Daisyith

Alex turned over in his bed, moving so that his back faced the intruding sunlight so that it could no longer uninvitingly disturb him from his sleep. At the sudden movement, Alex was made aware of the thumping sensation at the sides of his head, the one that moved in time with his heartbeat and made him just want to curl into a ball at the side of the room. It was a familiar pain, one that he had experienced on a daily basis over the last few weeks but despite its regular appearance, the sheer pain it caused him was still unexpected. Accompanying the pounding was a disgusting taste in his mouth, one that left his tongue with a furry texture that stuck to the roof of the mouth. This again was a familiar sensation, one that he knew was the effect of alcohol the previous evening. He peeled his eyes open one by one, wincing at the bright light of the room that he was suddenly met with. He blinked quickly, letting his eyes slowly adjust before he peered at his bedside table, desperately trying to locate the clock through his sleep-hazed vision. With difficulty, Alex made the time out to be 14:30.

He inhaled deeply, trying to will away the headache that was on the verge of becoming a migraine when he was met with the overwhelming scent of bacon rising from the kitchen downstairs. It clung to his nostrils and made the headache turn to nausea. He staggered out of bed, clutching desperately to the wall as he used it as guide to travel down the hallway. He pushed through the bathroom door and fell to his knees before the toilet, just in time to empty his system of the remaining alcohol. Alex drew back from the toilet bowl, closing the lid before resting his sweaty forehead against it, relishing in the coolness of the ceramic. He felt appalling, worried that if he moved even an inch then he would need to open the toilet again. He closed his eyes, experiencing temporary relief as the headache was halted for just a moment.

He was unsure as to how long he had been in that position but a while later, he heard the padding of footsteps that belonged to one of two men. He felt the body kneel down beside his tired one and felt one hand rest gently against the small of his back, rubbing clockwise in a comforting motion. The hand felt small and delicate, one that he knew could only belong to Chris. This was confirmed when the body spoke,

“How’re you feeling Smith?” Chris asked, his voice full of concern.

Alex opened his mouth but found himself unable to speak, his voice hoarse and his throat hurting. Instead, he shook his head in the slightest of movement, not wanting to worsen the pain in his temples.

Chris sighed, looking at the redhead sympathetically. Although he was used to Smith being hungover after a typical night of drinking, it was never to this extent. Over the last three weeks, he had never drunk this much in one evening and so it was understandable that the effects would be worse. He had seen the empty bottles littering the floor, the half-empty whiskey bottle knocked to the floor. And he had been the one to clear up the mess. Chris thrust a clear glass towards Alex, one that he had brought in with him alongside two painkillers,

“Here, this’ll take away the pain.” He then stood up and left the room, leaving Alex to gratefully take the glass of water and tablets. He took a sip of water, swirling it around his mouth before spitting it back out into the toilet. It was slightly better, removing the foul taste of stale alcohol that had more recently combined with a more powerful taste of vomit. He took another sip, this time swallowing before repeating the action but placing one of the small tablets against his tongue. He knew it would take a while for the pain to be relieved but the water alone had made him feel slightly better. He placed the now empty glass on the floor beside him as Chris entered the room again, this time with a damp flannel in hand. Chris sat back down next to the redhead and placed a hand against his paled forehead, sweeping the mess of curls to one side,

“You’re boiling Alex.” Chris murmured, placing the flannel against Alex’s forehead, where his hand had been just moments ago. He watched as Alex’s eyes fluttered closed in relief. Chris knew this was more than a bit of drinking, this was serious problem and he decided he had to do something. But for now, he had to look after his best friend, “Do you think you could stand up?” Alex nodded. With one hand holding the flannel against Alex’s head, the other slid down to clutch against his waist, Chris helped the taller man to stand upright. Together, they stumbled back towards Alex’s bedroom and Chris couldn’t help the feeling of Deja Vu that washed over him, these events following a similar pattern as the ones of the previous night. It took longer than it should have done but with most of Alex’s weight resting on Chris,the smaller man was having difficulty moving along the hallway. Eventually, they made it into his room and Chris helped Alex to lay back on the bed where he covered him with the duvet again. He then moved to the window and closed the curtains, smiling slightly at the visible sign of relief that spread over Alex’s face.

Chris moved to sit on the bed next to Alex, the bed dipping under his weight, “Do you remember what happened last night?” He asked curiously, wondering whether Alex had remembered his confession of love in the early hours of the morning.

“No, did I do something?” He asked, speaking for the first time that morning and Chris could hear the pain and discomfort that Alex was experiencing. He reached over and swept the stray strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes, pushing them back to where they belonged. He looked so peaceful there, his eyes closed but Chris didn’t know whether Alex was truthful in his words last night. Did he actually mean what he said? There was only one to know, he had to tell Alex what had happened,

“A’right mate?” Smith slurred, a grin spreading on his face as he spotted the familiar face of his friend, Chris walking towards him, “How’s my little walrus?”

“How much have you had to drink Alex?” Chris asked, concern filling his voice as he adopted the position of the worrisome mother.

“Only a little…”

“Do you even remember?”

Alex’s eyes widened slightly as he began to recall how many times he’d topped up his glass that evening but somewhere along the line, he found his mind wandering to something completely irrelevant, something about how he thought Chris looked cute with that little worry line on his forehead.

“Well?” Chris demanded, bringing Alex back to reality, his previous thoughts slipping from his mind as he shrugged in answer to Chris’ question. The brunette sighed as he glanced at his watch, reading 4am. Alex was clearly drunk but it wasn’t an unusual sight, it was actually something that had become something of a normal occurrence. For the majority of the last three weeks or so, Chris had awoken in the middle of the night to the sounds of drunken laughter, loud television and the stumbling of the redhead as he finally brought himself to bed. But tonight when Chris had heard all but the last, he began to worry and felt he had to intervene.

“Mate you’ve really got to stop drinking, it’s not good for you to do it every single night.”

“Can’t stop me.”

“I can’t you’re right but I think you might have a problem.” Chris answered, his hand falling to point at the empty whiskey bottle beside Alex and the new one that had just been started. But looking at the stubborn face on the taller man, Chris decided to drop the subject, at least for now.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. Let’s get you to bed Smith.” Chris said, extending his hands in front of him, offering them to Alex who took them, relying on the smaller man to take his weight and with his clumsy movements, he stumbled before standing up. Chris then took one of Alex’s hands, entwining his fingers with his friends as one hand moved to the small of Alex’s back as he guided his drunken friend up the stairs towards his bedroom. It was mostly successful, Alex was just capable of putting one foot in front of the other and together, they made it to Alex’s room. Chris pushed open the door before pushing Alex through. He staggered through the tight doorframe, almost bashing his arm against it before he made his way to his bed, collapsing face down on the soft material, burying his face in the pillow, content and not wanting to move. But Chris didn’t care, with skilled hands  he turned the man over and began to help undressing him, removing his shoes and his jeans, leaving him in only his hoodie and underwear. Chris then pulled the duvet from beneath the redhead before placing it over him, ensuring he was warm.

As this was being done, Alex noticed for the first time that Chris was only wearing a pair of crumpled pyjama trousers, his black rimmed glasses sitting upon his nose and his hair tousled from sleep and his earlier thoughts came flooding back to him, Chris looked cute. And once this thought had entered his mind, he couldn’t make it leave and he knew he had to do something about it. So with one hand, he reached out in search of the body of the other and eventually it came in contact with Chris’ arm which Alex gently pulled, bringing the brunette towards him until he stopped just above Alex with a confused expression on his face.

Alex murmured “Thank you” before leaning from his position to place his lips against Chris’. The brunette’s eyes widened in surprise, unsure of what to do, it was something that had been the subject of his fantasies for as long as he could remember and here he was, Alex’s lips pressed against his but it was nothing like he’d imagined. Alex was sloppy, his lips moving in clumsy movements, his breath smelling strongly of the consumed alcohol and the sudden remembrance that Alex was beyond drunk filled Chris’ mind. He froze, pushing Alex away from him as he asked,

“W-What are you doing?"

“Haven’t you seen the way I look at you Chrissy. I love you.” Alex stated matter-of-factly and Chris was suddenly thankful for the dark room as a warm, embarrassed blush crept over his cheeks. “I can’t stop staring. I can’t stop laughing at your jokes even when they don’t make sense. And I love it when I talk to you or sing to you.

“T-T-That’s not true.” Chris stuttered, knowing fully well that that didn’t sound convincing, not even to him.

“It is. I can’t stop thinking about you Chrissy.”

“Alex you’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know how I feel.”

——-

Alex wanted to forget the way Chris’ laugh sounded, the way it resonated around the room in an angelic tone. He wanted to remove the sound from his memory, stop it from playing over and over and over again. There was one memory in particular he wanted gone:

He wanted to forget when in the spur of the moment, he began humming the tune to his favourite song, hoping he would get one of Chris’ smiles in return. Although he was singing the song with a smirk on his face and a tease in his voice, Alex was meaning each word that passed through his lips. He was imaging how it would feel with Chris between his arms, how it really would feel like heaven. It was stupid, meant as just a joke but Alex couldn’t help the meaning behind the song, the feeling of warmth that spread over his chest.

“Baby, you’re all that I want

When you’re lyin’ here in my arms

I’m findin’ it hard to believe

We’re in heaven

And love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart

It isn’t too hard to see

We’re in heaven”

As he came to the end of the chorus, he could see the way Chris’ lips turned up at the corners, a laugh escaping from his lips as he said,

“We’re gonna bang tonight.”

A red, warm feeling spread over Alex’s cheeks in embarrassment as he spluttered in surprise at Chris’ words. He wondered whether he had heard the brunette correctly before realising it wouldn’t matter, it was only a joke, a laugh for the fans. It would never be a reality. He forced  smile on his own face and let out a shaky laugh, “Name the time and place, Trotty2Hotty…”

Alex took a sip straight from the bottle, smiling as the memory was cast aside, even just for a moment.

————

Alex wanted to forget the way Chris hugged when he was happy. The way he would step forwards, having to stand on his tiptoes before he could sling his arms around Alex’s neck. The way Alex’s rough skin was a nice contrast to the smoothness of Chris’ when his hands instinctively splayed across the strip of bare skin on Chris’ hips where his t-shirt had ridden up.  The way Chris would bury his head slightly into Alex’s neck and collarbone, resting it there as his eyes fluttered shut. His eyes traced Chris’ features, internalising each freckle that splattered his cheek, each curve of his rounded face, each eyelash that fluttered gently against his cheekbone. But most of all Alex wanted to forget the scent of ginger and lemon that filled his nostrils as he couldn’t help but smell the top of the brunette’s hair, smelling the same scent that came from the shampoo bottle, the one that had been ingrained in his memory. Another swig of alcohol, his emotions dulled a little more.

__________

Alex wanted to forget Chris’ plump lips and the way they moved in a delicate fashion. He had spent many an hour dreaming about what they would feel like pressed against his own, moving in perfect unison. He had often dreamt about what they would feel like pressed elsewhere, nipping at his neck or gently against his ear, sometimes even surrounding an area much lower. He imagined what they would taste like, whether there would be a hint of coffee or chocolate if he was to run his tongue across them. He loved the way they moved when he spoke, often Alex would find himself zoning out in their conversations, not because he wasn’t interested in what Chris had to say but rather his eyes were drawn to Chris’ lips. For Alex, the best time was when they spoke one word “Alex.”. When Chris called him by his first name, Alex would always feel a flutter in his heart and excitement in his chest like a teenager in love.

It felt silly to go through such preparation to walk just to the local shop about 15 minutes away but it was his mother’s influence that made him go to such efforts. He could still hear her voice from when he was a child: Dress up warm Chris or you’ll catch a cold. Although he wasn’t worried about catching a cold anymore, he felt guilty if he didn’t obey his mother’s childhood instructions. And so whenever winter fell across the country, out came his warmest clothes.

As Chris was walking along, he noticed the small speckles of white that fell in front of his vision: snow! It was snowing! The flakes fell quickly, each one landing against any section of ground that was nearby. By the time Chris had nearly reached the shops, there was a thin layer of snow already formed. He couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer beauty of the sight before him, vibrant white snow covering everything, each section untouched. Every step he took was marked by the imprint created by his shoes against the thin smattering of snow. He looked upwards, watching as the snow continued to fall.

With diverted attention, Chris felt the sole of his shoe skim across the top of the ice covering the pavement, catching him off guard as he was thrown backwards in comedic style. He reached his arm behind him, desperately trying to lessen his fall against the cold and hard tarmac of the pavement. But it was unsuccessful. As his outstretched arm made contact with the path, a sickening CRUNCH sounded and a searing pain ran from fingertip to shoulder. It was after that that the rest of his body followed, collapsing into a pile of sore limbs against the pavement that he had just seconds ago been walking happily along. The whole incident was over very quickly and left Chris feeling dazed. One moment he had been looking at the snow falling from the sky, the next he was in agonizing pain with his back flat against the pavement, unsure of quite how it had all happened.

Chris tried to move his left arm slightly but was met with such intense pain that left him wanting to double in on himself into a fetal position. He knew instantly that something was not right, that his arm should not be in such pain. Perhaps it’s broken? He pondered to himself as he used his other hand to seek out his phone, hoping it had not been crushed in his fall. His fingers grazed over his coat pockets but they were both empty. Had he even remembered to pick it up this morning? Or was it left beside his bed where it had been left last night? He moved down onto the pockets of his jeans and was thankfully met with the familiar rectangular shape of his mobile phone. He delved into the pocket and extracted his phone, unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts until he found the one he was looking for: Alex Smith. He dialled and waited.

“Everything alright love?” The familiar tone of his boyfriend’s voice instantly relaxed him and soothed the pain that pulsed through his body. There was mild concern and surprise in Alex’s voice at being rung during the middle of the day when he was at work.

“N-No… “ Chris stammered, “I fell over Alex…”

There was a slight pause from Alex, silence filling the telephone line before he answered, “Are you alright Chris? Are you hurt?”

“T-Think I’ve broken my arm Smith, it hurts so much…”

“Where are you Chris? I’ll come and get you, don’t worry.”

Chris gave Alex the information of where he was currently sprawled across the pavement and wriggled slightly to get as comfortable as he could considering where he was. He lay his head flat against the floor and admitted defeat. He wasn’t going to get out of here quickly, he couldn’t move without the help of someone else and now it was just a waiting game…

Chris wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Alex showed up. He could feel the cold begin to seep in through the padding of his coat and through the wool of his accessories. Through his pained haze he could make out the familiar red messy hair that he knew belonged to his boyfriend who was striding towards him. Alex crouched down beside Chris and using his gloved fingers, gently brushed away the messy strands of hair out of Chris’ eyes,

“Oh love…” He whispered softly, “I’m going to have to call an ambulance…” He turned, pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled the emergency services, talking softly across the line. When finished, he removed his own thick padded coat and slipped off the burgundy hoodie beneath before returning the coat to it’s original position. Alex folded it into some resemblance of a pillow and gently lifted Chris’ head, slipping the material beneath,

“They won’t be long Chris, it’s going to be alright.” He took one of his hands and slid the glove away from his fingers before placing his fingers against the cool skin of Chris’ cheek. His boyfriend nodded, his eyes resting closed as he desperately sought relief from the pain radiating in his arm.