Date: Thu, 15 Feb 2001 19:56:03 -0000
From: Jamie <virus@dial.pipex.com>
Subject: Chris-and-Jamie  Chapter 25

Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories
of love between two boys.

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"Every mountain shall be exalted, every mountain and hill made low.

- Handel's "Messiah"

To mysticier - congrats on coming out so young, I hope it's what u really
want.

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`How ya feeling?' Chris said as he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me
to my feet.

Roused from the most gloomy reverie that had come my way since the funeral,
I looked into his eyes and a vague smile lifted my facial features slightly.

Halfway down the corridor leading to the hall there was a small stairwell
that led to the old PE Office. However, since no one ever used it, it had
become the place were I went to get away from everything. Sitting down there
I could be on my own...well...almost.

`Like shit. You?'

He laughed and pulled me into a hug.

`Don't let the bastards grind u down!' He said into my hair, as he leant
into me. I felt safe, warm and happy again.

-------------------------------------------------------------

`Thanks to you all for coming to see the cutest guy in the UK turn 15.'
Chris was in his element. `Whoever can get Jay drunk the fastest gets £50
from me -- make him have a night to remember!' Well that prospect was a
daunting one -- I intended to avoid too much alcohol tonight.

My birthday had come around again, and the day was becoming evening quickly.
My Father had laid on a huge marquee in the back lawn. The large white tent
spanned the size of a football pitch and had been filled by my friends and
relatives -- most of whom I hadn't seen since childhood. However, they were
always up for a good party, and I knew before it began that it would be a
good one.

The clock touched eight as Chris put down the microphone, after making the
introduction speech that I was too frightened to get up and say myself. At
this signal the first song of the night rang out of the loud speakers. A
soft melody of "I Will Always Love You" reached our ears and we stepped to
the dance floor. It had already been said that we would start the evening
with a slow dance -- just the two of us on the polished floor.

Chris was in his element, smiling at me as we glided to the four corners in
our dance. Swaying from side to side was tremendously calming, and I looked
into his eyes as he gently swung me from foot to foot. Sliding across the
large ballroom was an intimidating experience for me, because as well as
friends and relatives there were friends of my Father's whom I had never met
before. Every one of them clapped their hands in time to the beat of the
music, and I laid my head on Chris's shoulder, closing my eyes tight and
saving the moment forever.

As we reached the end, the music morphed into a heavy disco beat and
everyone joined us -- I was in heaven.

`Fifteen today.' Chris was grinning from ear to ear as we moved gracefully
in the centre of the dance floor.

I was about to shoot an appraising glance at him, but my Mother glided up
behind me and pointed out my Aunt, who was dancing like a lunatic with
Ciaran in a corner. He looked as though he needed to be desperately rescued
from the aged fifty-something. However, he never flinched at her advances
and just kept smiling. I admired him for that; his ease to interact with
those who he found slightly estranged was commendable. Eventually the song
again changed, and I decided that it was time for us to take a seat and
relax for a while.

Knowing full well that Chris was going to be asked to dance with all of my
elderly female relatives I snuck off to the bar, leaving him to be picked up
by the first one to him.

In a small corner of the large room was a built in bar, with a small room
behind it to carry the extra alcohol that would soon be needed when my Dad
and his brothers started descending on the bar, in the next hour. Leaning up
against the polished mahogany I was soon joined by a breathless Ciaran.

`You ever invite me to meet your aunts ever again, and I will have you
shot!' He grinned, his cheeks flushed at the turns that he had been forced
to take.

`Preferably with a blunt bullet!' He added as I handed him a small orange
juice. He looked at the tiny glass and shot me a withering glance. `If I am
to entertain your family for the rest of the evening I want something a
little stronger than that, thank you.'

My response was a smirk, but I assured him that by the end of the party he
would not be able to walk farther that the French-windows to the house. It
was meant to be an exaggeration, but the hyperbole turned on me.

The one thing that Britain has over America is the drinking law. Whilst you
can drive at sixteen etcetera in the States, you still have to be twenty-one
to drink. The UK has a more relaxed attitude to drinking, and it was
considered appropriate for us to consume at least something more alcoholic
than Pepsi on a fifteenth birthday.

I sipped at my own drink, nursing a tall Sprite, and looked over at the mass
of surging people having a good time with the music. Every now and then
Chris would come spinning as if from nowhere followed closely by one of my
relatives and then be returned to the throng. The look on his face was to
die for -- pure desperation. Once he even managed to get as far as the edge
of the wooden floor before being pulled back into a quick jive by one of my
Godmothers.

Eileen was watching intently from a side table, taking little drafts of
white wine as she did so. Her expression registered humour; it was obvious
that she was enjoying seeing her son get exhausted by my family.

She twisted her head and looked over at me. I shrugged my shoulders and she
laughed. Neither of us were going to put a stop to the obvious hilarity that
was being played out in front of us.

As she turned back to her drink, Chris came spinning like a top from the
dance floor and crashed into a large collection of chairs at the side. My
Aunt Brenda came out from the mass of people and picked him up by the scruff
of his neck. After dusting him down he was again led away to join the
merriment of the music -- much to our amusement.

The shrill guitar distortions of Radiohead came over the airwaves and I took
Ciaran's hand. Leading him onto the dance floor, we took up position next to
Chris, who was currently partnered by my Mom, and we danced a slow tribute
to Simon; He had been with me for every birthday since I was ten, but
noticeably absent from this one.

Unfortunately the karaoke cry when up and the extreme members of my family
took up the first few songs. Warbled melodies from "Grease" and "Diana Ross"
were bellowed across the tent at full volume while the inebriated women
wailed at the top of their scrawny voices.

The worst part to this was that I knew at any minute I would have to sing. A
slight fear came over me and I shrunk down in my seat and tried to hide
behind Chris, avoiding the sweeping glances for the next pop star.

I could only remain unnoticed for so long though, and soon my godmother came
bounding over and grabbed me by the hand, pulling me up to the stage. All I
could do was follow her strides -- there was no way I was going to argue with
a woman who was capable of flooring Mike Tyson in one round. She was large,
not the point of being obese either, it was all pure muscle. The weird thing
was that I knew for a fact that she didn't work out at all, it just happened
naturally.

As I was swung up onto the stage, her husband came over to me and whispered
something in my ear. I smiled and raised the microphone to my lips.

`Okay, okay, I'll sing. But I will only do it, if darling Christopher helps
out.' I said sarcastically. I saw him visibly shrink down the back of his
seat -- all eyes in the room pinned on him.

After a lot of whimpering from myself Chris joined me on the stage and we
performed a surprisingly realistic rendition of "You're the one that I
want". At this point I was just having fun, and not above making a complete
fool of myself. Hey, it was my party -- and I'll do what the hell I like --
hehe.

When the song finished the hall erupted into a hail of laughter at the
stupid moves that we had performed. Eileen and my Mother were wiping tears
of laughter from their eyes as they watched. My father was helping. By
standing at the bar and continually pointing at me, he made me as nervous as
anything.

-------------------------------------------------------

Eventually the clock struck one and of my friends only Chris and Ciaran
remained. We were stationed at a small table within shouting distance of the
bar, so as not to run out of drinks.

Only the really active remained on the dance floor. I was surprised to see
the fast disco dancing led by my grandmother, who was swinging her hips and
slicking her fingers to the harsh chords of some synth solo.

The shot glasses had been coming for the last ten minutes, and the table was
completely flooded with the small crystal-cut glasses. Ciaran's head was
teetering forward, his mouth hung wide open, exposing the red and black
orifice within. Chris, however, would not be outdone and was matching my
uncle shot for shot. Whilst Ciaran and I were a little behind they were
really reaching for it. I could see that tomorrow Chris would be able to do
nothing other than groan and sleep -- the hangover would be a bad one.

A last round of tequila slammers, started off by my Uncle and continuing
around the table until it reached Ciaran, put the young fourteen year old
out of his senses and he crashed forward and began to snore heavily. At this
point, I had managed to have only had a few of the rounds, being
unnoticeably absent for the others. I was nowhere near drunk, and didn't
intend to be this evening; but looking at Chris slurring his words with my
uncle was enough to know that he would not move from our bed until late in
the afternoon, and that would only be to get an aspirin.

I looked over to him, he was grinning at my uncle and his sexy teeth were
showing a glistening white. I licked my lips, imagining the teeth in my
mouth.

`Hey lover boy, wake up.' My Father stood over me, smiling.

Looking over at Ciaran he made some remark or other about carrying him to
bed. After that short interlude he left us, Ciaran carried between him and
my uncle.

Chris was still laughing, although I didn't know the joke. He was very
clearly drunk out of his skull. This both filled me with pity for what he
would feel like in the morning and also filled me with loathing because it
was my party and he was meant to be there to support me. Maybe it was just
my selfish side showing again, but when he staggered from his chair and
collapsed giggling inanely into my arms, I shrugged him off and he fell with
a thud to the floor. Although he didn't know where he was, curled up and
just went to sleep right there in the tent. It later took the combined
efforts of both parents combined to get him up the two flights of stairs to
our room.

I, still determined to enjoy my last few hours, waltzed out onto the dance
floor and joined my grandmother in a quick few moves.

It amazed me how my grandmother had taken it so well that I was gay. At
first she seemed shocked, but then subsided and held up her hands. She said
that it didn't matter, but was a little disappointed that she would not have
any little great-grandchildren. It had come as more of a blow to my brother
in that department. She soon got over it, however it was still lurking there
at the back of her mind.

`What did you do to him?' My Grandmother indicated Chris, who was being
carried from the tent motionless.

`Ha ha...He's just a cute American kid who can't take his drink.' I laughed.

`He was doing pretty well when I was watching him. Him and your uncle David
were having a right go at the tequila bottle.' She began to laugh, but broke
into a chesty cough, a sign of years of chain-smoking -- long since given up
on.

I rested my head on her shoulder and finished the evening in style, with a
huge smile on my new fifteen-year-old face.

The George and Ira Gershwin tune played over and over in me head; I was in
heaven.

`I got rhythm, I got music, I got my man who could ask for anything more?
Who could ask for anything more?'

--------------------------------------------------------------------

He slept gently, not snoring, with his chest easing forward and then as the
exhalation came, dropping back down again. The bed was warm and he was
snuggled up close to me, his arm across my own chest and his face buried in
my shoulder. A tangle of naked legs made it impossible to tell where one of
us began and the other finished. However, this was hidden in the soft folds
of the heavy duvet.

My mind had stopped racing and was gently coming to a slow stop. The party
had been one to remember, one that I would remember, and one that Chris
would never forget -- the hangover still loomed heavy for the morning. But he
was unaware of this fact now, and was dreaming about something sad, because
he kept twisting and nuzzling my neck in an effort to break free of
something hidden in his subconscious. I just pulled him closer and he seemed
to calm down slightly.

On the floor below me I could hear my Dad trying to get everyone into bed.
This was a task since most of them couldn't walk in a straight line further
than the next door. It was funny to listen to him reason with them, telling
them that if they went to bed he would wake them up with a huge breakfast.
At this point in time it seemed like a good idea. However, nothing could
prepare them for the onslaught that came the next morning -- Ciaran and Chris
threw up every time food even crossed their mind.

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Okay, i got bugged by so many people that this story was a bit rushed, but
the next chapters will be more coherant - i promise.

If u like what u read, mail me - virus@dial.pipex.com

AOL IM: jam0015

C Ya round