A
Stand by Me
adult slash fan fiction. Chris and Gordie ... I'm messing up the movie
here, but oh well.
We begin with Gordie
and Chris sitting under the tree, keeping watch over their friends. I can't
remember any exact words or actions, so this will be ENTIRELY fiction.
No flames, please. They make you look stupid.
"I'm never gonna be
anything, Gordie, you know it just as good as me. Hell, I'll probably get
shot down by some gang before I hit sixteen."
I hate when he says
things like that. "Don't go there. You know I hate when you talk like that."
"But it's true!" He
pressed the gun to his temple, and I felt my heart stop. "I should end
it all now, but you'd probably hate me for covering you in blood and brains.
I don't want you to hate me yet." He put the gun down, and my breathing
became normal again.
"What do you mean,
yet? I'm never gonna hate you, Chris. Never."
He started to look
away, muttering under his breath, but I grabbed his face and made him look
me directly in the eyes. "Never."
He had such deep blue
eyes, bluer than any I'd ever seen before. And right now they held a rare
emotion - vulnerability. Something he only allowed me to see.
I loved him for it.
My hands loosened
but I didn't let go, and he didn't pull away. There were alarms going off
in my head - he was so close, too close. I wanted him closer.
"Chris." I was crying.
I let go and turned my back on him completely. "You're not nothing, and
I can never hate you. You know that, tell me you know that."
He didn't reply, but
I heard him shift and hug me from behind, tossing the gun to the side.
I sagged in relief.
He started to let
go, but I grabbed his hands and held them tight to my chest. "Stay here,
with me."
He leaned his head
against my shoulder. "Always."
I turned in his arms
and hugged him hard, pressing my face into the place where his neck met
his shoulder. He stiffened, and I yanked back, looking away. "Sorry."
"Don't be," he pulled
me close again, pressing his cheek to mine, our tears mingling, and let
his voice drop to a whisper. "Let me love you," his warm breath blew gently
over my ear.
I froze. There was
no mistaking what he meant. He wanted to - to - with me. I felt my face
flush.
"Because I'm here
or because I'm me?" Was that me, sounding so bold? No way.
Pulling his face back,
his blue eyes stared into mine. So blue ... been through this before. "I'm
not a fag. I just ... I always loved you, Gordie. As a friend, then, and
now ... the dreams ..." Chris was blushing. Chris. My Chris.
My Chris.
We got our sleeping
bags and walked silently through the woods, away from our sleeping friends.
We kept our distance, and he stayed so far away, even as we zipped our
bags together, that I wondered if he was going to leave me. Alone. Without
Chris. I could have the world, and without Chris, it would be nothing.
When he finally did
speak, his voice was heavy with fear. Fear, I knew. He felt what I was
feeling right now. But I didn't allow myself to actually think
"Chris loves
me. Chris wants me." What if, someway, somehow, none of it was true
and I'd just misunderstood everything he'd been saying - every signal he'd
been sending?
"I'm terrified that
if I touch you right now you'll disappear, and this will be just another
dream. Don't let this be another dream, Gordie." I could see the tears
on his cheeks sparkling in the moonlight, and my hand gently reaching out
to brush them away.
His skin was soft,
and he leaned into my caress, his normally rugged features softened with
emotions that beat me straight to the heart. We were kneeling on our bags
now, facing each other and I moved closer. Suddenly I felt older, tougher.
Chris was like a butterfly resting in the palm of my hand; I could crush
him, or I could send him soaring.
Leaning forward, I
gently grazed his lips with mine.
My butterfly would
soar.
