my fingers down the poor scarred skin. 24

I...know I never say it, Simon, I’m too scared. You’ve said it to me before, so many times; whispered into my hair or casually thrown over your shoulder goodbye or even moaned into my ear in passionate desperation but I just can’t seem to say it back. I’m sorry, I truly am. I see how much it hurts you when I don’t reply. It’s just..those three words, said so much and used so much but after that first night, I felt so vulnerable to you. I don’t know, Simon. I guess I thought you’d think less of me. And I wouldn’t want that for the world. 25

BANG BANG BANG BANG26

Simon stands on a doorstep, miles from where he should be. He knows he’s breaking the rules, he knows the connotations; he thought he could leave, he thought he could just walk away. But ten minutes drive and he was already fifth gear back towards that house, that house that he knew he should never have left. The house he never wanted to leave. The boy he never wanted to leave. His car left double parked on the yellow lines, door unlocked and not shut properly but he ran, he RAN and RAN and RAN until his hair was drenched and dripping into his eyes. Simon fell onto the doorstep, crashed his fist against the glass behind which the boy he loved would be waiting.27

Jude looked up, startled. Walked to the door, pulled it open.28

Simone stood, hand braced against the doorframe, bent over panting and shivering violently. Jude looked at the taller boy, swept his brown hair from his eyes; Simons pleading eyes met his, warm tears unmistakable against Jude’s hand as he brushes his cheek. 29

‘I’m not leaving again, Jude.’30

The shorter, blond haired boy envelops the brunette into his arms. The brunette’s shoulders shake from need and cold and sorrow but he manages to raise his head, meet electric green eyes to brown. 31

Jude lips brush Simons, rainwater running down both of their faces now as they hold one another. 32

‘I love you, Simon.’ 33