Chapter 7

The week without Jesse passed slowly. School was good, the way it always was; and though I was not asked I took work home for Jesse, passing worksheets through the wall, bringing them back for teachers who wondered why a boy excluded for fighting wanted to keep up so well. I read him the new poems we covered in English and we discussed 'Cover Version' at length, arguing over the religious symbolism of a god who was a bull and not a lamb. We ran every other day, jogging for miles which burned my lungs, made my legs ached, forced my heart to beat ever faster. I realised I would follow him anywhere when we ran, sprinting through the centre of town, two boys sweat soaked and drinking the air in the gloom.

Jesse told me of his days, the changing of the house during his time alone as he infected the whole building with his neatness. He painted his bedroom in a pale blue, a shade which I was sure would complement his eyes. His mother accepted our invitation to dinner and the date was set for Saturday week. He ate his meals standing up, excusing that he couldn't cook, but then baked brownies, muffins, cake to surprise his mum. He read the whole of 'Five Eleven Ninety Nine' an event neither of us remembered, we were too young, and beat out the poem on the wall, reading me his favourite stanzas. He liked the list of odd things brought for the fire; 'a pair of ladders, half a stable-door/a stump, one stilt, the best part of a boat/a sight-screen stolen from the cricket field, a hod, a garden bench, a wagon wheel'. I loved one line more than most when he read it in his soft-quiet voice, the one he only used through the wall. 'The act of keeping warm by burning clothes'.

I missed our walks to and from school.

Thursday, my last day without him, and Toman and Mina practically tied me up and dragged me down to Toast. We went straight from school, uniforms skewed, I swapped my chinos for jeans before we left, trading blazer and tie for black unravelling jumper over my shirt. We were greeted by Guy, Paul was making deliveries, and sat in our favourite corner table. I sipped my skinny hot chocolate with an odd trepidation while Toman piled his own high with marshmallows and cream.

"We miss you," was Mina's opening gambit, and I stared at her, surprised at her words if not her directness, "You've been all distant and morose this past week. You didn't even make fun of my idiot brother when he drooled after Laura Chang at lunch."

"I did not drool," Toman interjected.

"Whatever," Mina shrugged off her twin and her sharp dark eyes fixed on my own, "You've not been here Maxie. You're off somewhere else in your head."

I wanted to apologise, but I didn't know if I could. Not and mean it anyway. I was an awful person, ditching my oldest friends to be, if not with, then at least near my ... my what? Nothing. To be near a boy I'd kissed, a boy who'd said he liked me. It was only then that I realised I didn't have any words to define my friendship with Jesse. I'd known him a few weeks, but I felt that I needed him in a way I'd never known before.

"I ... I miss him."

"Jesse?" Toman's voice was shocked, "What on earth is going on with you two now? You hated him, then you were getting on, and then he broke Ian's nose."

"I sort of think I might ... I dunno..."

"Oh spit it out Maxie." Mina was impatient.

"I don't know!" I set my mug on the table sharply, and the cutlery jumped and skittered, "I know I've been rubbish lately but I like him. And he needs me."

"We're your friends and we need you too."

I sank my head into my hands, my elbows on the table. I hated to disappoint my friends. Guilt sucked away at my excitement and I gritted my teeth against sobs and tears I didn't want.

"I know. I'm sorry." I took a deep breath, "I just know that I need him. We get on, we have lots in common."

"He hit you!" Mina looked shocked.

"He had his reasons. Any way I hit him back. We're even."

"Maxie..." Toman sighed, "We just don't want you getting hurt."

I looked across the table straight at Toman. He was my oldest friend, if only by a few minutes before his sister had come along. And he saw the look written in my face. Toman laid a hand on his twin's arm.

"Mina ... I think Maxie needs us to cut him some slack."

We were thankfully interrupted at that point by a bark, and Nuka's fluffy head pushing under my arm to lick my face.

"And how are my favourite teenagers today?" Paul's voice wrapped me in warmth and I dug my fingers into Nuka's thick fur, "Oh Maxie, what's wrong?" While Toman and Mina liked Paul well enough, found him fun and interesting, they had never understood Maxie's deeper friendship with the older man.

"I think we were sort of interrogating him," Toman admitted.

"Is this about Jesse?"

Mina nodded.

"Well if you like the boy you oughta say something."

I stood up, scraping my chair.

"Look, I haven't told him yet. I'm certainly not going to tell you. I have to go, he'll be waiting for me."

There was a note in the hole when I got back. More lyrics.

The night will try to tempt you, but the day will come.

I tapped on the wall, fell back on the bed, mentally exhausted by my friends. On the other side I heard Jesse's bed springs creak as he came across from his desk. Music turned down low and I felt his shadow move about. He tapped back.

"Hey. How was school?"

"Fine, boring, not bad. I missed you." I tapped again, beating out the line he had sent me. "I managed to infect you with my music then?"

"Yeah. Maxie?"

"Uh huh."

"We need to talk."

I frowned, those words never started anything good.

"Run?"

"No." Two taps, "I don't want to look at you when I say this. I'll lose my nerve."

"OK." I rolled over onto my front and pressed my shoulder against the wall, running my short blunt fingernails down the paint so that he would hear me, "Go ahead."

"So I was thinking that I'd quite like to see where this goes. If this friendship thing is maybe more than that. Cause I'm not sure if I'm gay or what or anything but I know that I can't stop thinking about you." A deep breath, a pause so long I started trying to formulate words, "And I think you're really pretty. Shit, I mean cute, or ... ah crap. I'm screaming this up aren't I?"

I tapped the wall twice, hardly able to breathe through silent laughter.

"Maxie!" Jesse's voice was so close I knew he was looking through the hole in the wall, "Stop laughing at me! It took me all day to say that."

"S-sorry." I panted, trying to catch my breath properly, "I-I can't believe you think I'm pretty. Have you looked in a mirror lately?" I smiled into my pillow, "Run?"

"No. Let's save it. I'll be at school tomorrow and then we're having dinner at yours remember?"

"Oh god..."

"What?"

"Now I'm going to have to fucking tidy my room aren't I?"

"You bet. See you in the morning?"

One knock for yes.

I hadn't jerked off in bed since I'd drilled the hole into Jesse's room. It felt weird somehow, knowing he was there, that if he was awake he would hear. And Jesse seemed to be having less bad dreams, though I still woke whenever he rolled and hit the wall. For such a tidy guy his unconscious was certainly messy and rebellious. That night I went for a long shower. I did all the usual, hair washed, skin scratched and shaved, and leant back against the cold tile wall, letting the stream of hot droplets bounce off my chest and abdomen.

My nipples were a much darker brown than my skin, sort of chocolate, and I stroked that hand that had been injured across them, releasing tingles of pleasure that chased each other up and down my spine. I had no chest hair, but a thin trail wound its way from navel downwards and I let my fingers follow that, down to where the water splashed against my thickening cock. I cupped my balls, rolling them in my fingers as the sac tightened and my breath hitched. Familiar but nonetheless exciting as all hell I arched my back, taking my weight on my shoulders, and wrapped thumb and forefinger around the base of my erection. Proportional to the rest of me, my member was a shade darker than the rest of my skin, curving very faintly to the left and I hissed through my teeth, wrapping my hand around the head to spread water and slippery pre cum along my length.

Jesse moved around in my mind. Lying on his back in bed, hands beckoning, pulling me down to sear over his hot body. Jesse saying my name through the wall, raking his fingers over plaster board and skin. Jesse's voice saying my name, the whisper soft and tender, a voice that was just for me. The vision started to change as I sped up and I half imagined the head of his cock at my entrance, moving a finger around to stimulate my virgin hole. Jesse's voice was wet and warm in my ear, the heat of him whispering behind me, repeating my name, mixing it with poetry. To send his silver son/down on a thread of light/Maxie, my Maxie/His hide was snod and bruff/his coat was suede and soft/ Maxie/ and chamois to the touch/Oh Maxie/His horns were carved in oak/Maxie/Or, where they beached, they blent/Maxie/beneath a type of tree/that tree was evergreen.