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Gordie Lachance hated writing.
No, that was a lie. That was a complete and total lie; he hated his own writing. He spent hours upon hours typing word after word into his brother’s old typewriter, spilling his heart out onto cheap paper. He wrote and wrote and wrote- the typical works of a fifteen year old boy; sci-fi and fantasy, the occasional comedic piece. But in the coverage of night, he would write wildly romantic poetry, ballads he could barely comprehend himself. Afterward, he’d stuff the papers- folded over four or five times- into an old binder, and bury that in the chest under his bed. He was ashamed by those stories- they were complete and total shit, but that wasn’t even the half of it.
Gordie Lachance was a hopeless romantic.
God, he’d never say it out loud, but he was. And he was determined to make sure no one ever found that out. Especially not Chris Chambers. For unrelated reasons. Gordie would never write poetry about his best friend- that was just absurd . Blasphemous. Crazy.
Okay, so maybe Gordie had written a few poems about Chris. But that didn’t mean anything. What would it mean, anyway? It wasn’t like he was writing about a girl. It didn’t mean shit.
Gordie just prayed Chris never found the binder.
Chris was collapsed on Gordie’s bed right now, about three feet above said binder, doing revisions on his algebra homework. Gordie was at his desk trying to write part of his current short story, one set in space. He had writer’s block. He hated writer’s block.
His gaze drifted back to Chris, who had been distracted by the view outside Gordie’s window. His algebra was forgotten. He stared with half-glazed-over eyes out across Gordie’s dad’s well-kept lawn.
His head was tipped to the side, his strong jawline punctuating his pale expanse of throat. There were a few freckles scattered here and there, but it was otherwise unmarked. Gordie felt a pull in his gut- hot, itching, familiar. He wanted- he wanted to press his mouth to Chris’s throat, he realized, he wanted to bruise him. Gordie felt his face flush and he redirected his attention to his desk. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It’s just Chris. It’s just Chris.
“Hey, Gordie?” Chris said, not taking his eyes off the lawn. Gordie didn’t understand what was so fucking interesting about his lawn? His dad kind of slaved over it, but it looked like every other nice lawn ever.
“Yep?” Gordie didn’t look at him, instead just gnawed at his right thumbnail while staring down at his typewriter. Had he noticed Gordie staring?
“When are you gonna read me what you’re writing?”
Gordie let out a sigh of relief. “When I’m done, asshole.”
“You know I’d read it unfinished,” Chris’s eyes were half-begging. “I wouldn’t mind. I love everything you write.”
Gordie rolled his eyes. That makes one of us, he thought, a warm flush seeping into his cheeks. His stomach did an annoying little flip and he had to dig his fingernails into his palms and feel that little spark of pain to drag him back to reality. “I know. But you’re waiting- this one’s a short story. About martians. It’s almost done.”
Chris sighed dramatically and flopped backwards on the bed. “Fine.” There was a moment of silence, nothing but the echoing of Gordie’s typewriter echoing throughout the room. “Do you think Audrey Hepburn’s hot?” Chris asked in a suddenly distant voice.
Gordie felt his eyebrows raise, turning away from his desk. Chris rarely talked about girls. “The model?”
“Yeah.” Chris muttered, not making eye contact.
“Sure, I guess.” Gordie didn’t really find any girls hot. A late bloomer or whatever.
What he felt for Chris was different.
“Doesn’t Michelle from History look like her?” Chris’s voice was still low, unsure. “I think she’s real pretty.”
Gordie shrugged, a hot feeling piercing his chest uncomfortably. “I guess.” He said again.
“She asked me to go steady with her,” Chris said quickly, looking up at Gordie quickly and then back down.
Oh. The hot feeling got worse, and Gordie felt the urge to beg Chris not to go. But he just muttered a “Really? That’s awesome, Chris.”
Of course he was gonna get a girlfriend sometime soon, Chris was an attractive guy. Practically perfect boyfriend material. What was Gordie even thinking?
Chris nodded, still not looking up. “Yeah. We’re going out tomorrow, the movies. But there’s… uh. A problem.” Gordie looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know how to kiss,” Chris said meekly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Oh. Gordie felt his own face heat up. Chris continued. “And I know you’ve had your first one- Julia Carlton and all, so I was wondering if you could… Give me tips.”
Here’s the thing. Gordie had kissed Julia during a stupid game of spin the bottle- and lied to his friends, who hadn’t been there, about it being a whole makeout session instead of a swift peck. Gordie and Chris didn’t talk about girls, but their friends certainly did, and Gordie knew that if he didn’t begin to ‘show interest’ in the female population, they’d grow suspicious. He’d get called a queer or something, and Gordie Lachance wasn’t a queer.
What he felt for Chris was different. The poems were different.
“Give you tips?” Gordie breathed, heart beating out of his chest. “Like, describe how to… kiss someone?” Keep your cool, keep your goddamn cool, Gordie.
“Yeah.”
“You can’t…” The blush creeping up Gordie’s cheeks was miserable. “I can’t explain it. I’d have to show you if you wanted practice or whatever.” He didn’t mean it as an offer, but Chris took it as one.
“Can you show me?”
Gordie’s head shot up, eyes widening. His chest was burning. Yeah, he wanted to kiss Chris. He wanted to kiss Chris a whole lot. He knew that much, but he wasn’t a queer. And he didn’t want Chris to think that either. “Like, kiss you?”
“How else would you show me?” Chris shrugged.
“You’re not worried about it being… queer or whatever?”
Chris pursed his lips. “Nah.” That’s all he said. Nothing else.
Gordie’s parents weren’t home, thank god, but he got up and locked the door anyway before turning back to Chris. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Chris asked, looking nervous again.
“Okay.” Gordie sat down beside him, the familiar material of his maroon quilt proving to be a small comfort. “Okay. Well.” He reached out and put a hand on the back of Chris’s neck. “Touch her like this, maybe, before leaning in. A small touch that… lets her know you’re going in, or whatever.” Gordie was just spewing bullshit.
Chris reached out and put a hand on Gordie’s waist. “Like this, maybe?”
Gordie nodded. “Then, once you feel that electricity, you move in. Slowly.” He drifted closer to Chris, pressing their foreheads together.
“Electricity?” Chris breathed.
“Like a buzz in your stomach.” Gordie whispered. “A thrill down your spine- it feels good. Better than good, even. Like nothing else.”
“You have such a way with words,” Chris chuckled.
“Shut up,” Gordie muttered. “You’re ruining the moment.” The ‘electricity’ he’d been describing crackled and popped in Gordie’s stomach and temples and chest. “Anyways, you’ll know when you feel it.” He swallowed. “Then you just move in. Kiss her once, all nice and slow, before doing anything serious,” He added. He was just thinking about what he’d seen in the movies. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.
Chris looked at him with this soft, dappled look, and nodded.
Gordie moved forward slowly, pressing his lips against Chris’s tentatively and oh. This was nice. Really nice. He loved a hand to the back of Chris’s head, entwining his fingers with his friend’s hair and moving his lips slowly as Chris pushed closer, kissing him back. And shit it was better when he was being kissed back.
I want your lips on mine
Flush and undeniable and real
That’s a funny thing to wish for
Gordie never wanted this to stop. He was desperate for Chris’s lips and skin and hands, touch starved worse than he had words for. But he had to go slow.
He pulled away, breath embarrassingly heavy. Chris’s pupils were blown sort of wide, his own breaths coming out in quick bursts. “Wow.” He muttered. “That was- wow.”
Gordie bit his lip and nodded. He had to remind himself that he was teaching a kissing lesson for Christ’s sake, and he couldn’t get wound up in childish fantasies . Whatever he felt for Chris? It wasn’t reciprocated. It never would be.
“You said… you said after? About doing something more?” Chris asked quietly. They were so close.
“Yeah, well, you’re not just gonna do that the entire time, are you?” Gordie chuckled uncomfortably. “Um. Do you want…?”
“Yes.” Chris breathed, before snapping out of whatever trance he was stuck in. “Sure, I mean, yeah. Please.”
Gordie took Chris’s face in his hands and slammed their lips back together. Chris inhaled sharply. This time, the kiss was messy, desperate. Chris’s hands made their way into Gordie’s hair, tangling there, pulling a little, and oh, oh, oh- that was good. Gordie made a noise in the back of his throat and felt his face heat up, and Chris was pulling away and no that was too soon.
“Sorry,” Chris muttered, “Did that hurt?”
And oh, he was talking about pulling Gordie’s hair. Gordie shook his head furiously, muttering soft no and pressing their lips back together. Chris’s hands clutched at his waist now, and Gordie wanted them back in his hair but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He probably already seemed desperate.
He was desperate.
I want to kiss you more than I want to write all day
Stuck in my own world, nothing but deep blue ink to talk to
Gordie realized that their mouths weren’t doing much of anything interesting, so he ran his tongue experimentally against Chris’s bottom lip, and Chris inhaled sharply, his nails cutting into Gordie’s waist. Chris slipped his own tongue against Gordie’s lips and oh, that was really nice.
He couldn’t believe he was the one ‘showing’ Chris how to kiss, when this was just as new to him as it was to the blond.
And then Chris was pressing him up against the headboard of his old double bed, kissing him harder, and his tongue was suddenly everywhere, and his hands were back in Gordie’s hair and Gordie felt dizzy and cloudy and so good, so he just buried his hands in Chris’s white t-shirt and let himself be kissed stupid.
I want you to hold me more than I want the new Rolls-Royce that Jacob has
Glimmering a sultry red in the sunlight
Akin to the girls on Playboy covers
It was the kind of kiss where if you asked Gordie, right in that moment, what his name was, he wouldn’t be able to reply.
It was clear how touch starved they both were. It was clear how denied they were of affection. Even with all the contact, Gordie wanted more. Hands slipped up shirts, lips became uncoordinated and nastily messy. The only word that repeated in Gordie’s head was Chris, Chris, Chris.
“Chris.” He breathed into his friend's mouth, and then came the sudden realization. Chris was Gordie’s friend. Nothing more, and the stacks of crumpled poems beneath the bed didn’t mean bullshit. He immediately drew away, hot shame flushing through him. Chris just stared at him, lips kissed pink, breath coming out in quick bursts. Gordie felt stripped down in front of him.
I want all your attention on me
Just look at me.
Really look at me.
“I’m sorry,” Gordie muttered, bringing a hand to rest against his cheek, digging his nails into the soft, firm skin. “I went too far, I-”
Chris reached forward and caught his wrist. He was still looking at Gordie, soft and sweet and so Chris. “Don’t apologize. I liked it.” His voice was almost wistful, cheeks flushed. “Felt good.”
He liked it. Gordie’s breath caught and he felt his eyebrows knit together, but he just swallowed thickly. Don’t be an idiot and ruin things. Chris is just being nice, like he always is. “Cool. Now you know how to kiss.” he shook his head. “I won’t bring it up again.” He watched the way Chris’s face fell. “But we’re cool.”
Chris looked down, eyes finally leaving Gordie’s face. “We’re cool. Alright, Gordie.”
See me.
Please.
Chris went back to his algebra, and the silence was filled with nothing but the subtle scratch of his pencil. Gordie stared down at his typewriter again. The room felt stuffy and almost suffocating, tension obvious. Why did it feel like this? They were supposed to be cool, right? Not weird. Not weird.
Gordie should just go back to his stupid writings and forget that this ever happened, but how could he forget the feeling of Chris’s lips on his, his body pressed to him in a way no one else’s had ever been? How could he forget? Gordie shook his head and swallowed again. If he didn’t start typing now, Chris might get suspicious.
Gordie stood straight up and turned around, surprised to see Chris standing at the same time. Gordie felt that electricity again. He drew in a sharp breath as he and Chris stared at each other. “Chris, I-”
But Chris interrupted him by surging forward and wrapping Gordie in a tight hug. His fit arms clung to Gordie’s thin frame, squeezing tight and strong before pulling away, a distant look of regret on his face. “Sorry.” He muttered, sitting back down.
“It’s okay.” Gordie sat back down at his chair, turning to the typewriter, head clouded. He couldn't think straight. He was so s tupid. Such a dumbass. He was-
He was standing again to face Chris, and surging forward to meet his lips in a kiss. And Chris had his hands in Gordie’s hair and was kissing him back, and it felt like something out of a novel, felt like something out of a poem, but in reality they were just two fucked up boys kissing in the middle of a messy room.
Gordie broke away and immediately pulled Chris into him once again. Tears were forming swiftly in his tear ducts, and he buried his face in Chris’s chest to keep from sobbing. God he was so stupid.
“There was no girl,” Chris whispered as he rocked Gordie back and forth. “Just you. I just wanted you.” His tone was so sure and strong.
It was all Gordie had ever wanted to hear, so he let himself fall into another kiss. “I want you so bad, Chris.” He muttered into his lips. “I’d never thought I’d have you.” He felt a fresh wave of tears coming on. “This is fucked up, you know,” he muttered. "Us."
“I don’t care.” Chris said, and again, he sounded so sure that Gordie believed him.
“Maybe I don’t either,” Gordie said, hope rising in his chest. “Yeah. maybe I don’t.”
This was so much better than poetry.