Coming Out of the Closet - Part II
Title: Coming Out of the Closet
Pairing: Julian Casablancas / Craig Nicholls
Rating: PG13
Summary: Uhhh...read it and find out! Leave a comment plz.
Of all the closets in the house, Julian just had to have chosen this one. Here he was confined in the smallest closet on earth with one of the kids he hated most. It was just his luck. Things couldn't get worse, could they?
Not expecting any guests, Craig glowered in the darkness at the very obviously male company he had now gained. The brief flicker of the dim light answered the question of who it was, and at the discovery he almost groaned aloud. Last person he wanted to be wedged in a closet with. And if he were sober, he might have found the fact they were in a closet much funnier. Thank God he wasn't. The laughing at that irony would have started and the police would have found them for sure.
Being bathed in darkness again, he also became aware of how close they were. Fuck, he was drunk. Didn't even count the moderate drug use tonight. Just the alcohol he'd consumed alone had him falling all over the place. If Julian weren't in here he might have just curled up on the floor and slept it off. But no, the possibility of that much privacy was too good to be true.
When Julian sighed, he felt it. Smelled it, even, the alcohol and smoke scent mixed. His heart leapt into his throat, and he wasn't sure why. And he, too, was quite certain in the light his cheeks would be considerably pinker now. Damn it! And his mind was telling him to do crazy things, things he almost obeyed. Marijuana never did this to him. It was the alcohol that made him reckless. Made him do things he wished he hadn't the day after. Apparently this time was going to be another 'one of those times'.
No, his mind thought wisely, even in its drunken state, Not a good idea. Wait for the police to go away and drag yourself home, budddddyyyyyyy.
Since when had his mind started slurring?
Shaking it off, he found (helpless against it, really) that his body was doing something disconnected from his brain. It just happened. It would have happened with another male sooner or later, but why did that male have to be Julian Casablancas? He knew just how that family felt about him, and was also pretty aware he'd get his ass kicked later for doing this, but drunken Craig didn't care. Besides, Julian had chosen this closet, Craig justified. His own damn fault. Maybe fate knew something he didn't. Maybe fate was just trying to get him killed.
It wasn't hard to do. Not like he'd thought it would be. All it required was closing the few inches distance between their lips, which he managed to do without guidance or sight in the blackness of the closet. He too could make out a faint outline, though he didn't entirely want to. His mind was gone, melded away to what he was feeling (which wasn't that much, actually-- drugs and alcohol put a stop to that). In fact, his lips were kind of numb. All the same, he would have never in a million years thought he'd be doing this with this particular guy. Kissing him. It wasn't deep or anything, but it was obviously a kiss and not just Craig tripping over his own feet and falling forward (also very possible in this state).
It felt as if they had been in this closet for ages now and it was beginning to get a little warm. If only there was just a little more room, Julian would have been content-well, as content as he could be while stuck with Craig Nicholls. Anything would have been better than being groin to groin with him. Even in his wasted state, Julian wasn't completely pleased with the situation, but perhaps he was better tempered about the ordeal than he would have been if he had been anymore sober.
He heard the slightest rustle of clothing. It took him a moment to realize that Craig was pressing his lips against his. For whatever reason, he didn't even try to pull away, although he couldn't have if he wanted due to the cramped closet. He was trapped. As his hazel eyes fluttered shut, he found himself returning the kiss.
WAIT.
What the fuck was he doing?
It's just the alcohol and pot going to my head...it's just the alcohol and pot going to my head," he repeatedly thought to himself over and over. Not only did those two things have an effect on him, but also the lack of oxygen in the closet. Fresh air would do him good.
Julian was quick to blame his actions on the beer and Mary Jane, but throughout his endless partying history, never had he kissed another male.
I'm not a fucking queer.
Julian and his friends were always the clique of people who made fun of those kind of people. What would his friends do if they found out he had just kissed another man?! Hold on, he hadn't made the first move; Craig had. This was Craig's fault and Julian hoped to hell that he was too drunk to remember anything tomorrow.
Instantly, his lips froze and his breath quickened in panic. He tried his best to get away from Craig, but even if he was the farthest away possible, their lips were still just barely touching. Close enough to feel his warm metallic breath...close enough to smell the alcohol and smoke. Not only were their lips still touching, but their bodies were still pressed together full contact and Julian didn't quite like the feeling of another guy's dick against his crotch. The walls seemed to be closing in on him and all he wanted to do was get far far away from here and Craig, but the police were taking for-fucking-ever.
Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.
Trying his best to calm himself, his eyes fluttered shut for a second.
Why the fuck did this closet have to be so damn small? The lack of air made him feel even more suffocated.
"Let's check upstairs..."
He heard several pairs of feet clamber up the stairs. Finally. Their chance to escape.
With a soft sigh of relief, Julian flung the door open. The air was cool against his sweaty skin and as quietly as he could, he made a mad dash for the front door.
Craig wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He didn't entirely care. But Julian didn't seem to be resisting, so that was good. It never got deep or anything. Craig wasn't that brave and he didn't exactly fancy french kissing this boy. Might... bite his tongue off or something. Julian was pretty random so he was wary. He knew what it was like to do things on a whim. He was one of those people. Look at him now.
Julian could say what he wanted but Craig could feel him kissing back. That kind of said it all, didn't it? No guarantees he'd remember anything, though. Just like Julian wanted. Craig would probably just give him a blank stare if he ever said anything about it which... face it. Wasn't going to happen. Discuss it? Ha. Never happen. If either of them even remembered it.
One thing Julian should be thankful for: at least he didn't have a hard on. That would have been terrible. Funny, but terrible. And he could feel the other getting claustrophobic now, which made him on edge and suddenly aware of how closet they were crammed together like this. Wow. Not a lot of air to spare, was there? His face felt hot, feverish. But part of him knew that the cramped space wasn't the only reason why.
It seemed a relief for the both of them when the police disappeared upstairs, and Craig stumbled out of the closet after him (half convinced it was one of those steam room things he saw on T.V. where old men sat around in those towels half naked cleansing their pores) looking bewildered. Then he recalled that cops were in here, and rushed as silent as drunkenly possible towards the door after his previous closet partner.
The fresh air outside did a bit to clear his head. God, what was his problem? Had he kissed a guy in there? Jesus Christ, he was pretty sure he had. And there he was, a little bit ahead of him. His stomach lurched but he held in the inevitable vomiting until he was farther down from the house. There he deposited what was left in his stomach and, feeling queasy and terrible, trudged along, disoriented but going in the general direction of his house.
"Hey!" He beckoned Julian in a sharp, hushed voice. "Wait up, wait up. What happened in there. That wasn't on purpose. Slipped. So don't go thinking anything that isn't true." Had to keep some face, after all. Couldn't have Julian blabbing about him being some fag that had accosted him in a closet.
Just as Julian started out the door, he remembered his clothes. He backtracked and hastily snatched up the pile of wet clothes and shoes. Despite the hectic events, the fact that he had just kissed another boy gnawed away at his thoughts.
I didn't kiss him.
He hadn't, had he? It had all been a mistake; a big utterly revolting accident. After all, the little cupboard had been extremely cramped. Returning the kiss had been like a reflex-another pair of lips on his triggered his reaction. Of all the people in their high school, he was the last person anyone would ever think of to do such a thing. Fags were scum. Just like Craig. Hopefully by tomorrow morning, they'd both have forgotten about the closet incident.
Julian had earned the reputation of a homophobe, having done a few awful things to the school's rumored gays and he didn't feel an ounce of regret. They deserved it.
Looking around for his car, it took him a moment to remember that he had run out of gas on the way to the party. Shit. He started walking in the direction of his house, trailing behind Craig and casting weary glances to the house's upstairs windows.
The cool rainy air helped clear his head a little and he nonchalantly brushed away the hair that had been stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was tired to say the least and was eager to get home before it started raining again not to mention he must have looked ridiculous walking around barefoot wearing only his boxers in the wee hours of the morning. It was quite a ways to his house and he considered calling up a friend to pick him up, but after digging through his pants pocket, he discovered his phone had gone to shit. It had gotten wet while beneath his clothes and looked as if someone had stepped on it; the screen was cracked.
Cursing under his breath, he chucked it into the dark street, sending it clattering into the path of a passing car. He heard it crack.
At the sound of Craig's voice, he looked up in surprise.
"Oh, yeah. Right, whatever," he mumbled, looking the other direction while he walked shoeless in the direction of his house. After a few moments of silence, he looked at Craig with a dangerous glint in his hazel eyes. "If you ever tell anyone about tonight, I promise I'll personally kick the fucking shit out you. You can count on it." He held the glare just long enough to make a point, his eyes boring into Craig's, probing and calculating. Just like his father's.
"Don't tell a soul and neither will I," Julian hissed, his words slurring together.
Nobody could ever find out about the things that had happened in the closet just a few minutes ago. The slightest thought of it made Julian queasy, but then again, it could have just been the alcohol.
He waited until they had disappeared around the block's corner to slip his cold damp clothes back on. They stuck to his skin, annoying and uncomfortable.
Right now, all he really wanted to do was sleep.
Yeah. Like Craig was going to go fluttering about spreading rumors about the conquest in the closet. No, he was pretty satisfied with keeping that a secret. Craig was not unaware of what Julian did to the self-proclaimed homosexuals in their school, as rare as they were. It was safe to suffice that he did not want to be one of them. He'd been in fights before. Usually just him going crazy and attacking someone that said the wrong thing. But he wasn't positive he could hold his own against Julian and all his buddies backing him up. Julian alone, maybe. He did bite. And pull hair.
"No prob, dude." He replied, saluting a little and feeling as if he were walking on clouds. Dizzy. No wonder he hadn't tripped and fell on his face yet. His stomach gurgled, probably from being so empty now. But he didn't care. Trying to steady his walking, he quickened his pace. "So long, cranky." And then he was gone, turning another corner and heading off to the apartment complex he'd lived in for what seemed like forever.
Unfortunately, the next day (amongst his migraine) he did remember The Incident. And the fact that he'd initiated it. Even remembered what it had felt like, kind of, so stuffy and with no space to move. Craig, on the couch, rolled onto his side and groaned, clutching his face in his hands. Felt like his face was going to fall off. God, he'd really done it. And he'd liked it, at the time. No no no. This wasn't happening. He half felt like bawling in embarrassment and frustration. He couldn't be this way. He refused to believe it. Digging with shaky hands in his pockets for a cigarette, he lit one and took a long drag, exhaling through his nose and trying to bear with the hangover.
He yawned, and decided (quite wisely) that there'd be no more hanging around that Julian Casablancas guy. Over his dead body. And these thoughts he was getting... what business was it of anyone else? It wasn't like bi-curiousness was rare or anything. He just wished secretly that the confusion wasn't there. Either gay or straight. That would be easier, wouldn't it? Easier than pretending?
Pairing: Julian Casablancas / Craig Nicholls
Rating: PG13
Summary: Uhhh...read it and find out! Leave a comment plz.
Of all the closets in the house, Julian just had to have chosen this one. Here he was confined in the smallest closet on earth with one of the kids he hated most. It was just his luck. Things couldn't get worse, could they?
Not expecting any guests, Craig glowered in the darkness at the very obviously male company he had now gained. The brief flicker of the dim light answered the question of who it was, and at the discovery he almost groaned aloud. Last person he wanted to be wedged in a closet with. And if he were sober, he might have found the fact they were in a closet much funnier. Thank God he wasn't. The laughing at that irony would have started and the police would have found them for sure.
Being bathed in darkness again, he also became aware of how close they were. Fuck, he was drunk. Didn't even count the moderate drug use tonight. Just the alcohol he'd consumed alone had him falling all over the place. If Julian weren't in here he might have just curled up on the floor and slept it off. But no, the possibility of that much privacy was too good to be true.
When Julian sighed, he felt it. Smelled it, even, the alcohol and smoke scent mixed. His heart leapt into his throat, and he wasn't sure why. And he, too, was quite certain in the light his cheeks would be considerably pinker now. Damn it! And his mind was telling him to do crazy things, things he almost obeyed. Marijuana never did this to him. It was the alcohol that made him reckless. Made him do things he wished he hadn't the day after. Apparently this time was going to be another 'one of those times'.
No, his mind thought wisely, even in its drunken state, Not a good idea. Wait for the police to go away and drag yourself home, budddddyyyyyyy.
Since when had his mind started slurring?
Shaking it off, he found (helpless against it, really) that his body was doing something disconnected from his brain. It just happened. It would have happened with another male sooner or later, but why did that male have to be Julian Casablancas? He knew just how that family felt about him, and was also pretty aware he'd get his ass kicked later for doing this, but drunken Craig didn't care. Besides, Julian had chosen this closet, Craig justified. His own damn fault. Maybe fate knew something he didn't. Maybe fate was just trying to get him killed.
It wasn't hard to do. Not like he'd thought it would be. All it required was closing the few inches distance between their lips, which he managed to do without guidance or sight in the blackness of the closet. He too could make out a faint outline, though he didn't entirely want to. His mind was gone, melded away to what he was feeling (which wasn't that much, actually-- drugs and alcohol put a stop to that). In fact, his lips were kind of numb. All the same, he would have never in a million years thought he'd be doing this with this particular guy. Kissing him. It wasn't deep or anything, but it was obviously a kiss and not just Craig tripping over his own feet and falling forward (also very possible in this state).
It felt as if they had been in this closet for ages now and it was beginning to get a little warm. If only there was just a little more room, Julian would have been content-well, as content as he could be while stuck with Craig Nicholls. Anything would have been better than being groin to groin with him. Even in his wasted state, Julian wasn't completely pleased with the situation, but perhaps he was better tempered about the ordeal than he would have been if he had been anymore sober.
He heard the slightest rustle of clothing. It took him a moment to realize that Craig was pressing his lips against his. For whatever reason, he didn't even try to pull away, although he couldn't have if he wanted due to the cramped closet. He was trapped. As his hazel eyes fluttered shut, he found himself returning the kiss.
WAIT.
What the fuck was he doing?
It's just the alcohol and pot going to my head...it's just the alcohol and pot going to my head," he repeatedly thought to himself over and over. Not only did those two things have an effect on him, but also the lack of oxygen in the closet. Fresh air would do him good.
Julian was quick to blame his actions on the beer and Mary Jane, but throughout his endless partying history, never had he kissed another male.
I'm not a fucking queer.
Julian and his friends were always the clique of people who made fun of those kind of people. What would his friends do if they found out he had just kissed another man?! Hold on, he hadn't made the first move; Craig had. This was Craig's fault and Julian hoped to hell that he was too drunk to remember anything tomorrow.
Instantly, his lips froze and his breath quickened in panic. He tried his best to get away from Craig, but even if he was the farthest away possible, their lips were still just barely touching. Close enough to feel his warm metallic breath...close enough to smell the alcohol and smoke. Not only were their lips still touching, but their bodies were still pressed together full contact and Julian didn't quite like the feeling of another guy's dick against his crotch. The walls seemed to be closing in on him and all he wanted to do was get far far away from here and Craig, but the police were taking for-fucking-ever.
Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.
Trying his best to calm himself, his eyes fluttered shut for a second.
Why the fuck did this closet have to be so damn small? The lack of air made him feel even more suffocated.
"Let's check upstairs..."
He heard several pairs of feet clamber up the stairs. Finally. Their chance to escape.
With a soft sigh of relief, Julian flung the door open. The air was cool against his sweaty skin and as quietly as he could, he made a mad dash for the front door.
Craig wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He didn't entirely care. But Julian didn't seem to be resisting, so that was good. It never got deep or anything. Craig wasn't that brave and he didn't exactly fancy french kissing this boy. Might... bite his tongue off or something. Julian was pretty random so he was wary. He knew what it was like to do things on a whim. He was one of those people. Look at him now.
Julian could say what he wanted but Craig could feel him kissing back. That kind of said it all, didn't it? No guarantees he'd remember anything, though. Just like Julian wanted. Craig would probably just give him a blank stare if he ever said anything about it which... face it. Wasn't going to happen. Discuss it? Ha. Never happen. If either of them even remembered it.
One thing Julian should be thankful for: at least he didn't have a hard on. That would have been terrible. Funny, but terrible. And he could feel the other getting claustrophobic now, which made him on edge and suddenly aware of how closet they were crammed together like this. Wow. Not a lot of air to spare, was there? His face felt hot, feverish. But part of him knew that the cramped space wasn't the only reason why.
It seemed a relief for the both of them when the police disappeared upstairs, and Craig stumbled out of the closet after him (half convinced it was one of those steam room things he saw on T.V. where old men sat around in those towels half naked cleansing their pores) looking bewildered. Then he recalled that cops were in here, and rushed as silent as drunkenly possible towards the door after his previous closet partner.
The fresh air outside did a bit to clear his head. God, what was his problem? Had he kissed a guy in there? Jesus Christ, he was pretty sure he had. And there he was, a little bit ahead of him. His stomach lurched but he held in the inevitable vomiting until he was farther down from the house. There he deposited what was left in his stomach and, feeling queasy and terrible, trudged along, disoriented but going in the general direction of his house.
"Hey!" He beckoned Julian in a sharp, hushed voice. "Wait up, wait up. What happened in there. That wasn't on purpose. Slipped. So don't go thinking anything that isn't true." Had to keep some face, after all. Couldn't have Julian blabbing about him being some fag that had accosted him in a closet.
Just as Julian started out the door, he remembered his clothes. He backtracked and hastily snatched up the pile of wet clothes and shoes. Despite the hectic events, the fact that he had just kissed another boy gnawed away at his thoughts.
I didn't kiss him.
He hadn't, had he? It had all been a mistake; a big utterly revolting accident. After all, the little cupboard had been extremely cramped. Returning the kiss had been like a reflex-another pair of lips on his triggered his reaction. Of all the people in their high school, he was the last person anyone would ever think of to do such a thing. Fags were scum. Just like Craig. Hopefully by tomorrow morning, they'd both have forgotten about the closet incident.
Julian had earned the reputation of a homophobe, having done a few awful things to the school's rumored gays and he didn't feel an ounce of regret. They deserved it.
Looking around for his car, it took him a moment to remember that he had run out of gas on the way to the party. Shit. He started walking in the direction of his house, trailing behind Craig and casting weary glances to the house's upstairs windows.
The cool rainy air helped clear his head a little and he nonchalantly brushed away the hair that had been stuck to his forehead with sweat. He was tired to say the least and was eager to get home before it started raining again not to mention he must have looked ridiculous walking around barefoot wearing only his boxers in the wee hours of the morning. It was quite a ways to his house and he considered calling up a friend to pick him up, but after digging through his pants pocket, he discovered his phone had gone to shit. It had gotten wet while beneath his clothes and looked as if someone had stepped on it; the screen was cracked.
Cursing under his breath, he chucked it into the dark street, sending it clattering into the path of a passing car. He heard it crack.
At the sound of Craig's voice, he looked up in surprise.
"Oh, yeah. Right, whatever," he mumbled, looking the other direction while he walked shoeless in the direction of his house. After a few moments of silence, he looked at Craig with a dangerous glint in his hazel eyes. "If you ever tell anyone about tonight, I promise I'll personally kick the fucking shit out you. You can count on it." He held the glare just long enough to make a point, his eyes boring into Craig's, probing and calculating. Just like his father's.
"Don't tell a soul and neither will I," Julian hissed, his words slurring together.
Nobody could ever find out about the things that had happened in the closet just a few minutes ago. The slightest thought of it made Julian queasy, but then again, it could have just been the alcohol.
He waited until they had disappeared around the block's corner to slip his cold damp clothes back on. They stuck to his skin, annoying and uncomfortable.
Right now, all he really wanted to do was sleep.
Yeah. Like Craig was going to go fluttering about spreading rumors about the conquest in the closet. No, he was pretty satisfied with keeping that a secret. Craig was not unaware of what Julian did to the self-proclaimed homosexuals in their school, as rare as they were. It was safe to suffice that he did not want to be one of them. He'd been in fights before. Usually just him going crazy and attacking someone that said the wrong thing. But he wasn't positive he could hold his own against Julian and all his buddies backing him up. Julian alone, maybe. He did bite. And pull hair.
"No prob, dude." He replied, saluting a little and feeling as if he were walking on clouds. Dizzy. No wonder he hadn't tripped and fell on his face yet. His stomach gurgled, probably from being so empty now. But he didn't care. Trying to steady his walking, he quickened his pace. "So long, cranky." And then he was gone, turning another corner and heading off to the apartment complex he'd lived in for what seemed like forever.
Unfortunately, the next day (amongst his migraine) he did remember The Incident. And the fact that he'd initiated it. Even remembered what it had felt like, kind of, so stuffy and with no space to move. Craig, on the couch, rolled onto his side and groaned, clutching his face in his hands. Felt like his face was going to fall off. God, he'd really done it. And he'd liked it, at the time. No no no. This wasn't happening. He half felt like bawling in embarrassment and frustration. He couldn't be this way. He refused to believe it. Digging with shaky hands in his pockets for a cigarette, he lit one and took a long drag, exhaling through his nose and trying to bear with the hangover.
He yawned, and decided (quite wisely) that there'd be no more hanging around that Julian Casablancas guy. Over his dead body. And these thoughts he was getting... what business was it of anyone else? It wasn't like bi-curiousness was rare or anything. He just wished secretly that the confusion wasn't there. Either gay or straight. That would be easier, wouldn't it? Easier than pretending?