Chapter 34: A Million Miles Away
[Front porch, His House, 5:12 PM, What Brings Him Here]
(an unexpected snowstorm had hit the city; outside flurries of snowflakes fill the air as icicles form beneath gutters; wearing only a mild winter jacket for protection, Fender walks up Oscar's driveway and rings the doorbell)
OSCAR'S DAD: "Hi?"
FENDER: "Hi." (extends his hand) "I'm Fender, Oscar's friend."
OSCAR'S DAD: (shaking his hand) "Oh - hi. What - um - what can I help you with? This isn't very good weather to be outside in."
FENDER: "Yeah. Well, I just had a gift to give him. Just because I'll be in England during his birthday, so I thought I'd give it to him now."
OSCAR'S DAD: (sees the shape of the gift) "Oh shoot."
[Enter Oscar's Mom]
OSCAR'S MOM: "Who's this? Hi - I'm Celine."
FENDER: (shaking her hand) "Fender. I'm a friend of Oscar's. I just wanted to stop by and drop off a gift for him."
OSCAR'S MOM: "Why... Why? Why a gift."
OSCAR'S DAD: "Early birthday present. He'll be in England in June."
OSCAR'S MOM: "But it's March - you didn't have to get one so early."
FENDER: "It's okay. It was an impulse buy." (starts inching away to leave)
OSCAR'S DAD: "Fender - you look like you're about to get hypothermia. Come warm up inside for a bit."
FENDER: "Oh - it's okay - walking warms me up."
OSCAR'S MOM: "You walked here in this weather? Where do you live?"
FENDER: "Regormal Hills."
OSCAR'S DAD: (under his breath) "Shoot."
(Oscar's mom gasps)
OSCAR'S MOM: "Come inside right now - right now. We have the fireplace going."
(they drag Fender inside)
OSCAR'S DAD: "I'll go make hot chocolate."
OSCAR'S MOM: (pulling the frozen jacket off Fender) "OSCAR! YOUR FRIEND IS HERE!"
[Enter Oscar]
(he's surprised to see Fender being seated in the living room, complete with wet snowy hair, an extremely flushed face and blue hands; nevertheless, Fender smiles uncomfortably)
OSCAR: "What's happening? Is this about that time I stayed over at his house too long?"
OSCAR'S MOM: "He walked all the way here from Regormal Hills, just wearing a jacket. It's absolutely ridiculous outside. And - he brought you a present."
FENDER: "It's an early birthday present. Just... yeah."
OSCAR: "I'm so confused right now - holy - what - Fender." (he takes the untidily wrapped present in his hand; it's in the obvious shape of a longboard that's larger than his own; he takes the wrapping off easily)
FENDER: "It's a dancing longboard. Because I saw these videos online of people 'longboard dancing' and it looked really cool. So. That's your next adventure."
OSCAR: "That's our next adventure." (inspecting the longboard with wide eyes) "How much did it cost?"
FENDER: (laughs nervously) "You think I would tell you that?"
OSCAR: "I think you're going to have to so I can pay you back once I get a job."
FENDER: "Jeez, Oscar. You don't pay people back for giving you gifts."
OSCAR: "But this is... too nice."
FENDER: "Funny. You tend to say that about me a lot."
OSCAR: "Thank you."
(Fender smiles)
OSCAR'S DAD: "Hot chocolate's ready!"
[Living room, His House, 5:40 PM, What Keeps Him Here]
OSCAR'S DAD: (walking into the living room) "Fender, it looks like you're going to have to be spending the night."
OSCAR: "What? Why? You can drive him home, right?" (looks at Fender) "My dad can drive you home. You don't have to walk."
OSCAR'S DAD: "Look outside, kid. There's going to be no walking or driving. And I doubt Fender's dad can make it here with the roads looking like this. What does he drive?"
FENDER: "Um... usually a... Bentley."
OSCAR'S DAD: "Shoot, really? That's not making it here." (looking out the blinds at the white world) "The roads are blocked. They won't be cleared until morning." (under his breath, in awe) "A Bentley..."
[Enter Oscar's Mom]
OSCAR'S MOM: "I'll set up a sleeping bag in Oscar's room, okay?"
FENDER: "Uh, sure."
OSCAR: "But - me and him can just sleep in the living room, if he has to sleep over. Or - we can try to get the car out - "
OSCAR'S DAD: "That's not happening, Oscar."
FENDER: "It's okay. I'm fine sleeping on the floor."
OSCAR: "But I'm gonna feel weird on the bed if you're on the floor."
(Oscar's mom and dad have left the room)
FENDER: (leaning in; quietly) "I'm not actually going to sleep on the floor."
OSCAR: (is stiff; looks forward with wide eyes) "Oh."
(suddenly the lights switch off; it's still relatively bright in the house, though a bit gloomy and very grey; the fire in the fireplace shines brighter than ever)
OSCAR'S DAD: (from some other room) "Power outage!"
...
[Attic room, His House, 6:23 PM, A Quiet and Starry Place]
(Oscar and Fender are sitting on Oscar's bed; Fender is wearing one of Oscar's hoodies which was forced onto him by Oscar's mom)
OSCAR: "Did you eat dinner?"
FENDER: "Kind of. But I'm not hungry."
OSCAR: "Are you sure?"
FENDER: "Positive."
(...)
OSCAR: "Are you cold?"
FENDER: "Relax, Oscar. I'm fine."
OSCAR: "Maybe it's a bad idea to sleep in the attic. It's freezing. I'm freezing. Are you freezing? Wait - I already asked you that... uh... I just don't want you to die in your sleep from hypothermia."
FENDER: "You tend to talk about bullshit when you're nervous."
OSCAR: "What? I'm not nervous." (looks away; finds a particularly interesting spot on his lamp to stare at) "I don't know why I have orange lamps. That's kind of weird. Orange is an unsettling colour. I read somewhere that it's the second least liked colour."
FENDER: "Dude, do you even hear yourself?"
OSCAR: "What? Shit. Fuck. I feel like everything that comes out of my mouth is just word vomit."
FENDER: "Let's try something, then. Lay down."
(his heart pounding, Oscar lies back on his bed; Fender lies beside him; they aren't touching; they're facing the triangle-shaped ceiling)
FENDER: (quietly) "What are you thinking about?"
OSCAR: (quietly) "I'm just wondering if Jar Jar Binks was such a stupid character to cover up for the fact that he's secretly a Sith lord. Snoke. Jar Jar Binks is Snoke."
FENDER: (quietly) "Oscar, what the fuck?"
OSCAR: "Admit it. Hearing about Star Wars fan theories gets you hard."
FENDER: "Not at all."
OSCAR: "Admit it, Fender."
FENDER: "Maybe just a little."
(...)
OSCAR: "I'm also thinking about Emma and Abdul."
FENDER: "Can I give you some advice?"
OSCAR: "Yeah."
FENDER: "Stop thinking about them."
(...)
(...)
OSCAR: "But - "
FENDER: "It's not a crime to try not to think about them. You don't have to mourn them all the time. And frankly, you've spent enough energy mourning them. I don't... want to see you hurt anymore."
OSCAR: "It keeps replaying in my head. The moment when Abdul shot himself. How terrified Ronny looked. The movement of Abdul's arm as it went up and bent to press the barrel against the side of his head. The spray of blood. For the tiniest fraction of a second everything seemed red. Then suddenly he was on the floor and his blood was painting it."
(Fender swallows through a dry throat; he doesn't know what to say)
OSCAR: "Weren't you there?"
FENDER: "I wasn't in class that day."
OSCAR: "Isn't it so weird, Fender? How people just leave the face of the Earth. And it's weird how people think a part of them is still here. No part of Abdul is still here. His mind is gone. His body is ashes - it's gone. His belongings aren't him - belongings are just belongings. I guess the only part of him left are his DNA. His hair and things."
FENDER: (he's in a weird mood; it's almost like he's stunned) "It's pretty weird."
OSCAR: "When people die, they're gone."
FENDER: "Gone." (...) "People can leave other ways, too. And sometimes those other ways hurt more than death."
OSCAR: "You're right."
(...)
(still lying on his back, Fender reaches over to the night stand and takes a ukulele from it; he plucks at it aimlessly, making no tune)
FENDER: "Do you play this?"
OSCAR: "Not really. I know some songs but I'm not good."
(Fender sits up; Oscar does too; they're facing each other, sitting cross-legged on the bed; Fender hands him the ukulele)
OSCAR: "Ukuleles don't really work without a singing voice."
FENDER: "Gee, if only there were a way to fix that."
OSCAR: "I am not singing."
FENDER: "You're singing."
OSCAR: (laughs nervously) (...) "Wait, really?"
FENDER: (smiling) "Yes, really."
(Oscar tunes the ukulele; he plucks around as he remembers the chords and the melody; his voice is soft and subdued)
OSCAR: "This isn't my song."
FENDER: "That's okay."
(Oscar starts plucking out the melody; it's a soft, quiet, therapeutic-sounding song; when he sings in a shy, quiet, breathy, slightly scratchy voice it makes it sound even softer and lighter)
OSCAR: "I'm lying on the moon
My dear, I'll be here soon
It's a quiet and starry place
Times we're swallowed up
in space and we're a million miles away.
There's things I wish I knew
There's no thing I'd keep from you
It's a dark and shiny place
But with you my dear
I'm safe and we're a million miles away.
We're lying on the moon
It's a perfect afternoon
Your shadow follows me all day
Making sure that I'm
okay and we're a million miles away."
(Fender places his hands softly on Oscar's jaw and starts to kiss him; Oscar slowly puts his ukulele to the side, allowing himself to flesh out the kiss as it develops slowly and deeply; Oscar pulls Fender closer to him by his hoodie as they kiss each other; they're melded together; Fender gently pushes Oscar down into the bed, slipping in a little too much tongue in the process; one on top of the other, cold on the outside but steamy warm in between them, they kiss each other slowly, assiduously, Fender's hips in between Oscar's legs, their pelvises touching; it's like maple syrup dripping down a snowbank, but the syrup never freezes)
OSCAR: (whispering) "Drawer."
(His hair loose and messed-up, looking a little bit out of breath, Fender reaches over to the nightstand and digs around the drawer until his fingertips touch a wrapped condom; Fender unzips his pants and takes them off; he slides off Oscar's skinny track pants and places his hips back in between Oscar's now-bare legs, falling into a kiss again; they move slowly, breathing with the pillows and bed-sheets bundled around them; Fender pulls off his hoodie and shirt in one go and falls back into the kiss, barely able to keep himself away from Oscar's lips for more than a moment; Oscar gets a little tense underneath Fender's warm, naked abdomen but loosens up almost immediately; yearning, Fender pushes up the bottom of Oscar's hoodie to expose his stomach; his hand splays itself across the bare skin of Oscar's midriff)
(Fender has a bit of trouble opening the condom; Oscar does it for him; as Fender slips it on, Oscar takes off his hoodie; they continue kissing, sinking into the bed, until Fender builds enough courage to shift Oscar's boxers down his legs until they're off; now they're both naked)
FENDER: (whispering) "Are you okay?"
(Oscar nods)
(Fender pushes Oscar's legs back and they continue to kiss; Oscar gets short of breath when Fender starts to slowly enter him; Oscar flinches)
FENDER: (whispering) "Are you okay?"
(Oscar nods; he clamps his hand over his mouth and then shakes his head; his cheeks have become flushed)
FENDER: (whispering) "Okay." (pulls out; he spits profusely on his fingers and rims Oscar before sliding one finger, then another in, slowly) (talking quietly) "Breathe, Oscar." (Fender slides in and out with his fingers for a little bit until Oscar relaxes; pulls out; coats himself with spit) "Are you okay?"
OSCAR: (nods; scratchy, cracked voice) "Yeah."
(Fender slides in again as slow as possible; their breaths are loud against the still, closed-off silence of a mid-blizzard blackout; they both slowly start gaining confidence until they start to kiss again while Fender is slowly sliding up and down)
(They're moving slowly on the bed, as quiet as possible, trying to remember to breathe; when the tip of Fender's penis makes contact with Oscar's prostate a dull, minimal pain turns into crazy pleasure; Oscar clamps his hand over his mouth for a few moments; he's completely flushed again; he starts touching his own penis)
(After a while of slow, careful, sensual sex Oscar starts to see stars of ecstasy; he ejaculates on his own stomach; Fender's strokes become much slower as he's ejaculating - he buries his face in Oscar's neck; though he's already lying on the bed, Oscar collapses; as the orgasm dies down he runs his hair back with his hand, taking in deep breaths; Fender pulls out)
(They don't say a word - they don't need to)