Weekdays Chapter 2
A/N My personal laptop snuffed it and I forgot I had my school laptop...it's crappy, but a writer's gotta do what a writer's gotta do. Plus, I know my tense is out, but I think it doesn't sound completely shit and I've got too much going on to care right now.
'So, remind me what possessed you to do that again?' Tony interrogates me as we sit on the green smoking spliff before class the next Monday morning. He is, of course, talking about the burns on my arm. 'The prick moved in next door. I've already told you that, why are you dragging it up again?' But before I can finish, I hear Chris speak behind me. 'Who moved in next door, Max? Some new guy to fuck?' I see the sadistic smile spread across Tony's face. Bastard. You knew he was coming up behind me. You fucked with me again! I voice as much angrily, then turn to Chris and suggest we leave, take off somewhere to go get high or drunk.
'Deja fucking Vu.' Chris says, in a shocked and unbelieving tone as we cross the green and walk in the general direction of the pub. 'Not again Max. You wait until that fucking shite makes you tell me something before you talk to me about it. That really fuckin' hurts you know Max. You're my brother.' I felt really shit when I realised he was right. I never tried to do that, I always wanted to tell him; but he always took it so hard and felt like he'd let me down. I said as much but he laughed it off and told me to come back to his apartment so we could talk.
'Talk to me Max.' Chris begins as he lets us into the room. 'Want a smoke?' He hands the pack out to me. I take one, light it up, and fall back onto the bed, as all the air and smoke leaves my lungs. I sat up against the wall as he lit up and sat beside me. I told him all about my brand new neighbour, that last night with Tony, how he tricked me-twice again, into revealing things I didn't want to talk about. He quite gladly passed me a bottle of some strong kind of booze and we sat and drank in silence for a while, except for the splash of the liquid hitting the glass of the bottle as we tipped it up into our mouths. In a moment of drunken stupidity, I showed Chris my arm.
'Maxxie, what the fuck is that man? I'm your brother in every way but fucking blood, and you couldn't tell me about this? You're hurting yourself!' As I thought, he felt like a failure. But he hadn't failed me; I had, because I hadn't trusted him, when he's the most trustworthy person I know. 'I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to fuck up. I never do, but I always do it anyway. Last time this happen, you were pissed out of your mind for three days, and I didn't want that again. Here,' I dug around in my pocket before pulling out some rolling paper and a little bag of weed. 'I've got weed, let's have a joint.'
That's how we spent the next day or so: pissed, crying, and pot smoking. Then we got angry. Decided to take revenge out on that prick after all. 'Well, he did tell me that he was really scared when he was with me, and he begged me not to tell anyone. I know what that's like, but he's a prick and he's always doing it.' Just then, the bastard rang. 'Tony, fuck off, ok? You keep doing it again and again. I don't want to hear it. Fuck you.' I pressed the hang up button with as much anger as it was possible. Then, I got a brilliant idea flicking through the pictures on my phone. I spoke to Chris. 'I've got a plan. Last time this happened, you said I was there that weekend. So was the camera on my phone. Look at these.'
We chose the perfect picture to text around. Me and Tony, barely covered with the sheets from his bed, naked from the waist up, french kissing. I pretended to send the picture to Abigail by accident, but I knew she would spread it around her school and our college in no time. Not only would everyone think Tony was gay, he'd be batting the guys off with sticks. I wasn't the only gay kid at Roundview. When I sent around the picture, I wasn't expecting it to backfire like it did. I knew Tony was a man whore but I didn't know he really was into guys. As in multiple. As in not just me. As in why the fuck did I care?
I asked Chris that, but his only advice was 'Ask 'Chelle.' So I did. 'It's Tony fucking Stonem, Maxxie. He may be a complete arsehole, but when you fall for him, you fall for him hard. Even when you hate his guts...and guess what?' She answered. 'I hate his guts. That's why I sent around that fucking picture, 'Chelle. I thought I could fuck him over the way he did to me.' 'Maxxie, no matter how much you fuck him over, he always comes out on top. Face it, he's nothing but a twat.' 'A twat that I'm in love with.' I later told Chris. He called me an idiot. Rightfully so. I was one. A massive one. But so was Tony! That's what I tried to reason anyway. Chris just sighed, and smiled, and shook his head, but told me to go for it anyway.
On the green the next day, Tony kissed me. Again. He told there'd be no more games this time. He just wanted me, that was all he ever wanted. Then he walked out towards the pub and onto the street and I heard the honk of a horn. They found what might have been a suicide note. I've still got a copy, but I haven't read it yet.
As for my neighbour? Someone tipped off the cops about the stash of kiddie porn he kept lying around...he won't be out of prison for a long, long time. I really don't regret breaking in. Or making the call. In a way, I forgave myself for what happened in that studio.
I told Chris what happened straight after. He told me he wished he'd been there when they nabbed him, but he was glad I told him before somebody else made me, for a change. We took some pills and went out partying that night.
That was a year ago. Me and Anwar are mates again, we've got a shitty little flat in the outskirts of London. Cassie and Sid live between New York and Scotland. Jal went off to music school, Chris, of course, went with her and has a job in a pet store, and Michelle works all over the UK as a model. Effy's doing great at college; we keep in touch. She says of all her brother's lays, I was her favorite. But that's probably about the spliff more than anything else.
There's weekends and weekdays, and sometimes, there's just life.
FIN.