Under the Westway

Chapter Eight

"So, Grah, Gray, Graham." Jamie is sat up in his makeshift bed on the floor, covers pulled up to his chin. "What are your feelings?" Graham bites his tongue and swings his legs over the side of the bed to face Jamie properly. He listens for a second to see where Damon is, before leaning forward and clasping his hands together. He giggles, his breathing becoming tighter. He nudges his glasses up and starts, "Well, depends where you want to start. Your party was fucking great, but I don't remember most of it." He bites his thumb and thinks for a second, knowing he has Jamie listening.

"I found out I'm a lot more dominant than I thought I was." Graham trails off slightly and stands up to rummage in his bag. He pulls out a packet of pills and swallows two with an old glass of water on the desk. He winces and clicks his tongue, coughing. "That was fucking rank." He inspects the glass and curls his lip. Jamie's laugh is dry and stifled by the sheet over his mouth as Damon walks in and sits on the far edge of his bed next to Graham, who sets the glass down and curls next to him.

"We were talking about last weekend. Any thoughts?" Jamie simpers under his covers and rolls to face the pair.

"Just because you aren't comfortable in your sexuality doesn't mean you have to keep asking about mine." Damon snaps; gritting his teeth and facing the wall away from the others. Jamie and Graham roll their eyes at each other and giggle silently, Jamie pulls a book from the shelf next to him.

"I am rather comfortable with my sexuality, Dammo. I think Graham would say the same." Jamie knows what buttons to press to wind him up and does so like an expert, grinning. Graham guffaws quietly but covers it as a cough. Damon sits up, frowning.

"Fine. Fine. What do you want me to say?" He waves his hands, "'I fucked a lad in the ass!' Or 'I drank too much and passed out in front of a girl!' Or-"
Graham interrupts, "It was in front of me actually. Last time I checked I wasn't a lady."

There is a moment of silence between the three.

"You do act like one though." Jamie kicks his legs up and tucks himself under his cover, using it as a tent. He clicks his torch on inside, the light casts shadows across the walls. "I made myself a house." Graham could swear he sees Damon roll his eyes before the older boy sighs and pulls his knees up under his chin. He looks deep in thought. After a minute he speaks, "Did you tell Liam Gallagher?" The words are soft, but cut at the edges. Graham shakes his head and looks confused.

"Right." Damon jumps up and begins pulling his jeans on. "I need to find Alex."

"Damon," Jamie leans back, resting on his elbows. "It's midnight."

"Better chance of catching him then. You coming?" He swings his bag over his shoulder. Graham stretches his hand out and Damon pulls him up. Both Jamie and Graham look for clothes, Graham pulling a pair of shorts on he found kicked under the bed.

Damon pulls the door shut behind them, he flicks his bus card between his fingers and watches the birds nesting in the roof boxes above them. The others make eye contact and shrug, confused. They follow him to the street corner and lean, arms crossed, against the bus stop.

"Wow, you've made us look like proper hoodie twats." Jamie rolls his eyes and kicks his feet into the wearing cement. Graham pulls his fringe further over his eyes and sniffs. The late bus comes past, Jamie and Graham dragging their feet behind Damon. The two sit across from Damon leaning back into the darkening chair fabric, undoubtedly covered in a thick layer of filth.

"You really romanticise London." Jamie sighs and lights a cigarette that had been stuffed into his pocket prior to them leaving. He takes a drag, and settles further, leaning into Graham gently. "It smells like the morning after a stag do." Damon lets out a short laugh, they watch him set his eyes intently on the streets outside. The lights above them flicker and fade above their heads constantly, the bulbs inside on their last legs. All three of them stare at the lamps outside falling behind them; and for a moment time passes strangely.

On the street again, Damon leads the way; the others, unsure of where they're going, follow. He keeps his head down and pulls his jacket tighter over himself, marking out his shoulder blades through the harsh material. He pulls out a set of keys when he stops at a door, and fumbles at the lock under the streetlamp. The door is already open, and he pokes his head round to check if anyone is there.

The air feels heavy, Graham thinks. The kind that sticks in your lungs too long after leaving. Damon seems happy enough to the pair hovering in the doorway, he presses a finger to his lips and begins climbing precariously on his hands and knees up the stairs. Graham clings on to Jamie's sleeve, tugging to gain his attention silently. Jamie smirks and mumbles under his breath before following up to the second floor, where constant creaking floats and fills the silence between them. He flicks on a lightswitch on the wall, watching the light flow under the doors in the hallway, there's hasty movement bethind the wall next to them. Damon grins at the boys behind him and walks into the room furthest away from them.

"What the fuck."Alex walks onto the threshold, his hand in his hair. They obviously caught him at an off time, as his shirt is held in his hand, and his jeans slung low over his hips. Graham notices the way he slouches, his shoulders pushed back slightly. They slope a little, dotted along his collarbones are freckles, and there's a harsh tan mark between his arms and stomach. He sees Graham looking and casts a glance before pulling his shirt over his head. The lettering on the front is worn and tightly pressed into the fabric.

"I need a word with you." Damon steps forward and reaches to shut the door behind them both. Alex sways back
"Not in here."
"Why not?"
They all shuffle uncomfortably for a few seconds, before Jamie pulls at Graham's sleeve and leads him downstairs. He shuts the door behind them and the younger watches him, legs crossed as he leans cautiously into the arm of the worn sofa. Jamie moves quietly, his footsteps muffled by the growing shouting filtering through the floorboards. He pulls two mugs from the top cupboard of the kitchen. The lamppost outside sends light cascading through the window, it sits on his shoulders. Jamie's back arches as he flicks the silver kettle sat on the counter on. Something hits the floor above them, a lump of plaster cracks and drops, taking a picture frame with it. The glass smashes next to Graham. He picks the photo up and inspects the print, wiping a layer of dust off with his thumb from the leftover glass in the process. It's of Alex and a girl he hasn't seen before, she's in his arms. They both look happy, the flash on the camera slightly too bright, making the pair look paler and less identifiable than they should be, the picture has faded over a few years, from leaving the frame and its casing too many times at family gatherings and meetings with new girlfriends. He sees Jamie staring at him.

"You should be careful with that." Graham cocks his head to the side. "Your thumb." He looks at his hands to see blood pooling in the palm of one, a stream forming between his nail and joint.

"Are you not worried?"
"About your thumb or the fact you almost got taken out by a bit of wall?"

Graham bites his lip and thinks for a moment, "The fact that you just left them to talk things out. And now they're screaming." He gets no answer. Jamie faces him and squints, smiling weakly with the two cups in his hands.

"Tea?"