To Believe In Fireworks - A Short Story
The following is a short story that I wrote recently, that I wanted to share. Pls be kind, I’ve never done this sort of thing before.
There was something beguiling about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I knew it and he knew it. He knew it so well, in fact, that he’d used this charisma since school. It’s where we’d met, at school, when we were both sixteen, in our final year of GCSEs. Something happens in that final year; you start to get, not nostalgic, but you find yourself longing for more, as though you’re not quite ready for it to be over. I think it’s around this time that it happened: the incident.
Aleks was sharp, quick-witted and enviously handsome, but I found his choice in friends to be somewhat questionable. Sure, he was on the school’s varsity rugby team and had a bright future ahead of him, but the company he kept was rude, despicable and would go to any lengths to torment me. He did his best to stop them, after all we’d quietly been friends for a few years (quietly being the operative word for him), but he’d eventually get sucked in to the torture and I’d find myself on the receiving end of jibes from him. All so he could keep his image in tact.
I, meanwhile, was somewhat quick-witted, I guess I dressed sharp but I was not enviously handsome. Just your regular sixteen-year-old with the usual suspects of mild acne, a lack of interest in sports and a lack of popularity. I’m not entirely sure how Aleks and I had started talking, especially given my appearance, but I guess it was back in Mr. Ashton’s geography class in Year 11. We were purposefully sat next to each other; mainly so I could help improve Aleks’ grade, but also partly because I was the only openly gay kid in school and Mr. Ashton thought it might help me if the captain of the rugby team was seen talking to me (spoiler alert: it didn’t). To Mr. Ashton’s defence, Aleks and I did end up becoming really good friends; we’d meet up outside of school so I could help him with assignments and I’d even go to school rugby games to watch him play. It was cute.
Our friendliness developed into Year 12, and eventually our parents’ were friends and we’d have monthly game and trivia nights at each others’ houses. His family would normally win. It’s hard to compete when his family includes a history teacher and a financial advisor, and my family is my dad and me, but we did our best. It was near the end of Year 12, however, that these nights stopped happening. Aleks’ became more distant, and then I noticed him hanging around with different people at school; more unsavoury characters started appearing, until he told me that we’d have to stop hanging around together in school. I hated him for it. It was 100% because his new “friends” knew I was gay. He never admitted it, but I knew it was true. Sure, we still hung out after school at his, but it was never the same, until one afternoon.
I think it happened after fifth period one icy winter’s day in January of Year 13, just after his eighteenth birthday. I got a text from Aleks that just asked me to skip last period and to meet him in the music practice rooms behind the main school hall. I was apprehensive because I wasn’t sure if it was a genuine message, or if one of the troglodytes he called friends had gotten hold of his phone. The bell rang at the end of fifth and I nonchalantly slipped out of class and went to meet Aleks. I showed up and no one was there. I instantly thought I’d been set up. It was all a scam, he just wanted to make a fool of me. But I’m an easily convinced fool, so I sat and waited, I was already late for sixth, so I thought I may as well just skip it. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen minutes. Then the door opened. It was Aleks.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry, my last period dragged. I had to find some excuse to get out of it.”
“It’s fine. I haven’t been here long,” I lied, “what did you call me here for?” He paused.
“Look,” he started, “I think we both know that I’ve been a bit of a dick to you recently and that’s putting it lightly..”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.” I rolled my eyes.
“I just wanted to apologise. See, we were talking about, like, forgiveness or something in class earlier and it made me think about you for some reason; that’s when I messaged you.”
“It’s fine, I get you have new friends who aren’t the nicest to me, but it’s fine, it’s whatever.”
“No, but, like, it isn’t fine. We were really good friends in year 12 and I didn’t try to hide it. You really helped me.”
“Yeah, so I helped you with a geography grade, and..?”
I’d heard all this before, so I was beginning to get a little bit tired of the repetitiveness of it. It’s not the first time he’d apologised to me for being a douchebag, so I had to take this next edition of “I’m sorry” with an extra pinch of salt.
“Okay, you’re not getting it. Let me put it another way: my parents don’t even like playing games, I forced them to host game’s nights so I could find another way of being with you outside of school.”
“Right?”
“You helped me realise who I am.”
I was silent. For the first time in my life, I was actually silent. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what he was alluding to, and I didn’t want to make assumptions, so I sat there in silence and let him continue. Except he didn’t continue. He came over to where I was and sat down beside me on the piano stool. I think this was the closest we’d ever been to one another in our friendship. Well, up to that point anyway.
Before I knew it, he was kissing me.
It was an interesting sensation. Part of me thought it was wrong, I mean we’d been friends for two years and I didn’t really want to jeopardise it. But then again, I was kissing the captain of the school’s rugby team, who wouldn’t let that continue?
I had to stop it though.
“Wait, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Never been more sure.”
“But… I-” I sighed, ”I don’t understand.”
“What bit don’t you get? The bit where I apologised? The bit where I told you that you’d helped me realise who I am? Or maybe it’s the bit where I kissed you?”
I could tell he was starting to get irritated.
“I just don’t get why you’re telling me now. Like, you’ve had this whole school year to mention something to me and you choose now?”
“I guess I just felt like it was as good a time as any? I don't really know what I’m doing, all I know is that,” he pauses, I can see him thinking, “I’m really glad you’re here, with me, and…”
He pauses again to think. It’s too painful to watch, it’s like watching a kitten being eaten. I need to put a stop to it.
“You don’t have to continue.”
“Oh thank god. Can we just continue kissing?”
I hold back his advance. “I just have to know, is this like a ‘I don’t know what I’m doing so I’ll just make out with the only gay guy I know’ kind of deal, or is it more than just a one off thing? Because I’m not here to be messed around.”
“I’m gunna be honest, its a bit of both. But I’m hoping the latter will prevail, because I really don’t want to mess you around.” I had to be the one to think now. It was less painful to watch, I hope.
“Okay, then yes we can continue kissing.” I laugh. He leans back in. I grab his arms and pull him over to the sofa in the corner of the room. I was never sure why there was a sofa in a music practice room, and I dread to think what kind of stories this couch could tell, but at this moment, I was fucking glad it was there.
I laid down on the sofa and he climbed over on top of me and pushed his body into mine. It was muscular and felt like the body of someone older than eighteen. There was a lot of passion; I could tell that this had been building up within him and that this was the culmination of a long time of waiting on his behalf. His soft lips were pushing into mine and his whole body felt like it was going to explode with joy. He sat up, unzipped his trousers to reveal his underwear, took my hand and put it… well I think you can guess. I was immediately transported, to where, I don’t know. Heaven? Could have been, for all I know.
I kept my hand down there for what could have been 10 seconds, but what felt like 10 minutes, before he unzipped my trousers, pulled them down with my underwear to my ankles. I felt exposed. I’d never been this naked with someone this good looking before and it was unnerving. He pulled his trousers and underwear down to reveal his dick and pulled a condom out of his blazer pocket. Next thing I know, he’s inside me. I knew now for definite that I was in heaven. He was gentle with me and took it easy, but I could tell he wanted to really go for it.
Now, I don’t really know what happened next, I possibly blacked out, but all I know is that sometime during my hand being in his underwear, I guess the bell for end of school must have rung, because just as I was screaming his name (the practice rooms are soundproofed, thankfully), the door opened.
Poor, poor Ms. Dudley. She’s probably always wondered how two men have sex, she seems like the type of person who would be inquisitive enough to wonder, but not bold enough to actually find out. Until this day. She had to walk in on that particular practice room, just as Aleks was thrusting inside of me. I never did look her in the eye after that day. Rather unfortunately for us, she did happen to leave the door open as she ran out crying, prompting other passers-by to want to look into the room to see what had caused Ms. Dudley such upset.
I don’t think I’ve been so mortified. I pushed Aleks away from me, jumped up off the sofa, zipped up my trousers and shut the door. I made sure to lock it. Once it was closed, I just turned and slid down to the floor with my head in my hands. Aleks just sat there.
“Well, thats not good,” he began, “lets just pray she doesn’t tell anyone.”
I looked up. “Aleks, it felt like half the school was walking by just as she opened the door. I’m pretty sure I saw everyone who even knows who I am.”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” He was still half naked. Still erect. Still with the condom on.
“Could you please cover up? I’m not continuing now, that was mortifying.”
“It’s not that bad. Everyone knows you’re gay, it’s worse for me.”
“Mhmm, sure, it’s not bad at all that about 20 people have now seen me bottoming the captain of the rugby team.”
Aleks got up and redressed himself, making the odd decision to leave the condom on. He grabbed his bag and walked over to me. I stood up and we looked each other in the eye.
“This was a mistake,” he said with urgency, “I need to go. It’s probably best we don’t talk for a while. I’m suddenly realising the implications for me. I need to go.” I just stared back at him. I didn’t really know what to say. All I could think of was Ms. Dudley’s face shrieking as she opened the door, followed by the dagger-like stares of 20 or so of my peers.
“I’m gunna go. I’ll see you round.”
He opened the door and left. I stood at the door and watched him disappear down the corridor and out into the school car park.
We didn’t speak again for the rest of year. It was as though we were back to being strangers again. As though Mr. Ashton’s geography class had never happened.
* * *
Present Day - Thursday 22nd February, 2018
I guess you could say I turned out okay. I mean, as okay as you can get after having a traumatising experience like the one I had. I have an okay job, a close group of friends and I live in a fucking incredible apartment (with two other people, of course). It was sad though, losing a valuable friend like that over something that should have been a really enjoyable experience. He went his way and I went mine. I hadn’t seen him since and it’d been nearly five years, up until last week.
See, every Monday after work, I do my big food shop. I’m only 23, but I have the personality of a 40 year old. I will leave work, get in my car and drive to the out of town Sainsbury's to do that once a week food shop. Like clockwork. Normal 23-year-olds order their food online, and get it the minimum effort way, but not me. I still like the feel of shopping in a store. It seems that Aleks does too. Last Monday, I saw him. Five years later, and I saw him again. Finally.
We caught each others gaze and ended up chatting in the store. It was… nice. I mean it was never going to be easy. After all, the last time I saw him, he had his dick inside me and it ended up being the most embarrassing day of my life so far, so it was never going to be plain sailing when we ended up reconnecting. But it was nice; it was nice to feel that something could actually develop between us. A friendship, or more; something sparked. We agreed to go for coffee a couple of days later. Again, it was nice. I honestly can’t think of any other way to describe it, which is lame I know, but hey this is uncharted territory; up until last week, the most I’d thought about him was a passing comment to a friend about ‘the incident’.
That’s a lie.
Our coffee “date” was cute. We went to Starbucks, obviously. We took the corner table upstairs so we were away from the crowds downstairs. We both sat on the same side of the table, on the comfortable sofa bench, and swivelled round to talk to one another. He was as sharp as he had been at school, as quick-witted as I remembered, and did he get even more handsome?
“So, how have you been?” His voice rung throughout my entire being. It was like a beacon of hope, calling me home, to him.
“I’ve-,” I paused, I didn’t want to lie and say ‘everything’s fine!’, when really it wasn’t (who am I kidding?), but I also didn’t want to tell the truth; a happy medium would do, “I’ve been as good as I can be.”
“That sounds ominous.” He looked at me weird. Oh shit, I’ve ruined it, I went too truthful.
“No, no it’s not bad, I just had a shit year last year, lost my job and had to move about three times because of shitty landlords, but I’m okay now — happy I’m with an old friend.”
He smirked. He knew that we were more than friends. We were friends with benefits, but without the friends bit. So acquaintances with benefits. Not sure that’s a thing. To be totally honest, the ‘benefits’ bit had only happened once so not sure it really counts.
Acquaintances then. That sucks.
“Yeah, it’s really good to be here with you, it’s definitely been a while.”
“Enough about me though, what about you? You look like the last five years have been nothing but good to you.”
“Well, yes.. I mean I got a job in the law firm I’ve admired since I went to uni, and I’m living in such an amazing area. Yeah pretty much all good, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my dad died last year, so you could say I had a pretty shitty year too, but back on my feet again.” I felt awful. I’d just told him how I had an awful year because I lost a job and had to move house a few times and he lost his fucking dad. How much of an awful person am I? I didn’t know, it’s not my fault.
“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s fine, he had a short illness, so we were glad he was put out of his misery quicker, rather than having to suffer.”
I didn’t know how to react. I’d never been good with this sort of thing. I lost my mum when I was fourteen and having to deal with death at such a young age has given me a weird perspective on it. I kind of didn’t know how to deal with her passing when it happened and it really all hit me when I was nineteen and I was just crying non-stop for about a week. No one could console me. Now I tend to avoid the subject all together, and focus on more positive things. Thankfully, Aleks could tell.
“But enough about that, don’t want to dwell on it. Are you seeing anyone?”
There it was. That question. I knew it was coming. Am I seeing anyone? Do you count, Aleks? Because I see you in my dreams all the fucking time. Other than that, no. The last time I had sex was with you when we were eighteen. FUCK.
“No, not at the moment. It’s definitely hard out here for a bitch.” I laugh. He doesn’t. “How about you?”
“No, I was with this girl for a few weeks last year, but with all the stuff with my dad it didn’t feel like the right time.”
Girl? Wait. Let’s rewind. Didn’t he admit his homosexuality to me? Did I get that wrong? Please tell me I didn’t make a wrong assumption again, because last time I checked, sticking your penis in another man’s backside, doesn’t make you 100% straight.
“Oh you were with a girl?”
“Yeah, decided to give it another try. I mean, last time I was with a guy was, well, you. The one and only time.”
“Let’s not revisit.” I winced a little. “But this girl, she didn’t work out? Shame.”
“You say that with a little bit of glee don’t you?”
“No, of course not.” I did.
We both sat back and drank our coffee. There was a bit of an awkward silence. It felt like he was going to just get up and leave at one point. I wanted to mention ‘the incident’, but I’d just said I didn’t want to revisit it, like the dumb bitch I am. Of course I wanted to revisit it. All I ever want to do is revisit it. To let it happen one more time. To let him finish, without Ms. Dudley walking in and screaming. That scream haunts me; to this day, that scream haunts me. It’s like a recurring nightmare. Only not one of the ones that would be made into a film and star Anna Faris, no, this was a nightmare reserved especially for me.
“I lied.” I yelled.
“What?” he said, taken aback.
“Let’s revisit that time.”
“What time?” He was fucking around with me.
“You fucking know, don’t be a dick.” He laughs slightly and then utters the one word that would be the only response acceptable to what I had just asked.
“Okay.”
* * *
Before my key is even in my front door, his arms are around me. His lips on the back of my neck as I’m fumbling with the lock. His warm breath running down my spine as the key turns and the door opens. I drag him by the hand into my apartment. He can’t take his eyes off me. I’ve never felt more wanted. He slips his coat off and lays it on a chair in the kitchen. His shirt is fitted. I can make out every muscle, every small detail of his body without him even taking his shirt off. I remove my coat and lay it on top of his. He pulls me toward him and his soft lips touch mine. Just as I remember. They’re more chapped than before, but it is February. I think everyone has chapped lips in February. Why am I thinking of chapped lips?
We amble towards my room when something inside me has to ask that question again.
“Aleks, I have to ask.”
“Do you?”
“Is this like a ‘I don’t know what I’m doing so I’ll just make out with the only gay guy I know’ kind of deal, or is it more than just a one off thing? Because, like before, I’m not here to be messed around. I’m 23, I’m not getting any younger.”
“Honestly? I don’t know what I’m doing. But I do know that I keep coming back to you. Something inside me can’t get enough of you. I have never wanted to mess you around, including today.” He sounded sincere. “If something happens because of today, then fantastic, if it doesn’t then thats too bad, but either way, this is right now and I want you.”
I didn’t really know what to make of that answer, and to be honest he didn’t really give me much of a chance before he’d pushed me onto my bed, removed his shirt and was on top of me. I felt like I was being used. I was torn. Do I let this happen and have the best sex of my life, but feel like a used dish cloth after, or do I stop to let him figure out what he actually wants?
Let’s just say I don’t make good decisions when I’m horny.
He tore my shirt off of me, pulled off my trousers and tugged my underwear off with his teeth. I was now completely naked. I’d always hated my body, and to have his physique rolling around on top of me was tearing my self-confidence apart, but I was just happy to have this opportunity. He pulled off his trousers and underwear and laid down beside me. We just laid there, completely naked, for about 20 minutes. I didn’t really know what to do. I thought about getting up and making a cup of tea at one point. He just went silent. I was about to go and put the kettle on when:
“Okay. I’ve thought about what I want.”
“Alright.”
“You. I choose you.”
“I’m not a fucking Pokemon.”
“You know what I fucking mean. I want you. Look, there must be a reason I keep coming back to you. This is now the second time we’ve fooled around—” He doesn’t know about my dreams — I’m pretty sure it’s in the hundreds if we include dreams. “— and I just know that every time I think about you, I feel fireworks.”
I was about to cry, but then I remembered I was naked and that would have been the saddest thing to happen in the history of the universe. So I didn’t.
“Are you sure?” He turned to look at me. His penis flopped on my leg. I sniggered a little.
“Yes. 100%.”
I rolled myself on top of him and kissed his chest. At first softly, making sure that he felt my breath in his little bit of chest hair, but then more intensely. It wasn’t long before… wait, did we pay for our coffee?
* * *
I take a deep sigh and look at my alarm clock. 6.35am. Fuck my life. I hate work. Why can’t I just be famous for no reason and earn money for posting on Instagram. Where do I get one of those jobs? I can’t complain though. I look beside me. Aleks is still sleeping. I just lie there and watch him, so peaceful.
“Time to get up.” I whisper in his ear.
“Five more minutes”.
“Absolutely not.” I sit on his chest and straddle him until he stirs completely awake.
It’s now been nearly 7 months since that afternoon when we crossed paths in Sainsbury's, and then a few days later he was fucking me like five years hadn’t passed at all; like Ms. Dudley hadn’t walked in on us all those years ago. Was I happy? Sure. I mean, I really couldn’t complain. I’m just glad he had enough faith in those fireworks he’d felt, to make a commitment to me. I feel like this is it, like I’ve been truly gifted.
Fuck. I’m not ready.
