There were two of them curled up, naked as far as the view would allow, half covered by several duvets and lying on top of a floor of mattresses in the basement, banished there to watch inappropriate movies and drink copious amount of alcohol. Both are very tipsy, well, that’s the light way of describing the state of the best friends.

Southern Comfort and Red Wine are the main culprits for their state, and the trail ends of Velvet goldmine are playing out in almost silence and unwatched. One is slim, dark haired and unfairly pretty for a boy. The other who is wrapped around him is almost see-through thin with long brown hair that falling over his bony shoulders in waves. The younger, smaller one murmurs and rolls over to nuzzle his companion’s collar bone.

If you want to know what’s happened to these two, and their names are Kitao (he’s the littler one) and Hessan (the lanky fellow), you will have to rewind the DVD about an hour and a little while to where Brian Slade is kissing Jack Fairy…

Both wanted to watch the DVD, but while Hessan is still enthralled in the glam rock action, Kitao has long since lost interest. Not that he doesn’t like the film, but he is more interested in the lines of his bare-chested friend. His blue eyes follow the soft curve of his chest as he relaxes against the wall, the strange bobbing motion of his throat as he swallows, the long lines of his legs in his too-loose jeans. He wants to touch him, but he doesn’t dare, some invisible thin line of protocol stopping his fingers making that final few millimetres.

Hessan is holding his breath at the scene on screen, something stirring deep in the pit of his belly, a strange curious wanting thing as he watches the two boys kissing. Kitao, despite his literally growing interest, has his sky-eyes tracked on other things closer to hand. The music changes and Hessan sighs finally. He turns and before Kitao can think to stir the taller boy catches him looking rather closely at him. Blue eyes shine out from under messy black bangs, almost as if afraid of retribution. Like a small child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Kitao jerks back, holding his hand close to his chest as though he has been burned by thin air.

They both start at once:

“Hessan I’m so-”

“Kit, Wha-”

And both pause at the same moment and just look at each other. Or rather Hessan stared at his friend in almost awe and Kitao stared at the floor, both hands braced against the mattress he was sitting on, his shoulders shivering and shaking. He shut his eyes and waited for the blow that would knock him out. There was a soft touch on his skin, he glanced up, and suddenly there was this rush of warmth as Hessan kissed him.

It lasted all of a second before he pulled back, looking for a reaction. Kitao was motionless in shock as the flickering TV colours lighted up his features behind his hair. Kit raised two fingers to his lips and traced the impression his friend had made.

“Um,” was the best he could come up with.

They sat in a very uncomfortable silence while the DVD continued to play on, unwatched dancers and pretty people swirling across the screen in a gorgeous myriad of colour. Hessan leant uncomfortably back against the wall, rearranging the quilt unsubtly over his lower body. Kitao didn’t move for a long while, half of him wanting to curl up into a corner and hide until morning, the other half of him wanting to go to his friend and curl against him.

Slowly they both went back to the faux-watching of the film. Glitter swirled through the air on glamorous breezes and both the both shifted around and made themselves comfortable. It was hot in the basement and Kitao peeled himself out of his black band shirt. Hessan watched him guiltily, lit up in cold blue as he wrestled with the dark cotton, snake-like movements of his long narrow body making him sweat. Unlike his friend, he caught himself in time and turned back to the film before Kit could look up and see him.

Somehow they took it in turns to watch each other, eyes never meeting, each trying and failing not to notice the other. Hessan stayed with his back to the wall, Kitao moved around, here and there and eventually ended up flopped on his front, bare feet in the air, and leaning up on his elbows.

A feathery touch stirred along his shoulders and trickled like liquid warmth down his spine, so soft as to almost not exist. Kitao let out a small involuntary moan as he realised the touch was real, and not just his wanting imagination and he glanced over his shoulder to see Hessan’s fingers tracing down his spine. His friend ceased the motion suddenly and fell back against the wall as before. His eyes went to the screen, slightly scared and very guilty. Kit only sat there for a moment more. He stood up, yawned and stretched widely, hit his arm on the low ceiling and promptly curled cat like around his friend, using his lap as a pillow.

Hessan’s breath caught in his throat and he dared to let his hand trail through the other boy’s hair softly, stroking him. Kit made a happy purring noise deep in his throat that made his chest vibrate pleasantly against Hessan’s side. Neither watched the film, but still glitter settled over them from a little silver shaker, shining rain from a soft white cloud. It lay in Hessan’s long hair and made beautiful swirling patterns on Kitao’s back.

They moved together in slow silence, too in love to be awkward with each other. Hips raise and fluctuate to be peeled from denim and cotton, both comfortable with the other, wandering hands and lips tasting otherwise unknown fruits and discovering tempting and treasured moans. They curled together, lost in swirls of glitter and feathers that settled over them like a blanket, dreaming of all manner of wondrous things. Two souls like jewelled birds flittered and flew up in the stars, taking with them all the hopes and dreams of two best friends.

The film finishes and both are cast into darkness. Kitao shifts and flops over, then turns back. As he moves the he disturbs the glitter that rises up in shimmering clouds around them. Hessan opens one eye and watches his friend dream, and smiles. Deep in his dream, Kitao holds his hands up to a clear blue sky as gilded feathers fall.