Jonny liked to watch the clothes go around as they tumbled in the dryer. Up, then down. Then back up again. And then – sure as anything – down once more. Like the seasons, like the transitions from day to night to day, like all of Chris's mood swings, the cyclic aspect was what attracted Jonny the most. He could count on it.
Until the dryer was finished, of course. Hearing the machine slow to a stop and watching the clothes cease to move always saddened him a bit. He would stare through the glass for a few moments longer and mourn the cycle. Then he would stand and prepare to retrieve his clothes.
As soon as he opened the small door, a large piece of black fabric leaped towards him. He swiftly caught it before it could even come close to hitting the ground. But whatever article of clothing it was, Jonny could not seem to recognize it. At least, he couldn't recognize it as his own.
In time he realized that the unfamiliarity was due to the sweater – that's what it was, a black turtleneck sweater – not actually belonging to him. In fact, it belonged to Chris. At first he felt rather confused, because what would anything of Chris's be doing in his laundry? It would have made some sense when they still shared that tiny apartment in London, but now it just seemed very peculiar.
Although...
Now that Jonny recalled, the last time he saw Chris wearing that sweater was the last time he had seen Chris at all. Approximately four days prior, Jonny had thrown a party at his new apartment, not expecting anyone to show up – which was why when he suddenly had twenty guests and only enough food for eight, he panicked. How was he to know that the neighbors in the building were actually rather friendly and social people? The neighbors he and Chris had shared were strippers; they were friendly, but the only time the two boys had ever spent talking to them was after they broke through the ceiling in Chris's room while practicing routines. That was one hell of a night, and a fun tale to explain to the landlord.
But that experience did nothing to prepare Jonny for the rush of people in his apartment. In his stressful state, Jonny had thought of nothing better to do than to hole himself up in the kitchen with several beers at his side. Half of the bottles had already been emptied by the time Chris walked in.
“Jonny! I've been looking for you all over the place,” Chris said as he first caught sight of Jonny, but he stopped in his tracks as soon as his eyes laid over the beer bottles. “Jonny,” he hissed, “what are you doing?”
Jonny thought about Chris's query for a few moments and answered in a slurred speech. “I'm taking control.”
“Of what? Jonny, there are over a dozen people out there worrying about your welfare, because you just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere and no one could find you! And now it turns out you're in here getting drunk?”
Jonny smiled. He hadn't really meant to, but when Chris's voice went up high like that it always made him feel fuzzy, made him feel like smiling. But Chris was not amused in the least, which was clear by the lines around his mouth that always formed whenever he frowned. Jonny stopped smiling.
Chris took a few slow and deliberate steps towards Jonny. He knelt down cautiously, and Jonny's eyes followed each movement until Chris was at eye level with him. He looked angry, which made Jonny's fuzzy feeling go away, replaced instead by a sort of burning sensation.
Chris stared, and the longer he did so, the softer his expression became until finally he was looking at Jonny with pity. “Listen, I know you have a hard time dealing with people,” he softly said. “But this... I thought you'd be more responsible than this, Jonny.”
Jonny frowned now; Chris no longer looked angry, but his tone clearly conveyed that he was definitely annoyed. Jonny thought he could hear something worse than that in Chris's voice as well, something that sounded very much like disappointment. The contrast between his tone and expression was confusing, though, and Jonny couldn't tell which one was true and which was just a mask. He hoped the annoyance was the mask, really hoped it, because now Chris had his eyebrows scrunched together and a glaze over his eyes that made Jonny's heart race.
“If you needed help, you could have just asked me,” Chris whispered, and Jonny became aware of a new fuzzy feeling, the feeling of cloth against the side of his face. Then the cloth moved a bit and the flesh on someone else's fingertips was grazing the flesh on his cheeks. Chris looked less worried than before and more determined. Jonny felt his breaths become shaky as Chris's face seemed to be getting larger, or perhaps closer...
Jonny's eyes rolled down to see Chris's black turtleneck sweater loose and bunched in several places over Chris's torso. Then, a fraction of a second later, another burning sensation made its way through Jonny's throat as the alcohol he had consumed broke free from his stomach and pooled in one of the folds of Chris's sweater. He heard Chris make a disgusted sort of whimper, and then both of Chris's hands were on his shoulders and pushing him back against the cabinets on the floor.
“OK, Jonny, just stay still for a few seconds.” Jonny considered doing nothing but sitting still, as the reality of what had just happened slowly dawned on him. A few seconds later Chris's arms were on him again, trying to pull him up. As Jonny stood on his feet he noticed that Chris had stripped off the sweater and was now donning only a very tight t-shirt, which did not make Jonny feel any better. He considered what would happen if he vomited on that shirt as well, and if Chris would then remove that one and leave his bare chest exposed. Maybe Jonny could offer him one of his own shirts, and then he would have a great excuse to drag Chris into his bedroom-
Jonny shook his head. “I'm sorry, Chris,” he said, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for. Was he sorry that he had those thoughts about Chris? Sorry that he had abandoned everyone in his own home and sulked off with definite intentions of getting drunk and hoping no one would notice he'd left?
Or, as Chris seemed to think when he answered, “It's OK, Jonny. I know you didn't mean it. Just, if you're going to hurl again, let me know first?” sorry that he let loose the contents of his stomach all over Chris's sweater? Jonny decided the last one was good enough, seeing as Chris had already accepted that particular apology. “Come on, I think you need to go to bed. All right?”
Jonny weakly nodded and let Chris lead him into the bedroom. He stumbled around the room until he finally collapsed on the bed. His eyes were closed, but he heard Chris laugh as he drew closer.
“No, wait, get up for a second,” he commanded. Jonny felt like he was in no position to disobey, so he rolled off of the bed, purposely – but not softly – landing on the floor. Without even looking, he could tell that Chris was shaking his head. He didn't care; he was too drunk to care. “You can get back up here now.”
Jonny opened his eyes and climbed back into the bed. He noticed now that the blankets had been pulled back, and once he laid down Chris placed them over his body. Jonny flipped over onto his stomach, as that was always what he found to be the most comfortable position in which to fall asleep. Plus, even through his drunkenness he remembered that intoxication and sleeping while laying on one's back did not mix well.
Jonny tried to watch Chris as discreetly as possible while also attempting to appear to be asleep. Chris didn't move from the bed for quite a while. Jonny thought Chris must have known he was actually awake, not because it had only been a few seconds since Jonny laid down – this reason had not occurred to him, in fact – but because he soon felt Chris's hand running up and down his back in a soothing motion. The feel of Chris's touch gave Jonny a sense of peace, and with a tiny smile he began to drift away, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until finally he had to keep them shut.
He had woken up the next morning to a massive headache and an empty apartment. The only thing about the previous night he remembered was the reason why he couldn't remember anything from the previous night. The beer bottles that lined the side of the kitchen sink helped bring back the memory, but everything else was a complete blank. As he remarked the strange cleanness of the kitchen, he saw a note on the fridge, one that had not been there the day before and was written in a foreign, yet slightly familiar handwriting:
Jonny-
After you fell asleep I told everyone that I found you in the bathroom and that you weren't feeling well, so they all left and said to tell you that they wish you feel better in the morning.
I hope you do, too.
xxChris
Jonny had smirked and set the note down on the counter, walking away to go make a strong cup of coffee.
It wasn't until now, standing in the laundromat with Chris's sweater in his hands, that Jonny remembered what happened that night. He felt embarrassed that he had done such a thing to Chris's sweater and essentially to Chris himself, but then he started thinking Why did that even happen? Not because he was drunk, surely, because in his still foggy memory he could see flashes of Chris, closer to him than he could ever recall and with a look that went way past friendly strewn across his face. Was that why he hadn't seen Chris since that party?
Jonny suddenly became aware that there were other people nearby who probably would have liked to use that dryer, the one that was still holding all of his clothes even though he was perfectly capable now of taking them out. He set Chris's sweater aside with the mental note to drive over to Chris's place once he was done and maybe do things right this time. Then he grabbed a handful of his own attire from the dryer and threw it into his basket.
