AN: Quick update! I've had the bulk of this chapter written for months now and I've been trying to find a good place to squeeze it in. I'll make no bones about it: I LOVE this chapter, I think it's hilarious. You don't have to, you can be repulsed, but this is certainly...revelatory. On many levels.
Mominator: Oh, don't worry, the boys aren't THAT stupid. Intoxicated!Raoul + shiny new car = lawsuit. And they can't afford the court fees.
Googleeyes: Yep, that's the game! It was invented in my sophomore year of high school, it began as 'chaste kiss on the cheek Jenga' then by the next year it deteriorated into full-on Make Out Jenga and by my senior year we dropped the pretense and played Spin the Bottle. And hee! I'm glad you caught the sort of, not really reference to PoM. Never fear! Raoul's baby making parts are fully intact. Not that he wants to make any babies right now, but he will not be stepfathering any illegitamate children named Pierre. Or whatever, I've never actually read that one, I just know the plot.
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom, not making any money and don't drink and drive. Or smoke weed and drive. Just don't drive under the influence. That's my PSA.
It's beyond me
Help me, Mommy
I'll be good, you'll see
Take this dream away
What this Let's see...
I feel sexy!
What's come over me?
Woo! Here it comes again!
-The Rocky Horror Show
Now, Erik, Ahmed and Freddy could all three be irresponsible, but not so irresponsible that they condoned the act of drinking and driving. Once they were sick of Make Out Jenga, the boys insisted that Meg, Christine and Raoul bed down at their house and would not hear a word of protest. Not entirely unexpectedly, Raoul (who was the most trashed) insisted most fervently that he really didn't need to stay and that he could so drive himself. Freddy swiped his keys in the kitchen and refused to return them, so it was a non-issue and he was quickly settled comfortably in a recliner while Meg and Christine were fortunate enough to share the Futon of Doom.
As was the usual state of affairs, there was an unspoken confidentiality clause that was enacted during every game of Make Out Jenga. When the first tendrils of dawn crept into the living room, the events of the night previous were washed away, if not from everyone's minds, then at least from their conversation. As Meg had explained to Christine the night of the Halloween party, after the game had been abandoned, "It's just a game. It's not like it means anything."
That was actually how the Armand/Charlotte Wall of Silence had begun, he and Freddy kissed during a game played during winter break of their senior year of high school and that set Charlotte's matchmaking schemes into action. Since then it was decided that it was just better not to bring it up after the fact.
This was the manner in which the rest of the week was conducted, business as usual, until Saturday rolled around. All Hallows Eve, the night when the veil between the realms of the living and the dead was the thinnest and spirits would roam abroad. And what did the boys want to do to commemorate this most unholy of days? Take a field trip to Roger William's Park and dress up statues.
"You know, other people dress statues up in clothes," Charlotte pointed out at Erik's suggestion. "They're called 'window dressers' and their statues are mannequins."
Erik had no idea what one had to do with the other."Yeah," he admitted, "but the statues aren't expecting it. We have the element of surprise on our side."
It was a common occurrence to be met with some resistance to AA. Not everyone possessed the level of artistic sophistication necessary to appreciate their statue clothing endeavors and really, it had been so long. This was going to have to be an AA session of epic proportions, which meant all hands on deck, which meant throwing a Halloween party that would last just long enough to get everyone slightly tipsy and open to suggestion.
With Freddy acting as the expert mixologist for the evening, tipsiness was definitely on the menu. As usual, Erik didn't imbibe, but he'd been saving his best weed for that evening and was high as a kite by the time It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown was over and if the others weren't exactly three sheets to the wind, they were definitely on sheet number two by now.
"Guys!" Erik shouted, a glimmer of madness lurking just behind his eyes which reflected the blue light of the television oddly. "Let's go to Narnia!" With Ahmed's keys in his hands, rising to his full height in front of the television, he looked like some vengeful Halloween spirit himself, gaunt and terrible and the gang eagerly accepted this new god as their own.
A great war whoop greeted that improbable suggestion and someone, Sorelli, most likely, added over the pandemonium, "As long as I get to fuck Mr. Tumnus!"
As they piled into the van, Christine grabbed Ahmed's sleeve and held him back for a moment. His bloodshot eyes locked onto her clear blue ones bemusedly as she asked, "Uh, is he okay to drive?" Was that a stupid question? Yeah, she wasn't really up on what intoxicants produced what kind of reaction, but you weren't supposed to operate heavy machinery on Tylenol PM, so smoking pot and whatever out of a purple bong and driving an enormous thirty year old van wasn't terribly smart. And if something wasn't terribly smart, Ahmed would surely stop Erik since that was what Ahmed did.
Normally. Sober!Ahmed and High!Ahmed, though still definitely Ahmed, had slightly different standards for safety. Sober!Ahmed probably would have hidden the keys about an hour ago. High!Ahmed just shook Christine's arm off and put a hand at her back to urge her into the car, laughing all the while. "Nah, don't worry, hun, he's just fine. We're all fine. Relax, it's all good."
Not entirely convinced that it was, in fact, good, Christine nevertheless allowed herself to be swept away by the crowd, offering no resistance whatsoever. According to Jamie, she just needed to drink some more and so Christine accepted the water bottle of red...something and drank it without protest. This was beginning to feel like a bad Lifetime movie, the one about binge drinking where the girl turned into a slut every time she had a beer, but Christine didn't think her situation was quite that dire, after all, she hadn't gone to bed with strangers. She'd just kissed classmates. But maybe meaningless kissing was a gateway drug in the realm of sluttery.
Maybe, she mused as she saw Sorelli sitting on Charlotte's lap, running her fingers tenderly through the other girl's wild curls, that was how she came by her reputation. One too many games of Make Out Jenga and then you spread your legs for anybody. Not that Christine actively disapproved of Sorelli's lifestyle, it just wasn't for her, but Sarah seemed to be having a great time, so who was she to judge? Long story short: she wasn't. So she was just going to drink her mystery cocktail, sit back and enjoy the ride.
As it turned out, Erik was actually better driving high than he was driving sober. The weed relaxed him to such a degree that he didn't shout at people who cut them off, nor did he tailgate slow drivers or honk or scream or stalk people who upset him on the road. And Ahmed had his cell phone, so he couldn't employ his favorite method of driving revenge: taking down someone's license plate number and calling the drunk driving hotline, claiming that they were swerving on the road and the police should be notified. That was just dick, but he did it anyway. Not tonight, however. Tonight he just laughed off bad drivers and waved and beeped at Trick or Treaters who looked in awe at the enormous yellow van meandering down their streets.
Tonight was a great night to do AA: it was dark, they had boas and night vision settings on their cameras AND it was the annual Jack-O-Lantern Spectacular at the park, so there was an extra element of jailtime to add to the thrill. In the end, they decided that they would split up, find a statue, dress it and take some photos, meet up and then head back to the house for more drinking, smoking and general debauchery.
It was not terribly well-organized, as far as divide and conquer missions went. People went off in groups of two, three, four and Erik was left to fend for himself with nothing but a cowboy hat, a feather boa and a dream. Whatever. His picture would be the most badass of all the photos.
It wasn't long before Erik found the object of his desire: a man on a horse. A full sized statue of a man on a horse. The pinnacle of the statue world. Done. This was the only statue that needed to be conquered that night, that was it. The idea of putting a boa and a cowboy hat atop a pilgrim-looking fellow on horseback was too beautiful. Maybe the boa could go around the horse. Hmm. Things to ponder. Getting over the spiky fence around the statue was easy enough, Erik used his long legs to his advantage, but the base was just a bit too high to throw a leg onto and there wasn't quite enough room to wiggle on. It was then that Erik decided to save himself in a manner that would make Chester proud: with fashion.
Erik always wore a belt. Out of necessity, really. He wore his pants quite low, not quite so low that his underwear was visible, (that was tacky), but the waistband certainly sat closer to his hips than his natural waist. Some might have thought it was a fashion statement, a risque, devil-may-care commentary on society, but it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that Erik was really tall and most of his height could be found in his legs. It was hard to buy pants that fit without displaying an awkward amount of ankle, so he usually wore them low so that they would kind of, sort of reach a respectable length to the floor. More of a hassle than anything, today Erik was grateful for his too-long legs since the belt he was required to wear was going enable him to snap the perfect picture.
Going all Zorro on the statue's ass, Erik fashioned his thin leather belt into a crude lasso, tossing it over the bronze man's outstretched arm and dragging his bony butt up onto the base like an inexperienced mountain climber. It was a bit tricky actually dressing the statue and Erik had to toss the hat to get it onto the Puritan's head and the jump to the ground was slightly perilous, but the end result was a thing of beauty. Cocky and already envisioning the shock and awe that would surely be on the faces of his classmates when he returned with The Greatest Picture Ever Taken of Anything Ever, Erik wasn't too quiet as he dragged himself onto the statue, effortlessly blending into the darkness around him. It was enough to make a guy careless – well, not entirely careless, considering the fact that he was clinging to a statue for dear life, his toes the only thing on his body with sure footing. Alright, just snatch the cowboy hat and...there, time to go!
Or not.
The sound of voices froze Erik to the spot. For a moment, he just stood perilously on his perch, clinging to the cold bronze surface with all the strength in his skinny little fingers. Was that the police? It was getting dark out, but his chances of descending the statue and running for the hills without being caught were really not good. The voices rising up from the ground sounded very young, so he relaxed by increments since he was clearly not caught, but Erik still didn't think it was...well, polite to descend into a private conversation.
"But I don't know why you want to call your brother...why can't we just go back to the party with everyone else?"
"Just...I'll tell you in a minute, you don't have to come if you don't want to..."
Especially not a private conversation between friends because Erik quickly realized exactly who the owners of those voices were: Raoul and Christine. "Shit," he swore quietly.
Not quietly enough.
"Did you hear something?" Christine asked fearfully.
"What? No," Raoul said, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "Um. Yeah, so I kind of wanted...kind of wanted to tell you something."
From above, Erik let out a barely-audible groan. Was he an unknowing eavesdropper on some kind of declaration of love? God, he might have made his peace with Raoul in the midst of the Godspell drama, but he really didn't want to listen to the guy's sickly-sweet romancing of Christine. He might vomit on both their heads and that would give him away more effectively than quiet swearing and minute shifting on the back of the statue ever could. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This was probably one of the most awkward situations that he had ever been in to date and he was not enjoying the new experience. Hopefully they wouldn't try to fulfill their newly discovered passion beneath him because then he would have to take a flying leap from the statue and run for the hills. There were just some things people didn't need to see their friends doing.
"What is it?" Christine asked, since Raoul had evidently been silent for a long time while Erik was contemplating the least painful way to get out of this situation. "What? You can tell me, anything, really, are you okay?"
Raoul was silent for a while longer, then said something inaudible. Christine didn't have an easier time of hearing him ten feet below. "What? I'm sorry honey, I didn't hear you." It was probably sick, but Erik strained a bit to hear what Raoul was saying; God, Charlotte was right, he really was just such a creeper, wasn't he? Well, clearly Blondie Bear wasn't about to tell Christine she was hot and that he wanted to jump her bones, otherwise he would have blurted it out then and there, right? The direct approach seemed to be the best to take in that sort of situation.
Not that Erik had ever been in that sort of situation so he had no criteria by which to judge, but if he was in such a situation and had Raoul's good looks and sex appeal he certainly wouldn't beat around the bush if there was a lady he wanted to get to know better. So wrapped up was he in thinking about Raoul's imaginary sex life that he almost missed Raoul's comment about his actual sex life.
"I think I might be gay."
This time, Erik was actually in serious danger of falling the treacherous ten feet from his perch. Whatever he was expecting to happen, he was not expecting that. Neither was Christine, apparently.
"Um..okay," she said hesitantly. "You...think you're gay? You don't...sorry, I'm not sure how that works."
Raoul let out some kind of frustrated sigh at that comment and replied with a slightly bombastic, "I don't know, that's the thing. I mean, I didn't think I was and then...Monday night, with Erik -"
"Whoa!" she interrupted and Erik could imagine the look on her face, that deer-in-the-headlights, mouth wide open look she got whenever someone said something that she wasn't expecting. "Wait a minute, what did you and Erik do on Monday night?"
What did he and Erik do on Monday night? Because the Erik in question (and he had to be the Erik in question, there were no other Eriks in Raoul's life on Monday) had no idea what happened to make Raoul question his sexuality. Yeah, he smoked that night – smoked a lot that night, but he didn't drink (as usual), didn't pass out, definitely didn't hit his head and lose memories of doing something with Raoul that would involve him thinking that he might be gay after a lifetime of being attracted to girls.
"You saw," Raoul said, sounding slightly shocked that Christine did not remember bearing witness to this magical, sexual-orientation altering moment. Erik still was more shocked that he didn't remember either. "You were there. When we were playing Jenga."
It took Christine another moment to recall the exact incident and when she did, she was as confused as Erik was. Maybe not quite as confused as Erik was. Because all that happened during Jenga really wasn't much. "Well, I saw you guys kiss, but what else happened?" Christine asked, still believing that she was missing a piece to this intriguing puzzle.
"Yeah!" Raoul exclaimed, satisfied that she seemed to understand the source of his inner angst – and still Erik wondered what the big deal was. His fingertips were numb, but he wasn't giving an inch. It would be beyond awkward for him to fall into their midst, in a conversation where they were talking about them and apparently the sexual feelings a kiss given during a party game had drawn up in Raoul. "I mean...he kissed me and it was just...he slipped me tongue."
Yeah, so? It wasn't like Erik was a stranger to weird party games (the Jenga set was partially his after all), it wasn't like he'd never kissed a boy in public before and he usually slipped people tongue when he kissed them during a game, it was just...a thing. It didn't mean he was trying to turn Raoul gay. He certainly didn't have any kind of enzyme in his saliva that would turn a straight boy. It wasn't even a good kiss, as he recalled. Now, Freddy, he was a great kisser. Raoul's mouth was really, really dry. And why he remembered anything about the kiss other than the fact that it happened was a complete and utter mystery to him.
"Oh. Okay." Christine still didn't seem to quite get it and now Erik was hoping that Raoul would enlighten her and, by extension, him. You know. Before he registered them at Bed, Bath & Beyond and started scouting for an apartment they could rent together in The Castro. "So...you...I mean...wow. Sorry, I just...I didn't know – I didn't think - Are you okay?"
"No!" Raoul said and Erik caught some wild gesturing he was doing out of the corner of his eye. He shifted his position very slightly on the statue, grateful that he had the ledge to stand on, knowing he was going to have some serious bruises in the morning. "No, I didn't even really...I hadn't even thought about guys and then he kissed me and now...I don't know."
"But...okay, so you never thought about guys, but you did think about girls?" Clearly, Christine was confused and at this moment, both she and Erik were equally in the dark.
"I did! I mean...I haven't...not really, like...I'm a virgin," he whispered, as though imparting some secret more terrible than the revelation of his latent homosexuality. "But I don't know, I thought I liked girls, I don't not like girls, it's just...I don't know, it was a good kiss and now I'm confused!
"Okay." That seemed to be Christine's go-to word when she didn't know what else to say, but really she could convey a lot of emotion with that word. Right now the emotion was, 'So, why did you feel the need to come out to me in the middle of a park, at night?' Usually coming out standard among their group was a trip to the nearest Gregg's for cake. It was what they did for Armand in high school. They would have done the same for Raoul. Hell, if Erik was in a good enough mood, he might have given him another kiss if he was so turned on by the first one – okay, no, he shouldn't, he wouldn't and where had that particular thought come from?
"I just...needed to tell someone," Raoul said at last, probably turning those baby blues pathetically upon Christine. "And you're my best friend with these guys...like, my best friend period. I just feel like I could tell you whatever and you'd take me seriously. The others...they're great, but they don't take anything seriously. You take me seriously and I really appreciate that, I do and you're just the best." And then they were hugging and it looked like it was going to be a long hug.
Glancing once to the right and once to the left, Erik saw his opportunity. As silently as he was able, he placed the cowboy hat on his head and climbed down off the statue, over the fence and darted into the rather thick cluster of trees about ten feet behind him. Once he was sure he was out of their line of sight, he ran. Ran like a maniac, all the way back, through the cemetery to where the cars were parked and he didn't stop until he got to Ahmed's car. Reaching behind his ear, he found the joint he'd rolled earlier had mercifully not shaken loose in his fall. Though it was probably the worst idea of his life, Erik lit up and scrambled up to the roof of Ahmed's van, trying to catch his breath through the smoke and get his bearings.
What the fuck was that? He was just going to get a fucking hat off a fucking statue, why the fuck did he have to hear that? About a month ago he decided that he would go with the flow and just like Raoul, now all of a sudden, he gives the guy a hard-on? Since when? Since when did he give people hard-ons? God, his head was swimming, he was smoking so fast that he was getting light-headed and he just wanted to go home. Not his parents' home, back to the house with Ahmed and Freddy and they could just sit in the living room and watch Mallrats and not give a shit about anything.
A buzzing in his pocket was the first tangible connection to the real world and Erik jumped, spluttering slightly and flipping his phone open. Unsurprisingly, it was Ahmed on the other line. God, his sense of timing was impeccable.
"Dude! Where are you? Did the cops come? Where are Raoul and Christine?"
Erik took a long, steadying breath, "Um. I'm at your car -"
"You fucker! I was looking for you by the Temple of Music!"
"Why would you look for me there? That's the first place the cops go looking for kids."
"Because I'm stupid, apparently. Or I think like a cop. Whatever. Doesn't matter. Okay, I'll be at the van in, like, ten minutes, everyone else is on the way. What happened to Raoul and Christine?"
"Um...I don't know. I think they took off or something. I think...I don't think they're going to meet us later. I think they're just going to go back to his house or he's going to drop her off at her room or...I don't know, I don't think they're coming."
"Okay, fine. Are you cool with Armand spending the weekend with us? Freddy promises not to have raucous sex."
"Oh, right, like either of them have had sex yet. Um. Whatever, no, I don't care. Do you...want to order a pizza or something? When we get back?"
"...is everything okay?"
"Yeah everything's okay, why wouldn't everything be okay?"
"Because you want to order food. You never want to order food."
"Yeah, well, I'm hungry tonight."
"You're smoking aren't you? On my car? What the hell is wrong with you! You're going to get caught."
"No, I'm not. I'm done. No cops. Let's go home okay, go home, get a pizza. Relax. Please."
A long silence on the line. "Okay, dude. Whatever you want."