Hoshit, a kissing meme!
There are all kinds of kissing out there: slow kisses, small kisses, kisses that say good-bye, kisses that bring you home, kisses that bring you to that final moment where everything comes to a head. Porny kisses, fluffy kisses, Eskimo kisses, angry kisses, and kisses full of want and longing. THEY ARE ALL AWESOME. And you should write them all
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Everybody in Arthur's family gets excited about the annual town carnival, but Arthur never does. He's prone to motion sickness so that eliminates the rides, and he doesn't like greasy food, oddly shaped vegetables, or farm animals, so that sort of eliminates the rest. The last town carnival, his mom dragged him to the squash patch where he got to spend an hour staring at the largest squash he has ever seen in his entire life. He took one photo, blogged it on his phone, and then excused himself to to the washroom, where Eames was waiting for him with a shit-eating grin and a suggestion that they climb the water tower now that no one was looking.
Eames. The boy next door. Literally. Eames of the scraped elbows and the quirked mouth and the desire to conquer every patch of the neighbourhood they've lived in since they were born. Arthur used to go on play dates with Eames when they were kids; he used to throw rocks at Eames when Eames kicked over his sand castle, and he used to cut up his bed sheets so he and Eames could make superhero capes. These days Arthur is more likely to skip class with Eames and blow their spare change at the arcade, vying with each other for the high scores. Which on their favourite game currently stands at:
SNAKE MAN VS. THE MULTITUDE OF WORMS
HALL OF HONOR
1. YOURPENIS
2. ARTHUR
3. ARTHUR
4. ISADICK
5. BLACKRIDER
However, this year there is no Eames to sneak to when the preternaturally large squash become too much to bear. This year Eames is gainfully employed, though he refuses to tell Arthur exactly what some poor fool has hired him to do. Eames has a lousy track record with part-time jobs. He's been fired from the ice cream parlour, from the movie theatre, from the nursing home, and even from the stag shop where the owner was new to town and didn't know, like everybody else did, that there was no way Eames was eighteen. Or that Eames had an avid interest in demonstrating the use of penis sleeves to anyone who passed by.
Arthur is now the proud owner of seven penis sleeves. He keeps them under his bed, and when his mom found them the one time, he told her they were bottle warmers.
So Eames is pretty much unemployable. He's too restless. He doesn't like to stand in one place, say yes to the right people, or do anything he doesn't think is worth his time to do. Arthur gets that, he really does, and that's why he and Eames are best friends even though some people look at them and wonder what good, respectable Arthur is doing with Eames, who has no future and no desire to make one for himself. At least, not a future that anybody else in the town can recognize. Arthur knows that Eames does have a future; he has a guitar and calluses on his fingers and a voice that can make Arthur's bones tremble.
Not that Arthur tells him this. Arthur tells Eames that he's shit, that he might as well play at the local dinner club, because that's what friends do.
Today Arthur's bones tremble, but not in a good way, when he sees the sign at the edge of the carnival. KISSING BOOTH. KISSES 25 CENTS EACH.
Fuck this.
Fuck Arthur's life.
Fuck Eames sitting behind the booth with leggy, elegant Mal beside him as she trims her nails and looks out at the crowd benevolently. Mal is totally Eames' pimp; Eames has said this on multiple occasions, but Arthur never thought, you know, they were serious.
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Arthur simmers in jealousy until he thinks he's about to lose his mind and his mother is shooting him concerned looks. "Oh honey, if you don't want to look at the squash, you can go over and say hi to Eames," she tells him.
"I don't want to say hi to Eames," Arthur retorts. Eames is a betrayer of friendship. Eames is also a betrayer of that kiss they maybe sort of had last week when they were curled up on the couch in Arthur's basement, watching old school Clash of the Titans. Arthur had stolen two bottles of vodka from his father's collection, and his mouth had tasted of alcohol and corn chips when Eames leaned and kissed him briefly, sending Arthur's entire body into paralysis.
Arthur doesn't really know what to do with that kiss. They're on the cusp of graduation, and there isn't room for him in the future that Eames has planned out. Arthur's going to go to college, get a degree, and then a nine to five job. Eames is going to blaze into the world, play fast and loose with everybody who will have him, and set up kissing booths at the town carnival, apparently.
"Go on," his mother urges. She laughs under her breath like she knows exactly what he's thinking.
Arthur isn't a coward. He isn't. When he found the snake under his porch last year, he'd picked it up calmly. He punched Danny Winchester during a fight, even though Danny Winchester weight at least sixty pounds more than him. He once read Playboy right under his grandma's nose. So he can certainly walk up to Eames, cross his arms, and say, "What the hell are you doing?"
Eames' mouth is wet and shiny as he beams at Arthur.
Arthur's never hated anybody as much as he hates Eames right now.
Eames opens his palm. "Twenty-five cents, Arthur, and you'll get your turn."
Mal smiles at them both from above her nail file, but Arthur's bravery doesn't extend as far as that. Mal is terrifying. So he focuses his attention on Eames and scoffs. "I'm not going to kiss you."
"Really?" Eames says. "Okay." He turns back to the next girl in line. "He's just afraid, you see," Eames tells her conspiratorially. "He's never kissed anyone before."
"What?" Arthur says. "No."
"And he's afraid that everyone will judge him for his sexuality. It's very sad. Arthur's life is nothing but misery," Eames continues.
"I have a very satisfying and enriching life, thank you very much!" Arthur hisses.
"Prove it," Eames says.
"How is kissing you going to prove that?" Arthur asks.
"It's okay," says the girl, whose name is Suzanne. She lives by the library and her mother works in the mayor's office. "I'm in the Gay-Straight Alliance Club at school."
"Exactly," Eames says, and Arthur has no idea what they're talking about anymore, no fucking idea. The sun is in the middle of the sky and sweat is prickling the back of his neck. He knew he should have worn a t-shirt instead a long-sleeved shirt today; he's starting to regret that now. Eames continues smiling at him in that stupid, expectant way, and Suzanne is looking at him like she feels sorry for him, which is just...wrong.
So this is what performance pressure feels like, Arthur thinks. He's never going to make a living as a porn star, that's for sure.
He says, "I don't have any money on me."
"I have a quarter," Suzanne offers.
"I have mono," Arthur says.
Eames snorts.
Arthur coughs into his sleeve. It's not as convincing as he would like. Arthur's always failing drama class.
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Arthur visits to the pig pen instead. Pigs are his only friends now. Pigs are kind and faithful and cute, like Babe or Wilbur. Arthur could deal with that. Pigs don't kiss you in your basement one day and then go around kissing everybody in the entire town, god what a slut.
It's when Arthur finds himself spinning fantasies of riding up to Eames' house on a pig and throwing a grenade through his window in righteous vengeance that he acknowledges he may not be thinking about this rationally. So he takes a deep breath, and then another. He promptly loses it again when he recalls what Eames said about him never kissing anyone before, because Eames knows that's not true. Aside from the B.K (as Arthur's taken to calling the Basement Kiss in his head), Arthur's had plenty of experience. He goes to math camp every year. He's had loadsof experience.
Eames has no right besmirching Arthur's reputation like that.
The sun is setting when Arthur marches back to the kissing booth. There's no one in line anymore, and Mal is nowhere in sight. Eames is reading a P.G Wodehouse novel as he lounges behind the booth. He glances up when Arthur slams a quarter in front of him.
"Kiss me," Arthur demands.
"Uh, hey," Eames says. "Listen. About before. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"The only person who's going to be embarrassed is you," Arthur says. Then he lunges forward without warning and kisses Eames the way he meant to during the B.K if he hadn't been drunk out of his mind. Eames is his annoying best friend, the only one who can beat him at the arcade, and his mouth is filled with the germs of so many other people that Arthur is actually kind of horrified if he lets himself think about it too deeply. Thankfully, thinking is difficult when Eames' stupid, germy mouth is so soft and sleek and he makes a rumbling sound when Arthur proceeds to stick his tongue down his throat.
Arthur licks Eames shamelessly as he presses his hands against Eames' shoulders. Eames kisses him back enthusiastically, and when he reaches forward to touch Arthur, he knocks the quarter off the table. It goes clank somewhere in the dirt, which isn't the only problem because Eames, greedy jerk, pulls at Arthur so hard that Arthur falls onto the table.
Arthur's chin hits the table. "Ouch," he says.
"Christ, sorry," Eames says, his voice strange. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
Arthur rubs at the bruise. It's going to be hard to explain that one at home. Meanwhile, Eames reaches under the table and finds the quarter. "Here, have this back. I should be the one paying you."
Victory.
"And don't you forget it," Arthur says.
Eames slants him a crooked smile. He licks his teeth, as if savouring every last taste of Arthur. "Oh trust me. I won't. By the way, I get off in half an hour," he adds, and the strangeness in his voice is even more strange now, but if Arthur can tear his gaze away from Eames' mouth and let himself recognize it, he can. Recognize it, that is. As Arthur sinks into his skin, he feels like saying a lot of things in response, among them Oh and Wait, why didn't you tell me this during the B.K and You're wearing strawberry Chapstick, aren't you?
Eames waves a hand in front of him. "Earth to Arthur. I said I get off in half an hour."
"I know," Arthur says. Then he snorts to himself and wipes his palms on his pants, anticipatory. "And trust me, you will."
:::
SNAKE MAN VS. THE MULTITUDE OF WORMS
HALL OF HONOR
1. ARTHUR
2. ISAGOOD
3. KISSER
4. ANDABETTER
5. BOYFRIEND
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SO CUTE
cying
dying
...
xxxxxxxxxxx
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It's literally like these two can fit into any situation and make it work!! We've had so much of the distorted expressions of love and explosions in the background and it's such a sweet change!
KISSING MEME ROCKS!
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GIDDY. WITH LOVE.
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And the pigs, hahahaha. :D
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OH. MY. GOD.
THIS IS THE STORY OF MY HEART, I AM DYING SO HARD RIGHT NOW.
DYING
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LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!
*is dead of cute*
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BLACKRIDER
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OH MY GOD
OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU
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MATH. CAMP.
OH ARTHUR.
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