Under the Westway

Chapter Thirteen

Although the pair had already settled their fears and differences, Jamie decides it's time for them to.

"We're going to the fair." He lands on them as he comes downstairs on the Saturday morning to see them intertwined with limbs on the beige sofa in their underwear again. He sighs, but isn't  deterred from his plan.
The pair stir, Damon sticking up his middle finger at his best friend for waking him, and he wakes up Graham who is sprawled on top of him, snoring ever so quietly.

*

Once they are dressed, and Graham has struggled to pull on his shoes, they decide to leave, Jamie leading the way through streets until they land on a small but substantial fairground. Graham turns into a child again, running to the candyfloss stand and lining up for a stick of fluffy sugar to turn his mouth blue with. Damon stands to his left, and Jamie on his right, with Damon running a hand over his lower back and squeezing his hand while nobody can see them.

A boy called Ryan serves them, he looks about Damon's height and with bright pink hair that matches his work top and name tag he hands Graham his candyfloss and smiles at them all, stopping Jamie before they all leave and giving him a stick of his own for free, slipping his phone number and winking at him with a blush across his cheeks. Jamie laughs and says goodbye to him, tucking the piece of crumpled paper in his pocket and seeming much happier than when he first got here. Graham's lips are blue, and his teeth are too when he grins at a bad joke by his non-official boyfriend or his possible new best friend.

It begins to get dark after hours of sugar and trying to win a sad looking goldfish in a plastic bag. The ferris wheel lights up and Graham is filled with wonder again, begging to go on it with them. Jamie refuses without explaining his fear of heights and leaves the other two to line up for their own seats.

It's private up there, just the two of them. There's no stares from passers by or mothers covering their children's eyes from fags because they all look like ants from so up high. Damon turns to the younger and admires him and his mannerisms inside the lights. They turn to each other and kiss like the first time at Jamie's party. But this time they are both sober enough to enjoy each other's company without passing out and being dragged onto a bed. Graham slips his hand up Damon's shirt, tracing along the curvature of his chest. He sucks a dark purple bruise onto the underneath of the other's collarbone before slipping back into their kiss and holding him tightly against himself as they are suspended at the top.

The wheel begins to move again, and the pair snap out of the tiny piece of heaven they had created for themselves just then. Damon gives Graham's thigh a quick squeeze and another peck on the cheek before they come into people's views.

Jamie looks pleased with himself when they rejoin him, throwing Damon's jacket to cover up the hickey and flicking the piece of paper between his fingers.

"I can't stay over tonight." Graham frowns, "My Mum is gonna kill me if I keep avoiding her."
Damon smiles, having only recently re-found his voice again and leaves Jamie to make his own way home.

"I guess you could stay at mine though. I mean, if you want to." Graham trails off towards the end of his sentence, knowing that his house isn't as big as Damon's and most likely not as homely. The taller of the pair takes his hand in his own and gives it a short squeeze, "I'd love to."

*

Graham knocks on his door, picking at a large flake of yellow paint that is peeling below the silver letters. The house is white, standing in stark contrast like a sore thumb against the grey and brickwork that lines the rest of the street, terrace houses crammed into tight spaces. Somebody has taken pride in the postage stamp garden and pink flowers line the small perimeter.

The door opens and out pops a short woman in her early forties with a fraying skirt and a blouse likely worn to work in. She looks exhausted but lights up at the sight of her son bringing home a new friend.
"Graham! I'm making dinner if you and your friend want some? Your sister is in the kitchen playing with an apple." Graham gives her a short hug and introduces Damon to her. She takes a liking to him.

"Grah!" A girl of around three climbs carefully down from the countertop and onto the floor, clutching a slice of red apple in her hand. She runs into his arms and he lifts her up as if she is his own child, kissing her cheek and asking about how her day has been. She makes him look tall. Damon admires how gentle he is from a seat at the table, not feeling himself flushing pink.

"Who this?" She enquires to her older brother, settled on his hip and nuzzling into the denim jacket he carries everywhere. "This is Damon, my friend." He sets her down and she tentatively approaches the new and foreign person in her kitchen. It doesn't take her long to get over her shyness, in a few minutes she is sat on his knee as if she has known him forever.

"Trampoline!" She remembers after a while, clambering from Damon's knee and heading to the back garden, where a trampoline has been crammed into the small space of concrete belonging to them. Graham lifts her up onto it and she attempts to pull him up too, acting as strong as her big brother. He bounces lightly beside her, aware of his own size compared to her and she giggles, delighted to be played alongside after a day that was evidently too boring for her at playgroup.
"Dammo come too?" She gestures towards the oldest in the group and he leans against the edge, pressing on the elastic. He doesn't want it to snap under his weight and Graham's, he also doesn't want her to go flying.
"Oh come on Dammo." Graham smirks and takes his hand.

*

Collapsed on the trampoline, the two boys listen to Graham's mother call for dinner and send his sister to go and play with a plate of something partially inedible. It had been dark for a few hours, nearing nine now. Damon shuffles to where Graham is staring at the grey clouds and sighs alongside him; taking his hand and placing it on his head to signify that he wants his hair played with while they sit in silence.

"Can I see your stomach?" Graham says softly, keeping his voice low from the open back door his mother washes dishes from behind.
"Why?"
"I don't want you to be hurt."
"Shit happens Grah."
"That doesn't mean it has to though."
Damon responds by turning on his side and looking at the overgrown grass that lines the back fence.

"You know you'd make a really cool Dad." Damon turns back around to his younger counterpart and smiles, ignoring the conversation from a few seconds ago.
"My Dad isn't around so I wouldn't know."
Damon doesn't want to poke for more answers, so responds with a simple "Shit happens I guess." And leaves a very quick and out of sight kiss on his neck.