by Helen Juliet
How had it been for Fynn? Had he come out to his parents? Or, had it been his aunt? How long had he been living with her? Perhaps just she knew, or perhaps none of them did?
He checked his phone again, however there weren’t any new text messages from him. But Nicholas suddenly burned to know if it had been hard for him, if he’d had any friends to go through it with him or if he’d felt alone. He probably shouldn’t ask – he’d already put his foot in it just by asking about him being gay, but Nicholas didn’t want Fynn to feel like he was alone.
Christ, he was definitely getting drunk. Fynn probably had loads of friends. A good-looking guy like that wouldn’t be lonely; the world bent over backwards for people like him. He had almost certainly been fine – was fine now. Nicholas should be worrying about himself. He didn’t know if he had the strength to be gay, to exist in life being that fundamentally different from everyone around him.
Except, he didn’t feel that different. He still liked the same things, still enjoyed his old friends’ company – if only he could only pay a bit more attention to them. He shook himself, and focused on Reg talking about a documentary he’d watched on volcanoes a little while ago. Once he got his head around how to tell them, he hoped none of these guys would treat him any differently. Was that too much to ask?
After a while, Nate and Billy convinced Ash to go dance. During the shuffle around, seeing as he was now standing up anyway, Nicholas thought it would probably be a good idea to nip to the loo. He’d not been since before he’d had pizza, and his bladder suddenly needed fairly urgent attention.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he shouted at Trev and the other couple of guys who were happy to remain at their table and guard it from anyone looking to pinch their empty seats.
As soon as he started making his way through the crowd, Nicholas realised he was a bit drunker than he’d previously thought. He was fine to walk, he wasn’t going to pass out or be sick or anything, but he was certainly a bit wobblier than he would have imagined himself to be. He supposed he had had four beers now, and only a couple of slices of pizza for dinner. He decided once he’d gone for a piss, he’d nip to the bar to get him and Ash another round, and maybe include some water as well as the beers.
There was some sort of kerfuffle going on in the downstairs loos, so Nicholas was forced to go upstairs and avoid the ruckus. At this end of the club, the stairs were through a set of doors that, while still inside, took customers around the back. Nicholas had generally avoided the back stairs in the past, as they felt secluded and just a little dangerous. He was probably being stupid, as there were bound to be cameras all over the place. Plus, he really needed a piss now.
Sure enough, his trip up the measly two flights was completely uneventful, and he sighed as he unzipped and relieved himself in the urinal. The music was reduced to a faint thud of the bassline through the walls, and he felt himself sober up a little. After he washed his hands he didn’t even try to stop himself checking his phone again. He was disappointed not to have heard from Fynn still, even though the little ticks showed him he’d read the message. But they weren’t really friends, he had to remember that, and Fynn didn’t owe him anything. A reply to say he was too busy or too tired would have been nice though, even if it was a white lie.
Nicholas shook himself and ventured back into the corridor, where the music throbbed a bit louder again. He could either turn left and go to the balcony level, or go right and head back to his friends. He hesitated for a moment, filled with the mad urge to go and look around the top floor, just in case there was someone, no one in particular, up there that he recognised. A minute or so wouldn’t hurt he decided, so that’s what he did.
Of course he didn’t see Fynn. He spotted a gaggle of girls he thought might have been a couple of years below him at school; they were probably there taking a break from their A-Level revision. Bloody hell, that seemed like a lifetime ago, especially as he’d taken a gap year as well.
He shook his head, acknowledging he’d been stupid to come and mope around hoping to catch a glimpse of Fynn, and went back through the doors to head downstairs and back to his friends.
As he pushed through the doors, he collided straight into another person. It was Hunter Ford.
Nicholas staggered back, and took a moment to realise what he was seeing. Hunter was just as stunning as ever, with his all-year tan and American-perfect teeth. He also had James Wash and Jamal Asfour by his sides, just like back when they were at school. Like the good bodyguards they always had been, they looked set to jump Nicholas for even daring to breathe the same air as their unofficial leader.
But Hunter barked out a laugh as soon as he righted himself, and pointed at Nicholas with his almost empty beer bottle in delight. “Sticky Nicky!” he cried with his Californian lilt. “No way! Dude, how are you?”
Nicholas winced at the reminder of his old nick-name. Hunter didn’t sound like he was using it with malicious intent, but nobody wanted to be reminded of the time when their face looked like a puss-filled nightmare.
“Hey,” he managed to reply with a convincing amount of enthusiasm. After all, Hunter was still talking to him – he remembered his name, even if it was a less than favourable version of it. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“We’re back for Easter break,” Hunter explained proudly, sloshing his bottle towards his two friends. He was swaying a little more than was normal, and Nicholas prayed to God that he wasn’t planning on driving home.
Thankfully, his flunkies had backed down at Hunter’s excited response to getting slammed into by an old schoolmate. People were pushing past them as they moved up and down between levels, but Hunter didn’t even seem to notice getting buffeted every thirty seconds or so. Nicholas supposed the stairs could be busier; they actually felt like they had a modicum of privacy.
“How about you?”
“Oh,” Nicholas replied. “Same.”
“I thought you didn’t get into uni?” James asked. The bluntness made it clear he was saying it as a slur, but Nicholas shrugged it off.
“I just took a gap year,” he told them, which was true. “Went to South America to ‘find myself’.” He added air quotes and rolled his eyes to acknowledge how clichéd that sounded, and hoped they wouldn’t take the piss.
Thankfully, Hunter laughed. “Oh, I wish I’d done that. The old man wouldn’t hear of it though. Maybe after I’m done with school? Hey!” His glazed eyes widened, and he punched Nicholas’s arm a little harder than was probably necessary. “Maybe you could tell me some cool places to check out, hey? Nicky? We’re friends on Facebook, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” Nicholas agreed.
It wasn’t like he’d drunkenly stalked his old-school crush on several occasions. Oh lord, how could he have not realised it was a crush? Why was he just working out now, today, that he was gay? Of all the times to run into Hunter Ford.
It was fine. Hunter was smashed, and if he just kept it cool he probably wouldn’t even remember running into spotty, specky Sticky Nicky at Havana.
“Sure,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Hunter and avoiding catching the gaze of the other two. “I know lots of cool places. I’ll drop you a message, you’ll find yourself in no time.”
Hunter laughed, but Jamal sneered. “I would have thought you’d just need to look in the back of the closet to find yourself.” That got a hoot from James, but Nicholas’s insides turned to ice.
“W-what?”
Hunter was clicking his fingers though. “Oh yeah!” he said. “We had a pool going on whether or not you were gonna turn out queer – how’d that work out for you?” He waved his beer around again, then drained it as his mates smirked. “Did you find a little Latino boy to pop your cherry?”
Nicholas’s heart rate had rocketed. His eyes darted to his right, but he couldn’t quite see the doors leading into the club. Suddenly, the corridor felt completely deserted. “I don’t—” he said. “I, no.” He laughed. “No, no boys.”
“You’re telling us you’re not a poof?” James asked, his lip curled.
“Oi, oi.” Hunter frowned and poked James with his finger. “The correct political term,” he slurred, concentrating on his words. “Is LB – LGBT, right Nicky?” He raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s cool if Nicky’s a gay, we like the gays, yeah?”
Jamal scoffed and James huffed, but they didn’t disagree.
Nicholas shook his head though. “I’m not gay,” he lied. The first people he was going to come out to was not going to be these pricks.
Hunter flopped over onto Nicholas’s shoulders, his breath laced with beer and Sambuca. “Hey man, it’s cool,” he said. He then leant in closer, speaking into Nicholas’s ear where the other two definitely couldn’t hear him. “Hey, hey, why don’t you come into the bathroom with me? You can suck my cock, I bet you’d like that?”
Nicholas jerked in surprise, but Hunter had a hold of his shoulders. “I, uh—” He fumbled for a response. “No, that’s—”
“Shh, hey,” Hunter said. He dug his fingers into Nicholas’s arm. “It’s cool, it’s cool. I saw the way you used to stare at me.” He laughed at himself. “Can’t blame you man, I am pretty fucking hot. Wouldn’t you like a little piece of this, for the road?”
Nicholas tried to push him gently off. If he shoved, Hunter could get angry, and his mates didn’t need any excuse to go for him. Bile was rising in his throat. If he rejected him, what would they do? Would Hunter laugh it off, and save face?
Or would they decided the little fag needed a beating, and take him somewhere to kick the shit out of him?
He was preoccupied scrambling for an answer as Hunter leered at him, so he didn’t entirely register the burst of sound as the doors into the club opened behind him, allowing someone to walk through.
“Hey, Nicholas. Is that you?”
Nicholas didn’t know if he wanted to cry in relief or mortification. The question made Hunter look up, and Nicholas used the excuse to spin around and step away. “Fynn,” he squeaked. “You’re here?”
Fynn smiled, ignoring Nicholas’s schoolmates, and handed out one of two beers he was holding. “Yeah, just arrived. Was at the bar back there and spotted you looking around, so got you a drink.”
Oh thank god, thought Nicholas. His silly little look around had actually paid off.
“Hey man,” said Hunter loudly. He stuck his hand out around Nicholas. “You a friend of Nicky’s?”
Fynn eyed the proffered hand, then shook it once. Nicholas took the opportunity to step away and stand beside Fynn. Fuck, his whole body was shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was visible or not.
“You his boyfriend?” James asked slyly, and Jamal guffawed.
Fynn didn’t flinch. He just graced them with a lazy half-smile. Nicholas thought there was something sharp in his eyes though. “We’re friends, yeah. You guys know each other too?”
“We went to school together,” Hunter said. His gaze was flitting between Fynn and Nicholas, and Nicholas prayed silently that this wasn’t going to get any uglier than it already had.
“Well, it was nice to meet you,” said Fynn. He nodded at the guys, then placed his hand on the small of Nicholas’s back to steer him firmly towards the club entrance behind them.
Nicholas was trembling so badly he couldn’t help but sag into Fynn’s side as they moved back into the busy balcony area. Fynn didn’t stop until they found a clear patch beyond the bar he must have been standing at when Nicholas made his sweep of the room. Nicholas gratefully leant his whole weight against the wall.
“Thanks,” he whispered, but Fynn seemed to lip read him alright over the din.
“Did they hurt you?” he demanded. His hand was clasped protectively on Nicholas’s arm, and his eyes flickered back and forth as they searched Nicholas’s expression.
Fuck, he felt like such a baby, but he couldn’t stop the sob escaping from his throat. “I’m fine,” he said.
“You don’t look fine,” Fynn argued.
Nicholas wanted to refute it, to say he was. But had he almost just been attacked? Had he almost just been…
He couldn’t bring himself to even think the word. Surely Hunter wouldn’t have forced him to do anything. Would he?
Nicholas sobbed again, and scrubbed angrily at the tears that started to fall. He tried to turn away from Fynn to preserve what little dignity he might have left. But that was difficult when Fynn grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug.
“You’re okay now,” he said, just audible over the hammering beat of the music. “I’ll fucking kill them if they come near you again.”
Nicholas managed a small laugh. “Honestly,” he said. “It was nothing, really. Sorry, I’m just making a fuss.” Fynn released him, and Nicholas missed the contact immediately.
Fynn stared down at him. “No, you’re not allowed to apologise. I saw the way he was all over you. You were clearly trying to get away from him, and those bastards were just laughing.”
He glared back towards the door twenty feet behind them. But Nicholas didn’t want him doing anything stupid. “Hey,” he said. He was feeling a bit calmer, at least he thought he was. “Everything’s fine now, thanks to you.” He waited until Fynn turned back to look at him, then he gave him a small smile. “It wasn’t nice, and yeah…maybe it might have got worse. But they didn’t hurt me. I promise.”
Fynn rubbed at his short beard. He looked stunning as usual. How did he get away with making just a vest top and jeans look so hot? “I’m glad I came out,” he said eventually.
Nicholas nodded. “Me too.” Exhaustion hit him like a bus out of the blue, and it must have shown on his face.
“Do you want to go sit down?” Fynn asked, concern drawing lines on his brow. “Are your friends still here?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Nicholas. Nausea swept over him, and he swallowed a mouthful of beer to try and temper it. It was a bad idea though. He needed water. And sleep. “Actually, I think I want to go home.”
“Sure,” said Fynn quickly, but that just made Nicholas feel bad.
“Oh, but,” he shook his head. “You just got here.”
Fynn scoffed. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s get you home – I could take you?”
Even in his bleary, distressed state, Nicholas still registered the spark of interested that flared in his abdomen at the idea of going home with Fynn. But that wasn’t an option, and he wasn’t sure he could have coped with the possibility right then even if he had come alone.
“I’m with my sister-in-law,” he said. He hugged himself, feeling like he couldn’t stop trembling. “Thank you so much, that’s so kind, really. But, I think maybe I should go find her.”
Fynn didn’t give any hint of protest. He just nodded, and put his hand at the base of Nicholas’s spine again. “Do you know where she is?”
“She was dancing,” Nicholas told him.
They used the balcony to its advantage, and peered over at all the dancers in the central well. Sure enough, after a few minutes of feeling like he was searching a Where’s Wally book, Nicholas pointed down at Ash’s blonde pixie hair.
There was no sign of Hunter or his two friends thankfully, and Fynn kept it that way by guiding them down the interior stairs on the other side of the club. Nicholas was fretting about how he was going to get Ash’s attention, as he really didn’t think he could push his way over to where she was dancing. But as luck would have it, as he and Fynn reached the edge of the well, she looked over in their direction.
Nicholas tried to smile, but before he’d even managed to wave, Ash’s face dropped into a concerned expression. She began making her way through the throng, with Nate and Billy quickly following behind. Nicholas sighed. He looked that bad, huh?
They didn’t have to wait long before she climbed up the few steps to meet them on the threshold. She glanced once at Fynn, then focused on Nicholas.
“Hey bro,” she said. She’d never called him that before, and Nicholas felt so touched it was all he
could do to swallow around the lump that rose in his throat
“I uh,” he began. But the tears threatened him again. Fucking hell, how was he going to explain this? Nothing had happened. Except, he couldn’t quite believe it was entirely nothing.
“Nicholas needs to go home,” said Fynn. “Are you his sister-in-law?”
“Will be come Saturday,” Ash corrected him. But her tone wasn’t hostile, just determined. “I’m Ash.”
“I’m Fynn,” he told her. “Do you need to get anything, or can you leave now?” He didn’t even check if she wanted to leave. Maybe he assumed that if she didn’t, then he would just escort Nicholas home instead. The directness was oddly comforting.
“I can leave now,” said Ash. Nicholas wanted to hug her.
She turned around and told Nate and Billy that the two of them had to go, and asked them to let Nicholas’s other friends know. Fynn plucked Nicholas’s beer bottle from his hand. He hadn’t even realised he was still holding it.
“Come on,” he said into his ear as he placed both bottles on a nearby table, and Ash fell into step beside them.
“Are you coming too?” she asked without a hint of judgement.
Fynn shook his head. “I’d just like to make sure you get into a taxi, if that’s okay?”
Ash stared at Nicholas for a moment, before nodding back at Fynn. “Of course, lead the way.”
Nicholas felt stupid. He felt bad for leaving without saying goodbye to Trev. But he wanted to be somewhere quiet so badly, and it felt so nice to just do what Fynn was telling him to. Fynn left the club with them and didn’t bother to get a re-entry stamp. He never took his hand off of Nicholas’s back.
It was still raining, but it wasn’t quite so bad as before, and the taxi rank was just down the road at the station. The lights shone through the dampness of the evening like a welcoming beacon, and Nicholas felt a surge of relief as the first driver in the rank rolled down his window. Ash leant in and gave him the rough area to drive to.