The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Jason

Jason - May 2003

Jason lay in his sleeping bag, thinking over the previous night. This was something more than just Ryan teasing Jason. If this were just one of Ryan's wind-up games he wouldn't have got as frustrated as he did with Jason last night, would he?
But, Annabelle. Jason already had everything he needed. Someone who wanted him unconditionally. They may not have told each other they loved one another yet but that didn't matter. Annabelle was in her own happy little world, building her career as a writer and journalist and falling for Jason.
She was beautiful, talented, and driven. Everything his parents would want him to find in a girl. So, why was Jason having to tell himself this repeatedly? Why was he lying here in his sleeping bag, staring at the drip-dotted and condensation lined tent dome, alongside at least five other boys, one that was insisting on a deep nasal snore, trying to convince himself of Annabelle's perfection?
And then he felt a puff of air against his cheek, and to his left, was Ryan. Ryan had ensured to fall asleep facing away from Jason and after not talking for most of the evening. But now, as he lay, his chest visible through his charcoal vest, rising and falling as he breathed, Jason knew that something was happening. His heart lifted when he looked at Ryan and an urge deep inside willed him to move closer. The only thing holding him back was the audience. What might've happened if they were back in the writing shed...
...Annabelle's writing shed. That he built for her. And where they first met, over falling books. Crap. What was he even thinking?
Ryan let out a long breath, and Jason looked to him again. His hair somewhat ruffled by him turning in his sleeping bag, but still falling across his forehead and a little over his eyes. Jason reached out, then stopped himself. An urge to touch Ryan, move those strands of hair from his face crept from somewhere inside him. He was annoyed at himself and pulled it back.
This wasn't fair on Annabelle. She was probably fast asleep at home, tucked up in her bed, dreaming. Not a single worry that her boyfriend was in fact falling for her cousin.
His heart thudded like a skidding car trying to avoid a crash.
Falling.
Was he?
This didn't make sense! All Ryan did was joke with Jason and try and annoy him. Or that's how it felt! But maybe there was more to it? The kiss in the writing shed came to mind again... how it had felt. That warm right feeling. Had he ever had that with Annabelle? He let a long sigh reach up into the roof of the tent in a plume of steam.
He tried to guess the time. A few birds twittered. And raindrops ran down from the tent peak down to the floor. The tent hadn't yet filled with the orange-ish glow that a bright morning sun would illuminate within.
He pressed his knuckles into his eye and rubbed until when he opened them, he saw smudges flashing across the tent ceiling. As he let his fingers pull his hair back from his face, Jason considered what any of this meant.
Everything he and Annabelle had couldn't come to an end. There was too much at stake, and he didn't really know what this was with Ryan yet, if anything. He could try to find out... let Ryan have his way and who knows where that would lead. Back to the writing shed, perhaps? Jason felt a pulsation in his sleeping bag, and he shook his head.
Stop.
He couldn't hurt Annabelle this way. He shouldn't be thinking about any of this when his girlfriend was lying curled up in her duvet at home, snuggled down in the safety of their relationship. She had nothing to worry about.
Nothing...​
On the other hand, if, in another universe, he could let something happen with Ryan. Would that make him gay? Was it possible he could like Ryan and Annabelle?
His whole body felt like it pulsated, leaving him suddenly and briefly short of breath and flushing his cheeks with a warmth he was sure the rest of the tent would feel.
Gay. Jason Knight. Is that what this could be? He tried to place his hands on the cool floor of the ground of the tent, willing his palms to find the cool fever-nullifying spot he needed to calm his rising panic. Trapped at one end of the tent, sandwiched between the boy that had triggered all these thoughts and leaning just enough away from the outer shell of the tent so that the condensation didn't make it cling to his forehead.
It couldn't be entirely true, though. He had feelings for Annabelle. Some kind of deep, caring feelings. If he had never felt the sensations that Ryan incited in him, he might have even said that what he had with Annabelle was love. And the thought of hurting her by sharing anything that was ricocheting around his mind currently was heartbreaking. Why did he ever need to meet Ryan...?
He sighed, because he knew, somewhere in his abdomen where the rattled nerves currently rolled around, that it wasn't meeting Ryan that had triggered this. It was there. Always.
Jason turned to Ryan again. He's just being himself, something Jason was suddenly questioning, and trying to reason with himself to understand.
Suddenly, Ryan's face scrunched up and he brought a hand up to his face, Jason shuffled onto his back and stared upwards.
'You're up early,' Ryan croaked, quietly as he rubbed his eyes and moved onto his back, too.
'Just woke up,' Jason whispered, trying to mirror a coarseness in his voice too.
'Anyone else up?'
'I don't think so. You sleep okay?'
'Yeah.' Ryan went to sit up and winced. 'Shit. My head.'
Jason laughed. There was something rogue-ish about Ryan that Jason couldn't help but admire and find annoyingly attractive.
'Too much beer.'
'No shit. Come on, I need coffee.'
'How? Won't we wake the others up?'
Ryan shoved his sleeping bag down and leaned forward to grab a light grey hooded jumper and pulled it over his head. Jason sneaked a glance at Ryan's torso as his vest lifted.
​'Who cares? It's morning isn't it?' he shrugged, and then climbed out of his sleeping bag and started to place his feet strategically between the sleeping bags of the other boys. The tent was just high enough to allow them to walk in a hunched position. As they got to the door, Ryan unzipped the door on one side and peeked out.
​'About six A.M. I reckon.'
​'How'd you know?'
​'It's light but I can't see the sun. Come on. Hold me so I can get my boots on.' Ryan pulled Jason's arm and placed his hand on Jason's shoulder whilst he stuck a foot outside and tried to lower his left foot into his hiking boot. Allowing Jason to steady him, he then did the same with his right foot and stepped fully outside.
​'You too.'
​Ryan held out his hands to Jason. As he moved towards the unzipped door, he caught a glimpse of the campsite, a scene of various shades of forest green and midnight blues in shapes of items he recognised from the night before – tents, logs, shoes, buckets, bags, trees...
​He looked back to Ryan, who rolled his eyes. 'It's easier to see the campsite when you get outside the tent, you know? Come on, my head needs a bloody coffee before it bursts.'
​'Isn't water better for a hangover?'
​'Pfft, it's a caffeine headache. I can tell.'
​'Sure it is,' Jason mocked.
​Ryan pulled his hands away causing Jason to stumble, one foot in his boot, another that dropped to the floor, his pointed toes set to brace his bodyweight now sinking into a cold, mushy earth. It had definitely rained in the night.
​Jason let out a small laugh. He followed Ryan over to where the campfire was the previous night but turned to the small gas stove they had brought with them.
​'These kettles are so pointlessly small,' Ryan grumbled, holding up a small, black, metallic camp kettle. 'This isn't even enough water for one cup, never mind two!'
​'You can go first, Ryan. I'll make mine after.'
​'Well aren't you sweet,' he smiled, running his fingers through Jason's hair, and sending a tingling sensation down his spine.
​Ryan disappeared for a moment to the nearby washing up basins to fill the kettle, and then joined Jason back by the gas stove.
​'Were you checking me out, Jase?'
​'No,' Jason instinctively replied, but he was. He looked so cute in that hoodie, his disheveled hair, his skinny jeans, those sleepy eyes. Even with a hangover, the Ryan charm was surrounding him.
​'Sure,' Ryan grinned and then focussed his attention on igniting the gas stove and setting his kettle to boil. Once it finally clicked into life and a blue flame offered a little warmth in the cool of the morning, he sat back and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly. Was he going to be sick?
​'You alright?' Jason laughed.
​'Fine.'
​He continued to breathe, and Jason watched him for a moment. And then his mind flittered back to the tent, and him being asleep next to Ryan. And what those thoughts had meant to him...
​'Can I ask you something, Ryan?' Jason ventured, his nerves swelling into a ball in his throat, but trying to play it cool so Ryan didn't detect any shakiness in him.
​'Go for it,' Ryan replied, eyes still closed, breathing still steady.
​'Did you always know you were gay?'
​Ryan opened his eyes, let his head drop forward so that his eyes met Jason's, and he smiled. 'I guess, if you want to put a label on it.'
​'What do you mean?'
​Ryan waved his arm dismissively and then propped his face up on his two hands and elbows.
​'Look, I'm comfortable in who I am. I have no doubts about who Ryan Roberts is. I don't see myself as gay, I'm just Ryan Roberts. Guys. Girls. Girls that were guys. Or someone who isn't any of those. I like people. If I connect with them, and I like them, who cares what's down there.' Ryan nodded to Jason's crotch.
​'So, you're not gay?' Jason asked, the surprise laced around his words.
​Ryan shrugged. 'I like who I like. If that's a guy, then I guess I'm gay.'
​'Huh... sure. That makes sense I guess,' Jason fathomed, though he had to admit that he had never thought about it that way. He had only ever known Annabelle and himself. Was that what he was comparing everything else to?
​'Look, I get that it's difficult to think like that. Think about it like this,' Ryan grabbed two nearby beer bottles from the night before and quickly cleared the floor between them. He dropped them about a metre apart.
​'This,' he pointed to one bottle. 'Is gay. And this,' he pointed to the other, 'is straight. And between them is a scale. Okay?'
​Jason nodded.
​'Good. I see sexuality as a scale. You don't have to be defined by either one of the two bottles, you can be somewhere in between. On a spectrum. You don't have to sit in a slot on that scale, and you can change, and move. Be fluid.' He shrugged again. 'Where you find Ryan Roberts, all depends on the person sitting opposite.'
​Jason moved his attention to the two bottles, and let his head move between them both.
​'Where do you sit?' Ryan asked, boldly.
​The kettle suddenly began to gurgle, and a few seconds later, the few spurts of water turned into a high-pitched whistle.
​'Saved by the bell, I guess,' Ryan smiled.
​'Thanks, Ryan.'
​'It's cool, Jase. Wherever you are on this scale, the right person won't care. Just know that. And even if other people do care,' Jason couldn't help noticing Ryan's over the shoulder half-scowl to where Mr. Roberts' tent was, 'Then that's their problem. It's your life. Don't waste it. If all else fails, you could just move here. I quite like it up here. Quiet. Peaceful. I can be whoever I want to be here and not worry about disappointing anyone. Maybe I'll move here one day.' He paused as he poured the water into his mug. 'You better go fill this up.'
​He offered the kettle to Jason, and he took it as he stood up and moved towards the sinks.
​Jason took in a deep breath and then slowly released as he moved away from Ryan. He was sure this was the first time that he had managed to have a conversation with Ryan that wasn't in some way flirtatious but instead felt sincere, and perhaps even that he cared about Jason.
​And then Jason's mind wrapped around the last few sentences Ryan had uttered. And if other people do care. It sounded like there was some tension around the subject of Ryan's sexuality with Mr. Roberts, and therefore maybe Ryan's dad, too...
​Perhaps that would explain why Ryan was the way he was. The conversation that he and Ryan had just had, coupled with last night by the tree, showed Jason that Ryan could be sincere, he didn't always have to be the joker.
​Jason cranked the tap of the basin around and water started to dribble out and into the kettle. He looked over to Ryan as he sat sipping his steaming coffee, enrobed in his oversized hoodie.
​Ryan could hold the answers that Jason needed to all his questions. All he knew was that whatever happened this weekend, he couldn't just forget about Annabelle, as she sat in her bedroom writing, and probably thinking of him, blissfully unaware of the cloud of confusion building in her boyfriend's head.