Birthday Candles

It was my mother who first told me about wishing on candles.

“Close your eyes and make a wish,” she said, “then blow out the candles. But don't tell anyone what you wished for, or it won't come true.”

Of course, I was only two years old at the time, and thus I hardly understood her words. She repeated the information every year that followed, though, so that as she brought the cake out to me on my eighth birthday, I knew exactly what to do.

I closed my eyes and wished for...

It's a silly tradition, really. Candles have no power to grant you anything, other than maybe a burn or two if you stick your hand into the flame. Not one of my requests has ever been answered. And telling your child not to let anyone else know about that one thing that they really, really want just seems like bad parenting to me. Kids must grow up keeping everything bottled inside because of it.

Yet, I can't bring myself to tell anyone any of the things I've ever wished for; maybe it's just that tiny voice in the back of head that says, “No, these things could still come true. You can't tell anyone or it won't come true.” But even my first wish, made twenty-six years ago now, is still lost somewhere among the birthday wishes, waiting to be granted. Why cling to false hope?

I made that first wish when I was eight years old. As a child, my wishes changed from year to year. Sometimes I would even plan half-way through the year what I would wish for, but by the time my birthday rolled around, it was once again different. The wishes gradually transformed from desire for material items to desire for intangible items, mere, possibly man-made, ideas...

In my first semester of college I took a dance class. I had always loved dancing, and I was not afraid to admit it; however, until that point, I had no means to study dance, as my parents were keen on forcing me to learn subjects which they felt were more boyish – for example, I spent every single afternoon from the age of fourteen to the age of sixteen practicing rugby, football, and cricket. As soon as I saw that there was an open dance class, I jumped on the chance to participate.

I had expected for the class to be filled with girls. I was wrong – so wrong, in fact, that there were too many boys, and when the teacher split us into groups of two for the first dance routine, the last group consisted of two boys, because we had completely run out of girls.

“You two don't mind partnering up, do you?” the teacher asked myself and this tawny-haired boy. I turned to get a look at him as he shook his head. I faced the teacher again.

“It's fine by me.”

“Good,” she said. Then she looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “You can be the girl.”

She walked away. I found myself laughing at her bluntness, and a few seconds later I heard another voice join mine. But when I turned, it stopped, and the tawny-haired boy gave me an embarrassed look.

“I guess I'll be the girl, then.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. His voice was soft and he sounded guilty.

“Yeah, it's fine. I've spent too much of my life being forced to be a boy, anyway.” And then it was my turn to look embarrassed. “So to speak, of course. My parents made me do all sorts of sporty things, but dancing is sort of a passion for me.”

The boy nodded, not in an awkward way, as if he didn't know how else to react, but in an understanding way.

“I'm Chris, by the way.”

“Jonny,” he said with a smile.

The teacher called one group up to the front of the room to demonstrate the first few positions of the routine. Then we all gave it a try. The girls (and myself) had to start with their backs to their partners. The boys were supposed to walk up and turn them around by placing their hands on the girls' sides.

When Jonny's hands first touched me, I let out a terribly loud gasp and immediately hated myself for it. He quickly pulled his hands back.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“No, no, it's fine.” It was more than fine, actually, which was probably what shocked me in the first place. His touch seemed to contain some inexplicable bit of magic. “I just wasn't paying attention, that's all. You caught me off-guard.”

“Well, should we try again?”

“Yeah. This time I'll make sure to focus.” I let out a nervous laugh and prepared myself. Since I knew what was coming, I would be able to better control my actions the next time around (though something told me I wouldn't get my heart rate to slow down any time soon).

Jonny laid his hands on my sides again. He easily turned me around, though he didn't appear to be exerting much force at all. From there, I was supposed to grab his left hand with my right and spin off to the side.

The feeling of magic only intensified as his skin touched mine. His hands were soft like his voice, his grip far looser than my own. I felt the beginnings of sweat in the palm of my hand and hoped that I was just imagining it.

After I spun, we stood still for a while. It seemed as though neither of us could remember the next step.

“Is it your move next or mine?” he asked. “I can't remember.”

“I can't remember, either,” I told him, laughing a little and wishing I hadn't. “Maybe we're both supposed to move.”

“Maybe.” He glanced around at the other groups, which proved to be not much help at all. The other boys and girls in the room were having just as much difficulty with the beginning step as Jonny and I had had at first. “I think... I think it was... something like this...”

Jonny pulled his arm back slightly, tugging me along. I walked around back of him as he maneuvered his arm over his head. Then I was in front of him again, our hands still clasped, but now we were even closer than before.

His eyes were green, a soft green. We stopped there, because those were the only moves we had been taught thus far. I let go of his hand – my palms were growing far too wet – but neither of us moved otherwise.

That magic was still flowing even though we had broken contact. I could feel it in my veins, tingling through my blood. My heart pumped the sensation rapidly through my system and my stomach tried to join forces with it.

Well, I thought, this certainly explains all those girlfriends I never had.

Of course stereotypical me would make such a discovery during the first day of dance class. I could have asked myself a thousand questions in that moment – Why had I never realized this before? Did I always feel like this, or did my parents pushing me into masculine activities cause it? Could it be caused by that, even? – but I found that it was much easier to just stare at Jonny and save my reflexive interrogation for later.

We spent a lot of time practicing the routine outside of class – well, we spent a lot of time practicing the routine inside of class as well, but that's not much of a surprise. There was a small studio near where the classroom was which was empty most of the time. Jonny and I went there to practice.

We basically nailed the routine every time, but I would suggest afterward that we continue practicing anyway. You know, just to make sure we really had it down. Jonny didn't seem to mind.

When it came time to perform the routine in front of the class, I felt really confident. I had seen some of the other groups practicing, and they had nothing on us. Even the teacher said after class that we had been the best she'd seen in a while.

Actually, we could have been better. Perhaps the teacher's focus had been drifting, but towards the very end I nearly fell. Luckily, Jonny was supposed to “catch” me then anyway. I could see that he struggled a bit, because he really was catching me, but apparently we were convincing enough to fool everyone else.

“Are you OK?” he whispered to me as our classmates began to clap. I took a step back and he let his hands fall to his sides.

“Yeah, I'm... fantastic.” I was relieved to be able to stand in the back of the classroom after that, because I could feel my cheeks turning red. I wasn't embarrassed, just flustered. I could still vividly imagine the way Jonny's arms had wrapped around me. I longed to be that close to him again, even though that moment had only passed mere minutes before.

Jonny was very shy and I quickly became infatuated with him; therefore, we remained partners for the rest of the class. Whenever we were told to split up, Jonny and I would go right to each other. I wondered for a long time what it meant that he always wanted to be with me; could he also feel that magic? I thought a lot of times about asking him, but I never actually gathered up enough courage to do it.

I was extremely surprised, as well as pleased, to find that even after the semester was over, Jonny and I still kept in touch. In fact, the day I first received a call from Jonny, who asked if I wanted to hang out that evening, was one of the most exciting days of my life. We spent almost the entire night in his dorm, just sitting and talking. We really got to know each other.

Over time we became best friends, and I fell in love with him. He was just basically the greatest person I ever met, kind and funny and smart and all of those other cheesy, cliched adjectives. I could never tell him, though, or do anything about it at all. So, I lived my life. I dated some other guys. He might not have ever known about that, either. I never really told anyone (though obviously any of my boyfriends could have guessed).

We met Guy and Will later on in the first year of our friendship. I never would have guessed back then that we would end up becoming world-renowned musicians; in fact, I never would have guessed that I would have become any type of musician. I had liked music as a child, as I had liked dance, but I never got the chance to practice it. I could play some guitar and piano, but nothing too spectacular. Somehow, though, the four of us came to form a band, and from there everything changed.

Today is my birthday and it's raining. But it's always raining in England. Rain rain rain. Rain everywhere. Rain in the sky and on the ground and in my shoes. My socks are so wet right now. It's like I walked through a million puddles or something. Oh wait, I think I did. I can't remember. There was so much rain, it was like I had to swim across an ocean to get here. Wait, did I swim?

Um, rain depresses me. And depression depresses me. I feel really depressed. No, I did feel depressed. Right now I just feel wasted and it might have something to do with all that liquor I drank before I came here. I was sitting at home and drinking and listening to the rain and being depressed and drinking more and listening to the rain and I got tired of staring at the rain running down the window so I got up and swam to the studio. Now my socks are wet.

I want to play some piano, so I walk into the room where the piano is and I turn on the light. But my heart is racing, because there seem to be other gentlemen in this room already even though the lights were off. Who would be in here while the lights are off? They're yelling something at me, surmise or something. Wait, they look familiar...

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Ohhhhhh!

Ha ha. Ha!

Oh, it's just Guy and Will and Jonny and Guy and Will and Jonny. I don't remember there being six of them, but they're all here!

“Hey, guys, I'm so glad you could all... six of you... make it!”

They're looking at me funny, like I said something weird or something. Maybe they know I swam here.

“Chris, are you drunk?” the Guys ask Chris, which is me. I should answer them. Stay cool.

“What?” I don't remember my voice being that high before. They're totally fooled, though. They totally think I'm so sober right now. Staying cool. “What? Nooo, no, of course not... man. Guy. Ha ha ha ha ha.”

The Guys turn to the other four. “He's drunk. So much for the party.”

A party? A party? They threw a party for me? “Party? Did you guys throw a party for me?”

“Yeah,” the Jonnys say, “since it's your birthday and all, we thought we'd set it up for you. And we figured you would end up here at some point during the day. I guess we weren't wrong.”

“Aww, you're all so nice! I just swam here to play piano, but I didn't know you guys were throwing a party for me!” Oops, did I just say that I swam here? Well, I did, so... but I didn't mean to say it.

The Wills are speaking now. “We have some cake and presents in the other room. Maybe we should get this done and over with and leave you to play piano, Chris. Since you swam all the way here.”

“Oh, good.” The Wills start to walk out of the room, then the Guys. The Jonnys are looking at me, so I look back at them. The Jonnys are nice to look at. I wonder if the Jonnys think I'm nice to look at.

“You'll like the cake. It's chocolate with chocolate icing.” The Jonnys don't seem sure of what else to say. They look confused. It makes me feel confused, too. But they said something about cake and chocolate. Chocolate cake. I grab one of the Jonnys' wrists and I seem to have grown another arm which also grabbed another of the Jonnys' wrists. That confuses me even more – but chocolate cake!

“C'mon, Jonny, chocolate cake!” I pull him along and realize that I forgot to acknowledge the other Jonny. I feel bad, but then I almost fall over and the Jonnys grab me and I hold onto the doorway that goes into the kitchen area thing we have in the studio. That must be where the cake is.

“Should we even bother lighting the candles?” I hear the Wills ask. “I don't know if it's a good idea to let him anywhere near fire in this state.”

“Candles, yes, candles!” I tell him. The Wills look over at the doorway, where I am still, then at the Jonnys next to me and at the Guys on the other side of the room. The Wills don't look like they want to light the candles. But they have to light the candles, they have to! “Candles, yes.”

“I'm just afraid that you'll fall into the cake and set your hair on fire or something.”

“No, I won't set my hair on fire. We have to have candles. We have to. We need the candles. We need them.”

The Wills sigh and strike a match. “All right, quit your whining. If it means so much to you, I'll light the candles.”

I want to frown, because I didn't know I was whining and I hate being whiny and the thought of it depresses me, but I can't do anything but smile, because the Jonnys are still holding on to me and the Wills are lighting the candles! It's important.

The Jonnys help me over to where the cake and the Wills are. Now I'm afraid that they were right, and that I'll fall and catch on fire before I can make my wish. So, I just have to make my wish really, really fast.

“Aren't you going to sing to me?” I ask. How can I make a wish if no one sings? I have to make the wish after the singing is done and no other time than that. I can hear someone groan, and it sounds like the Guys. The Guys don't like to sing, even though they do have a lovely voice. Lovely voices. All of my six friends have lovely voices. I wish every day was my birthday so I could hear them sing. Especially the Jonnys. The Jonnys have the nicest voices, but they don't like to sing either. It's not like with the Guys, though, the Jonnys are just embarrassed to sing. It's cute.

Oh, wait, hearing them sing isn't my wish. It's not my wish! It doesn't count! Everyone has stopped singing. When did they stop singing?

“Come on, Chris,” the Guys moan, “blow out the fucking candles already.”

“I have to make a wish first.”

“A wish? What are you, five?”

What? Don't the Guys know that today is my birthday? Don't they know that I'm 34 today? And the way they said it makes it sound like this is stupid. But it's not stupid. How can I have a birthday without wishing on birthday candles? I know not everyone wishes on birthday candles, but I do. He makes it sound like it's not important.

“It's important.”

Anyway, this is my wish (now that the singing is done):

Jonnyjonnyjonnyjonnyjonnyjonnyjonny.

I said it really fast in my head so that I could make it before I fall over and catch on fire, which is why it's all one word, and I can't tell anyone what my wish is so I just used Jonny instead of every word except the fourth word, which was actually Jonny. That doesn't count as telling.

I blow out all of the candles in one go, because I am just that full of air. Wait, that sounds like a bad thing.

Now that that's all done, it's time to eat cake. It looks delicious. I can feel the Jonnys' hands on me again, trying to pull me away so that the Wills can get in and cut up the cake with these two huge knives.

“Why don't we go in the other room, Chris?” the Jonnys say to me. “Will and Guy can handle the cake, I think. We'll go in the other room and you can eat and open your presents in there. All right?”

“Yes, that sounds good.” The Jonnys help me walk into the other room again. We sit on one of the nice, comfortable sofas that are in there. I remember when we bought those sofas. That was a good time. I think I picked out the one that the Jonnys and I are sitting on now. It's blue and nice and comfortable.

When the Jonnys and I sat down, I leaned my head against the back of the sofa. The Jonnys are looking at me again with concern. I like that look on them.

“So, what did you wish for?” the Jonnys ask. What did I wish for? I can't tell anyone that! Don't the Jonnys know that you can't tell anyone what you wish for or it won't come true?

“I can't tell you that! I can't tell anyone or it won't come true!”

“You really believe that?” I nod. “Do your wishes come true, then?”

“I want my wishes to come true. I can't tell you. They haven't come true, even though I've been wishing for the same thing every year, since I met you, but it hasn't come true. But it could, so I can't tell you. So, I won't tell you, so it can come true. All right?”

The Jonnys seem to understand, though they are still looking at me with concern. And maybe some confusion. Should I not have told them that I wish the same thing every year?

I close my eyes, because suddenly I feel really tired...

I can feel Jonny's hand on me again. I open my eyes and see that there's only one of him now. I wonder where the other one went.

“Jonny?” I ask.

“It's time to open your presents, Chris. We let you sleep for a while, but Guy and Will are really itching to leave.”

“Presents?”

I sit up. I don't feel so tired anymore. Guy and Will seem to be only one person each now, too.

“Yeah. This one is from Will.” Jonny hands me a nice box wrapped in orange paper. There's a card on top of it with just a plain decoration on the front. Inside, it says:

Chris,

Happy 34^th! Hopefully you'll like the gift.

Love,

Will

I set the card down and rip the paper off. The box is for a tea set. I have a tea set already, but it's old and I really needed a new one. Will must have remembered me mentioning it the other day. What a nice guy.

Oh, hey, Guy! Ha ha. Jonny hands me Guy's gift next. It's also wrapped in orange paper. They must have shared. That's cool. It makes me feel like we're just a big family, sharing wrapping paper.

Guy didn't write me a card, but he bought me an iPod and so I think that evens it out. Cards are nice, but iPods are nicer. I thank him and then Jonny hands me the last present. It has blue wrapping paper, blue like the sofa. I wonder if Jonny bought the wrapping paper just for me. Imagine that – a whole thing of wrapping paper, just for me! Just for my tiny present from Jonny.

Jonny gave me a card. On the front it has a cartoon guy who looks strong and muscular and it says Happy Birthday to YOU, with an arrow pointing from YOU to the muscular guy, so I guess I'm a muscular guy, then. But on the inside there's another picture from the back of the muscular guy, and you can see that it's really just some skinny guy standing behind one of those things where you put your head through a hole and you look like you're a muscular guy. It's funny.

Guy tells me to stop laughing and to hurry up and open the damn present already. I put Jonny's card with Will's and open the box with the blue wrapping paper.

It's a small box, so I didn't expect anything big, but what Jonny got me is more than big. It's huge! Well, it's not huge, it's actually small and a necklace, so it's not huge, but what I mean is that it's important. He got me a necklace! It's not girly, like Guy suggested when I first pulled it out of the box, it's actually really nice. Things can be girly and nice, of course, but it's not girly, it's just nice.

I look at the necklace, even though I know exactly what it looks like anyway, even with my eyes closed. It's the same kind of necklace that I used to wear all the time, but I lost it a few months ago and I was really sad when I lost it, because it was my favorite necklace ever. It has a purple dragonfly with blue wings. It's really simple, but I always loved that necklace and now I have it again! Now I can wear it again thanks to Jonny. Jonny bought me a new necklace.

I hug Jonny without saying anything else, because I want to thank him, but I think that if I talk I might start to cry and I don't want to cry around Jonny and I don't want to cry around Guy, because he'll call me girly again. Jonny hugs me back and I can tell that he knows that I am really glad he bought me a new necklace. It was my favorite necklace. And now this one is my favorite necklace, from my favorite person in the whole world.

“Jonny, you're my favorite person in the whole world.” I can hear Jonny laugh and I can feel him laugh, too.

“Because he bought you a necklace?” Guy asks. He sounds jealous. I should tell him that he's one of my favorite people, too, just not as favorite as Jonny.

“Guy, you are one of my favorite people, too. And Will. You guys are awesome!” I pull back from Jonny and hold the necklace up. “Jonny, can you help me put this on?”

Jonny takes the necklace out of my hands and wraps the chain around my neck so that he can clasp it from the front. I watch him while he does it. His fingers keep brushing against my skin and it tingles. After a few moments, he moves the chain so that the clasp is in the back and the dragonfly is resting on my collarbone. I smile at him.

“Thank you, Jonny.”

“Well, if we're done, then I'm leaving,” Will says. “I've got to get back home and help my wife put the kids to bed.” Will walks towards me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Have a good one, Chris. I hope you enjoyed your birthday.”

“Um, it was good.”

“I'm gonna go, too,” Guy adds. He also wishes me a happy birthday and they both leave. I turn to Jonny.

“Are you going home, Jonny?”

Jonny shrugs. “I could go home, if you want to be here by yourself. I know you were going to play piano earlier–”

“No, I don't want you to leave. I would rather be with you than play piano.” Jonny kinda smiles at me, and I realize that I might be saying more than I should say around him. I don't want to say too much.

I seem to have started playing with the dragonfly pendant on the necklace. I don't know when I started doing that. I should thank Jonny again, because I love him and I want him to know that I love him. Wait, I mean I want him to know that I love his gift.

Oh, God, what if I tell him? We're all alone and I'm wasted and what if I tell him on accident when I want to say that I love his gift? I'll just have to be careful with my words.

“Jonny...” That's a good start. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. “I... want... you...” No, no, no, that's not good! There's supposed to be a thank you there before that! Be careful! Be more careful. “...to... know... that... I really... really... really... really...”

Well, I saved myself, but I forgot what I wanted to say now. Being careful is tiring. But Jonny always understands anyway.

“You're welcome,” he says. “I know you loved that necklace, so I thought you would love to have it again.”

“I do! It's beautiful.”

“I saw it in a shop one day and I knew I just had to get it for you. Hey, do you want some of that cake? Will cut a huge slice for you, but since you fell asleep, he just left it in the kitchen.”

“No, I don't want cake right now. I feel kinda tired again.”

For, like, the millionth time tonight, Jonny is staring at me. “Are you OK?”

I don't know what to answer. Am I OK? What does OK even mean, really? I feel wasted and tired and depressed and I can still hear the rain pounding on the roof. I'm not sure what OK means.

“Chris, why did you get drunk?”

I can feel my lips falling into a frown. “It's raining.”

“Yeah,” Jonny says, “it's been raining all day. That's not really an answer, though, is it?”

“Yes, it is! I hate rain.”

“Did you get drunk because it's raining?”

“Well... when you say it like that it sounds stupid.” It is stupid, isn't it? Everything is stupid. Stupid rain. Stupid depressing rain and stupid fruitless birthday wishes.

“I'm just worried. You don't usually drink at all, let alone enough to get pissed.”

Aw, Jonny's worried about me? He's such a sweet man. He's right, though. I don't actually remember why I started drinking, but now I wish I had stopped. I keep thinking all these things and saying them without realizing it.

“I don't know why I got drunk. I just started drinking for some reason and then I kept going, because I didn't want to stop. It just kept raining constantly. But now I'm drunk and I don't like being drunk either, because I keep thinking all these things and then I keep saying all these things that I'm thinking and I don't want to say too much, because I don't know what you'd think about what I think about and I don't want you to think that what I think about is bad, because if you think it's bad then it'll make me really sad, and I don't want to be sad. That's why I got drunk in the first place.”

“Well, that's quite a lot to take in. Uh, you were sad? Why were you sad?”

“I don't know. Lots of reasons. It's raining. Rain makes me sad. Being sad makes me sad. And then I was sad and I thought about my birthday and wishing on birthday candles and it made me even sadder.”

Jonny looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. He puts his hand on my shoulder in a comforting way. How am I supposed to not tell him when he does something like this?

“Jonny, I shouldn't have gotten drunk. When I get drunk, I lose control.”

“Most people do.”

“That's why people want to get drunk, isn't it? But I hate losing control. I always think all these things and when I'm drunk I can't stop myself from saying them.”

“If you're really that afraid of saying too much, then I can leave. You said you were tired, anyway. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

“No! Jonny, I want you to stay with me. We can have some cake. Will you stay with me and eat cake?”

“I already had some earlier. But I'll stay and watch you eat cake, how about that?”

“Yeah.” I smile at Jonny, and he smiles back. He gets up and walks into the kitchen area thing and then comes back a minute later with a slice of cake on a paper plate.

It's really good cake. Really good. I wish every day was my birthday so I could eat really good chocolate cake.

“This cake is really good. I like it.”

“I can tell,” Jonny says, laughing. “You've eaten almost all of it in less than two minutes.”

Jonny has a really nice laugh. And a really nice smile. And really nice eyes. It's like looking into a green lake or something, even though if a lake was really green it probably wouldn't be that appealing. But Jonny's eyes are very appealing, at least to me. I wonder if he thinks my eyes are like lakes, too.

“Your eyes are like green lakes, Jonny.” That's not being careful at all! Jonny is not going to approve of this at all.

“Well, thanks.” He sounds uncertain. I would sound uncertain, too, I guess, if suddenly my friend told me that my eyes were like lakes. Unless Jonny told me that my eyes were like lakes. Then I would just be really happy, probably.

There are still a few bites left of the cake on my plate, but I don't think I feel like finishing it. Chocolate is good and all, especially in cake form, but I have a bad feeling that it's going to be coming back up later on.

I put the plate down on the floor by the boxes and cards and look back at Jonny. I should tell him. Wait, why should I tell him?

“Jonny.” My voice sounds really hoarse right now. Maybe it's because of the cake and lack of beverage to go with it. “I think I should tell you something, because I have no control over what I'm saying right now and I'll end up saying it anyway, probably, at some point, and so why not just say it now and get it over with?”

“You don't have to say it. Really.”

“I want to say it. I mean, I don't want to say it, but I'm going to.”

Why does Jonny look so nervous? Does he know what I'm going to say? Can he tell? Why don't I feel afraid of saying it anymore? Maybe it's the alcohol.

“Why do you look nervous, Jonny?”

“I just think that maybe you should go home now. I can walk you home, if you like. It's just that I have a feeling that if you say whatever it is you're planning on saying, you're going to really hate yourself in the morning for it, and I don't want that to happen.”

“No – I mean, yes, I probably will hate myself, but I've kept this a secret for sooooo long, Jonny. How did I keep it a secret for so long?”

“I don't know, but if you've really kept it a secret for that long, then obviously you don't want anyone else to find out about it.”

Jonny and I stare at each other for a long time in complete silence. It sounds like the rain may have actually stopped for once. It could be a sign. Jonny still looks worried and nervous and concerned. If only he knew. Wait, he will know. I'm going to tell him.

“I love you.”

Oh, God, I think I've been shot in the head. Or possibly someone might have taken a hammer to my skull. Either way, my brain is pounding right now. I'm afraid to open my eyes, just in case I really have been shot or hammered. I don't want to wake up in a pool of my own blood.

I won't open my eyes just yet, but I raise a hand to my forehead and let out a groan. If I didn't get shot, I'd hate to think what getting shot actually feels like. It's hard to believe that anything could be worse than this.

“Chris? Are you OK?”

That voice sounds familiar. And pleasant. Really, I say it sounds familiar, but I knew as soon as I heard it that it could only belong to the beautiful Jonny. Yet, something feels off... I can feel my mattress underneath me, which means that I'm at home. Why would Jonny be here?

“Jonny?”

“Yeah, mate. How's the hangover?”

Oh, so it's a hangover. That would make sense. I do have a vague recollection of emptying several bottles of liquor yesterday afternoon.

“Terrible.” I open my eyes, figuring that it won't do much harm, now that I know I'm not lying in a pool of blood. But I'm wrong, so, so wrong. The light is blinding, which is really saying a lot, because my curtains are all closed and the overhead light isn't on. Jonny's sitting on the edge of the bed beside me with a wet washcloth in his hand.

“Here, you'll probably want this. It might help with the headache.”

“Thanks.” I take the washcloth and throw it over my forehead. “Jonny, do you think you could do me a favor and get the aspirin from my medicine cabinet?”

“Already done.” Jonny points to my nightstand, upon which sits a tiny bottle of aspirin and a large glass of water. God, I love that man.

Wait... I just got a terrible feeling, and I don't mean the hangover. I mean that I have a feeling I did something awful last night, presumably while I was drunk.

“What happened last night?” I ask. Jonny stops looking worried and caring and just looks regretful. I knew it. “I told you, didn't I?”

“Yeah. You did,” Jonny quietly says. Shit.

“But... considering that you're here right now...”

“Well, I figured that I shouldn't make any rash decisions until you were sober.” I close my eyes again, because I both feel like an idiot and am completely blinded by this light. This is why I never get drunk. “How come you never told any of us that you're gay? I mean, in retrospect, I guess it makes sense, but... I never thought about it before.”

“I don't know. I didn't figure it out myself until I met you and I guess I didn't want to say, because I thought it would... scare you away or something. And then it was a while later that we met Will and Guy. By then it just seemed irrelevant. It's not really a big part of my life, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Jonny looks down at his hands, which are tracing the slight pattern in my blanket. “How much of last night can you remember?”

“Nothing, really. I just had a feeling that I did something stupid.”

“I tried to stop you. I told you that you'd hate yourself for it in the morning, but you didn't want to listen. You said that you were probably going to end up slipping up at some point anyway, so it was best to just get it over with.”

“Well, I guess that sounds like drunk me.” Jonny laughs and looks up at me. I'm glad he's here right now. I would have expected him to run away the moment I told him. But that's not really what Jonny's like, is it? “So... you don't think it's weird that I... you know...”

“That you love me?” Hearing it put so bluntly like that is strange. I nod and realize almost immediately after that I should not have moved my head at all. This hangover is killing me. Jonny shrugs. “It makes sense. Not to sound big-headed or anything.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, well, we're best friends, aren't we? Stuff like this happens. A lot of people seem to think that it's weird to fall in love with your best friend, but I think it's probably one of the least weird things in the world. A best friend is someone you spend a lot of time with, and you know them better than anyone else and they know you better than anyone else. It makes sense.”

“That's a good point.” I'm not sure what to say now. Jonny seems to be fine with my confession, but I don't know how he feels about me. I'm not sure I want to know how he feels about me. Then again, not knowing might be worse, and there really is no other path for this conversation to head down. “Did you, uh... did you say all that last night, too, after I told you?”

“No,” Jonny says with a slight laugh, “I thought it might be too many words for you to handle in that state. But you want to know what my reaction was. I don't hate you, Chris.”

“But you don't love me, either.”

“No, I do. It's just that love is actually a rather broad term and I sort of think of you – and Will and Guy, too, of course – as, like... family. You know, like we're all brothers or something.” Jonny sighs and he looks distressed. “I'm sorry. I feel really bad about it.”

“You shouldn't feel bad about it. I never really expected you to feel the same. If you did, I probably wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret for so long.”

Jonny stares at me with a ponderous look. I can just tell that he's going to say something smart. He always does. “Why is it that you never expected me to feel the same?” I'm not sure exactly how to answer, but luckily Jonny does it for me. “It's not because you figured I'm not into guys, is it? I guess that could have been part of it. But you just thought that you weren't good enough, right?”

“I think that might have had something to do with it.”

“You never think you're good enough. Don't get me wrong, it's not as bad as thinking you're all that and a bag of crisps, but you've got to give yourself more credit. Even I'll admit that you are a handsome fellow, Chris. You definitely have your looks going for you. And you really are a genuinely nice person. I think any guy out there would be lucky to have you. So, you know, forget about the ones who aren't interested,” he points a finger at himself and looks, once again, a bit regretful, “and go out and find someone who will love you back. You deserve it.”

Jonny is right. He's almost always right, and he almost always says something smart. It's a shame that he's not interested... but at least I still have him in my life.

“See? This is why I love you. Because you're really smart and you know what to say to make me feel better.”

“Well, I do care about you, Chris. But you're also physically attracted to me, aren't you? And that's the difference.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Jonny really is a miracle worker. I haven't taken any of that aspirin yet, but somehow my headache as lessened. It's still there, believe me, and I'm still really, really, really regretting getting so drunk, but it's not as bad anymore. Now there's only one more thing left to worry about. “This doesn't change anything between us, does it?”

“No, I don't think so. I do, however, think that you should tell Will and Guy, because if we are some sort of family, then they deserve to know. I mean, at least about, you know, your homosexuality.” The ridiculous emphasis he put on the last word makes me laugh. He smiles back at me. “It may not be a big part of your life, as you say, but it is a part of it nonetheless. And they won't hate you either. We're a family, remember?”

“You're right. I'll tell them later today or something. After my body stops punishing itself.”

At this, Jonny hands me the bottle of aspirin and the glass of water. He stays for a few minutes longer and we keep talking, not really about anything in particular. Then he says that he needs to go home and shower and that I should get some more rest.

After he leaves, I can't help thinking of what he said, that I deserve to find someone who will love me back. And also that I have my looks going for me. He was right, wasn't he? I don't always feel so attractive, but judging by the reactions certain fans have given us, have given me, I must not be completely repulsive.

And, well, I'm pretty sure that when I went to the story the other day that one cashier was checking me out...

Forget wishes. Forget birthday candles. Forget keeping secrets. For well over a decade I kept wishing the exact same thing every year: I kept wishing that Jonny would love me. Well, he does and he said so himself. And he was right. Love is such a broad term.

It's just made me think that maybe I should have been more specific with all of my other wishes, too.

King for a Day

They laid in the grass beside each other and stared up at the twinkling stars. The moon was already halfway through the sky. The crown rested by their feet, discarded minutes earlier due to discomfort.

“It's been a crazy night, hasn't it?”

It was a breezy evening when they agreed to go together. Since it was the penultimate month of spring, the sun set later in the evening, but the air cooled long before the pinks and oranges brushed against the horizon. The two boys sat in the stretch of grass in between their yards, watching as the last of the small children disappeared into the neighboring houses for dinnertime.

Jonny shivered lightly as one blond-haired boy carelessly threw his bicycle to the ground and ran up the steps to his house. He and Chris had been seated there, silently, for precisely three hours and forty-seven minutes. Almost four hours. That was the longest he had ever been around someone and not talked (and he wondered how Chris wasn't filled to bursting with speech at the moment), yet he was completely comfortable with that fact. There were often days when he felt like he shared some sort of telepathic bond with Chris.

“What's today?” Chris abruptly asked, though he knew very well that it was the sixth of May. His body had a plan which it had kept secret from his brain, from the tiny rational portion of himself. True to the scheme, his brain was out of the loop even now, in what his body had dubbed the 'execution phase.' Chris let himself talk, though the vibrations shaking his vocal chords felt like someone else's.

“It's the sixth.”

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

Jonny had certainly not expected it. He turned to gawk at Chris, but he ultimately answered, “Yes.” Chris smiled without meeting Jonny's gaze, felt his heart and other internal organs swell inside his torso. His brain was starting to be incorporated in the ordeal, since his body had found a satisfactory reply. It would all go downhill, he knew.

“Will they allow it?”

– But his body was still in control; although his brain demanded that he speak the words he remained silent, grinning, and only kept his worries to himself for the moment. After all, he had spent his entire life worrying about this. Now was the time for joy.

The first task was to inform their parents. It was bound to happen anyway, as Chris's mother had taken to inquiring every single day if he had found a nice girl to go to prom with yet; on the seventh, he kindly told her, “No, but I have a date.”

“Well, who?” she followed up in an overly excited tone. “What's her name, what does she look like? Where does she live?”

Chris briefly reflected on all the various and lengthy ways he could respond to his mother's questions. He decided instead that simplicity was best.

“Jonny.”

His mother reacted by giving him a confused look and then glancing over her shoulder as if Chris had just seen the boy somewhere in the background and was calling out to him. When she turned back to her son she looked no less baffled. “Jonny?”

“Jonny,” Chris plainly repeated. He was in no mood to disclose further.

With a sharp inhale and a look of sudden understanding, his mother replied, “Oh! Oh. Jonny. Oh. Well, then I guess I know what your date looks like.”

“And you know where he lives.”

His mother absentmindedly nodded. “Yes, that as well. Hmm. Jonny.”

Chris watched his mother stare into space and he scratched the back of his neck. “So, that's a good thing, right?”

“What's a good thing, dear?”

“You know, Jonny... he is nice. He's not a girl, but he's nice and I really like him.”

“Sure.” His mother appeared to return from the other world she had been momentarily trapped in. “You two have known each other your whole lives.”

Chris smiled a little. “Yeah. He's my best friend.”

“Jonny is a good choice.”

Chris's smile grew wider. One down, most likely a hundred more to go.

After the parents (all of whom almost immediately accepted their arrangement and were even thrilled after a short while) came the school. Chris had tried to hold back as much anxiety over the entire situation as he could, but this was simply one obstacle that they could not just ignore.

Apparently it wasn't enough for Chris and Jonny to sign up separately for the prom and therefore unofficially be each other's date; boys going to prom together was boys going to prom together whether or not one blue sheet of paper listed their names in the same row. But it wouldn't have been a problem if they could have kept it quiet until the actual event.

Somehow a few students had found out that the two boys were going with each other and, as bits of high school gossip sometimes do, this news had made its way to several parents who were not so keen on the idea. Chris's mother became heavily involved in defending their plan – much to Chris's surprise, though really she just wanted her son to be happy – and she attended several meetings with the parents who had complained and the principal of the school.

It took a rather long and heartfelt speech from Chris to do the trick; a week before the dance, the final meeting took place. Not only were Chris's mother and the principal in attendance, but of course Chris himself, the teacher who also served as the head of the planning committee for prom, and the parents of a girl whose name was something like Emily. Chris wasn't sure he knew her.

“We just don't want our daughter exposed to this sort of thing,” Emily's mother was saying. To her right, her husband sat, nodding firmly.

“Oh, please, your daughter is almost eighteen years old,” Chris's mother retorted. “Not only is she almost an adult, she has probably already been exposed to far worse.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“There is no reason why my son-” Chris's mother began to argue, but her voice was drowned out by Emily's mother shouting back. Nothing either of them said was coherent.

After roughly ten seconds, the principal cleared his throat. Surprisingly, he managed to be loud enough to silence the two women.

“Are we quite done here?” the teacher asked in a bored tone.

The principal looked around at the occupants of the room and sighed. “We have to come to some sort of final decision. Preferably in a peaceful manner and without any more shouting.”

The man rubbed his forehead, clearly exhausted. Chris bit his lip. When five seconds had passed without anyone else speaking, Chris gathered some oxygen in his lungs and spoke up. “C-Can I say something?”

All eyes turned towards Chris: Emily's parents glared at him, the principal and teacher looked passive, and Chris's mother gave him a pleasant smile.

“By all means,” the principal told him. Chris fidgeted and prepared what he was going to say.

“Uh,” Chris began, his throat suddenly very dry. He swallowed and started over. “Well, prom is a big deal for a lot of people. I mean, for some students it's, like, the one thing that keeps them going through high school, you know?”

He didn't receive an answer. He hadn't expected to. He drew a deep breath and continued.

“It's not such a big deal for me. I think it's just like any other dance. But... I don't know how Jonny feels about it. To be honest, I'm not sure it really matters how he feels about it. That sounds harsh, I know, but... I just mean that...

“Well, Jonny and I have known each other all... all his life, I guess, since I'm older – but you know what I mean. We've been best friends since before we could even talk. We do almost everything together. I even... I haven't even chosen where I'm going to college yet, because I'm not sure where Jonny's going and I don't want to go anywhere without him. I know that probably makes me pathetic, but I guess that's what I am then. I...”

Chris paused. The silence in the room and the intense stares from the others made him feel even more nervous. A large part of him was glad that Jonny wasn't in the room. He stared at the ground and forced himself to go on.

“All I want is to have one night to show him how much he means to me. I guess it doesn't have to be prom, but...” Chris shrugged his shoulders. “... I just thought maybe it could be. At least then I'd have a good excuse to spend a lot of money.”

Chris let out a small, nervous laugh. After that, the only sound in the room was the squeaky noise the principal's chair made when he sat back, looking rather ponderous.

Very few students actually watched when they walked into the room, hand in hand. For the most part, they were all too busy dancing or talking among themselves to notice or even care that Chris and Jonny had entered – which was just as well, since it allowed for the boys to focus on enjoying the evening.

Chris was particularly glad for it, not just because of all the trouble they had gone through in the prior weeks, but also because the hours before he left his house to fetch Jonny had been among the most hectic and nerve-filled in his entire life.

The first thing that went wrong was that he lost his tie. The worst part about it was that the tie did not actually belong to him. It was a tie that his father had let him borrow for the night, a nice plain black tie that looked like it must have cost a small fortune. And Chris lost it within an hour of receiving it. He searched his room from top to bottom and still came up empty-handed. He checked every crook and crevice in the living room in case he had left it behind after speaking with his father. Eventually, he found it, resting on top of the suit jacket lying on his bed. He cursed the matching colors and set off to ask his father how the hell he was supposed to actually tie the tie.

Then came the shoe fiasco. One of his greatest fears was that the shoes would fit perfectly until the night of the dance, when suddenly he would find that his feet had somehow swelled like balloons and could no longer fit into the shoes. Luckily, no such thing happened; however, he did have a run-in with a nasty patch of mud just outside the front door of the house. He cursed the spring rain and went back inside to clean off his shoes.

Consequently, he was nearly ten minutes late when he finally walked over to Jonny's house. He knocked on the door and hoped that the worst of his luck had already passed. He felt no better when Jonny opened the door, looking effortlessly perfect. He cursed his own ineptitude and the tight feeling in his chest.

“Sorry I'm late,” Chris spewed, feeling rather embarrassed afterward. Jonny shook his head.

“No, it's fine. I actually only just finished getting ready. And I was afraid that you would show up too early and it would take me forever to finish and you'd have to wait around and you'd get bored and I'd lose something and I wouldn't be able to find it and...” Though the timid tone in Jonny's voice was quite clear, Chris could just barely detect it. It wasn't until Jonny continued with, “Well, the past few hours have just been kinda... hectic,” that he realized maybe Jonny's perfection wasn't so effortless after all.

Chris smiled and leaned in to place a soft kiss on Jonny's cheek. He didn't fail to notice the light flush just under Jonny's bright eyes and he took a few seconds to muster up the ability to speak again.

“Let's go,” he said in a near whisper. Jonny reached back for the door with one hand and forward for Chris's hand with the other.

Chris stepped in another mud puddle before they reached the sidewalk.

“OK, everyone, if I can please have your attention,” the girl on stage announced to the room. She was the head of the student council. She seemed to have an overly bubbly personality, judging by her tone of voice. The students in the room all turned their focus towards her. “The votes have been tallied and it's time to announce your prom King and Queen!”

There were a few joyful shouts and lots of clapping in response. Chris hooked his arm around Jonny's and rested his chin on the other boy's shoulder as they watched.

The girl on stage pulled an envelope seemingly out of nowhere. She turned to look towards the band behind her and said into the microphone, “Drum roll, please!”

The drums rolled and the girl on stage opened the envelope with quick fingers. She read the note and leaned into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to announce that your prom Queen is... Hannah Andrews!”

The room burst out in applause and several girlish shrieks as a dumbfounded girl in a powder blue dress climbed the steps to the stage. Chris stood up straight and released Jonny's arm to clap along. The girl on stage handed Hannah a fancy tiara and let Hannah take over the microphone.

“Uh... Wow,” Hannah said. “Uh... Thanks, guys. I... Thanks.”

Hannah gracefully placed the tiara on top of her neat hair and walked to the side of the stage. The crowd settled and the other girl resumed her position, this time with a brand new envelope in her hand.

“All right, so, we actually had a tie for this one. Under normal circumstances, we would have an impartial party pick one winner to be crowned King, but... well, you'll see. This is different.” The drums sounded again; the girl opened the envelope slowly, though it seemed quite clear she already knew what it would reveal. “OK. And now for your prom Kings... Chris Martin and Jonny Buckland!”

“Seriously??”

Somehow Chris's outburst had been heard by everyone in the room – he figured the crowd would have broken out into applause once more before he could shout properly. Alas, the students were silent and the girl on stage heard him loud and clear.

“Yes, seriously! Get up here, both of you.”

Chris and Jonny shared a nervous glance before embarking on the path towards the stage. The other students started clapping and cheering. Chris's heart was pounding at an alarming rate and his hands were trembling.

The girl on stage held a crown in her hands. When the two boys finally stood beside her she said into the microphone, “I'm not sure which one of you to give this to.”

Chris immediately reached forward and grabbed the crown from her. Then he turned and placed it on Jonny's head. Jonny smiled at him. There were several “aw”s emitted from the crowd.

“You guys are too cute,” the girl said with a wide grin. She turned a bit to address the entire room. “Now, since the winners have been announced, it's time for the first dance! Normally, it would be the King and Queen sharing the dance, but,” she briefly faced Hannah, “you don't mind giving it up, do you, Hannah?”

Hannah shook her head with indifference.

“Good. Although, I suppose if you'd like, you can bring your date onto the floor and join in. You are the Queen, after all.” She laughed a bit and addressed Chris and Jonny. “All right boys, it's your show now!”

Chris held his hand out to Jonny. Jonny grabbed it and they began to walk off the stage and into the clearing the crowd had made for them. As the band started to play, Chris slid his arms over Jonny's shoulders and Jonny placed his hands on Chris's waist.

Chris closed his eyes and smiled into Jonny's neck. He thought for a long time about whispering You're my king, Jonny, but could never find the courage to actually do it. He knew it was true and that was good enough for now.

Jonny sighed when he felt Chris bury his face in his neck. The crown on his head didn't fit quite properly over his hair and he knew that eventually he would have to take it off. But he still couldn't believe that he was lucky enough to be here with Chris, let alone to have been given such a title. He would gladly have given the crown to Chris instead, and had actually intended to deny Chris's gesture – but that look in Chris's eyes when he gave Jonny the crown was just too much to bear. Jonny had been incapable of moving then, and even now the mere thought of Chris's expression made his knees weak.

Jonny moved his hands to Chris's back and held on tighter.

They danced like that until the night was over, not paying attention to any of the other students, simply basking in the warmth of each other's company.

“Yeah. But I'm glad. I think this was the best night of my life.”

Chris turned his head. He could still see the crown shining atop Jonny's head, though it was not actually there any longer. He smiled.

“Mine too.”

When You're Wearing that One Special Sweater

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.