"Christopher!" Alan raised his voice over din of the chattering boys in the cafeteria. His best friend turned around and walked towards him with an apologetic smile."Alan! Morning, sorry I didn't catch you after Chemistry; Professor Boyle wanted to speak to me afterwards, and then I had to rush for lacrosse, you know how Mr. Till gets in a right fuss if we aren't on time." "It's alright," Alan replied, although he had clearly remembered the sinking disappointment when Christopher was not waiting for him as he usually would. "Hey, would you like to sit with us then? Just Blake and Finch, plus the boys" Christopher offered. Alan could feel his heart sinking again. Christopher's friends were definitely not Alan's'; they tolerated him at best, and usually teased him, though weren't as bad the bullies. Any meal shared with them was usually awkward for Alan, he ate in silence as Christopher joked and laughed along with the rest, the ever-popular prefect, and it was worse when Christopher tried to include him in any conversation that always turned out stilted at best. No, it certainly was not wise to join them, though Alan would have given anything to be with Christopher, but Alan was far from stupid. "No, thank you, I'll be at the quad, " said Alan. He packed a sandwich in a paper bag with some fruits from the food counter and headed for the green field outside. As he passed Christopher's table, (deliberately, of course,) he heard Blake, a thick-headed boy who had a bulky frame and was the captain of the school lacrosse team, say scathingly, "It's just as good he refused, Christopher. Not to be mean, but everyone knows Alan's a right freak, and he's always following you like a puppy with those doe eyes of admiration. You need to ditch him once in a while to let him survive by himself. Lord knows he needs a few fights to beef him up and you can't always be his knight in shining armor." Blake and the rest hooted and laughed in a uproar, not noticing Alan who was standing, neck and ears flushing, close by. He walked on resolutely onward, but all the while straining his ears for Christopher's reply that never came.
Alan settled down under the tree, the one he and Christopher always picked to spend the hot afternoons and began to eat his lunch. His mind was in a turmoil, he didn't know whether it was because he had overheard Blake's stinging remarks or because of Christopher's lack of defending, though Christopher rarely said anything in regards to his and Alan's friendship whenever anyone brought the subject up. Alan knew it was because of Christopher's peaceful nature, who hated to argue with anyone, but he never could help wondering if it was because Christopher was ashamed of him as a friend. Maybe it was out of pity that Christopher always allowed Alan to tag along, and spend time with him to discuss any topics they liked, be it mathematics, or forensics, engineering, or most recently, cryptography. As Alan chewed on an apple thoughtfully, something whizzed past his head. He turned to look where it came from, only to be hit painfully in the forehead by some hard object. His vision blurring, he picked it up and saw that it was a frisbee. Loud cheering and laughter told him that he was the victim of yet another bullying session, and then "Alaaaaaaaaan! Remember we told you to look up? Stop getting lost in your dream world, it's not Maths class anymore!" Sniggers broke out from the group of rowdy boys slowly advancing towards him. Alan got to his feet unsteadily as he turned to run from them.
They chased him to a secluded section of the school, some abandoned gardens where Alan was made to eat dirt as they pushed him into the earth and dead flowers, and stained his uniform. He sputtered and gasped as the boys shrieked with laughter and excitement, taunting him. All the while, Alan was praying for Christopher to come and help him as they smashed his face against the ground again, this time breaking his nose. He knew it was unrealistic to do so, but he kept hoping for Christopher to just be here and darn it, save him. "Waiting for your darling Chris-Christopher to c-come s-save you?" taunted one of the boys, cruelly mimicking Alan's stuttering. "We got for news for you Alan, Christopher isn't really your friend." "He IS," said Alan defiantly. "Oh, why do you think he isn't here now, hmm? He only patches you up anyway afterwards, it's only cause the headmaster asks him to keep an eye on you, but he would never get his hands dirty, least of all for you. He only wants to look nice 'cause he wants to go for Head Boy next year, and what better way to show his kindness than to a freak like you, Alan." "Shut up," Alan said, and got a kick in his ribs for it. "You best take that back Alan, you know who is in power here. And anyway, Christopher told me himself."
Suddenly, footsteps sounded near and the boys scattered, leaving Alan with throbbing pains all over his body and a bloody nose. The person came closer."Christopher," he sighed weakly. But as he sat up gingerly, he saw that it wasn't. It was only the school groundskeeper. To avoid any unwanted questions, he hobbled back up to the school, and was glad for the filth on his face, for it hid the tears that ran down his face. After going to the Infirmary to get his injuries cleaned up, he managed to crawl his way up to his room to take a shower and curl up on his bed to sob. The extensive bruises and cuts on his body ached and throbbed, but none hurt as badly as the wound in his heart. It had never come to his attention of the remarkable coincidence that Christopher always found him after he'd been bullied, not before. He had also known of Christopher's intentions to try out for Head Boy next year, being widely involved on the prefectorial board. His worse fear was confirmed. Christopher hadn't really been his friend after all. Alan was just a lonely freak that the headmaster forced Christopher to befriend.
"Alan?" The knock on his door made him look up from his books. Alan felt the familiar feelings of anticipation and happiness, followed by a wave of dread. Christopher stepped into his room, then stopped at the sight of Alan's injuries. "Oh, Alan, what happened? I'm so sorry, you should've joined me for lunch, this wouldn't have happened. You should take better care of yourself. Who did it? How are you feeling?" Alan felt his stomach turn as he steeled himself to ask Christopher."Chris?" "Yes?" "Chris, did you-Were you ever really my friend?" Alan asked, his gaze fixed to the ground. He would not-could not, look at Christoper. There was a stunned silence. "Alan, whatever are you saying? Of course, I'm your friend. I have been all these months. 2 years of friendship, Alan, do you really think I'm faking it? What made you think this way?" asked Christopher concernedly, and sounding genuinely confused. Alan mumbled, "Someone told me you only befriended me because of the headmaster." "Well, I never knew about you before that. So yes, it is true that the headmaster told me to help you fit in-" "So it's been all a lie then?" burst out from Alan. He was startled to find hot tears blurring his vision. "Course' not Alan, I do enjoy being your friend, truly. I wouldn't ever lie to you about that. You're the best person I could possibly be friends with. " Alan had to smile a little at that. "But they said you were running for Head Boy, and you are, and everyone knows I'm a freak, a-a, a weirdo, and you're just popular and so wonderfully perfect." Alan stopped rambling. Lord, did he really just tell Christopher that he was perfect? How mortifying, oh no, Alan hoped fervently that Christopher didn't hear him. Alan kept his gaze to the floor. He would not look up."Alan," said Christopher. "Alan. Alan. I'm not perfect, Alan, and neither are you, but you are most definitely not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or any other ridiculous names they choose to tease you with. You are my best friend, and that should be good enough for you as it is for me." Christopher slung an arm around his shoulders and told him, "Sometimes it's the people no one imagines anything of who do the things no one can imagine."
Alan couldn't move. Christopher had his arm around him. Christopher had his arm around him. He couldn't deny the the tingling in his stomach, and it felt more than butterflies. A hummingbird would be more like it. He tried to take a deep breath, but inhaled Christopher's scent of fresh linen, a slight hint of some cologne and a woodsy, pine smell. Alan felt himself gulping. "Alan, are you alright? I think you should lie down on bed. Here," Christopher helped him to the bed. Everywhere that Christopher touched him, his skin turned strangely warm and he could feel himself flushing. He didn't feel lethargic anymore, no on the contrary, he was brimming with this new-found, tense, electricity-like feeling, almost like an adrenaline rush. He was hyper aware of Christopher's every moment. Every crook of the arm, every brush of the hand, every sweep of his beautiful hazel eyes. "Alan, you're turning red. Maybe you've come down with a fever? Should I go and fetch Nurse Hilda?" Christopher sounded alarmed. "No,no I'm fine, Christopher," said Alan. As Christopher felt his forehead for a temperature, Alan tried to still himself. He was so strangely tempted to press his forehead against Christoper's hand. It had been like this for about a year now; every time Christopher cleaned his wounds, swathed him in bandages or ice packed a swelling joint, no matter how painful they were, Christopher's fingers would still feel like they were dancing over his skin, the light touches leaving trails of tingling along his legs and arms. And Alan would yearn for more until it made him feel so ashamed and guilty and dirty. Oh, but he wanted so much more. But he had to control himself or else Christopher would, would-be utterly disgusted, not to mention terminating their friendship and worse still, reporting to the headmaster where Alan would surely be expelled. It was against the bloody law, for as if Alan wasn't already weird enough, he would have to add being a- a gay to his list. A faggot. And the only reason Alan survived at Sherborne School was because of Christopher. No, he would do anything to keep Christoper by him, and if that would mean tampering down his stupid hormones and feelings, he would.
Christopher tucked the sheets around Alan, as Alan's lids slowly shut of their own accord. He and Alan had talked well into the night, until it was almost curfew and Christopher's leave was mandated. Talking fervently about codes, Alan's newfound favorite topic, had managed to distract him from any pain until it lulled him to sleep. Christopher looked on fondly at his best friend, which Alan most certainly was, despite any worries he had. Christopher himself felt honored that Alan deemed himself worthy of his companionship to discuss such academic topics that Alan, despite being the younger, was certainly more proficient at and something of a prodigy with. As Alan started snoring softly, Christoper eased off the bed gently, and turned to leave. However, he felt a tugging at his hand. It was Alan, who had unknowingly grasped Christopher's hand in his sleep. Christopher quirked a side of his mouth and bent down to release his hand. As he was doing so, he felt a small, brief peck on his lips. He looked up and saw Alan, seemingly awake, staring at him so intently with those brillant blues, but with an emotion so vulnerable and innocent that it took his breath away. Their noses barely skimmed each other. Startled, Christopher stumbled back. He stared at Alan in shock. Alan himself seemed to be sort of asleep still, though half-conscious. "Chris, I'm...sorry" he mumbled, looking at Christopher through half-lidded eyes. Christopher was rooted to the spot. Alan Turing had just kissed him. A boy had just kissed him. Almost guiltfully, Christopher first thought of the consequences that would befall both of them if anyone found out that they had engaged in such... queer activity. And if they found out that Alan was gay. Christopher turned his back on Alan, almost fearfully, but before he reached the door, he looked back. Alan was back to sleep, but with a small crease on his forehead, the kind he got when he was solving a particularly challenging physics question. His mouth moved, but no coherent words formed. Christopher was ashamed to admit it, but he was afraid. Not of being Alan's friend, course not, but what feelings that had transpired on Alan's part throughout their friendship. And if anyone else suspected. And how would he be able to tell Alan that he wasn't interested in Alan in that way. He wasn't sure if Alan could take it, the rejection, a boy so desperate for affection and comfort when violence, nastiness and discrimination was all he had ever known from other people in general. Christopher rubbed his temples in frustration, it was late, and he too, was tired. He would have to leave these matters for the morning.
He grabbed his coat from the chair, and one of his Chemistry notes fluttered out. He stuffed it back in distractedly and stalked out of the room. When he got to his room, he found out that the paper he'd crushed in his was not notes from lesson, but rather, one from Alan. The crumpled paper read "Xsirhglksvi " in Alan's distinct slanting scribble. Christopher furrowed his brow and turned it over. "R zn hliib yfg P ZQAE TQR"
A sharp intake of breath. Christopher rested his head on the wall. His worst fear was confirmed.