ewan and hayden
Well, I was just reading a post about the two of them, and then I looked at the picture at the premiere, pre-kiss, and well...you know.
Rainy Night
R
Hayden has memories. What is he going to do about it?
Hayden liked the night. Not because he was a particularly dark person, despite being forever tarred with that image because of his most famous role, but because it made it easier to get around, easier to evaporate into the crowds without someone suddenly turning around and saying, hey, aren’t you that...?
He particularly liked this night. It was rainy and quiet, a Sunday recovering from the excesses of the night before, the crowds at home, watching TV, trying to fit back into their lives before Monday came to force them to it. But Hayden was fulfilling a promise to himself. A promise he had found hard to keep, but difficult to forget. It stalked him and captured his attention when unaware, made him silent and shifty at the wrong moment. He doubted anyone knew where his mind drifted; off to a moment he had not known how to hold on to at the time. It had been a couple of years now, but the image remained, no matter what he attempted to do to rid himself of it. Finally, he had given up trying and reconciled himself to the fact that it would just be there, out of reach, at the corner of his eye for the rest of his life. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone about this obsession, and although his friends all recognised that Hayden was not the same person that he was, no one had been able to scrape a confession out of him. Hayden laughed at the thought. They had been so wrong, all of them, so wrong. How could they understand him so badly? They couldn’t be real friends if they had no clue. And so he drifted away, further and further out of reach, always smiling, always a quick word, or a downwards glance and grin, before moving away.
His brother confronted him one day about his moods, his inability to make friends, his lack of love life, and Hayden had tried to brush him off as well, with less success. ‘It’s that bloody Scottish bastard, isn’t it? Hayden, listen, just talk to me. I’m not a robot, I’m not that straight, come on, get it off your chest.’ But Hayden would just shake his head. And Tove would look at him sadly and shrug. ‘There’s nothing I can do then, baby brother. I’m here, when you’re ready.’
Hayden thought that after tonight, he’d be able to talk to him. Confess. Ask for help moving on. He was tired of the pretence, the lonely nights, the feeling that he didn’t even know how to talk to anyone anymore. The secret! The empty future he saw for himself, a fading star, not getting any younger, and not even able to acknowledge who he was to himself. Tonight would be the night he let himself drift back into memories, and then it would be the first day of a new start. The one where he began to be good to himself. The one where he wouldn’t need to lie anymore.
He avoided a puddle at the curb, and leapt up to the pavement. He passed the closed shops, the window displaying the trappings of success - fine shoes, cigars, wines, fabrics. He shut his eyes against the light rain and wished he could trade it all in for one more moment. For an instant, he could feel the large hands around his arms; feel the warmth of his smile, the radiating heat from his body. It was too good, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Not yet. Hayden shook his head and continued down the street. Left at the end, cross over, and through Piccadilly Circus. Over the small street, past the few drunks still out, the restaurant workers heading for the night bus home. The rain was falling harder now. The trees were dark against the orange lit cloudy sky that was London at night. Even the starlings were quiet now, at this last moment of nightlife. Hayden took a deep breath. He wanted to remember every thing about this moment. If all went to plan, he wouldn’t be here again for a long time. The ugly modern buildings, the brief make-believe of park that made up Leicester Square, the policeman he walked past who gave him a look that said ‘rent boy’. The way the asphalt shone under the lights in the rain. His blue jeans, the way they were wet at the bottoms, sliding stickily over his boots. His hands, stuffed into his jacket pockets. His dirty blond hair, curling around his face. His dark blue eyes, aching towards the spot where it had all happened. How many people had walked past here? Over the very same place, and yet nothing had happened to them. They hadn’t had their lives revealed and torn apart all at once. They didn’t have memories of lips that seemed to shudder with energy against their skin, of strength hidden beneath oh so cool manners. He’d known, of course, from the minute Ewan had held him, shaking slightly from the contact. Ewan hadn’t needed to grip his arms that tightly, hadn’t needed to touch his lips to his…
Hayden stood there for a moment, eyes shut, imagining what he would have done if there had been no one around, if he had been as comfortable with the idea that he was attracted to Ewan as he was now. Why had it been so hard? And later, when he tried to talk to him, he was being dragged off to meet another star, another studio person…No. He wouldn’t think of that now. It was his last moment wrapped in the memory, treasuring the bruise Ewan had left on his arm, the invisible shadow he kissed every night last thing as he tried to sleep. Ewan’s body was all contained force, he was too smart, too much trouble. No. It barely gave him pleasure any more, this endless desire that never went anywhere. It was done. Time to move on. Accept that he was gay, accept that he would have to find someone else, or go mad.
He hugged himself in the rain, and silently kissed the air good bye. He would walk to Charing Cross Road, get in a cab, and forget this childish fantasy. Hayden turned, his athletic body obeying him as he forced his way through the night air as though it were honey, slowing him down, his heart leading his body into a whirlpool of reluctance and regret. The rain dripped off his curls onto his cheeks and he shook his head. What was that? Someone’s voice out of the dark. He ignored it. Another fan, or some drunk, he wasn’t sure what would be worse. Sharpening his senses, he began walking faster, certain that what he was hearing was his own pain chasing him.
Then there was a hand resting on his shoulder, spinning him around. Hayden shouted ‘what the fuck do you think you’re…’ and his words ended there. ‘Mate! I’ve been calling you for ages! What are you doing here?’ And it was Ewan looking up at him. Hayden was silent, his eyes dark with emotion, unable to respond.
Ewan made his mind up in a second. There was time to compare notes later. He gave into what he had been wanting to do since the moment he first laid eyes on him, at that bloody rehearsal, and pressed his lips against his, ever so softly. The moan that Hayden tried to quiet confirmed everything he had hoped. Ewan pulled him closer, lost against his body, and shut his mind to everything but the feel of his mouth, intent on this chance. They both pulled away just as their kiss threatened to become more serious and locked eyes, breathing almost in time. Nothing moved and the world went silent around them.
Hayden was about to try and speak when unexpectedly, Ewan began to sing an Iggy Pop song. Seductive, he stared him down, thrusting his hips forward, looking every inch the rock star he had once played. ‘Hey baby, I like your lips.’ He winked at Hayden and crossed his arms against his chest, waiting.
Hayden’s voice finally broke. ‘Shut up, just stop it. Don’t joke with me.’ He took a few steps away and then came back and stood in front of Ewan. ‘Are you coming with me, or am I walking away from this dream for good?’ And he stared at him, biting his lip.
‘My car and driver are right here. Afraid you caught me at my secret rendezvous, but I never expected you to join the party.’ Ewan smiled at him. ‘Shall we dance?’
Hayden couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face and caught Ewan’s hand in his own, feeling happy like a child. ‘Should I be embarrassed that you’ve uncovered my little secret?’
‘Not so little, my young Jedi friend.’ Their laughter broke the tension and Ewan stopped and threw his arms around Hayden. ‘Christ, I’ve missed you.’
Hayden held him tightly. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. Not really.’ He breathed out, his pulse throbbing in his neck, and leaned his head against Ewan’s shoulder.
‘Are we ready for this, Hayden?’
‘I don’t know. But I can’t talk myself out of it.’
Ewan opened the door to the car and they both got in. He grabbed Hayden’s hand and pressed the intercom with it. ‘Just drive around for an hour or so, alright mate? We’ve got some catching up to do.’
As the car pulled away into the rainy night, the tinted glass hid the last sight the square had of Ewan beginning where they had left off.
Rainy Night
R
Hayden has memories. What is he going to do about it?
Hayden liked the night. Not because he was a particularly dark person, despite being forever tarred with that image because of his most famous role, but because it made it easier to get around, easier to evaporate into the crowds without someone suddenly turning around and saying, hey, aren’t you that...?
He particularly liked this night. It was rainy and quiet, a Sunday recovering from the excesses of the night before, the crowds at home, watching TV, trying to fit back into their lives before Monday came to force them to it. But Hayden was fulfilling a promise to himself. A promise he had found hard to keep, but difficult to forget. It stalked him and captured his attention when unaware, made him silent and shifty at the wrong moment. He doubted anyone knew where his mind drifted; off to a moment he had not known how to hold on to at the time. It had been a couple of years now, but the image remained, no matter what he attempted to do to rid himself of it. Finally, he had given up trying and reconciled himself to the fact that it would just be there, out of reach, at the corner of his eye for the rest of his life. He hadn’t been able to tell anyone about this obsession, and although his friends all recognised that Hayden was not the same person that he was, no one had been able to scrape a confession out of him. Hayden laughed at the thought. They had been so wrong, all of them, so wrong. How could they understand him so badly? They couldn’t be real friends if they had no clue. And so he drifted away, further and further out of reach, always smiling, always a quick word, or a downwards glance and grin, before moving away.
His brother confronted him one day about his moods, his inability to make friends, his lack of love life, and Hayden had tried to brush him off as well, with less success. ‘It’s that bloody Scottish bastard, isn’t it? Hayden, listen, just talk to me. I’m not a robot, I’m not that straight, come on, get it off your chest.’ But Hayden would just shake his head. And Tove would look at him sadly and shrug. ‘There’s nothing I can do then, baby brother. I’m here, when you’re ready.’
Hayden thought that after tonight, he’d be able to talk to him. Confess. Ask for help moving on. He was tired of the pretence, the lonely nights, the feeling that he didn’t even know how to talk to anyone anymore. The secret! The empty future he saw for himself, a fading star, not getting any younger, and not even able to acknowledge who he was to himself. Tonight would be the night he let himself drift back into memories, and then it would be the first day of a new start. The one where he began to be good to himself. The one where he wouldn’t need to lie anymore.
He avoided a puddle at the curb, and leapt up to the pavement. He passed the closed shops, the window displaying the trappings of success - fine shoes, cigars, wines, fabrics. He shut his eyes against the light rain and wished he could trade it all in for one more moment. For an instant, he could feel the large hands around his arms; feel the warmth of his smile, the radiating heat from his body. It was too good, but this wasn’t the time or the place. Not yet. Hayden shook his head and continued down the street. Left at the end, cross over, and through Piccadilly Circus. Over the small street, past the few drunks still out, the restaurant workers heading for the night bus home. The rain was falling harder now. The trees were dark against the orange lit cloudy sky that was London at night. Even the starlings were quiet now, at this last moment of nightlife. Hayden took a deep breath. He wanted to remember every thing about this moment. If all went to plan, he wouldn’t be here again for a long time. The ugly modern buildings, the brief make-believe of park that made up Leicester Square, the policeman he walked past who gave him a look that said ‘rent boy’. The way the asphalt shone under the lights in the rain. His blue jeans, the way they were wet at the bottoms, sliding stickily over his boots. His hands, stuffed into his jacket pockets. His dirty blond hair, curling around his face. His dark blue eyes, aching towards the spot where it had all happened. How many people had walked past here? Over the very same place, and yet nothing had happened to them. They hadn’t had their lives revealed and torn apart all at once. They didn’t have memories of lips that seemed to shudder with energy against their skin, of strength hidden beneath oh so cool manners. He’d known, of course, from the minute Ewan had held him, shaking slightly from the contact. Ewan hadn’t needed to grip his arms that tightly, hadn’t needed to touch his lips to his…
Hayden stood there for a moment, eyes shut, imagining what he would have done if there had been no one around, if he had been as comfortable with the idea that he was attracted to Ewan as he was now. Why had it been so hard? And later, when he tried to talk to him, he was being dragged off to meet another star, another studio person…No. He wouldn’t think of that now. It was his last moment wrapped in the memory, treasuring the bruise Ewan had left on his arm, the invisible shadow he kissed every night last thing as he tried to sleep. Ewan’s body was all contained force, he was too smart, too much trouble. No. It barely gave him pleasure any more, this endless desire that never went anywhere. It was done. Time to move on. Accept that he was gay, accept that he would have to find someone else, or go mad.
He hugged himself in the rain, and silently kissed the air good bye. He would walk to Charing Cross Road, get in a cab, and forget this childish fantasy. Hayden turned, his athletic body obeying him as he forced his way through the night air as though it were honey, slowing him down, his heart leading his body into a whirlpool of reluctance and regret. The rain dripped off his curls onto his cheeks and he shook his head. What was that? Someone’s voice out of the dark. He ignored it. Another fan, or some drunk, he wasn’t sure what would be worse. Sharpening his senses, he began walking faster, certain that what he was hearing was his own pain chasing him.
Then there was a hand resting on his shoulder, spinning him around. Hayden shouted ‘what the fuck do you think you’re…’ and his words ended there. ‘Mate! I’ve been calling you for ages! What are you doing here?’ And it was Ewan looking up at him. Hayden was silent, his eyes dark with emotion, unable to respond.
Ewan made his mind up in a second. There was time to compare notes later. He gave into what he had been wanting to do since the moment he first laid eyes on him, at that bloody rehearsal, and pressed his lips against his, ever so softly. The moan that Hayden tried to quiet confirmed everything he had hoped. Ewan pulled him closer, lost against his body, and shut his mind to everything but the feel of his mouth, intent on this chance. They both pulled away just as their kiss threatened to become more serious and locked eyes, breathing almost in time. Nothing moved and the world went silent around them.
Hayden was about to try and speak when unexpectedly, Ewan began to sing an Iggy Pop song. Seductive, he stared him down, thrusting his hips forward, looking every inch the rock star he had once played. ‘Hey baby, I like your lips.’ He winked at Hayden and crossed his arms against his chest, waiting.
Hayden’s voice finally broke. ‘Shut up, just stop it. Don’t joke with me.’ He took a few steps away and then came back and stood in front of Ewan. ‘Are you coming with me, or am I walking away from this dream for good?’ And he stared at him, biting his lip.
‘My car and driver are right here. Afraid you caught me at my secret rendezvous, but I never expected you to join the party.’ Ewan smiled at him. ‘Shall we dance?’
Hayden couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face and caught Ewan’s hand in his own, feeling happy like a child. ‘Should I be embarrassed that you’ve uncovered my little secret?’
‘Not so little, my young Jedi friend.’ Their laughter broke the tension and Ewan stopped and threw his arms around Hayden. ‘Christ, I’ve missed you.’
Hayden held him tightly. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. Not really.’ He breathed out, his pulse throbbing in his neck, and leaned his head against Ewan’s shoulder.
‘Are we ready for this, Hayden?’
‘I don’t know. But I can’t talk myself out of it.’
Ewan opened the door to the car and they both got in. He grabbed Hayden’s hand and pressed the intercom with it. ‘Just drive around for an hour or so, alright mate? We’ve got some catching up to do.’
As the car pulled away into the rainy night, the tinted glass hid the last sight the square had of Ewan beginning where they had left off.