Allen walked gingerly on the rough tiles surrounding the pool, careful not to spill the wine in the two glasses he carried. The bumps irritated his bare feet, urging him to walk almost on the knuckles of his toes to avoid contact with the offending texture. An ingenious way to prevent slipping, but did it have to be so fucking uncomfortable? The sound of mosquitoes and cicadas filled the warm night sky, irritating Allen as they mixed with the muffled sound of Florence and the Machine playing on a Bluetooth speaker.
He approached John, sitting by the pool's edge with his legs crossed. John’s hands were thrust into his armpits as if to ward off hypothermia. His hair was damp, no longer dripping from his plunge in the water but wet enough to form slick black stalactites. As he saw Allen’s approach, his lips parted into a wide amused smile and he straightened his back to watch.
“Why are you walking like that?” John asked, the ghost of a laugh in his voice.
“Left my flip flops didn’t I,” Allen replied, nodding at the offending footwear. “Are you cold? I could grab you a towel.”
John shook his head, taking one of the glasses and bringing it to his lips. A purple stain remained when he took it away, and he licked his lips to make sure he didn’t waste a single drop of wine.
“It’s good,” John said.
“Thanks to Aunty Florence,” Allen replied, carefully taking a seat next to John and dipping his feet into the pool. The cold water soothed his feet. “I think she took the assignment of Single Wine Aunt a little too seriously.”
“I’d love to be a Single Wine Aunt one day,” John replied. He gazed wistfully into the night sky. The moon shone behind a solitary cloud, giving its glow a blurred, milky appearance.
Allen watched John’s Adam’s apple throb as he craned his head upwards.
“Oh?” Allen said, suppressing a tightening in his chest. His hand balled into a fist.
John nodded, running a hand through his hair and leaning back to exaggerate his movements. “It seems like the best way to be. Plenty of money, fancy wine, only having to come home once a year to shower your less fortunate relations with expensive gifts.”
John then looked Allen dead in the eye and with a sombre expression said, “A cuntier lifestyle there never could be.”
Allen laughed, unable to resist the charm of John’s ridiculousness. John smiled, unable to maintain the facade for very long.
“And the single part?” Allen asked.
John shrugged and said, “The sacrifices we make to serve.”
Allen’s reply was lost to the wind when John reached for Allen’s face. Fuck, was John about to kiss him? They’d just had garlic bread! He blustered as his cheeks reddened. Instead, John reached behind Allen’s ear and produced a joint.
“What’s this?” John asked, taking on a parody of a policeman discovering truant schoolkids.
Allen realised his mistake and his cheeks reddened further with shame. Of course, John wasn’t going to kiss him. He wasn’t that much of an ally after all.
“Oh, sorry, I–,” Allen began. Silencing himself before he said something he’d regret.
John raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You what?”
Allen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I rolled when I got the wine, figured we might as well. We have a lot to smoke and our flight’s in two days.”
John maintained his curious expression for a moment, terrifying Allen with the prospect of further interrogation. Curiosity turned into conspiracy and John leaned close to whisper.
“Let’s wait until they go to bed. More for us, right?”
Allen glanced at the pair on the other side of the pool. The rest of their group had gone to bed in varying levels of drunkenness, leaving the four of them battling to be the last ones standing. Their mate Harry and a Spanish girl, Isabella, whom Harry had met on one of their nights out and quickly fell in love with. It would be endearing if it weren’t for the fact that neither knew a word of the other’s language.
“How long will that be?” Allen asked. If he was going to be waiting ages, he’d rather just share the joint. It seemed like a lot of effort for a few extra tokes.
“Not long, Harry’s been slowly leaning his face closer to hers, he’s about to make his move,” John said.
“Hmm,” Allen replied, hyper-aware of the fact that John’s whispering had brought their own faces into similar proximity.
“Watch, he’s going to reach to get a better grip of the side of the pool and just so happen to place his hand right far behind Isabella’s head.”
Allen watched as Harry made that same move.
“How did you know–?”
“Shush, he’ll put his arm around her waist next to help keep her afloat.”
Allen pressed his lips together, distracted by the hint of John’s shower gel and cologne beneath a wash of chlorine. It smelled of summer and lust.
John hissed with pleasure when his prophecy proved true.
Allen peered at John through the corner of his eye; it was hard not to feel amused by the simple pleasure he was experiencing.
John turned to face Allen completely, sensing the thought on the other’s mind and bringing his nose almost to touch Allen’s cheek.
Smirking, he said, “What can I say? I love to be right.”
A moment passed of intense eye contact, a moment pregnant with possibilities. John’s breath felt warm on his skin, which was covered with traces of what might one day be called a beard. Allen swallowed, unable to stop himself from glancing at John’s lips, which were still stained with wine. An intense desire came to taste it. John turned away, the moment miscarried.
“He’s about to make his move, he’ll kiss her next,” John said, his voice strained but excited.
Allen stared at John for a second, taking in the slight redness of his ears and the rolls of his body that John tried to hide but Allen found adorable. Disappointed, he brought his glass to his lips and turned back to Harry. Thoughts of purple stains plagued his mind, unrelenting and cruel.
Anticipation grew as they watched the primitive mating display like grizzled Zoologists. He could imagine David Attenborough’s descriptions as Harry pulled Isabella closer. “And here we see two primates, engaging in primitive mating practices.”
Isabella released a startled giggle followed by a pleased hum. Neither Allen nor John seemed to grasp the inherent creepiness of their observation. It had turned into a game. No worse than watching a football match. They waited for the final play, and man and woman kissed hungrily, swallowing each other’s faces like animals.
After a moment, they parted, and Isabella exited the pool and Harry looked their way. They quickly assumed the roles of people oblivious to what had transpired.
“I’ll see you, lads, tomorrow. Remember to turn the speaker off,” Harry said before following Isabella.
“‘Night Haz.”
“Goodnight Harry.”
They waited in silence for the door to close and then for a few further moments to be sure that the pair had gone to bed.
John took the joint and held it in the lamplight like a man appraising a relic before he brought it to his lips and lit it. Allen considered claiming his right as roller to the first toke but decided to leave it.
“How did you know all that?” he asked.
John shrugged. The glow at the end of the joint lit his face, highlighting the freckles and sunburn that had formed on his cheeks over their last five days in Spain. In two days they would return to England, and they would go to University, and Allen was struck with the realisation that he may never see those constellations form again. A terrible foregone conclusion.
“I’ve always been able to read people. It’s just a skill I have.”
“Can you read me?” Allen asked, curious and afraid of what he might reveal.
In the end, John shook his head and offered the joint to Allen. The cloud of smoke he exhaled momentarily glowed with the multicoloured lights at the bottom of the pool, giving it a greenish tint. The tip of the roach was stained purple, and Allen eyed this discolouration like a lost hermit eyes an oasis he’d discovered. He brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, basking in the knowledge that their lips had touched the same point.
“I’ve never been able to figure you out. You always seemed so guarded, as if everything you did had been considered for every possible scenario. I thought it might have been the gay thing but you stayed the same even after you came out,” John said, unaware of how close he’d become to figuring Allen out.
Allen laughed nervously, hugging his knees tighter as he took another toke.
“I think you just described anxiety,” he said.
John considered this with a frown. The wine in his glass moved precariously to the edge as he spun the stem in his fingers.
“Maybe. This feels different.”
Allen didn’t know how to reply. Anything he said had the danger of revealing more than he was willing to share. So they sat listening to the speaker shift into a Cavetown song. The zoot burned away by the time the song ended, leaving a hungry void between them as they sipped their wines in deep contemplation.
“Two more days,” John said.
Allen nodded. “Two more days.”
“Scary.”
“It is.”
“End of an era.”
Allen nodded.
“I never thought it would come,” John said, “I thought we would be at school forever. I thought we’d have more time.”
Allen looked at John, who had assumed the same pose he’d had when Allen came next to him. Arms wrapped tight around himself, frowning in thought, a hint of sadness on his brow.
“Do you have any regrets?” Allen asked, probing around John’s shell, desperate to find a way in. John so very rarely opened up. Allen treasured the rare occasions he did like pearls.
John chewed his lip. For a moment, he was still. He did not even breathe as he stared out to the other side of the pool. The only sign of life was a faint movement in his now dark eyes as if he were reading from a script, considering the consequence of every line. Then he looked up at Allen, life returned to him, his eyes brightened, and he forced a smile.
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s swim. Make use of the pool while we can.”
Before Allen could respond, John downed the rest of his wine and plunged into the pool. The ripples cleared and John did not surface. Air bubbles stumbled upward to burst in drunken anticlimax. This lasted ten, twenty, thirty, forty seconds. Too long for any person to stay underwater and John did not move.
Allen worried that he had been there so long. The fact that he was high added to his anxiety, convincing him of the worst. What if he’d hit his head as he went under and was unconscious and Allen was just sitting there as the man he’d pined for since Year 7 drowned right in front of him? Right, he had to do something, Allen thought as he stumbled to his feet. He ignored the protestations of the grit on his feet, possessed with the single-minded thought of rescue.
John lay still.
Bracing himself, Allen stepped back to jump in and John emerged with a tremendous burst of water.
Allen yelped and covered his face from the splash. He stepped back and his foot faltered, slipping on the ground and he fell, bashing his arse on the tile.
Allen thrust his fist in his mouth to stifle his pained cry and bit, hard. He brought himself back to his feet and hobbled in a circle to walk off the pain.
“Oh my God, are you all right?” John said, clinging to the edge of the pool.
“I’m fine,” Allen said through gritted teeth.
“I’m so sorry,” John stammered, pushing himself up from the pool and rushing to Allen.
Allen thrust out a hand, stopping John in his tracks.
“Stop! You don’t want to slip,” Allen said, staring John down.
John stared back, wide-eyed with concern. The concern faltered, and John’s lip quirked into a smile.
Allen smiled back and stifled a chuckle.
John laughed.
Allen laughed.
They both laughed.
Allen hunched over, his body convulsing with the force of his laughter.
John placed a hand on Allen’s shoulder and squeezed.
“Seriously, are you all right?” John said with a laugh.
Allen landed a light punch in John’s ribs before clinging to his arm to hold himself straight. He felt like his entire lower half was on fire and also kind of like he needed to shit. For God’s sake, this would be a terrible time for him to shit himself.
“You prick, you scared the shit out of me,” Allen said.
“Awe, I’m touched by your concern,” John replied with a shit-eating grin. He gently rubbed a hand on Allen’s back and led him back into the pool. “Get in, let’s race.”
“Why should I? I’d only just gotten dry before you started splashing all over the place.”
“Well, you’re not dry anymore so you might as well come in. Besides, it might help with the pain. Being suspended, kind of. Take the strain off your muscles.”
Allen considered this. It wasn’t entirely illogical. The feeling that he was going to shit himself subsided and he could stand almost straight on his own.
“What makes you think I want to race?” Allen asked, not quite ready to relent.
John grinned. “Because I know you can’t say no to a challenge.”
Allen rolled his eyes, grimaced, and lowered himself into the cold water. He briefly submerged his face and slicked his dirty blonde hair back. Already his arse felt better.
“What are the rules then?” Allen asked. “If we’re going to race, we might as well do it properly.”
John thought for a moment. “First to five laps wins, easy as.”
“All right,” Allen said. He winced with the movement as he grabbed onto the side of the pool and assumed a ready position. “You want to count us down or shall I?”
“I’ll do it,” John said, imitating Allen’s pose. “Three, two, one, go.”
They dove into the water, Allen’s longer legs pushing him further and giving him an immediate advantage. This advantage only grew as the laps went on. John knew that Allen had competed as a swimmer for three years at the start of secondary school. It had been a while, and Allen had the handicap of being in a serious bit of pain, but it was a hell of a lot better than John’s purely recreational swimming. By the time Allen had finished his five laps, John had two more left.
John stopped next to Allen, panting.
“You cheated,” John spat.
“Now, Jonathon. Don’t be a sore loser. Just because you thought knocking me over would make it an easy win,” Allen gloated, relishing in the victory as he raised his half-drunk glass of wine in toast and took a sip. It luckily managed to avoid much of the pool water from John’s splash. “Good race.”
“Yeah, all right, you win,” John said, “What do you want?”
“Eh?”
“You won so you get a forfeit. What do you want?”
Allen frowned. He didn’t know a forfeit was on the table. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”
As they bobbed in the water, all Allen could think about as potential forfeits were things that he knew John would never agree to. Nevertheless, it stirred heat in his chest that he struggled to suppress. The weed had worked its magic, clouding his thoughts and giving him single-minded weightlessness. At least it distracted from the pain.
“Well while you do, I’m getting another glass of wine.”
John pushed himself out of the pool and strode to the table where empty bottles of wine stood.
Allen downed the rest of his glass.
“Grab me one too, and turn the pool heating on.”
John froze and turned slowly to Allen. “The what?”
“The pool heating.”
“We’ve had pool heating this whole time?”
“Yeah, it’s the panel next to the door.”
“And when were you going to share this information?”
Allen smiled. “I’m sharing it now.”
“Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”
“No one asked. Besides, I don’t trust some of the lads not to leave it on all night and earn me a bollocking. If it happens tonight at least it was my mistake.”
John sighed and shrugged, and then went to the panel and turned the dial. He returned with a glass of wine for each of them and sat cross-legged in front of Allen. John’s eyes were bloodshot, whether from the chlorine or the weed, it was hard to tell as he stared across the pool through his half-lowered lids. The dark whiskers above his lips dripped with pool water which he wiped away before drinking from his glass and licking the purple stain away.
To distract himself, Allen lowered his gaze, focusing on the orange soles of John’s feet. The skin was pruned with water and he stared at the ridges they left with the sudden urge to tickle them. Fuck, he was high.
“You never answered my question,” Allen said.
“Hmm?” John replied, looking down at Allen.
Allen met John’s gaze. “Do you have any regrets from school?”
John frowned. “One or two.”
“Well don’t rush to tell me.”
John laughed. “I guess I wish I’d studied harder.”
“You got two As and a B.”
“Yes, but they could have been three As,” John replied, holding three fingers up like the genie in Aladdin.
“John, don’t bullshit me. I know you better than that.”
“How’s your arse?”
“I’ve never had any complaints, now stop avoiding the question.”
John frowned. “I guess I wish I’d spoken to a few people before it was all over. I thought I’d have more time.”
“What do you mean? Like you wish you’d asked someone out?”
John sipped his wine and didn’t reply.
“Fuck, John, do you have a crush you never told me about?”
John smiled. “Is a man not entitled to his secrets?”
“Not to me you’re not. Who is it? Not Kayleigh Ingram.”
John laughed, staring at Allen in a way he’d never seen John stare before.
“No, not Kayleigh Ingram, not that I’d have a chance with her anyway.”
“What are you talking about?
“I’m not her type.”
“Shut up, yes you are. You’re hot. I’m an authority on these things.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what about you Mr Expert? Who have you got an eye on?”
Allen reddened and then starfished out so his face was above the water. “Since when are we talking about me?”
“Since now.”
“Well, mind your own business.”
All of a sudden, Allen felt a hand grab his ankle and he was dragged back to the edge of the pool before being dunked into the water, bashing his head against the tiled wall.
He spluttered back to the surface coughing up chlorine water that he’d accidentally swallowed and rubbing at the back of his head.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Allen spat as he swept his hair away from his face. He checked his head, there wasn’t any blood. Good, he wasn’t going to need stitches but it didn’t make what he did any more dangerous. The pain in his arse re-emerged, mixing with that in his head.
John shrugged. “Funny.”
“You’re a prick. I really could have hurt myself,” Allen said, furious at the lack of concern. He pushed himself out of the water and limped over to his towel, wrapped it around himself and sat on a bench far from the pool.
John scrambled to his feet. “Shit, I’m sorry. Where are you going?”
“Away,” Allen replied, hating how much like a petulant child he sounded. Embarrassment played in his mind like an endless new-wave French film. “Why does everything have to be a fucking joke? I was trying to have a serious conversation and you go and do that. Fuck, ow.”
“Come back,” John said.
“No, fuck off.”
“Please.”
“No, John.”
“Allen,” John said again, his tone different, more desperate and pleading. “Please, come back.”
Allen pouted, his body shivering. He was cold and his arse hurt and his head ached and his body was tired. The water would have heated up enough that it would alleviate a large portion of these problems. Or he could go to bed. No, he wouldn’t do that, not when he had John all to himself.
“Don’t do that again,” Allen hissed as he stomped back to the pool.
“I’m sorry,” John said and when Allen looked at him there was genuine remorse on his face. “Do you hate me?”
“No,” Allen said, his defences failing. “You just pissed me off.”
“I’m sorry, I was only joking,” John said, returning to his curled-up position.
“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”
“I can’t do anything right,” John murmured as his back rose and fell.
Allen realised he was crying and immediately went down to comfort him.
“Hey, John, it’s all right. Don’t worry about it. You just startled me and I was a bit embarrassed. You don’t have to feel bad.”
“All I do is hurt people. I made you fall over and I–”
“Okay, first of all, me falling over is my fault and it was funny anyway, so let’s nip that in the bud.”
“I’m scared, Allen.”
“About what?”
“Everything. I keep so much inside me and I’m scared about what happens if I let it out, so I think that’s why I try and be funny all the time and end up just pissing people off.”
Without thinking, Allen pulled John into his arms, rubbing his back as he cried.
“John, what are you talking about? Everyone loves you. Yes, you can be annoying but everyone loves you anyway. I just wish your coping mechanisms didn’t leave me with so many bruises.
John shook his head.
“I’m sorry I’m being stupid, I don’t know why I’m crying,” John said, wiping away his tears.
“Come on, let’s go back into the water. It’s warm and if your face is underwater, you’re not really crying are you?”
“I suppose.”
They lowered themselves into the water, keeping close to the wall and treading water close enough so that their legs brushed against each other. Allen sighed as the warm water soothed his aching body.
“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Allen asked.
John shook his head.
“All right, well let’s talk about something else. What do you want to talk about?”
John frowned. He peered at Allen through dripping eyelashes, the purple stain on his lips smudged with the water, painting his chin red.
“Have you decided on your forfeit yet?”
Allen laughed. “I haven’t even thought about it to be honest.”
John put his arm out to grab onto the wall, moving their bodies closer.
“I have an idea for what you should ask,” he said, his eyes darting across Allen’s face, looking anywhere but his eyes.
Allen’s throat was dry.
“Oh, what’s that?”
John swallowed, his gaze settling on Allen’s lips as he reached a cautious hand to Allen’s waist before firming his grip and pulling their bodies closer.
“You should ask me to kiss you.”
The sound of the speaker muffled. Had he heard that right? No, it must have been a mistake, but then, what was all this? He thought, suddenly realising the proximity of their bodies and the fact that their legs were touching more often than justified by innocent treading water. Was John trying to initiate contact?
“What did you say?” Allen finally managed.
John winced at this, physically pained by the effort of opening himself in this way.
“Ask me to kiss you,” he repeated, then added a strained, “Please.”
“John I don’t know if this–”
“Allen, I need you to ask me to kiss you, for God’s sake.”
Allen gasped as John pulled him tighter, his fingers squeezing into the soft flesh of his side. Allen braced himself against John’s shoulders searching for the trick, for the sign that this was just another joke, but saw none, simply anguish and desire and helplessness.
“Kiss me,” Allen said and before he had finished speaking John pressed their lips together.
They tasted like chlorine and wine and Allen hungrily lapped up every taste as their bodies trembled against each other, supported only by John’s grip. A breathless minute followed before they parted, confusion and fear written across their expressions. John was the first to move, wrapping Allen into a tight hug, his nails clawing into the skin of his back as he grasped for every inch of contact and sobbed quietly into his shoulder.
Allen wrapped his arms around his trembling friend, soothing him as best he could.
A story by Joseph Marsh
Cover art by Emilia Dragosz
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