Another oneshot? Why the hell not?
Inspired by a SKoW challenge called Slash It, or something similar. I don't remember, I saw it and started this such a long time ago.
ANYWHO. This one's a product of Skins and too much QAF on youtube ;)
It's a bit less cutesy, maybe.
I dunno. Knowing me, probably not.
UYLM update soon.
"I spend the day wondering what you do, where you go,
I try and just kick it but then what can I do?
We've all got our junk, and my junk is you."
Ollie and Dean.
It wasn't just an ordinary day, although it started like one.
I woke up to the sound of mum screaming her head off at Charlie- something pretty normal at home, because to be honest, he can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. She was screaming and he was laughing... and for some completely unknown reason, I was on the settee, covered by a blanket. Casanova, my dog, was licking my hand and begging to be taken for a walk, and I was sore all over. To top it all off, it was only 8am, and it was a cold November morning. Needless to say, I was not happy to be awake. Needless to say, Charlie deserved a kick in the fucking head for provoking the madwoman.
"What did he do this time?" Dad's tired voice drifted down the stairs and mum turned to him immediately to kiss him good morning, making me gag and turn away as they grinned and whispered. Charlie, on the other hand, was still laughing, tears practically rolling down his cheeks, and he came and flopped down at the end of the sofa where my feet were. He picked up the remote, switching on the footie and stealing the bag of Twiglets I'd started on the night before. For a second I wondered how the bouncy little rodent could even be related to me. I was, well, am, pretty damn sulky on the best of days, especially before my morning Red Bull, and I was/am pretty much the complete opposite of the sixteen year old comedian next to me.
As he laughed, I stared at him, unimpressed. We had the same green eyes- pure, pale green, inherited from our Icelandic grandparents along with really, really good skin- score, right?! Unlike me, Charlie had decided to experiment with his looks- he was really popular with the girls despite being a total freak of nature and a bit of a... well, a goon, for lack of a better word. His hair was dark, really dark, with blond bits that made him look like a total emo kid, but his mouth was always smiling and his hair never covered his eyes, so I guess he got away with it, the vain little fucker. I, on the other hand, had the same shaggy brown mop I'd always had. It was dependable. It was reliable. I couldn't be arsed with change. So, really, even if outwardly I was similar to my younger brother, it didn't matter at all. We had nothing in common... as his next words only proved further.
"Happy False Confession Day!" he exclaimed, when he'd finally stopped laughing. Normal people would have asked if he was high- I just groaned; yet again, my brother was celebrating a stupid obscure holiday and using it as an excuse to drive the lot of us up the fucking wall. Who celebrated that kind of thing anyway? I was sure there were special calendars for muppets like him. I wouldn't have cared that he was doing it really though, not usually, because I was used to it, but this morning was different. This morning it was too early and I had a hangover....And why was he choosing to celebrate it in the early hours of the morning?! I hadn't had caffeine yet, and I still wasn't awake enough to hit him or talk to him about anything of any consequence. I just wanted to smack him one, and I couldn't, because mum would have lamped me right back for hurting her baby. I had to make do with shoving my face in a cushion.
Damn. Unfortunately, Charlie was in the mood to chat. As mum and dad threw away the remnants of their morning tea, I had my cushion pulled away from me. I wished I could go with them for a second. They got to escape the madness.
Mum and dad rolled their eyes at Charlie and waved half-heartedly at me, before leaving for work, carrying their matching briefcases- again, gag. I focused my glare of doom onto my younger brother, willing him to get up and leave me alone. Unfortunately for me, Charlie seemed to interpret the look as my way of saying 'hey, Charlie, what did you say to mum to piss her off today?' And like always, he just couldn't resist telling me.
Sometimes I thought he talked just to make noise. I never actually gave a shit about any of it.
"I told mum I was gay and had a crush on dog-walker boy," he chirped, trying to refrain from laughing at me again. The mention of the boy sent me up the wall. Dog-walker boy was the new boy; really attractive, really smart- too fucking pretty, if you really considered him. At that point, I refused to admit that I'd noticed... but the little voice in the back of my head said you want to fuck him and you know it and it was starting to get hard to ignore. Charlie had overheard me moaning to Shauna about it, bitching about how he always caught my eye, and I wondered if I was imagining it, or if our short little conversation had actually meant anything.
I've never done that about anyone before. Charlie knew that.
I really hoped Charlie would drop it, and leave me to sleep. The pipes had burst at school, and knowing our shitty council, nobody would bother to fix anything in the next few weeks, so it wasn't like I had to get up and get ready. I also was really not in the mood to entertain my little brother when he was in one of his moods, but he seemed determined to wind me up about the issue too, so I tried my hardest to convince him to tell me later, when I was actually conscious. I hadn't bet on Charlie's stubbornness. He was like Casanova with a juicy bone- he fucking refused to drop it, and I was forced to wait for him to say his piece.
"Funny thing is, Ollie, she was more concerned that I was stealing your crush than the fact that both of her sons were into meat and two veg." He grinned widely, and I felt the horror creeping up my cheeks. I blushed in a totally unmanly way and swore under my breath. I was mortified. Not only had my mum assumed I was gay (without even consulting me, I might add-what, did I have a sign on my head saying 'raging homo' or something?) but she'd seen through my 'helpful' offers to walk Casanova every day since I'd met him. Curse my natural aversion to physical activity. I worked up a sweat just thinking about exercise- I should have known she'd twig eventually.
I looked Charlie right in the eye, and cleared my throat, ignoring the mischievous twinkle in his eye. I tripped over my words, scrambling to protest, although even as I said it I knew I wouldn't be believed.
"No, Charlie, I'm not, I'm really just... not; gay that is, not gay at all, in fact, I'm totally straight, almost as straight as..." I couldn't think of anything super straight and I really panicked. "Oh, fuck it. Fuck you, shithead. Let me sleep!"
He looked surprised for a second, and then started to laugh. "Err, no, mate. And...Straight? Please. Tell that to dog-walker boy. Seems to think otherwise."
I couldn't believe it. Charlie knew I was gay, and to top it all off, dog-walker boy did too. Jeez! I was certain that he was straight; oh God, he probably thought it was funny, the little gay boy with the crush... Why did everyone come to that conclusion about me anyway, when even I didn't know what I wanted? Did I not date enough girls or seem interested enough? Gay was probably the wrong word anyway, if I had to be really honest, because I did like some girls.
I just liked dog-walker boy more.
Damn, damn, damn. I was fucking obsessed with dog—walker boy. Of course I was gay. The little voice seemed to enjoy reminding me that most of my recent party hook-ups had been with boys. And it was hot, it reminded me.
Well, okay, that was true.
"Chill, Ollie, chill. You're acting like a girl. It's okay, you know. He's gay too. I think he's interested." Charlie seemed mega amused by the whole thing, and by now I was totally awake. I was not good in confrontations, however, so there wasn't really much I could say.
"Come on, this conversation is boring me shitless. Let's go find your boyfriend."
Charlie winked at me, and again I wondered how someone related to me could be so different. His audacity astounded me, but still, I found myself grabbing Casanova's lead and following him out of the door with the dog in tow. I wanted to stay inside and sulk, but I didn't. I was curious now, about this boy. I had to admit; the whole idea of him kind of excited me.
Why not? said the little voice.
Charlie kept stopping along the way to greet total strangers.
"Happy November 21st!" The bloke who works at the chippy hit him after he 'confessed' that he had seen his daughter naked. The woman in the supermarket laughed for hours when he 'confessed' to buying butter 'because it's a really good lubricant'. And finally, by the time we reached the park, he had a black eye from telling one of the ugliest women that I have ever seen that I wanted to have her children. I don't think I need to explain that the black eye was my own doing, as a repayment from the kick to the shins that she gave me.
Sometimes I questioned Charlie's sanity. I mean, yeah, I was having a lot of fun listening to him make a noob of himself, but he couldn't have been enjoying the looks people were giving him. I couldn't believe that he'd go that far for a joke!
(Scratch that. It was totally believable.)
Because of Charlie's stupid popularity, we didn't even get to the park until eleven am. And unsurprisingly, dog-walker boy was nowhere to be found. He was usually around before school time, like, super early, and he probably didn't even go to my school anyway, so he probably wouldn't have time off. Right?
Just as I was explaining this logic, dog-walker boy turned the corner, appearing like a vision from behind the shitty kids' playpark, lead in hand. I think I actually whimpered at the sight, but at Charlie's pointed look I feigned innocence, pointing to Casanova..
Charlie laughed loud and clear, a harsh sound that turned dog-walker boy's head. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
The thing that I need to explain about dog-walker boy is that he was actually a God in human's clothes. He was tall and broad-shouldered and had this white-blonde hair that actually looked natural, even if it wasn't. And he wasn't actually a dog-walker in the sense that he did it for money or anything, I mean, I just called him that because I saw him every single day when I walked Casanova; he'd be walking his fat little pug, Juliet. We'd actually spoken a few times, graduating from a casual nod to a full-blown conversation about the weather in the winter being a bitch (no pun intended) to walk the dogs in. Generally I'd turn into a total idiot with a bad case of foot-in-mouth just seeing his familiar sweatshirt in the distance, but mate, what I'd give to wear that sweatshirt, just the once.
Stupid thing was, I knew everything from his dog's name to the amount of knots he tied in his beat up Converse, and I didn't even know who he was. I couldn't put a name to the face and I definitely hadn't worked up the nerve to inevitably humiliate myself and tell him mine. Anyway, when he saw us, saw Charlie waving, and started to come over, I had no fucking clue what to say in greeting.
The situation had epic fail written all over it.
"Alright mate?" Charlie shouted, as the guy ambled over, grinning. I couldn't believe it. Alright mate? ALRIGHT? That was so not the right way to greet the boy. He was a fucking sex God! It was a shit way to greet anyone, actually, in my opinion. But dog walker boy seemed to think it was fine. He didn't say it back or anything, though- that was cool of him, I think. Anyway, he definitely didn't think it made us not worth talking to (which, fuck it, I so would have decided in his shoes) and that made even my cynical side do a little victory dance.
"Morning," he said, his voice all scratchy. I recognised that voice- it was my weekend voice, the one that said yeah, I got wasted last night, and what? I liked that about dog walker boy. His voice always sounded like he'd been smoking fifty billion fags. It was proper gorgeous.
I was too busy staring at him to say anything back. I liked that he didn't say good morning, because he didn't know if it was one yet. I liked that his hair wasn't straightened, and that it looked like he'd just slept on it and left the house, and that it was still fucking cool. Mate, the little voice said, he's miles out of your league.
"Got a light?" he said to me, smirking with his red lips. I couldn't stop myself from staring. He looked like he'd been kissing all night- thoroughly shagged, mum would have said, and I wanted to be cool about it but I couldn't help myself. I just stared at the floor, still pouting to myself. Charlie laughed again, proper loud, and both dog-walker boy and I winced.
"Only if you tell us your name," Charlie sang, and I wanted to hit him. It was too weird. My straight fucking brother, hitting on dog-walker? That just wasn't right. Not at all.
Dog-walker smiled at him, pulling tighter on his leash as Juliet tried to take on Casanova- mate, that wasn't gonna happen, my dog was three times the pug's size. I looked down, purposely avoiding the guy's eyes. If he ended up being into anyone, it would be Charlie anyway, not me.
"I'm Dean," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I didn't bother answering.
"I'm Charlie," my traitorous wanker of a brother said, far too enthusiastic. "And this sulky bastard is Ollie." I raised my head, looking Dean in the eye. I made a point of trying to appear as indifferent as possible as I pulled my lighter from the back pocket of my jeans and tossed it to him. He caught it, still smiling.
"So, Charlie," he began, and I cursed him inwardly. Fuck you, said my inner voice. Fuck you for choosing Charlie like everyone else does. "Does your boyfriend care about you flirting with me?" You had to hand it to the guy- he was pretty damn frank about what was going on, but still, my inner voice was muttering yeah, fuck off, try and be a little bit subtle about asking if he's single, you actual prat and I could feel myself scowling at him. Curse him.
And then I realised he was looking at me.
"...What?" I said, unintelligently, seeing that Charlie was looking at me in barely contained excitement. Dean was still looking and I didn't know why, couldn't figure out why he wasn't dragging my lying little brother off to snog his face off or something...
"I wanted to know if you two were together," he explained slowly, making a little hand gesture as he said 'together', lacing his fingers through each other. And then I understood.
"FUCK NO!" I shouted it, startling Casanova, who was getting bored and started to bark. I shot him a look- whispering at him to sit, and turned back to Dean, who was staring at me in amazement.
"He's my little brother!" I explained to him, and I could almost feel Charlie at my side, laughing at my outburst. It was the most animated I'd been in forever, actually.
"Really?" Dean's eyebrows shot up, looking between the two of us. It was kind of cute, really, although I mentally smacked myself for saying it. Cute, I thought. Could you get gayer, Ollie? I realised that he probably thought I was a moody twat though, and thoughts like that were probably not the kind of thing he'd read into my facial expressions... so I'd be safe when he tried to walk off into the sunset with my heterosexual sibling.
"Well then," Dean continued, looking between the two of us. "Fancy meeting up? Like... tonight? No girls. A bunch of my mates are gonna come and get fucked up here, in the park."
I didn't know what to say. I assumed he was asking Charlie. I was too slow. As usual, Charlie got in first.
"No can do, Deanio. I'm a transsexual, see."
My inner voice said oh fuck no.
Dean just stared at him, his mouth trembling at the corners in an obvious effort not to laugh out loud. (LOL!)
"Actually," he replied, still sounding all throaty and shaggable, "I was asking your brother."
Hah! In your face!
I couldn't help myself. I grinned at him, and his mouth fell open in surprise.
"Why the fuck not?" I said, sunnily, and he sort of stared at me, in shock.
I felt Charlie pulling the lead out of my hands, noticed that Dean didn't take his eyes off of me as Charlie started to back away.
"My work here is done," he announced loudly. "Happy false confession day!"
I just stood there, smiling.
The park gathering was nothing special. The usual amount of substance abuse and random hooking up- I was surprised to see that despite Dean's warning there were a fair number of girls.
"I wanted to make sure you didn't bring one," he said into my ear, as he caught me looking. His breath was warm and vodka-tinted, and I shivered in pleasure in the cold November air.
"No dog tonight?" I replied, for lack of anything better to say. I swigged back my own vodka, bringing my cigarette to my lips. I wasn't sulky or scared, for once. His blonde hair looked too pretty in the moonlight.
He shook his head, laughing to himself.
"Fuck...I only started walking Jules because I saw you there my first morning in town. You seemed way too cool to talk to me without a decent excuse."
Oh, wow. Even my inner voice couldn't form a coherent sentence. Me, too cool for you? My inner voice was incredulous and I just wanted to laugh, because nothing this good had ever happened to me, this couldn't possibly real. It had to be a mistake.
But it wasn't, and I knew it.
We stood there, looking at each other.
"...So," he said, eventually. "Do you celebrate False Confession Day, too?"
I laughed, relaxing into his company.
"No. No, I don't. It's just November 21st to me."
He smiled and I couldn't help it. I stepped closer. Suddenly everything seemed really quiet. Suddenly I was grateful to not have the distraction of a school day looming or Casanova tugging on his lead.
"From now on," he murmured, leaning further in. I could feel his warm breath again, ghosting over my lips as he bent his head towards me. I brushed a lock of his blonde hair away from his eyes- they were green, I saw, with surprise. They never left mine, never broke contact.
"From now on, I think that's a holiday worth celebrating."
I smiled, a genuine smile, as his lips brushed mine. All around us the world kept turning. Nothing monumental shook us- no fireworks, nothing but the noise of the teenage revellers in their various stages of debauchery and undress.
"I am not crazy about you," I murmured into his lips. He curled his hand into my hair, messing it up more than it had been when I left home in a crazy rush to meet him. I hoped he was understanding me, because I had a feeling I'd look really fucking uncool and completely ruin our intense little moment if he didn't. His tongue made its way into my mouth, gentle at first, and then urgent, and mine danced with it, saying everything that I was too sulky and male to actually admit.
Happy False Confession Day. I'm crazy about you. Kiss me more.
"I'm not crazy about you," he muttered, pulling away reluctantly.
"Happy November 21st."