hb12
Often Go Awry (Pt. 12)
Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine. How many times can I say that?
Dakin looked up at Posner. “Don’t ask me that,” he said, his voice burgeoning on something like a plea.
“Why, Dakin?” Posner pulled his boxers on underneath the duvet and got up. He sat, cross-legged, across from the dark-haired boy. “You are either in love, or you are not,” he said, firmly, almost cruelly. “You either love him, or you don’t.”
Scripps watched in fascination as Dakin grew more and more distressed, as Posner simply sat on the floor like a marble statue with kind eyes.
“Which is it?” Posner asked.
“Posner, you don’t…you don’t understand…”
“What? Being in love? Being homosexual? I happened to discover I was homosexual because I fell in love with a friend the very year I was preparing for the Oxbridge exams.”
Scripps bit the inside of his cheek. He hated to think of Posner having been in love with Dakin, hated it. No matter how many times they made love, no matter how much they loved each other now, the fact would always remain that Posner had loved Dakin first.
“Pos,” Scripps was brought sharply back to reality by the sound of Dakin’s voice.
“Pos,” the boy said again, “You don’t understand because…I…I’m not supposed to be homosexual.”
The corner of Posner’s lip twitched. “That,” he said, “Is possibly the biggest load of bollucks I’ve ever heard. For one thing,” Posner rose and walked over to his window, “We are all meant to be something, even if it isn’t what we initially expected. For another,” he turned to Dakin with a smug grin, “You are awfully obsessed with your hair for a ‘straight’ boy.”
But Dakin didn’t laugh, or get angry, or react in any typically ‘Dakin’ way. He simply withdrew into himself, holding his knees against him and staring at the floor.
“Do you want me to take you back to your room?” Scripps stood up and offered a hand to help Dakin up. Dakin looked at him.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” He looked at Posner and Scripps nervously, “Can I…I was meant to be in Sheffield tonight.” Dakin laughed, bitterly. “Germany lost even after conquering Poland.”
“What are you talking about?” Scripps was surprised t himself, at how cold he was being. But something in him was tired, sick and tired of Dakin and his trials.
“You can stay, Dakin,” Posner’s voice cut through his thoughts and Scripps turned to him, widening his eyes.
“He can?”
“Yes, Don.” Posner rummaged under his bed and pulled out yet another bottle of red wine. “If nothing else, he needs a drink.”
Dakin got up abruptly and walked over to Posner. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, Pos.”
“Um, excuse me?” Scripps crossed his arms and felt his blood rushing to his cheeks. “Would you mind getting your fucking hands off my boyfriend?”
“Don!” Posner pulled away from Dakin and stared at Scripps. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? Me? What the hell is wrong with you? Prancing around in your underwear - “
“You’re not exactly clothed yourself, Scripps,” Dakin pointed out.
“That’s different!”
“Why?” Posner asked, perplexed.
“Because I’m not the one who used to be in love with Dakin!”
Posner looked at the ground, “And what,” he said quietly, “Has that anything do with what’s happening now?”
“Because I know you’d rather be with him than with me!” Scripps burst out, dropping down onto the bed and turning his face away from the other two boys. “Because he fancies you.”
Posner and Dakin were shocked.
“Um, well Scripps,” Dakin accepted a glass of wine from Posner, “To clear one thing up, I really don’t fancy Posner - No offense, Pos.”
“None taken.” Posner sipped his wine.
“But he fancies you,” Scripps said to Dakin, bitterly.
“Pardon me, but ‘he’ is right here and ‘he’ doesn’t fancy anyone but you!” Posner sat o the bed and rested his chin on Scripps’ shoulder. “Scrippsy, what brought this on?” He placed a soft kiss on the side of Scripps’ face. “Love, what made you feel this way?”
Scripps started at hearing Posner call him ‘love’. For a moment he forgot Dakin was there and kissed Posner’s pink lips. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just love you so much, and I don’t have nay experience with being with someone and…” he hesitated, “I saw in school how obsessed you were with Dakin, and how you pined over him, and you never seemed to be like that with me, and I thought it was because…you loved him more.”
Posner smiled and kissed Scripps’ forehead. “No, I’m not upset over you like I was over Dakin at school because of one big difference.” He looked into Scripps’ eyes. “You love me back. You make me happy, not miserable.”
Scripps kissed Posner passionately. “You make me so happy,” he breathed into the other boy’s lips.
They were interrupted by a loud sniff. Dakin’s eyes were red and he was rubbing them furiously. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “Not used to the wine I suppose.”
Scripps stood up and strode over to Dakin, hugging the boy himself. “I’m sorry, Dakin,” he squeezed his friend tighter. “I know you need help with all of this.” He pulled away. “Want my advice?”
Dakin nodded.
“Leave it ‘till tomorrow. If you can’t make it through the day without calling him, you probably love him, and you should fight for him as hard as you can.” Scripps walked back to Posner and grabbed his hand.
Dakin bit his thumbnail. “I’m terrified,” he admitted.
“Of what will happen?” Asked Posner.
Dakin shook his head. “Because I think I’m going to call him.”
Posner got up and filled Dakin’s glass until it was almost over-flowing.
Dakin made it until four o’ clock the next day. He waited anxiously as the telephone rang and rang and continued to ring and why the hell wasn’t Irwin picking up -
“Hello, you’ve reached Tom Irwin. I’m not available at the moment, but leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”
“Fuck!” Dakin waited for the beep then spoke frantically. “Tom! Tom are you there? Tom, please call me back, okay? I’m…” he sighed, “I’m really sorry.” He put the phone down.
Several days passed and Irwin didn’t call. Dakin took to hanging around Poser and Scripps so often that even Posner was becoming irritated by his constant presence, and had at one point turned and snapped at him, “When I said you’d have to fight, I didn’t mean call him once then give up.”
But what Dakin did not tell Posner was that he had not called once. He had left Irwin a message once a day since the day he had first called. He had even considered taking the train back to Sheffield but he didn’t, because he wasn’t sure if he could take Irwin’s rejection in person.
Dakin had all but sunk into despair the day he saw Scripps emerging from the chapel, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Scripps!” He ran after the other boy. “Scripps!”
Scripps turned around and smiled. “Hello.”
“You still pray?” Dakin blurted out. “You still pray even though you’re queer?”
“Lovely, Dakin,” Scripps said, sarcastically, “And yes, of course I still pray. God hasn’t stopped listening to me because I’ve fallen in love.”
Dakin stared at Scripps, unable to understand how he could be so at ease. “How do you know if you’re in love?” he asked.
Scripps smiled. “I’ll give you a clue.” He leant over and whispered in Dakin’s ear. “You’re in love, Stuart Dakin.”
Dakin stood on the same spot for several minutes, unable to talk. He stared bewilderedly as Scripps said goodbye and walked away from him. He turned around and looked at the chapel Scripps had come from. Right next to it was a phone box. He ran towards it in a sort of frenzy. He got inside and dialed Irwin’s number. It rang for several seconds until finally, finally Irwin picked up the phone.
“Tom - “
“Stop calling, Dakin,” Irwin said quietly. “Stop calling me.”
The phone clicked and disconnected. Dakin let out a guttural cry of frustration and dropped in more money. Then he dialed again.
“Stuart - “
“I love you,” Dakin said it as quickly as possible. “Just thought you ought to know.” He hung up the phone.
I’ve said it, he thought, unable to shake his feelings of fear and uncertainty. I’ve actually said it. And meant it. He shook his head and went back to his room, shivering, even though he spent most of the journey inside. He sat on his bed and stared at the clock. It was five ‘o clock. Irwin would have only been home from school for about an hour. He would be tired, and frustrated, and would be missing his days at Oxford (where he only did a teaching certificate). He was obsessive, and a neat freak and poncey, and stuffy, and Dakin could not stop thinking about him.
Dakin rolled over onto his side and stared at the cracks in the wall. He was tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well over the past week. He felt his eyelids drooping and was glad of it when he finally drifted off.
He was awoken by a sharp knock on his door. He rolled out of bed and looked blearily at his clock. Forty minutes to nine. Posner and Scripps had probably brought over something to drink. He pulled himself up and opened the door,
Irwin was standing there, with a pained expression on his face and tension in his shoulders.
“Is it true?” he asked. “What you said on the phone?” He edges his way into Dakin’s room. “Is it true?”
Dumbly, Dakin nodded, and nearly cried with relief when Irwin captured his lips in his and wrapped his arms around him.
“I love you,” Irwin muttered into his mouth, “I love you, I love you.” He pulled away from Dakin’s lips and held him hard against his chest, burying his nose in his hair.
Dakin was crying. To his utter humiliation he was getting snot and tears all over Irwin’s clothes. Irwin pulled away and studied Dakin’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate myself,” said Dakin. “I hate myself and I wish I didn’t love you!”
Irwin looked as if his heart might break. “Well, I’m glad you do. And I’ll help you, okay? Being homosexual doesn’t change who you are. You’re still that infuriating little bastard that thinks everybody wants him.”
Dakin choked and laughed.
“And I love you,” Irwin continued. Dakin pulled him down onto his bed and closed his eyes. Allowing the other man to hold him while he drifted back into sleep, loving the warmth that lay next to him.
Disclaimer: Nothing here is mine. How many times can I say that?
Dakin looked up at Posner. “Don’t ask me that,” he said, his voice burgeoning on something like a plea.
“Why, Dakin?” Posner pulled his boxers on underneath the duvet and got up. He sat, cross-legged, across from the dark-haired boy. “You are either in love, or you are not,” he said, firmly, almost cruelly. “You either love him, or you don’t.”
Scripps watched in fascination as Dakin grew more and more distressed, as Posner simply sat on the floor like a marble statue with kind eyes.
“Which is it?” Posner asked.
“Posner, you don’t…you don’t understand…”
“What? Being in love? Being homosexual? I happened to discover I was homosexual because I fell in love with a friend the very year I was preparing for the Oxbridge exams.”
Scripps bit the inside of his cheek. He hated to think of Posner having been in love with Dakin, hated it. No matter how many times they made love, no matter how much they loved each other now, the fact would always remain that Posner had loved Dakin first.
“Pos,” Scripps was brought sharply back to reality by the sound of Dakin’s voice.
“Pos,” the boy said again, “You don’t understand because…I…I’m not supposed to be homosexual.”
The corner of Posner’s lip twitched. “That,” he said, “Is possibly the biggest load of bollucks I’ve ever heard. For one thing,” Posner rose and walked over to his window, “We are all meant to be something, even if it isn’t what we initially expected. For another,” he turned to Dakin with a smug grin, “You are awfully obsessed with your hair for a ‘straight’ boy.”
But Dakin didn’t laugh, or get angry, or react in any typically ‘Dakin’ way. He simply withdrew into himself, holding his knees against him and staring at the floor.
“Do you want me to take you back to your room?” Scripps stood up and offered a hand to help Dakin up. Dakin looked at him.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” He looked at Posner and Scripps nervously, “Can I…I was meant to be in Sheffield tonight.” Dakin laughed, bitterly. “Germany lost even after conquering Poland.”
“What are you talking about?” Scripps was surprised t himself, at how cold he was being. But something in him was tired, sick and tired of Dakin and his trials.
“You can stay, Dakin,” Posner’s voice cut through his thoughts and Scripps turned to him, widening his eyes.
“He can?”
“Yes, Don.” Posner rummaged under his bed and pulled out yet another bottle of red wine. “If nothing else, he needs a drink.”
Dakin got up abruptly and walked over to Posner. He grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, Pos.”
“Um, excuse me?” Scripps crossed his arms and felt his blood rushing to his cheeks. “Would you mind getting your fucking hands off my boyfriend?”
“Don!” Posner pulled away from Dakin and stared at Scripps. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? Me? What the hell is wrong with you? Prancing around in your underwear - “
“You’re not exactly clothed yourself, Scripps,” Dakin pointed out.
“That’s different!”
“Why?” Posner asked, perplexed.
“Because I’m not the one who used to be in love with Dakin!”
Posner looked at the ground, “And what,” he said quietly, “Has that anything do with what’s happening now?”
“Because I know you’d rather be with him than with me!” Scripps burst out, dropping down onto the bed and turning his face away from the other two boys. “Because he fancies you.”
Posner and Dakin were shocked.
“Um, well Scripps,” Dakin accepted a glass of wine from Posner, “To clear one thing up, I really don’t fancy Posner - No offense, Pos.”
“None taken.” Posner sipped his wine.
“But he fancies you,” Scripps said to Dakin, bitterly.
“Pardon me, but ‘he’ is right here and ‘he’ doesn’t fancy anyone but you!” Posner sat o the bed and rested his chin on Scripps’ shoulder. “Scrippsy, what brought this on?” He placed a soft kiss on the side of Scripps’ face. “Love, what made you feel this way?”
Scripps started at hearing Posner call him ‘love’. For a moment he forgot Dakin was there and kissed Posner’s pink lips. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just love you so much, and I don’t have nay experience with being with someone and…” he hesitated, “I saw in school how obsessed you were with Dakin, and how you pined over him, and you never seemed to be like that with me, and I thought it was because…you loved him more.”
Posner smiled and kissed Scripps’ forehead. “No, I’m not upset over you like I was over Dakin at school because of one big difference.” He looked into Scripps’ eyes. “You love me back. You make me happy, not miserable.”
Scripps kissed Posner passionately. “You make me so happy,” he breathed into the other boy’s lips.
They were interrupted by a loud sniff. Dakin’s eyes were red and he was rubbing them furiously. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “Not used to the wine I suppose.”
Scripps stood up and strode over to Dakin, hugging the boy himself. “I’m sorry, Dakin,” he squeezed his friend tighter. “I know you need help with all of this.” He pulled away. “Want my advice?”
Dakin nodded.
“Leave it ‘till tomorrow. If you can’t make it through the day without calling him, you probably love him, and you should fight for him as hard as you can.” Scripps walked back to Posner and grabbed his hand.
Dakin bit his thumbnail. “I’m terrified,” he admitted.
“Of what will happen?” Asked Posner.
Dakin shook his head. “Because I think I’m going to call him.”
Posner got up and filled Dakin’s glass until it was almost over-flowing.
Dakin made it until four o’ clock the next day. He waited anxiously as the telephone rang and rang and continued to ring and why the hell wasn’t Irwin picking up -
“Hello, you’ve reached Tom Irwin. I’m not available at the moment, but leave me a message and I’ll call you back.”
“Fuck!” Dakin waited for the beep then spoke frantically. “Tom! Tom are you there? Tom, please call me back, okay? I’m…” he sighed, “I’m really sorry.” He put the phone down.
Several days passed and Irwin didn’t call. Dakin took to hanging around Poser and Scripps so often that even Posner was becoming irritated by his constant presence, and had at one point turned and snapped at him, “When I said you’d have to fight, I didn’t mean call him once then give up.”
But what Dakin did not tell Posner was that he had not called once. He had left Irwin a message once a day since the day he had first called. He had even considered taking the train back to Sheffield but he didn’t, because he wasn’t sure if he could take Irwin’s rejection in person.
Dakin had all but sunk into despair the day he saw Scripps emerging from the chapel, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Scripps!” He ran after the other boy. “Scripps!”
Scripps turned around and smiled. “Hello.”
“You still pray?” Dakin blurted out. “You still pray even though you’re queer?”
“Lovely, Dakin,” Scripps said, sarcastically, “And yes, of course I still pray. God hasn’t stopped listening to me because I’ve fallen in love.”
Dakin stared at Scripps, unable to understand how he could be so at ease. “How do you know if you’re in love?” he asked.
Scripps smiled. “I’ll give you a clue.” He leant over and whispered in Dakin’s ear. “You’re in love, Stuart Dakin.”
Dakin stood on the same spot for several minutes, unable to talk. He stared bewilderedly as Scripps said goodbye and walked away from him. He turned around and looked at the chapel Scripps had come from. Right next to it was a phone box. He ran towards it in a sort of frenzy. He got inside and dialed Irwin’s number. It rang for several seconds until finally, finally Irwin picked up the phone.
“Tom - “
“Stop calling, Dakin,” Irwin said quietly. “Stop calling me.”
The phone clicked and disconnected. Dakin let out a guttural cry of frustration and dropped in more money. Then he dialed again.
“Stuart - “
“I love you,” Dakin said it as quickly as possible. “Just thought you ought to know.” He hung up the phone.
I’ve said it, he thought, unable to shake his feelings of fear and uncertainty. I’ve actually said it. And meant it. He shook his head and went back to his room, shivering, even though he spent most of the journey inside. He sat on his bed and stared at the clock. It was five ‘o clock. Irwin would have only been home from school for about an hour. He would be tired, and frustrated, and would be missing his days at Oxford (where he only did a teaching certificate). He was obsessive, and a neat freak and poncey, and stuffy, and Dakin could not stop thinking about him.
Dakin rolled over onto his side and stared at the cracks in the wall. He was tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well over the past week. He felt his eyelids drooping and was glad of it when he finally drifted off.
He was awoken by a sharp knock on his door. He rolled out of bed and looked blearily at his clock. Forty minutes to nine. Posner and Scripps had probably brought over something to drink. He pulled himself up and opened the door,
Irwin was standing there, with a pained expression on his face and tension in his shoulders.
“Is it true?” he asked. “What you said on the phone?” He edges his way into Dakin’s room. “Is it true?”
Dumbly, Dakin nodded, and nearly cried with relief when Irwin captured his lips in his and wrapped his arms around him.
“I love you,” Irwin muttered into his mouth, “I love you, I love you.” He pulled away from Dakin’s lips and held him hard against his chest, burying his nose in his hair.
Dakin was crying. To his utter humiliation he was getting snot and tears all over Irwin’s clothes. Irwin pulled away and studied Dakin’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate myself,” said Dakin. “I hate myself and I wish I didn’t love you!”
Irwin looked as if his heart might break. “Well, I’m glad you do. And I’ll help you, okay? Being homosexual doesn’t change who you are. You’re still that infuriating little bastard that thinks everybody wants him.”
Dakin choked and laughed.
“And I love you,” Irwin continued. Dakin pulled him down onto his bed and closed his eyes. Allowing the other man to hold him while he drifted back into sleep, loving the warmth that lay next to him.