The Night Out
The night was turning out better than Aaron had expected, given the frostiness between them in the last few, awkward, painful days and now the unexpected inclusion of Paddy and Marlon on their night out. The night out Aaron had steeled his nerve to ask for; to ask Jackson out on. He had wanted it to be just the two of them but he hadn't been able to dissuade Paddy and Marlon from tagging along; perhaps he hadn't tried too hard, he couldn't admit it but they were a diversion, a safety net. But the evening had been good, fun even; Paddy had attracted an admirer and was struggling to escape from his persistence, adding to the night's entertainment; Marlon, awkward at first but joining in their teasing of Paddy, had just gone to the gents. For the moment, they were alone amid the crowds; side by side, Jackson and Aaron had the seat to themselves.
Jackson looked around the busy bar, his eyes searching, for something, someone.
"So what're you after?" questioned Aaron.
"I'm looking for me mate. He's called Aaron, looks a little bit like you only more sort of..." his words disappeared as he tried to imitate Aaron's scowling face.
"Yeah, very funny,"
"It is funny," said Jackson emphatically, "cos I've not seen him for a while."
Aaron paused, his eyes flicking over Jackson's face, before answering. "See, I heard he'd gone for good," he stopped, his eyes holding Jackson's in his gaze. "Just a mate is he?"
Gazing into those blue eyes, eyes full of hope, hope and desire, Jackson gave the answer he knew Aaron wanted to hear.
"Boyfriend."
Caught up in the moment, he moved his hand, reaching for the curve between Aaron's neck and shoulder, sliding his fingers over the ridged neck of his thin grey jumper, touching skin as he pulled him closer, not needing to pull as Aaron leaned closer, their lips meeting, gently, almost chastely. Parting briefly, they smiled into each other's eyes, smiled as the arguments and misunderstandings of last few days seemed to disappear into oblivion. Careless now of where he was, Aaron leant forward again, captured Jackson's lips once again with his own and kissed him, letting his tongue gently push a little way into Jackson's mouth, tasting the orange juice he had been drinking, mingling strangely with lager on his own tongue. Hunger infused their kiss; it was hard to part, impossible to stop the desire beginning to rage through them.
"Do you want to go somewhere...?" asked Jackson. He needed to talk to Aaron, to tell him, try and explain why this wasn't working.
"Yeah...where...you don't mean the loos?"
"God no!" exclaimed Jackson. "Outside, just away from the noise for a bit."
"Yeah, sure," smiled Aaron as Jackson stood, held out his hand to him and they headed from the bar.
Marlon watched them go; he had seen them, watched them kissing, he felt a bit funny now; more than funny after coming back from the gents where some of the noises had been uncomfortably graphic. It was a whole new world, a world he felt out of place in; he needed to find Paddy, rescue him, rescue himself.
...
Emerging into the road brightly lit from the street lamps and shop windows illuminated even at night, Jackson dropped Aaron's hand; it wasn't that he was afraid to hold his hand in public, although he knew that Aaron was still far from comfortable outwith the safety net of Bar West, but sometimes you had to be sensible; it sucked, but that was life. But they couldn't have been any closer together, their shoulders bumping against each other as they walked away from the bar, away from the crowds lingering around the door. Crossing a road, Aaron looked back over his shoulder, back the way they had come; a figure stepped from a car, tall and gangling, for a moment he thought he should know the person; that he recognised him, but the fleeting glance was not enough, the moment passed. Beside, his mind was with the man at his side; his delight that the night was not turning into the disaster he feared was growing and he was going to do nothing, nothing! to jeopardise any precious moment with Jackson.
It was cool outside after the heat of the bar, pleasantly cool; they turned a corner, walking further from the centre of town, further from the crowds. Suddenly, without even glancing behind him, Jackson pushed Aaron into a doorway; pushing him against the door he began kissing him; the hunger that he had been keeping caged up inside him for the last few days had been sparked into life by their kiss in Bar West, but now he needed more, much more.
Surprised by the sudden kiss, by the raw urgency and desire pressed against his lips, Aaron took a moment to catch up with Jackson, to let his thrusting tongue into his mouth, for his own tongue to push back, tangle with Jackson's, flick across his teeth. God! he'd missed him! His hands on Jackson's shoulders, he deepened their kiss. Suddenly he felt Jackson's hand at his jeans, undoing the button, undoing the zip, felt his hand searching, searching and finding his cock, already hard, betraying his need. He gasped as Jackson's hand gripped him, far from gently, so different from the usual start of their lovemaking; his body responded as Jackson's hand began to move, to pump up and down. Quickly, so quickly he felt the familiar, longed for, clenching sensation in his balls; it wouldn't be long, he didn't want to hold back, the sudden, unexpectedness of the sex, the danger of discovery turning him on, firing his lust. As Jackson's hand moved, his body pushed hard against Aaron's; not quite sideways on, his groin pushed hard against Aaron's hip, grinding, seeking his own pleasure as Aaron's arms pulled him closer, hugging him, holding him. Growing, like all the instruments of the orchestra moving together to a crescendo, their bodies moving together in tune, in rhythm, ready; suddenly Jackson dropped, took Aaron in his mouth seconds before he came, shuddering! exploding! shooting his load into Jackson's willing, waiting, swallowing mouth.
Seconds later, panting, laughing in each other's arms, they held each other tightly.
"I'm sorry!" gasped Jackson.
"Don't be!" said Aaron, still struggling to get his breath. "That was...amazing! What about..." he left the words hanging in the air, but Jackson knew, understood.
"Later," he smiled. "We'd better move from here; I just hope there isn't CCTV in this street."
"Shite!" exclaimed Aaron. "I never even thought!"
"Me neither," grinned Jackson. "C'mon, let's get out of here."
Glancing in either direction, seeing the street empty, they stepped from the shelter of the doorway, their eyes scanning the buildings, looking for the telltale cameras, heaving sighs of relief as they found none.
For a few minutes they walked, saying nothing; it wasn't cold, but Aaron felt a chill touching his body, cooling after the heat of excitement.
Jackson's head was buzzing, in turmoil; he hadn't meant that to happen, he had wanted to talk to Aaron, to explain; to try and explain the unexplainable. He had just added to the hurt.
"Aaron, I..." Jackson began, his voice quiet, serious; his steps faltering, halting. He reached a hand out towards Aaron, stopping short of touching him, letting it fall, disregarded back to his side.
Aaron stopped, waiting, the chill that touched him now had nothing to do with the cool of the evening; the come down after...after; no, it was dread, a dreadful anticipation spreading from his heart.
"Aaron, I'm sorry," began Jackson again. "That shouldn't have happened."
Aaron waited, saying nothing, wondering if his world was about to collapse around him again, wondering what he had done.
"I shouldn't have done that; it wasn't fair."
"Not fair? What's not fair?" Aaron scowled, puzzled.
"Tonight's been great, really great; but it's just one night, it's not changed anything. We can't be together, you are still so full of anger, aggression; you'll still go off on one if someone looks at you the wrong way."
"I will not!" Aaron protested indignantly, knowing that Jackson was probably right, however much he didn't want him to be, however much he wanted never to lose his temper again.
"Oh! And what if you'd seen Mental Mickey tonight," challenged Jackson, knowing that was still a very raw wound for Aaron, one he couldn't resist opening, however much Jackson had tried to reason with him.
Aaron didn't answer straight away, another chill shuddering through his body, a tingle creeping over him; someone walking over his grave. He knew Jackson was right; he still had so much hurt, had so much anger bubbling inside him; he was sure he would have hit out; he didn't think he wouldn't have been able to help himself. And that was what Jackson hated, the way he hit out, hit out regardless of the consequences, hit out as a solution, an answer. He'd told him, warned him often enough.
"I'm sorry," began Aaron, feeling his eyes beginning to itch with the tears that came so easily with rising emotion, tears that were already flooding his eyes.
"You're always sorry, Aaron. And I know you mean it, but being sorry doesn't stop you. These last few weeks; the car, Mickey, Clyde...like I said, it scares me. Because you wouldn't stop when I asked you to; because there would come a day when a police man came to the door to tell me..." he paused, struggling to keep his emotions in check, "...to tell me that you were dead, killed in a fight. Or worse, that you had killed someone and would be spending the rest of your life in jail."
"Jackson! That won't happen, I promise you!" Aaron's voice caught with the anguish suddenly invading the night.
"You can't promise me, Aaron," he looked directly into the tear filled blue eyes, lifting his hand gently to Aaron's face, letting his fingers trail slowly, oh so slowly down his cheek. "You can't promise me, and that's the trouble; I don't think I can live with the fear of you being hurt, hurting."
"Jackson...no..." Aaron's voice was hardly more than a whisper, hardly a ripple in the night.
"Yes Aaron," Jackson could hardly make the words come, his head was telling him, telling him, even as he knew he was ripping his heart – and Aaron's – apart. "I told you I loved you; I can't unsay those words, I don't want to! and I can't make it untrue. And I want you, so much, I think that's obvious," he gave a bitter little laugh. "But I don't think I can be with you, not anymore."
Aaron bit his lip, ran his hand over his spiky hair; this couldn't be happening, not now, not just after...not at all.
"No!" he shook his head, looking at Jackson, looking into his chocolate brown eyes, seeing the pain there, the hurt; the hurt that he was inflicting on them both.
"No Jackson. I can't let you do that," his voice was surprisingly firm now, divorced from the gut-wrenching turmoil that was raging throughout his body; how could Jackson not see it? "You've had your say, now you have to listen to me," he paused, gathering his thoughts; these might be the most important words he ever said in his life, he didn't want to get them wrong, he couldn't get them wrong.
"I know I disappoint you, and I don't just mean...mean the other day, after you said..." he paused; he just couldn't bring himself to say it, even now. "After you said what you said. I know you wanted me to say it back to you, but I can't! Not now! Not just yet! No! Don't turn away from me!" He reached out, pulled Jackson back to face him, to face the tears he saw brimming in the chocolate brown eyes that usually sparkled with laughter.
"I don't know what I feel..." he paused, choking on his own tears that were flowing, unstoppable now.
"I don't know if what I feel is love, I don't know how to...to recognise love. I think I loved Clyde; I think I love Paddy...but you! You're different! You make me smile on the inside every time I see you, my heart flips when I set eyes on you and bleeds a little when you walk away." He paused, looking at Jackson, looking to see if his words were reaching him, to see if he was understanding?
"I need you in my life Jackson, I want to be with you; I feel...incomplete...without you, empty. And I know, know! you hate it when I kick off...but not as much as I hate myself."
Shaking his head a little to himself, he dropped to sit on the kerb, his arms resting on his knees, his hands pressed firmly into his eyes, stopping the tears. It wasn't enough; he couldn't find the words to explain, to tell Jackson how he felt, how much he meant to him. Let him walk away now, while he had his eyes covered, while he didn't need to watch him go; it was over.
The hand touching his shoulder surprised him; the arms gathering him close, holding him felt like a miracle, unreality taking over; he couldn't open his eyes in case it was a dream, a mirage.
"Aaron."
The whisper reached him, allowed him to open his eyes, allowed him to know that Jackson hadn't left, was sitting on the dirty kerb beside him, was holding him.
"I'm sorry, Aaron, so sorry. No more tears. I thought I was strong enough to walk away, I thought that was the right thing to do, for both of us, but I can't."
"You'll give me another chance?" Aaron questioned, quiet incredulity flooding through his words.
Jackson shook his head. "No, how many chances have I given you? How many chances have you fucked up? It's not about chances anymore; it's about want and acceptance; learning. And I want to do all that with you."
Gently he leaned forward, pulling Aaron closer, closer until their lips met, touched, tenderly melted together. Time stood still in the starlit night.
Afterwards, words seemed awkward, inadequate, a beginning but an unsure start, both waiting.
"Shall we head home?" asked Jackson, "unless you want to go back to Bar West?"
"No, not the bar," Aaron shook his head. "Do you mean back to Smithy?"
Jackson smiled, "if you'll let me."
Aaron smiled.
...
Aaron held his mobile in front of him, squinting at the screen. "I've just put 'hdng hm, u gt txi. cu2moro'."
"Have you written it out in full? You know Paddy can't read text." Jackson was driving away from Hotton, not taking his eyes off the road."
"Nah, he'll just think he's had too much to drink when it all blurs before his eyes," smiled Aaron. He hit the send button.
"Hey! What's this!" exclaimed Jackson suddenly, putting his foot sharply to the brakes as blue flashing lights appeared in the distance; quickly the van was flooded with blue light from numerous vehicles; police cars, ambulances, two fire engines, as it came to a halt in the road.
A policeman came to the window as Jackson opened it; he glanced inside.
"Sorry lads, we've not got the diversion signs up yet, but you'll have to take another road. We've got a car on the tracks, been hit by a train, very nasty, we'll be here for hours."
"Oh god!" said Jackson. "The driver...passengers..."
The policeman shook his head, "just a driver, but..." he let the words hang in the air, his meaning clear.
Jackson turned the van, taking several sweeps in the narrow country lane. Idly Aaron looked down the embankment, looked down on all the desperate activity. He could see the wrecked car, smashed almost beyond recognition. Almost. A chill began; a chill shuddering through his body, a tingle creeping over him; someone walking over his grave. Whatever else he need worry about, he need never worry about Mental Mickey again. He smiled.