"Snow Angels - 2" by YSD
... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ...
Consciousness was almost physically moving up my body. It started in my legs (one of my toes idly twitching in reaction) before moving up into my groin, back and arms (that tingled pleasantly). It was almost as if my body was slowly booting up, making sure that everything was still in place after passing out. Soon the sensation spread up into my chest and neck, my eyelids struggling for only a second before fluttering open, blinking rapidly.
"Hey there." The voice was liquid and warm, entering me and lifting me up, pulling my heart towards the speaker: "I was wondering if you were ever gonna come round."
For a second my empty head filled up with that voice, basking in it, but then my mind started to boot up as well. Images flashed across in series: the Jack Daniels bottle; me drunkenly walking across the street; his confused "Hey Quinn!" to me; and then feeling his strong arms catch me as I fell, passing out.
Getting into this unknown bed and unknown room? That was a black void in my memory.
My eyes stopped roaming the strange walls - this is what the inside of his house looks like? It didn't seem to be his room, far too impersonal. Perhaps a guest bedroom? - and settled on Eric, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He was leaning across me, a hand on either side of my body, his face close to mine. I could see the laugh lines around his large pink lips, his green eyes terribly gentle and the faintest pinpricks of stubble across his chin. The tips of my fingers itched to fix a single lock of crisp curling black hair that had fallen down across his left eye.
"You feel OK?" He asked gently, his voice rippling down my spine.
I didn't break eye contact as I nodded mutely.
I guess Eric must have been thinking that I was major freak, just lying there and not saying a word. And it's not like I didn't have anything to say - I was all full of words, even if they were all repetitions of 'sorry' - but I just didn't know how to speak in front of him. This is Eric, the boy who makes every breath I take a religious experience, the boy who'll always own my heart. I wasn't worthy of being in his presence never mind attempting to pretend that I had anything worth saying to him - anything that was worth him wasting his time listening to.
This is also the first time since he helped me two years ago that I've been this close to him. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to stare at him, lose myself in him. So I did.
As I lay there looking up at him something happened, something passed between us. His eyes softened gently and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly before moving into a smile that seemed to me to be more than just friendly. It filled my stomach with butterflies and (on the edge of my emotional range) I thought I could almost feel his desire to keep looking at me. For a second I tried to resist whatever it was that I was feeling because, no doubt, it would turn out to be false - but it was too much, too exhilarating, and I could feel myself blossoming under his gaze. My lips curved into a bashful grin and my cheeks went a deep crimson red.
I was literally glowing under his attention and for the first time in my life I thought perhaps (just perhaps) Eric and I were even remotely possible ... and I wondered if this is how two people feel just before kissing.
My entire being tingled with love for him.
Just before the feeling washed over me completely and took total possession I noticed the slightest change in Eric's smile that caused me to pull back from him. As the pause between us persisted his smile become more polite, reserved and a lot less intimate. It probably would have been unnoticeable had I not been staring so intently. I was disappointed of course as the realisation washed over me that this wasn't some kind of spiritual and sexual frisson between us. This was his general concern for the crazy kid turning up on his door step drunk and my over active imagination, this was Eric being a nice guy and me reading far too much into it. But I had managed to catch myself just before being swept away into trying to do something to him. For that, at least, I was glad.
My entire being sank with embarrassment at what I had been thinking.
This was Eric . The boy I'd spent most of my life loving from a distance, the boy I'd watched but always known could never be mine. Being this close to him made my heart swell up to seven times its normal size but it was all full of hot air, with the knowledge that - in the sober minutes I've just spent with him - I've confirmed everything I'd feared. He was untouchable and that knowledge sat on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I had to get out of here before the lump in my throat turned into tears. I had to leave before I obliterated my heart in dashing it uselessly against this unattainable fortress of a man.
"I'm really fine thanks but I gotta go." I whispered it quietly and quickly, hoping that Eric would just let me leave and so spare me more pain that speaking to him - and, thus, embarrassing myself - would cause.
I guess Eric was confused by my complete change in attitude - it had been merely a few seconds since we were smiling at each other pleasantly - and a look crossed his face that I would have interpreted as pained had it been anyone but Eric. Why would me leaving cause him anything but joy?
So I tried to sit up ..... Bad idea!
I guess the only thing that had been keeping me from feeling the all over horribleness was me being vertical because the after effects of the alcohol all rushed straight to my head, making everything spin. This, in turn, made my stomach jump in the most concerning fashion and I actually had to clamp down with my abdomen muscles to keep from throwing up. My hand went to my forehead, my eyes closing tight against the pain. Nothing was good.
I could vaguely feel the pressure of Eric's hand on my chest, pushing me back into the pillows.
"Dude, you're not going any where," He told me forcefully.
I let out the huge breath I had been holding to keep down the vomit, angling my head towards Eric slightly so that my head was resting on the cold part of the pillow, easing the badness away.
"No, my Dad - and I - " I tried to start, my throat beginning to feel constricted. My desire to panic and my embarrassment were clashing somewhere behind my eyes, bringing tears up. I tried to hold them back but I wasn't sure how much of this I could stand. I just wanted to go home and cry on my own.
Yet, even in this overly emotional state I was aware of Eric's hand on my chest and the other at the nape of my neck. I don't remember him putting it there but his grip was so warm and comforting that I had the overpowering urge to lean into his caress. I just wanted to melt into him and purr contentedly.
"Don't worry about anything," Eric replied, squeezing my neck, "We can call him, tell him you're staying here. You're not going anywhere for a while - unless you wanna throw up again."
I made a loud sound in the back of my throat and clenched my eyes shut. I could feel a whole load of obscene words rising in my throat - all aimed at myself of course - as well as those stinging tears of humiliation. I couldn't believe this. I had managed to ruin everything ever in one fail swoop. Eric would never want to look at me again but, if he did, I would always be 'that boy who threw up in his house.'
I heard a playful little giggle.
"I'm just joking dude," He whispered, meeting my eyes with his laughing ones. I felt a puzzled frown crease my forehead before what he said dawned, a slow smile spreading across my face - but totally against my will. I wasn't going to let his sheer good nature fool me into thinking he actually liked me!
Eric seemed pleased with my reaction, patting me in the neck and then letting go of me. I felt a vague, all over pain that he wasn't touching me anymore but I tried to ignore it.
"You don't drink much then?" He asked warmly, still full of humour.
I shook my head 'no', flushing red and still feeling stupid.
"Wait till you do - then the hang overs really kick in," He said with a comical shrug of his shoulders, a questioning look coming into his eyes: "Still not too sure why you came here though."
Then it occurred to me that I was going to have to explain this to him. What was I going to say? If I seemed stupid now then any explanation even close to the truth would make me seem even worse. How could I explain that I wasn't the person he thought I was? That I came here to tutor him? And that doesn't even begin to cover the reason that I'd turned up on his doorstep away with the alcohol fairies ... Not that there'd be any mention of fairies of any kind in my explanation of this to him. The queer thing stays out of the conversation. It's bad enough that Eric'll hate me after this without throwing in the rest of the world.
Then it hit me. Not only had I fucked this up for myself - but him as well. I'd been told that Eric needed my help in passing classes this year and instead of (soberly) doing what he needed of me, I'd gone and fucked it all up. There was no way that I could attempt to tutor him after this. I would be too embarrassed. Plus, I doubt that he would even be willing for me to try. Sure, he was being nice to me just now but that was his natural politeness. Once I was gone - which would be, if I had anything to do with it, really soon - he would realise how much of a freak I am and not want me near him ever again.
I felt a thickness rise in my throat as I thought how stupid it was I had considered Eric anything less than my infinite superior, someone who should hate me. I'd proven that today.
"Um, are you OK?" Eric asked, concerned and leaning over, his fingertips brushing the back of my hand.
I shivered unconsciously.
"I just really wanna go," I muttered, my voice full of a childish whine. I guess the near-to-crying tone in my voice made Eric even more worried because he leaned over slightly, his brow knighted together tightly.
"You're not in any st-"
The door bell went.
Eric looked up at the doorway over his shoulder and then down at his watch: "Shit, Daryl. She was coming round tonight to keep me company while my parents are away."
As he stood up I asked him the time quietly.
"Uh, it's 9.30," He answered.
"Christ! My Dad!" I muttered, putting the palm of my hand to my forehead.
When I had come over here a few hours ago I had left a note on the kitchen table saying that I'd be a few hours. Most parents would usually leave it a little longer before they started worrying but I didn't have any friends I spent time with at night so whenever I disappeared my parents didn't have the luxury of assuming that I was with friends. They could only think the worst and, consequently, they worried a lot.
"Yeah, you really should call home soon," Eric answered, going over to the door, pausing with his hand on the door handle, "Listen, stay here while I go downstairs."
I sat up ( incredibly slowly) as I heard the retreating thumps of Eric running down the stairs. I still felt pretty bad in a whole load of senses but if I took things slowly I felt I'd be alright. Well, I'd feel like total hung over shit but if I got down stairs while Eric was still dealing with Daryl then, hopefully, I'd manage to sneak out before he realised that I hadn't explained myself to him yet and that would immediately make me feel a whole load better.
I found my sneakers beside the bed and slipped them on easily, standing up causing a fair amount of nausea to rise up my throat but I could handle it. I stood still for a second - or what I assumed was still because everything seemed to be moving in a clock wise direction - before opening the door. I went out to the hallway and looked around. Nothing was familiar to me so I just followed the voices, which led to the top of a flight of curving stairs.
"-so 'Doom Generation' and 'Jawbreaker.' It's a Rose McGowan fest. Should be good," The girl's voice that floated up to me was rich and spicy with an accent that was hard to pinpoint. It made her sound full and exotic.
"Um, sounds great but, um, something kinda weird's happened -" Eric started.
I love the sound of Eric's voice. It has this strange, full quality. It's, uh, 'furry' if that makes much sense and whenever I hear it I think of pillows and protection and warmth. I love listening to Eric speak but I couldn't stand to hear him repeating my mighty dorkness of the last few hours so I coughed loudly as I started to walk down the stairs. My eyes trailed the floor as I reached the bottom and my dread was confirmed when I glanced up to find both of them staring at me. Eric was still holding the handle of the open door, looking strange and unreadable.
Then there was Daryl right beside him, holding a coupla of videos. She was - to be blunt - stunningly beautiful. She had incredible olive skin, lush dark brown hair that cascaded down her back and challenging brown eyes. She was one of the most popular and rich people at school and a good friend of Eric's. The snitch that went around about her was that she was a very ... domineering young woman and something about the speculative look in her eyes as she glanced me up down told me that she wouldn't be so easy to fool as Eric.
I looked away from her penetrating glare and the thought crossed my mind that she was exactly the kind of girl that Eric deserved to be with ... and he had invited her over when his parents were gone.
"Hey," I whispered to no one in particular, glancing back down to the wooden flooring.
"You should still be in bed." Eric was concerned and I looked up. He had turned to face me, his hand half-raised, and Daryl's face looked merely nonchalant, strangely absent of surprise if not of questions.
"I really need to go ... So ..." I left it hanging and kinda shrugged.
"Uh-" Eric appeared lost for words before his face caved slightly and he shrugged: "-OK I guess."
I started to walk out but paused slowly, my body turning from Daryl as I looked Eric in the eyes, finding them heart breakingly open and honest. I whispered: "Thanks ... for today I mean."
He looked back and seemed to be trying to make a point: "Any time."
I felt a thrill pass through me only he could cause and it echoed inside of me still as I walked out, stopping only for a second with my back to Eric as he called out after me: "... But don't think tonight's over. We'll be talking."
I slowly made my way across the street, my plan at least partly succeeding.
"The wanderer returns," My father called out as I tried to sneak past the living room.
I stopped and walked back, my hand on the door frame. I had been feeling more of old myself from the walk in the cold air but I was still too hung over to think about trying to face down a parent. They always had the ability to tell when I'd been up to something, no matter how small. This was just asking for trouble.
"Where've you been Father?" My Dad asked, not looking up, "The supper you made me out of the goodness of your heart has been and gone via the table hours ago."
"At a friend's," I answered evasively, hoping he'd just let it go.
"Hm..." He said noncommittally, glancing up at me for a second before looking back at the TV: "Your Mom is-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I interrupted in a droning sort of voice: "A really important exhibition blah blah blah."
Pwwweoh! Got away it!
"Now, now young man. That's no way to speak about an absent parent," My Dad quipped, a smile briefly crossing his face. My father seemed to consider himself extremely funny.
There was an awkward pause.
"I'm just gonna go to my room," I said, not even dignifying his joke with a response.
"OK, but think about calling next time, OK?" He looked into my eyes meaningfully.
"Yeah, sure," I answered, turning round and walking up stairs.
I sat on my bed, kicking the sneakers off I had recently put back on at Eric's house.
That thought ran through my mind again, amazing me with how quickly things had changed for me. Sure, they hadn't got better or made any difference to Eric but I had finally gotten to speak to him! See the inside of his house! Even examine his face up close! This was a huge deal for me ... And, even if only for a few brief deluded seconds, I had imagined what it would be like to actually kiss him. That was kinda awesome, right? I mean, I knew it would never actually happen - I've known this from the first day I met him - but a few seconds of sheer fantasy couldn't hurt any one ... right? Well, not really. Sure they'd never come true but - Well, um, that was it really. It was purely fictional and would always remain so. That was fine. Not fine fine obviously but it was something I had come to terms with a long time ago and can learn to deal with again. It's not like I had any false hopes. It had been a second of day dream, the kind I had every day. I knew I was totally the wrong gender and (in his head) the wrong age for Eric. Plus I had managed to make enough of an ass of myself in the last few hours to ensure he would never want anything to do with me again. That said he hadn't wanted anything to do with me to begin with so I suppose I'm back exactly where I started.
I guess I must have been holding onto something inside because as the reality sunk in the sickness rose in my throat. I had to run to my en suite bath room, pulling the toilet seat up as I bent over and started retching.
Once I was done I had a drink of water and brushed my teeth.
I stared at myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked deeply into my blue eyes that were sickly pale and lined with feminine lashes. I looked at my slim, pink lips and small, straight nose that were too girly for any boy. I looked at that long blond hair clinging to my cheeks and curling into my jaw line, not the dirty gold of a rock star but an almost snow white that only contrasted with my richly gold skin - my one pleasant feature.
I looked like a little kid even to myself.
And you could spot the queer from a thousand paces. I wondered briefly if Eric had guessed and that's why he had seemed so concerned ... Not for me but for himself, that the boy from across the street had a crush on him. I toyed with the idea for a second before dismissing it. Eric thought of me as too young to jump to the conclusion that I had a crush on him. He was probably just worried about the child turning up on his door drunk.
I groaned and banged my forehead against the mirror. What had possessed me to try getting drunk in order to speak to him? Sure, it had seemed like a good idea at the time but some part of me must have been protesting strong enough to over ride my sheer stupidity and force me to look at the flaws of that particular plan.
I guess there was little point in worrying about it now. It's not as if Eric even knew who I was (so it wouldn't spread around school) and I'd never see him again if I had anything to do with it. It would pain me to start avoiding him but I couldn't take the further humiliation. It wouldn't involve a great sacrifice on my part anyway as he found me invisible in school. It shouldn't be difficult to allow him to continue to think so.
In fact, most people at school had the same problem so even if he did mention that a kid named Quinn had been in his house no one would make the connection with me.
And if Eric kept his promise about this not being over between us - and I seriously doubted he'd stick to that - then I could just use his own misconceptions against him. I'll actually act the fourteen year old that he thought I was and I can just claim that I can't remember anything of what had happened between us - including why I had come to his house. I don't see why he wouldn't buy that. I love Eric to pieces but he is a pretty gullible guy. He trusts very easily and since he himself can't lie he doesn't seem able to conceive that other people would do it.
This really wasn't as bad as I had thought it could be. Well, sure, the boy I was secretly and desperately in love with thought almost nothing of me any more - but it's not like he thought a great deal about me before so, uh, yeah I guess. The only difference is that he now knows that I'm a complete freak which is, to be fair, kinda true considering the fact that I'm gay and obsessed with him. That must make me a little strange.
I sighed to myself as I continued to look into my own eyes. No matter how I tried to work this one around in my mind I was still ... sad. Yeah, part of it was because I had made an ass of myself in front of Eric and I regretted that but it was also because I was still no closer to him. I had agreed to tutor help him and myself. It would let me be near him, hear his voice, be his friend. I'd managed to screw that one up. I could never be with him in any capacity now and that hurt me like I'd been punched in the stomach.
I washed my face idly in the basin, hoping to cool my flushed cheeks and relieving the pressure behind my eyes.
Once I patted myself dry with a hand towel I walked back into my room. The space was empty and quiet except for the rustling of trees in the garden and the darkness of the night pervading every corner. The stillness and melancholy seemed somehow fitting for my subdued but pained body and mind. I crawled - fully clothed - in my bed and lay there for a few minutes before the first tears started to roll down my cheeks silently. As the day played from beginning to end in my mind the quiet choking moved into sobbing, my head pounding with the alcohol affects and with the dehydration of my over flowing eyes.
Eventually I passed off into a fitful sleep.
The next day is a Saturday morning so, while my parents are at one of their lunches, I'm in my usual position on the sofa, flipping through the cartoon channels. I didn't have any plans so I hadn't bothered getting redressed after I'd stripped off the clothes I'd slept in. I'd just pulled on a pair of baggy shorts and a t-shirt. This particular morning I'm torn between watching 'Fairly Odd Parents' and 'Spongebob Squarepants.' Both are equally good (Patrick versus Cosmo is a conundrum) but I guess it doesn't matter in the end because my mind isn't really on the TV. It's still dwelling on Eric and what had happened.
Although a flush of embarrassment still rippled through me every time yesterday surfaced in my memory, the good cry I had last night seems to have worked out some of the tension from my system. Well, enough to allow me to think my way through a plan. If I went to see The Johnson early on Monday morning I could pull out of tutoring before Eric even heard my name and, then, well, I'd just, um, avoid Eric for the rest of my life and so never have to explain myself to him. That would just about save me any more humiliation.
This particular plan also has the added benefit that it lets me use the explanation I had already concocted to get rid of Eric if he came looking for me. It would allow me to persist being Eric's fourteen year old neighbour and I wouldn't have to come clean about being Eric's age and in some of his classes. That saves us both a considerable amount of further humiliation. OK, it saves me even more humiliation. Eric has nothing to be embarrassed about. He can't be anything less than perfect all of the time.
You couldn't say I was happy but I was feeling more comfortable as my door bell rang.
I stood up with a sigh and went to the door. My parents wouldn't have bothered to ring the bell so I just assumed it was a package for Mum that she needed straight away and had had delivered to the house. I was used to signing for her by now and didn't even bother to grab a dressing gown as I went to the door.
I had it open a few inches when something barged inside, stubbing the bottom of the door into my toe. A sense of dislocation overwhelmed me as my face screwed up in pain. Crazy images rose up in my head of robbers forcing their way into homes and tying the occupants up while they stole everything inside and a brief flame of fear rose throughout me. The door still open, I turned round to see Daryl standing in my main hallway, hands on her hips and unapologetic. The fear didn't die out. In fact, it grew as I tested my weight on my toe.
"Well hey there," Daryl said in my general direction, her eyes all over the room and, finally, settling on me. It was the barest flick of her large hazel eyes but she took in my entire form and came to some judgement, some conclusion, that brought a smile to her lips: "You gonna close the door then?"
"-um-" I muttered to the ground, blushing, but pushing the door closed.
I couldn't really describe what I was feeling at that exact moment. Part of me was intrigued as to why she was here. I mean, this is one of the most popular girls at my school and she was standing in my hallway, obviously wanting to talk to me. Another part of me was horrified because the only reason she would be here would be to talk about Eric. I felt sorrow run through me that he had sent someone else to do his dirty work, especially someone like her. Daryl wasn't known for her, uh, 'friendly' demeanour. And another part of me - possibly the major part of me - had just completely shifted into school mode, which consisted of not talking, looking at the ground and hoping that everything would just go away and leave me alone again.
I glanced up and Daryl was just staring at me, that speculative look still in her eyes.
I looked back at the ground and shrugged, whispering: "What?"
"You and I, little man," Daryl said, walking up to me and grabbing my wrist: "We need to talk."
Before I knew what was happening I had been dragged into my sitting room - Daryl asking "can we sit down in here?" and then pulling me along before I could answer - and she had seated me. I felt like a rag doll being tossed around and I half-slumped forward in the chair, my eyes on my fingers that were fiddling with the skin on me knees. Daryl had her body turned towards me, eyes never leaving my profile.
There was an awkward pause that I waited for her to fill since she was obviously the one who wanted to talked to me about something. The confusion I was feeling in this situation was welling up all of the emotions I'd thought I'd subdued last night and I felt slightly like I (just a little bit) wanted to burst into tears. I tried to suppress that feeling, not wanting to show any more weakness in front of Daryl.
"So, Quinn-" Daryl eventually started and I looked up at her: "-what's going on here?"
I just blushed in reply.
"I mean-" Daryl got up and stood before me, her manicured hands on her hips and seeming so imposing that I kinda leaned back a bit as she continued: "- Eric invites me to his house for our usual movie night and I find you there, which is unusual because I didn't know you and Eric knew each other." I glance up when Daryl says this and smiles and nods: "Oh yeah. I know who you are Quinn. The funny thing is that Eric doesn't - and he has classes with you! Care to explain what's going on?"
I looked up at Daryl and something just snapped. She's standing in my sitting room - in my house - demanding answers from me? What made her think that she could make demands here?
"Not particularly," My voice managed to crawl past a whisper as I looked up at her.
Oh yeah! Now that's a rebellion!
Daryl sat down again and put her hand under my chin, pulling my head round so that I was looking into her eyes: "Oh a spark. A tiny one but one none the less - finally. I thought you were gonna let me walk all over you."
I just let her hold my face and the resistance fades out of me at her contact. Even under normal circumstances I can't stand making eye contact with people and Daryl begins to make me feel really uncomfortable so I look down at her wrist. I see that she's wearing intricate silver bracelets in Celtic designs. They look expensive.
Daryl let out a frustrated sighed to herself then removed her hand, sitting back: "OK, I'm gonna level with you. This shy and unnoticed bullshit you pull? It doesn't do anything for me. It may be endearing to some people but it's weak and pisses me off. To save me saying something I'll regret I'm just gonna level with you, OK?"
"Sure," I whispered meekly, looking at the carpet.
There was an uncomfortable pause and I glance up at Daryl who's still looking at me with those speculative eyes. She seems to take a breath - looking as if she was considering something - before her lips tightened again. I closed my eyes against whatever horribleness she was about to launch at me
Daryl took the plunge ... "How long have you been sleeping with Eric?"
EXCUSE ME?!?!
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