-1Chapter 1

Friday.

The curtains above the kitchen sink billowed softly in the afternoon breeze, catching Kit Fortune’s attention as he stood before his parents. He ran a hand through his too-long dark hair and sighed when they motioned for him to take a seat at the table before they themselves moved to sit at the opposite side.

“Son,” his father began, a smile trying and failing to grace thin lips. “We’ve been thinking for a long time about certain… options… and you’ve made how you feel about boarding school abundantly clear, so your mother and I have decided on a solution that we hope will suit all of us.” He nodded to Kit’s mother, allowing her to take over the conversation. She pursed her lips and placed a glossy brochure on the table.

“Kit,” she began, looking a little nervous and a little hopeful. “We’re going to move. Your father’s been offered an opportunity in Melville- it comes with a promotion and, well.” She nodded at the paper on the table. “That’s going to be your new school.”

Kit stared at the two of them and had to hold back a sigh. After so many threats of military or boarding schools he’d almost gotten used to constantly arguing that where he was was perfectly fine- good school, good friends, good town. His parents thought otherwise. The presence of ‘bad influences,’ according to his parents, was something that he just couldn’t be up to facing- they were paranoid that he’d end up on drugs, a petty criminal- or worse, that he’d fail a class. And now they were moving. He was half tempted to indulge in a sulk of massive proportions, seriously considering throwing something irreplaceable out of the soft and billowing curtains, but he found he didn’t have the strength all of a sudden. He didn’t know what he’d be fighting for- an average, teenage existence, he supposed, but more than that- this time there wasn’t so much to fight about. No boarding, no psuedo-military schools with promises of parade grounds and early mornings. So instead, he reached out and picked up the brochure.

And realised that Our Lady of the Sea high was quite possibly one of the oddest high schools he’d ever heard of.

“Drug Rehabilitation?” He looked from his mother to his father. “You want to send me to a school that offers drug rehabilitation to its students?”

His mothers cheeks flushed as she answered. “Well, sweetheart, at least we’d know you’d be looked after…”

“I thought the whole idea was to keep me away from bad influences, not throw me into classes with them. And what the hell is ‘alternate options’ learning?”

His father answered this question. “Oh, we don’t expect you to take any of those classes, son- it’s for parents who want their kids to be educated without having to conform so much. You know- kids who can’t handle ball do yoga, and kids who can’t handle maths do mung-bean farming and so on. Hippy families, I’d guess. You can learn some tolerance while you’re there,” he grinned, happy with this conclusion.

Kit swallowed. Tolerance. His father was advocating that he learn tolerance. In a school with a drug program. He sighed and shoved the brochure in his pocket.

“When were you planning on leaving, then?”

His parents smiled.

They’d already told the school he’d be leaving, it appeared. And they’d booked flights and called removal companies. All of a sudden Kit realised that he hadn’t had a choice in this at all- the talk in the kitchen had been a last ditch effort to settle peaceably. After that it simply would have happened and he’d have been dragged along, kicking and screaming if need be. He felt like a fool. All control, and semblance of independence had just been stripped from him.

He started thinking about alternate options just to get back at his father. Mung-beans. His future was full of Mung-beans and yoga. He had to change station as the radio told him he was just another brick in the wall, and he lay on his back, staring at his bedroom ceiling as Saosin began to serenade him. He had two days to pack what he’d need and box up the rest for a large white van with a phone number written on the side of it. Two days to say goodbye to the only people he’d ever really known. He started to wish he’d given in earlier and thrown a vase out that window.

Kit’s soon to be ex-school wasn’t anything special, really. Two story brick buildings, quadrangles, a few trees and garden beds that were mostly bushes and ill-disguised weeds vying for life in poor soil. He found himself feeling inordinately fond of it all now that he was leaving and would likely never see it again. He’d managed to get there early today, forgoing an extra half hour or so of lying in bed in order to, well, do something. Say goodbye. Run away. Blow something up. Not really, of course, either of those last two. He just felt restless and helpless. He spent a few moments staring at the administration building before a voice called out to him from behind.

“Kit! Oi Kit! The hell are you doing here already!?”

Kit turned around and grinned as the rapidly approaching figure drew near.

“It’s not even nine yet!” The voice lowered from a shout to a general exuberance as Bradley stood beside him. “If you’re not careful you’ll make it to class on time.” He grinned and Kit shrugged.

“No fear of that happening. It’s my last day.” Kit turned back to the building. “That’s a really, really ugly building, you think?”

Bradley sighed. “Military or boarding?”

“It’s the admin building, you idiot.”

“You know what I meant Kit. And you’ve never come early because of that before.”

Kit shrugged. “It’s different this time. They’ve booked plane tickets, and a van. And a house. We’re moving.”

“They booked a house?” Bradley tried to grin. “You told the others?”

“Not yet,” Kit shrugged. “As you said, it isn’t even nine yet. How the hell am I supposed to tell them.”

A momentary pause before Bradley replied stretched out and Kit sighed. This was it, then.

“Shit. Shit! You’re not supposed to actually leave, you idiot. It’s just supposed to be some stupid joke that your parents never actually go through with.” Bradley dropped his bag on the ground and sat on the grass.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

Kit joined him, pulling out the grass and shredding it with his fingers. “I don’t know. Get ready for Chem?”

“We have English first. Not that you’ll ever need to know that again.”

“Don’t be a dickhead, Brad,” Kit shot at him. “It’s not fucking helping.”

“Sorry.” A few minutes later. “We should get to the lockers.”

They stood up and walked past the admin building and across one of the quads. A group of boys were milling around a row of wooden lockers, bags on backs, on the ground or in the process of being stuffed into a box just a bit too small to hold them. Hands waved and voices called as Kit and Brad approached. Brad still looked pissed off, glaring at nothing in particular and everything in general. Kit just sighed.

He’d tell them he was leaving. They’d complain, maybe joke a bit, and then complain again. They’d say goodbye. School would end, he’d go home and tomorrow, Saturday, he’d pack. Then he’d fly off to some equally god-forsaken town and never see them again. He sighed and got his English texts out his locker.

Saturday.

It was almost twelve and Kit had been packing for three hours. His room was almost done- one side was held boxes and suitcases, most already filled and taped and labelled. The other side held his bed and whatever he hadn’t managed to pack yet. He was eying a pile of miscellaneous items he’d somehow accrued when the doorbell rang and his mother called from the end of the hallway for him to get it.

He stretched and pushed his hair out of his face, moving cautiously down the hallway so as not to disturb a pile of boxes stacked precariously in the only part of the house not subjected to the packing. He reached the door and pulled it open, unsure as to who it would be. They’d already argued with the removalists twice today. Three times would certainly be a charm.

Brad grinned at him from the threshold.

“Heya. Came to help you pack.” He looked over Kit’s shoulder and whistled low. “Your lounge room looks fucked.”

“It’s covered in boxes- it’s supposed to look fucked.” He stood back from the door and let Bradley pass by him. “I’m almost done. You can come and tell me if I should throw this pile of shit out. I don’t even know what most of them are.”

“Fun,” Brad navigated his way down the hall with little mishap and Kit followed. He reached the room and frowned. “I didn’t know you had this much stuff.”

“Yeah, well. Neither did I,” he pointed to the pile on the floor he’d been considering earlier. “Tell me what to do with that stuff.”

Brad eyed it for minute before nodding decisively. “Chuck it out.”

Kit complied as Brad turned his attention to the next pile, and gradually the carpet was revealed as heaped piles were either thrown away or magically transformed into much neater but no less heaped boxes.

“Your floor is blue,” Brad was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. It was only thing left to be packed. Stripped and dismantled, Kit thought before falling onto his mattress.

“I know. It’s a miracle. I thought the shit would just go on forever and we’d keep packing it away until we reached China.”

Brad laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Kit sighed and Brad fiddled, both them with nothing much to say until Brad cleared his throat.

“Hey, Kit?”

“Yeah?”

“You- you remember last summer, yeah?”

Kit froze for a moment. Last Summer. Best and possibly worst of his life. He rolled over and nodded. “I remember.”

Brad nodded. “Yeah. I’m-” He shook his head and swore. Kit frowned and struggled to sit up, confused.

“Brad-”

He stopped abruptly as Brad leant down and pushed their lips together. Kit froze. Last Summer…

He put his hand on Brad’s shoulder and slowly relaxed, and the kiss turned gradually from hurried and awkward to soft, lips parting and tongues sweeping across each other tentatively. Kit shifted, rolling over onto his back and gently pulling Brad down on top of him, one hand fisted in his friends shirt above his waist. It was like last summer, but without the urgency and without, Kit thought, some of the guilt. Brad shifted, one thigh now between Kit’s, and sucked on Kit’s lower lip.

“Shit,” Kit moaned. “Brad- you- I thought,” Brad’s tongue cut him off, plunging past his lips and sweeping across his mouth, warm and strong and God, kit groaned, stretching beneath his friend. Hands moved from his shoulders to his chest to his waist, gripping him as Brad broke the kiss and pulled away, breathing heavily.

“Fuck it Kit, I’m gonna miss you.” He panted, hands still tight on Kits waist.

Kit exhaled with enough force to turn it into a sigh. “You said- last summer,” he paused and closed his eyes. “You said you weren’t-”

“I know what I fucking said, Kit. But you are and now your leaving and I’m going to miss you. So.” He leant his forehead against Kit’s, “shut up and let me say goodbye.”

Kit complied, kissing and sucking and holding Brad tight against him. He could feel himself harden against the other boys thigh and moaned, biting his lip as Brad sucked his chin, his throat, his neck- almost to his shoulder. He wanted to grind and thrust against him. Wanted the removal of shirts and pants and… but that, he guessed, would be taking even this goodbye kiss a little too far. Brad returned from his brief excursion and reclaimed Kits lips gently. Kit smiled and turned his head, leaning forward to lick Brad’s ear and suck gently on the lobe, blowing across it when Brad groaned.

“I’m going to miss you too,” he whispered, and turned back to his kiss him again, breaking free when they both ran out of breath. “But we should probably stop soon. My door’s open and,” he grinned, “as you said so eloquently earlier, You know what you said and I am. So. We should stop.”

Brad sighed. “I’m just- you’re my best friend Kit, and I love you. And I know what I said last summer, but I know what I did last summer as well. Just- Christ. I don’t know. I’ll just miss you.”

Kit smiled and levered himself up to rest on his elbows. “I know. The feelings mutual. Just sort yourself out before you try this again, idiot. I’m half tempted to roll you over and have my way with you, open door be damned,” He laughed at Brad’s flush, “But I won’t. So hurry up and get out of here. I’ll,” he paused, about to say ‘I’ll see you later’ but that wasn’t true, now. “- I’ll miss you, Brad.”

Brad nodded and stood off the bed, straightening his shirt. “Good luck, Kit,” He nodded, turned and walked out of the room, down the hall, and through the front door.

Kit groaned and slammed his head into his pillow.

They’d fucked around last summer- more than fucked around. It had been good- better then good, for both of them. But Kit had known he was gay before that. Brad, he guessed, was either still getting used to the idea or just confused. Either way, the fucking had ended but the friendship hadn’t.

Now, Kit sighed. Now he’d lost them both.

AN:

The radio was of course originally playing “The Wall” by Pink Floyd. Saosin is a good semi-emo band. I was listening to It’s far better to learn as I wrote this. Oh. And Kit will never see Brad again (at least not in this story.)

And yeah, i relaise i should be writing for Changes, but i can't! weeps The swimming chapter eludes me still. But i'll work on it, i promise. In the meantime, many chapters! This is my nano procrastination fic, methinks