“Do you want a drink?”
Thom cringed as he leaned over the guy to get to the table with all the bottles. The guy was screaming into his ear.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Of course I want the bloody drink, that’s why I’m getting myself one,” Thom barked, picking the biggest glass and pouring liquor in it. The guy stared at him dumbly and drunkenly before picking a different technique.
“I’m Richard!” he yelled in Thom’s ear again and Thom cringed even more, looking at the tall and chiseled Richard. He noticed a few bite marks on his neck and wondered if those were Jonny’s. He had an instant desire to drag the guy into the bathroom, take their shirts off and see if the bite marks matched.
“Do you wanna dance?” the guy slurred, snatching Thom’s elbow when he tried to turn away. Thom jerked him off, spilling liquid from his glass, his ears picking up the familiar tune. Suddenly, the world subsided into one compact formula.
Thom hid in the small corner, making small trips to steal bottles, walking becoming harder each time. He was finally sitting on the carpeted floor, looking at the legs moving in front of him in a broken rhythm. “Pigeons,” he thought, “They look like pigeons.”
Jonny (he called him “Jonnn-neh” these past few days), he thought, has some weird ways of speaking his mind. They are completely normal in some cases. Completely. “I have been cheating on you,” he said. Thom smirked and turned his head to the side. “Cheating,” he mouthed, and then looked up through his cloudy eyes to find the drunken Richard in the crowd.
His first reaction was to slap the back of Jonny’s (Jonnn-neh’s) head – lightly and more for the psychological effect, than for the physical one. “Fool,” he thought, sighing, “Foolish boy.”
“We’ve been together for so much time…and…he just came around so easily,” Jonny said, rubbing the back of his neck. Thom counted the years in his head. About 20.
“I love you,” Jon said. Thom remembered looking at him curiously, tipping his head. Then – standing up and leaving. Then – not talking. Dry handling of keys, doors slammed in the opposite rooms, tea drank at the different times. Scheduling of the day so that not to run into Jonny. The warm, comfortable Jonny that tried to catch him each time in his arms and mumble something in his hair.
Thom took a drink from his bottle and shooed away the thoughts, closing his eyes and listening to the pulsating rhythm. He felt a thin film of perspiration on his forehead from the heat of the house and it was the last thing he registered before drifting into a deep sleep.
“Fuck off,” Thom mumbled to the person who was stroking his legs. He opened his eyes lazily and saw the familiar hair swishing as Jonny leaned down to rub his cheek on his thighs. “Fuck off,” Thom said again, jerking away.
Jonny straddled him and crawled until he reached Thom’s lap, Thom placing his hands on the narrow chest and pushing him away languidly. Jon continued with his quest and their struggle became infinite and extremely lazy and drunk.
“Fuck ooofff,” Thom sighed, giggling and angry at himself for giggling, “Go away, you big…you big cheater…Jonnn-neh!”
“Stop calling me that,” Jon answered, chuckling, trying to place a wet kiss on Thom’s cheek, receiving a drunken palm in his face each time.
“Go away,” Thom sighed, his arms falling to his sides, “You know I can’t be… mad at you when I’m drunk. Please go away…what the…what the fuck…are you doing?” Thom blinked a few times as Jon sat him up properly, raised his arms and took off his shirt.
“I missed you,” Jonny said, running his hands on Thom’s chest, tracing his collarbones and small pecks, “I was lying in my bed and thinking about you, and it scared me that I couldn’t recall what you look like shirtless. Really. I mean.... I thought I had the image of it imprinted in my mind forever.”
“Undress me, take a picture, and then leave, please,” Thom shook his head, sobriety kicking in.
Jon leaned back and for a second Thom thought that he was going to follow his advice, however soon he was pulled onto his feet, a shirt covered him once again and then he was dragged through the whole room toward the exit, hauled into a cab and brought home. Then Jonny undressed him and pushed him into their bed, Thom fighting and swatting at him, willing to sleep on the couch or “wherever it was bloody possible”; then his forehead was pushed into Jonny’s chest and he was convulsing, clawing at the sheets and slacking his jaw, eyes squeezed shut. The whole time Jonny was pushing his cheek against his hair and circling his cheekbone with his fingers, whispering that he was sorry.
Finally Thom exhaled what it seemed like the first time in an hour and Jonny tipped his face to him, collecting the tears with his lips.
“You are the stupidest person I every knew. You are so bloody dumb. You are…a degenerate, an idiot, a bloody imbecile.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jonny whispered, running his thumb over Thom’s lips.
“You are pulling me back, aren’t you,” Thom said, his voice calm, and careful, and measured. Jonny kissed his forehead, down his nose and finally his lips, flicking his tongue inside. Thom wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling the warm body closer to him and feeling Jon throw a leg over his hips, securing him in place.
No comments:
Post a Comment