The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Okay. Done,” Zed said.

  They stood side by side in front of the mirror, their faces creasing as they smiled at their spiky-haired reflections.

  “You think we look older, Red Boy?” Caspian asked.

  “Maybe, Blue Boy. We’re a bit like freaky twins.”

  Caspian turned his head to one side, then the other. “I don’t know why I didn’t do this before. I like it.”

  You have to be gay.

  “My school has rules about hair colour,” Zed said. “They sent a boy home who’d only bleached the tips of his hair. He had to dye it brown before they’d let him come back.”

  “I like the idea of doing just the tips.”

  “Me too.”

  As they washed their hands in the basin, Caspian sucked in a breath. “The colour’s not coming off as easily as I thought it would. It said on the can it washes out.”

  Zed used a nail brush on his hands and eventually they were almost clean. While Caspian was working on his, Zed picked up one of the cans and read the instructions. Something he probably should have done earlier.

  “Ah,” Zed muttered.

  “What?” Caspian dried his hands and came to his side.

  “It does wash out, but it says after a few weeks. Avoid getting onto skin.”

  “Fuck. Good thing we’re not at school.”

  Zed’s dad was going to kill him.

  “Oh shit. Your dad.” Caspian winced. “Is he going to explode?”

  Zed made himself shrug but he felt sick. He’d get beaten again.

  “Want to make sandwiches and go for a bike ride?”

  Zed really wanted to stand under the shower until the red had gone, but he followed Caspian downstairs and into a large kitchen.

  “Hi Betsy, this is my friend Zed.”

  The middle-aged woman gasped when she saw them, then laughed. “Master Caspian, whatever have you done!”

  “It washes out,” Caspian said.

  “Good thing it does.”

  Zed held out his hand. “Hello.”

  She shook it. “Nice to meet you, Zed.”

  “We need a picnic,” Caspian said. “We’re going exploring.”

  “Want me to make it for you?” she asked.

  “Please.” Caspian smiled at her. “We like peanut butter.”

  “Ah so you were the one who left the jar out and the top off yesterday lunchtime. Go on, be off with you. Come back in ten minutes.”

  It took that long for Zed to get the hang of Caspian’s bike. He could ride, he wasn’t lying, but after he’d grown out of the first two-wheeler he’d had when he was eight, there hadn’t been another one bought for him. He was glad he was wearing a helmet because he fell off twice. He kept practising while Caspian went to get their lunch and though he improved, he wasn’t sure he was safe enough to share a road with cars and lorries.

  But fifteen minutes later, he was cycling out of the village behind Caspian who carried their lunch in a backpack. There was a dedicated cycle lane but every time something overtook him, Zed wobbled.

  He was relieved when Caspian pulled off the main road onto a smaller track and even more relieved when he dismounted.

  “We’ll hide the bikes behind this wall and go on foot,” Caspian said.

  “Where are we?”

  “Didn’t you look at the signs?”

  “I was too busy looking for bumps in the road.”

  “Not my backside?”

  Zed gaped at him. “Obviously…and your backside.”

  Caspian grinned. “We’re going to watch the gliders. Come on.”

  They lifted the bikes over a wall, left their helmets with them, then headed up the side of a field. At the top the view opened out over the Kent downs. Zed could already see a glider in the sky.

  Caspian lay on his back with his arms crossed under his head. “I’m happy,” he said quietly.

  Zed joined him, and when their fingers briefly touched, and Caspian didn’t move his hand, Zed was happy too.

  Zed wasn’t so happy later that afternoon after he’d washed his hair over and over, using half a bottle of shampoo, to find it was still red. Not such a vivid red but still more than enough to get him into trouble. Good thing his father wasn’t home until late so Zed thought he probably wouldn’t notice tonight, even if he looked in on him, but he would tomorrow.

  Being home alone was an opportunity to make himself chips for dinner and watch what he wanted on TV, but anxiety churned his stomach and he didn’t feel like eating anything. The village shop was now shut or he’d have gone to see if he could buy hair dye.

  He took a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and hid it in his room. He’d need it to get back to the treehouse, though Caspian said they couldn’t use lights in the field in case they were seen. The two of them were both going to design a crop circle and then they’d decide which to make. Zed didn’t draw anything too complicated. A spiral that turned into a snail. They’d talked about how to flatten the wheat while they were watching the gliders. Zed had come up with the idea of dragging planks behind them and Caspian was going to find two and some rope.

  Zed worried about going to sleep in case he slept through his alarm, because he’d need to keep it in bed with him to muffle the sound. He decided he might as well do more maths. It would be nice to think his father wouldn’t expect him to work over the weekend, but Zed knew he would. Probably on Tuesday and Wednesday too, even though he’d be at the camp.

  Despite his current anxiety, he’d had a brilliant time today. He wished he was brave enough to kiss Caspian, but he wasn’t. He was too afraid of losing him as a friend.

  When he heard the door open downstairs, he put his book and pencil on the floor and slid down the bed, covering his head with the sheet. Please, please, please. Don’t come into my room. He was desperate his father not see him. Tonight, he’d ask Caspian if he could dye his hair back to normal at his house because tomorrow his father would be at home all day.

  The more Zed thought about it, it was a better idea not to come home tonight at all. After they’d made the crop circle, he’d sleep in the treehouse and buy dye first thing in the morning. Then he thought how wimpy that made him look. Caspian didn’t seem to care what his father thought, but then Zed doubted Caspian’s father beat him.

  He heard voices downstairs and froze. TV? Or someone with his father? He listened but he couldn’t make out what was being said. What he did make out was that his father was with a woman. He knew his father had started to go on dates. Zed had no problem with that. Anything that kept his father happy was a good thing.

  Caspian was waiting at the foot of the treehouse when Zed came through the trees.

  “Am I late?”

  “Perfect timing. We’re lucky the moon’s out. It’ll make it easier to see what we’re doing. What’s your design?”

  Zed pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket. “A snail.”

  Caspian nodded. “Okay. Well this is mine.”

  Zed’s jaw dropped when he saw what Caspian had drawn. An erect cock and balls with cum spurting from the top of the cock. He turned the paper round and frowned. “What is it?”

  Caspian groaned. “It’s obvious. It’s… Ah, very funny. We’ll do the snail if you want.”

  “Yours is more fun.”

  “Is it? Why?”

  “Everyone likes rockets.”

  Caspian handed him one of the planks. “The field’s not far but we won’t use the road in case we’re seen.”

  They set off through the trees.

  “Is it okay if I spend the night in the treehouse? I’ve brought some money with me for hair dye. I daren’t let my father see me like this.”

  “Mine almost exploded. He told me I wasn’t allowed out of the house until it was back to its normal colour. The twins were angry I’d used their stuff. My brother said I looked like a Smurf. My mother is buying dye tomorrow. You can stay in the treehouse and I’ll come and get you so we can both use it.”

&nbs
p; They had to cross the main road to reach the field but there was little traffic. Once they’d climbed over the gate, they looked up at the expanse of bright yellow wheat rising up into the distance.

  “A field of gold,” Zed said.

  “It’s perfect. Everyone driving along this road will see our grand design.”

  “You want it to be that big?”

  “The bigger the better, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  After a few minutes discussion about how to actually make the shape, and a few more minutes attaching rope to each end of the planks, they set off parallel to each other, walking along tractor lines until Caspian told him to stop. “We can do the balls on the way back. But start the cock here. Stay parallel with me.”

  Zed looped the rope over his shoulders, made sure the plank was level and set off. It wasn’t as easy as he’d thought to drag a piece of wood up the field and when he glanced back, the wheat had been only partially flattened.

  “I’ll do the cum,” Caspian told him and Zed laughed as Caspian accompanied each line he stamped out with a loud grunt or groan culminating in a breathless gurgle as he finished.

  He picked his way back to Zed’s side. “Was it good for you?”

  Zed chuckled. “Are you that noisy?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m silent as a ghost.”

  “Christ, aren’t you supposed to jack off either?”

  “It’s haram—forbidden in Islam. Well, not everyone agrees about that but my father’s on the—you’re not allowed to wank—side. Not sure how he could stop me apart from tying up my hands when I’m in bed. He might if he thought of it.”

  “I’ve mastered the handless wank. Rub against the mattress. It works fine.”

  Zed sniggered.

  They walked back down the tractor lines, stamped out the balls and then went over the outline again. Back at the bottom of the field, they dropped down into a patch of wheat well away from their design.

  “I should have brought water,” Caspian said. “That was hard work.”

  “We can’t even see if we’ve done it right.”

  “I was going to pay for us to go up in a glider tomorrow to take pictures of our cock circle.”

  Zed looked at him. “Don’t you think they might guess it was us then?”

  “That’s true.”

  Zed closed his eyes. His heart was pounding with fear and exhilaration rather than exertion. Dyeing his hair was one thing, but this night’s work could get them into a lot of trouble. It was worth it. It had been fun.

  He felt a tickle on his cheek, and guessed Caspian was teasing him with a piece of dried grass. Caspian trailed it over Zed’s nose, his eyes, his chin, his lips. Zed couldn’t open his eyes. He nearly did when he felt the sensation of Caspian’s warm breath wash over his cheek, but the moment was too precious to spoil. For as long as he could, he’d pretend Caspian was his boyfriend and about to kiss him, rather than a friend who was teasing him.

  But when he heard the catch in Caspian’s breathing, he opened his eyes to find Caspian’s face inches from his.

  “Shit, now you’ve opened your eyes I don’t know if I dare,” Caspian whispered.

  “We just drew a huge cock and balls in a field. We dyed our hair red and blue. We dare do anything.”

  Zed reached for Caspian’s hand and their fingers threaded together.

  “What’s going through your head?” Caspian whispered.

  “I’m supposed to think as well?”

  “As well as what?”

  “Breathe. Talk… Want.”

  Caspian released a shaky breath as he laughed and tentatively moved his mouth closer to Zed’s. He was moving so slowly it was like watching the minute hand on a clock. Oh God, oh God. Do it. Do it. Do it.

  Their lips met, the barest touch, though they weren’t really kissing. Then Caspian let go of his hand, slipped his fingers to the back of Zed’s neck and pulled him in close. Zed’s heart raced. He didn’t know how to kiss. He’d never kissed anyone—not like this. Not someone he fancied. Just kisses on the cheek for his mother. Never on the mouth.

  “Are you thinking about punching me?” Caspian whispered.

  “No. Kicking.”

  Caspian laughed. “I’ve practised this. But my arm is crap at kissing me back.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be any better than your arm.”

  Caspian smiled. “Yeah you will.”

  Zed wanted to be the one to make the next move. He put his arm around Caspian, spread his fingers on his back and held him tight but didn’t pull him close. His cock was pressing against his zip. The slightest touch and… Then Caspian gently brushed his lips against Zed’s, over and over until Zed couldn’t breathe, forgot how to breathe, forgot how to do anything.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Caspian whispered.

  His fingers slid into Zed’s hair, then drifted across his face and when they touched his lips, Zed kissed them, licked them, sucked them and dragged a groan from Caspian’s throat. Knowing he had the power to do that made his head spin. Caspian held Zed’s face in his palms and stared into his eyes. Zed wormed his other hand under Caspian so that both hands were on his back. Not just on his back, under his T-shirt, his hot skin burning Zed’s hands.

  “This is why I can’t be a Muslim,” Zed whispered.

  Caspian whimpered and pressed his lips back to Zed’s. Zed opened his mouth and Caspian’s tongue slipped inside, warm and slick and tasting of…chocolate, and Zed sucked on it.

  Oh fuck he’s kissing me he tastes so good he tastes like chocolate and his breathing is as shaky as mine and my cock is hurting but a good hurt and he likes this as much as me.

  They explored, they tested, they tried to do everything with their tongues, with their mouths, licking, nipping, sucking. Caspian yanked him closer and Zed felt the ridge of Caspian’s erection pressed against his own.

  This is why I can’t be a Muslim. Caspian had to know what he meant. Oh fuck.

  This was so good.

  It was great.

  It was perfect.

  They lay in each other’s arms, wrapped around each other, kissing as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if it was the only thing in the world, and Zed still couldn’t breathe properly, he was so excited, so terrified, so turned on.

  But the sound of a car pulling up on the other side of the hedge jerked them apart.

  “What the fuck?” Caspian whispered. “Keep still, don’t move.”

  A car door slammed. Then another door and the beam of a flashlight came over the top of the hedge. A moment later it landed on them.

  “Hello, boys,” said a policeman.

  Zed pushed to his feet, Caspian at his side.

  “Run,” Caspian whispered.

  But when Caspian stayed where he was, so did Zed.

  A policeman climbed over the gate and shone a powerful flashlight over the field. “You two are in so much trouble.”

  “Run,” Caspian murmured. “You’ll be in more trouble than me.”

  Zed shook his head and brushed his hand against Caspian’s. He wasn’t running and leaving a friend to face this alone. But when they were put in the police car, Zed felt as if he were falling into a deep hole.

  “How old are you?” the driver asked.

  “He’s fourteen, I’m fifteen.” Caspian squeezed his fingers. “Can’t you just tell us off and let us go? Please?”

  “You’ve caused hundreds of pounds worth of damage. A flattened wheat crop can’t be harvested. Names.”

  “Caspian Tarleton.”

  Zed saw the way the policeman reacted.

  “Your father is going to be furious with you, young man.”

  Caspian’s shoulders slumped.

  “And you?” the policeman asked.

  “Hvarechaeshman Zadeh.”

  “Address?”

  “Larch Cottage, Middleham Road, Upper Barton.”

  “I doubt your father will be pleased either.
”

  Zed wanted not to care what his father would say, but he did care because he knew he’d pay heavily for tonight. It would still be worth it.

  “How did you know we were there?” Caspian asked.

  “A passing motorist called it in. Whose idea was it?”

  “Mine,” Caspian and Zed said together.

  Caspian held tighter to Zed’s hand.

  The policemen drove Caspian home first. They left Zed in the car when they walked up to the door. Zed assumed it was Caspian’s brother who eventually answered. He looked like an older version of Caspian but not as good-looking. Then his father appeared, a dark silk robe over pyjamas. The police talked to him and Caspian’s father turned to look at the car—at Zed. Much as Zed wanted to curl up out of sight, he didn’t, though he dropped his gaze.

  When the policemen got back into the car, the one in the passenger seat turned to look at him. “Whose idea was it really?”

  “Mine,” Zed said. “All of it was my idea. I had to push Caspian into helping me.”

  The guy laughed and turned round. It was all Zed could do not to either throw up or wet himself as they drove him home. By the time they pulled up outside his house, Zed was shaking. They took him to the door and rang the bell. It took his father ages to appear. He’d put on trousers and a shirt. When he saw Zed, he did a double take.

  “What’s happened?” he asked.

  “Your son has been caught with another boy making an obscene diagram in a wheat field on the edge of Lower Barton. Fortunately, the other boy’s father owns the land and has offered to compensate the tenant farmer for the lost crop. I doubt there’ll be action taken against the boys, but I trust you’ll ensure your son never does anything like this again.”

  “Of course. I’m horrified by his behaviour. I had no idea he’d crept out of the house. Thank you for bringing him home.” He turned to Zed. “Go to bed.”

  Zed hurried into the house. If he’d had his money, he might have gone straight out of the kitchen door but all he had was the couple of pounds he’d intended to use to buy hair dye, so he went up the stairs and sat on the floor in his room. He listened to the police car pull away, heard the door slam and flinched. A moment later, his father came up the stairs. His steps were heavy. Zed didn’t even bother wishing they’d continue past his room because he knew they wouldn’t.