Prelude: Spring

For Kieran alone, because he was the only one who asked to be told.

Sera had always been a pretty child, especially so once he breached the gap into secondary school. How he came to live in that apartment in Lewes is an odd story, but one that I will tell. For while our boy with his Latino complexion and long raven dark hair has always been beautiful and desired, he wasn’t always as alone as he was when he started to fall in love.

It was another one of those drippy grey days that England often has in spring. This was the tenth day now that the sun had refused even to glint through to the world below the clouds. Sera, fourteen years old and dressed in jeans and a bulky green jumper stood in the small cemetery and looked up at the overcast sky. It was chilly enough to be November, and the rain dripped off the branches of the small apple tree at the cemetery gate. The new leaves, bright green and fresh looking, were only just beginning to unfurl from their safe curls. Before his trainer clad feet was a single headstone bearing two names. It was black granite, the words white and only a little faded by the six years it had stood there. They were the names of his parents. Sera placed the bunch of red roses at the foot of the grave and his aunt, dressed in plain sensible grey placed another bunch at the other corner of the grave. Then she called to him and began to walk away. Sera stayed for a moment, wiping tears from his eyes he’d never let anybody see. He brushed strands of his hair out of his eyes, he had decided to grow it, but it wasn’t quite long enough to tuck behind his ears.

“Hey Mum, Hello Papa. I’m OK. School’s not so good. Uncle Richard talked to me about girls yesterday. That’s all anyone can talk about at school. We even get classes on it. Totally boring.” A pause and a sniff, “I miss you both, lots. I have to go now, I’ll come and see you soon. Bye.” With his aunt calling to him from the gate he took a little step back and waved to the gravestones before taking off.

“Come on Sera, you’ll be late for school.”

“Can we come back and see them soon?”

“Sure thing. Now get in the car.”

As the silver Mercedes pulled away with the sound of crunching gravel Sera pressed his forehead to the window, knowing that it would be another year before he got to come and visit his parents again.

That night Sera lay in his room and dreamt strange dreams. He tossed and turned and threw the blankets against the opposite wall, fending off bad memories. They came regardless. He was sitting in the back of the car, in the middle seat so that he could see out of the windscreen. His father was driving. He could see his father’s short dark hair and the darkness of his skin as he turned his head slightly to catch a glance at his wife. Sera’s mother, with all her long red hair and her green eyes and her easy smile, laughed and half turned to see Sera in the back. Sera caught his father’s eye in the rear view mirror and smiled. Then the memory blurred. There were oncoming headlights and screeching brakes and a mounting sense of foreboding and fear as something came speeding toward them. The front half of the car crumpled. What felt like a lifetime later, Sera dragged himself out of the wreckage. The car that had hit them was also there, the driver slumped over the wheel. Sera looked into the front of the car. He looked away and went over to the side of the road where he was sick. Then he passed out.

Sera awoke with a strangled yell of remembered pain. He tried to shake the image of his parents disfigured faces out of his mind with little success. In the dark little room of his aunt’s house, the bed with sheets that were always scratchy and thin curtains that let the orange street light cast terrible shadows on his wall. That light had caused him so many sleepless nights here. Sera shuddered with remembered horror at the days and nights he’d spent at what was only ever referred to as The Centre. Being there was supposed to help him, calm him. There were people with whom he’d talk about his fears. In confidence. His illusions were shattered from the first. He overheard the nurses laughing about many of the patients, all he could hear, all the time were whimpers and moans and crying. There was no peace to be found in sleep anyway. There were children of all ages there, all with some sort of problem. Sera wandered about the wards without purpose or direction. The only useful thing he had found there had been an older boy of about sixteen or so who was pretty much nice to all the younger kids, and an absolute bastard to the staff. One evening, late, after lights out, Sera walked into the boy’s room to find him touching himself under the sheets. They both looked a little sheepish for a moment before the older boy spoke words that had stayed with Sera.

Everyone will tell you it’s a bad thing. But it helps you forget kid, it’s great and it really helps you to forget before you sleep.

Sera lay back in bed, one hand over his heart. He closed his eyes, licked his lips and let his hand slip under the covers, under the waistband of his pyjamas to take himself into sweet oblivion.

In those years Sera’s life was one of detachment. Not the strange way in which he’d behaved after his parents deaths, but in a sad lonely way. He had his friends at school, and his enemies. He was bright, good at art and English. He hated maths and was disinterested in sports which annoyed his teacher no end. But he always, always felt alone. Even sitting in the lunch room, surrounded by chatter and smiling eyes he would sit and stare at the opposite wall, lost in his thoughts. Sera often wondered if anyone thought about the things he did.

And of course there was Louise. Apparently she was his girlfriend, though he wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. She’d started hanging around and suddenly become merged into his little group, apparently his girlfriend. They never met outside school. That Christmas he didn’t buy her anything, nor send a card, and she dumped him. Sera wondered if he should feel annoyed or upset. He had trouble feeling anything much, beside pain and bad memories.

On New Years Eve he left the party he was supposed to be at and began to wander home and about ten o’clock. Everything was boring. He stood outside a house and stared at the myriad of white fairy lights that were wound around the lifeless apple tree in the front garden, it was beautiful, the sharpness of the lights in the dark night brought tears to his eyes. At least, that was his excuse, his Aunt didn’t allow any Christmas decorations in the house except the one small fake Christmas tree which was hung with plain gold baubles. Sera still missed putting up decorations with his Father, scrambling around the garden centre to find the perfect tree. It was always Sera’s final choice. Christmas Eve his Aunt had said that he was too old for lots of presents and he came down on Christmas morning to find a card with a ten pound note inside and a large bar of chocolate.

“You alright there?”

Sera spun round to face the voice, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. Standing on the other side of the empty road was a man, tall and dressed up warmly.

“I’m fine.”

“You look rather cold to me.” Sera had come out without hat gloves or coat, only his big scarf and fluffy red jumper keeping him from freezing. He dug his fingers into the pockets of his jeans as the wind whipped his ever lengthening hair. He gave a little shrug and looked away from the ill-lit stranger.

“Come with me, if you like. My house is just round the corner, warm you up.”

The young boy looked at him, he was not naïve enough not to worry. But his anxiety was short lived, if he got killed, it would be no one’s fault but his own, and no one would care too much. His Aunt would only worry that she would lose the income from his trust fund. Oh well. He walked across the road, shivering and hugging his shoulders to stand by the stranger. Closer to, Sera could see that the man was young, probably only about twenty or so, pale with brown wavy hair and stubble. His coat made him bulky. Sera slipped one cold dark hand into the stranger’s gloved one. And together they walked into the dark.

The house around the corner turned out to be a small flat that you could view in it’s entirety by standing in the doorway, but it had a warm radiator against which Sera instantly curled up. He pulled off his trainers and scarf and rubbed his hands together. The man returned from the kitchen, coatless and dressed in smart jeans and a dark fleece with a zip down the front. He smiled and handed Sera a short glass of amber liquid.

“What’s your name?”

“Sera.”

“I’m Alex.”

“Hi,” Sera took a sip of his drink and the whiskey scalded his throat, “Trying to get me drunk?”

“Maybe. You want the tour?”

“Sure.”

They ended up in the bedroom, where Alex kept his word to warm Sera up and wooed the boy, slightly tipsy, with soft caresses. Sera lay back on the bed, pulled out of his jumper and t-shirt, long pale fingers stroking his flesh. He reached out and unzipped Alex’s fleece, finding pale smooth skin, a trail of dark hairs thickening along from his navel to the waistband of his jeans. He hissed and Alex’s fingers found his fly and worked it apart to touch him softly. His vision clouded as he was touched, groaning into the pillow as Alex turned him over and investigated him with expert fingers. The invasion hurt him enough to draw tears to his eyes but the slick fingers found pleasure in him, white hot passion that coiled up his spine.

The pleasure withdrew to be replaced by a harder presence, Alex’s hands pulling him up onto all fours, that warm voice whispering instruction and compliments into his ear. Sera, lustful and wanting and slightly confused let himself be plundered. He gave one short cry, keening the pain of the man’s entrance before he was engulfed by the sensation. Nothing in those stupid sex-ed classes had mentioned anything like this. And why not? When Alex’s hand on him was so perfect, when the waves of pleasure that shot up through his veins were so intense. He was being invaded and consumed, but he pressed back against Alex’s thrusts with a deep growl and a desperate demand of;

“…More!”

“Can’t get enough can you?” Alex chuckled into his ear, the older man pushed into him, moving fast, his hand almost frantic on Sera’s sex.

That was the last. Sera cried out, shaking as he came, feeling himself grip his captor tighter as the man flowed out into him. Sera could feel his pulse as he was filled, a strange sensation beyond reason. They parted with a sickly, sticky noise and Sera collapsed on his side in the mess.

“Wow…” Alex stood and shook his head, staring down at the boy, “You’re good Sera.”

“Hmm…” Sera felt sleepy and sated, as though he’d just eaten.

“You liked that.”

“Mmm…” Sera stretched like a cat, “Yeah.”

That was the beginning of Sera’s training. Alex became his closest friend in the next few months and taught him everything. What to do, preparations, how to pick up men and most of all how not to get caught by his Aunt and Uncle or by the school. He took Sera with him to London, the boy lied about his age, said he was eighteen and got away with it. Puberty hit him properly aged fifteen and two months but by then, Sera knew almost everything. He knew what he liked best, taking not being taken, knew he liked to learn new things. Thought threesomes with Alex and any random guy they picked up were the best things ever.

He enjoyed school all the more, his self esteem raised on an invisible dais above his peers. He eyed up boys their final year and surprised a few. One June evening found Sera and a year eleven art student who was working late naked and locked around each other in the art’s supply cupboard.

He saw Alex often, even after they had stopped fucking each other regularly. Sera was old enough, in looks and charm at least, to go everywhere by himself now. They talked or went to a pub, chatted about men and boys and music, held in depth discussions on politics, art and whether whiskey was better than brandy.

It was in his final year of school that things began to get bad. School was rapidly going down the drain, Sera was still good, still clever, but he had a reputation. No girlfriend and rumours from past students who said they seen things, or heard things. No one came right out and said anything, no one wanted to be caught in a fight with him. Everyone knew that Sera was strong. Name liked that tended to get people bullied. Sera packed quite a punch and that had been back in first year. His Aunt and Uncle hounded him constantly. He should be revising, not going out, and where was he going, when none of his school friends were holding parties? Someone said they’d seen him in the pub with an older man. Had he been drinking? Sera took to sneaking out the window and sneaking back in again, sleepless the morning after.

And then everything came to a head in February when Alex got sick. His Aunt had already told him that he wasn’t welcome to stay there after he finished school, he caused her too much grief. His tutor had forced him to go and see the school counsellor, who said he was repressed and that he should come out. Sera had slapped the woman and stormed out, then had up before the head master for attacking a teacher. Sera, alone with the man, threatened charges of molestation and the Head let the matter drop. Most of his friends were wary of him now, not seeking out his company. Sera didn’t care, he just knuckled down and worked hard, started looking around for a job. Then Alex went into hospital and came out three weeks later looking haggard and thin.

“What’s wrong?” Sera was lying supine on his friends bed, fully dressed and staring at the ceiling. Alex stood in the doorway holding a mug of coffee.

“Sera…”

“I’m not a child anymore Alex,” Sera closed his eyes, “I want to know what’s wrong.”

Alex gulped.

“I’ve got a tumour. Cancer in my brain,” Sera sat up, eyes wide, “They’ve operated, but they can’t get at it all. They don’t hold out much hope.”

“Alex…” Sera sniffed and got up, going to his friend and curling under the man’s arm, a familiar place, safe and warm. Apart from the fact that Alex was thinner, weak and there was no feeling of protection there anymore. He was choking on his own breath, finally forming the dreaded words, “How long?”

“As little as four months. It’s enough, I can set everything in order, write a will. See you pass your exams.”

“Results won’t come out until August,” It was a pointless thing to say, but Sera said it anyway, “Don’t go Alex.”

“I don’t want to my little Devil, but I will.”

“No…”

“Shhh…Just kiss me OK?”

Sera kissed him, raw and fierce and tender all at once, the salt taste of tears in his mouth.

“All for you.” Alex whispered and Sera had no idea what he meant until it was too late and there was no way to thank him.

It was a small quite funeral, the day before Sera’s last exam. The sun was hot and high in the sky as he and Alex’s parents and a few friends from London filed out of the little church. They stood in the unfairly happy world outside in a ragged black circle. One by one they all left, Alex’s mother keeping Sera there with her eyes.

“I don’t know what you were to my son,” she said, her eyes full of tears, “But we had his will read and he left everything to you. All of it. His house is yours, and his money. He had a fair bit saved up. He had his own trust fund that matured when he was eighteen. Our Alex was always careful with money.” She dropped the key into his palm, “Thank you, for being a friend to him. You will call won’t you?”

Sera nodded and promised he would, then went and sat in the graveyard where his parents were buried and spoke to them while he watched Alex’s grave being filled, his friend under the ground forever.

“Hey Papa. Hi Mum. If you see Alex up there, will you look after him for me? He can tell you everything that’s happened to me better than I can. He’s my friend. Be nice to him.”

After his last exam he moved house. Packed all his stuff up and hired a van and a driver to take him to Alex’s flat on the high street next to a jewellery shop that was having its signs repainted. He redecorated, dealt with the death taxes and moved all of Alex’s money into his own account. When he turned eighteen and got his own trust fund, untouchable by his Aunt now he had officially moved out, he would be rich. That night he lay in his own bed where Alex’s had been and cried, the day after that he got himself a job. Showed up at his school prom in a white three piece suit looking more gorgeous than everyone else there and refused to dance with anyone, just sat out on the balcony with a whiskey in hand talking to one of the white clad waiters. Aced his exams.

First day of college he got his timetable, ate in lunch outside and walked into his very first English lesson and right into another boy with wavy blond hair and achingly bright blue eyes.

“Sorry,” The other skirted into his seat, eyes down and Sera choose one of his own, spending the rest of the lessons with his eyes trained on the boy. When the register was called out he put a name to that face.

“Thomas…”