- Maya Angelou
"I hate these freakin' lights. Hate," Specs said firmly from behind the large, bulky cardboard box, his voice muffled. "D, why do we have to use them? Can't we just make some papier mâchè? Something? Anything but these goddamned lights?" There was no response. "Dutchy?"
"Yesssss, darling?" Dutchy bounded into the room. "Oh! You got the lights. Awesome. Now you can put them up."
"I don't want to."
Dutchy's face fell. That adorable, fair-skinned face.
"Why not?" He asked, scratching his blonde head.
"Did you not hear me when I was talking to you?"
The boy simply shrugged, grinned, and instructed, "Put those up! I want things to look good for when Jack and David get home!"
"Ugh."
"And I think papier mâchè is a good plan," Dutchy tossed over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.
When Specs agreed to help his boyfriend plan a "Welcome Home" party for their friends, he had no idea that it would be this frustrating. No. Not boyfriend. But they weren't "just friends," either. To be perfectly honest, Specs didn't know what they were. When they first met, Dutchy made it pretty clear that he wasn't looking for a relationship, and he could have sworn that Dutchy had a crush on David, despite the fact that the object of his dreamy looks was already in a relationship. But somehow, after all of that, Dutchy still acted differently. Like he and Specs were together.
Specs sighed deeply and plopped down on the couch. Peering in the box, he saw a massive, chaotic ball of Christmas lights. He did always say that he was up for any puzzle. But this just seemed a bit much when there was an entire party yet to be put together. "Here we go," he sighed.
Dutchy traipsed into the kitchen and checked on the cake. Was it perfect? He worried unnecessarily, hovering over the food. He wanted things to be perfect. If things fell apart, it would be embarrassing… especially in front of Specs. He checked the window for the third time in five minutes. Still sunny- wait- was that a little rain cloud in the corner of the sky? But it was far away; it probably wouldn't come until evening. Jack and David were supposed to be back by two. A wanting filled his bones, but he couldn't figure out why. Often Dutchy's body responded to things long before he could consciously notice them. The ringing phone snapped him to attention.
"I got it!" he yelled into the living room- as if it were possible to separate Specs from the Christmas lights at that point- and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"D?" A slightly disconnected, but familiar voice traveled through the phone.
"Jackyyyy!"
"Yes, Dutch, it's me. Listen, Dave and I are still at the airport. Apparently they 'misplaced' our luggage."
"Oh. So, you'll be like an hour late?"
"Like more than an hour. They're sending it in on a new flight, and Dave is determined to stay until we get our hands on it. Dave—Where the hell did he go? Gotta go D, talk to you later."
Click.
"But…" Dutchy started. "But it's supposed to rain later," he finished lamely, to no one. "That was Jack," Dutchy called into the living room for Specs' benefit, "They're gonna be late."
No response. Should he be worried? Was Specs mad? Dutchy peered into the living room. Nope. Just completely absorbed in the lights.
Or he thought so. Dutchy didn't know what to do. He bit his lip and headed towards the fridge. He dwelled hopelessly on that moment, confused. As it replayed over and over- he couldn't stop it- he analyzed the depth and length of the pause, the meaning of the air between them. His mind stayed frozen in thought over it.
Specs looked at his watch. "Damnit!" He swore as he saw the time. Everyone would be arriving soon, yet there he was, still fighting with tangled mess of lights. The doorbell rang. "Come. In." The frustration could be heard through his voice.
"Specsy-boy!" Racetrack greeted as he walked in the door. "How are ya?" He stepped aside to allow Snoddy to enter with the alcohol.
"Okay," Specs replied, not looking up from the lights. "Trying to untangle these lights."
Racetrack nodded noncommittally and broke out a can of beer. Specs was unnecessarily engrossed in the lights, and it was plain that a conversation would not be fruitful. Race traveled into the kitchen to greet Dutchy.
"Hey, D, what's up?"
"I'm trying to put a party together, how about you?"
"Yeah, not much here, either." Dutchy rolled his eyes. Racetrack had no regard for hard work.
"I'm so excited for Dave to come home," he remarked. "I missed him!"
Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, nobody but Jack is interested in TV horse races. Except Spot, and that little shit skipped town on us."
"He went to visit his mom! I think it's cute!"
"Yeah, you think everything's cute, D," Race remarked.
"...so?"
The Italian laughed and shook his head. "Never mind."
"I hope they like the party," Dutchy worried. "Especially David. He's so damn fickle." Sigh. Much like a cute bespectacled boy he knew. And maybe was in love with. "But I don't think I'd want it any other way," he continued wistfully, thinking of Specs.
Racetrack was sure that Jack and David wouldn't care at all if the cake was perfect or not. But he'd never tell Dutchy that.
Specs shook his head over the lights, listening to Dutchy gush disgustingly over David. The boys around him were throwing a Nerf football, and he had to duck to miss one.
"Hey, guys, watch it!"
"Sorry," Kid Blink replied, not sounding very apologetic.
Dutchy sighed. He wished he could be in the living room with his friends. With Specs. But instead, he was stuck in the kitchen, hovering pathetically over a cake. He sighed. Things just weren't going right with Specs. They were at that unsure point, the point he hated.
When he looked up, he saw the clouds and knew it was coming. It rained. Yes, it rained. The fat, wet droplets crashed to the ground. He watched with despair as the rain fell from the sky.
He stared out the window, trying to command the droplets to stop. It wouldn't matter if Specs untangled the lights if they couldn't go outside.
Dutchy was awoken by the smell of smoke. The acrid scent filled his nose quickly. "What?" He turned to look at the oven. "Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God." Smoke flowed swiftly from the oven. He opened the oven door and immediately started coughing. He shut the oven off. Reaching into the thick grey smoke, he pulled out the charred remains of a welcome home cake. "No," he moaned.
"D'you smell something burning?" Snitch asked Mush. Mush simply shook his head and took another sip of beer. Snitch shrugged and returned to his conversation with Itey about global warming.
Dutchy slammed the blackened dessert on the counter and stood over it. Examining it, he found the cake to be irreparable. Closing his eyes, he thought, Everything is going wrong. Everything.
Dutchy stomped into the living room, where Specs was still determinedly grappling with the lights. "This is the worst day ever," he announced. "I burnt the cake, ruined the food, David and Jack are late, everyone's drunk--"
"And I still can't get these damned lights," Specs finished, through gritted teeth. He slammed the lights down on the table. "I don't even know why we had to put these up! Why, D, why? To make me miserable? Is that what it is? Did you purposely set me to work on an impossible task, on these 'decorative holiday lights'?" Specs read off of the box then threw it across the room.
"Hey, man, watch it!" Bumlets yelled, rubbing his arm where the box hit him.
"Sorry," Specs replied, his voice still filled with anger.
Dutchy sighed. "There's only one way to make things better," he announced.
"Yeah?" Specs asked. "And what is that?"
The golden-haired boy stepped closer. He was very close, Specs noticed. In fact, so close that he could—
Dutchy softly pressed his lips to Specs', closed his eyes, and stayed in that moment for as long as possible. For once they pulled back, perhaps they could no longer be friends.
Specs pulled away. "Dutchy..." But he was ignored. Dutchy pressed his lips once more to Specs', and this time, Specs kissed back. But once more, he pulled away.
"So, does this mean we're-"
"Together?" Dutchy finished. He pretended to think for a moment, then smiled. "I think so."
Specs grinned and kissed him again.
"Hey, guys, we're ho-" David started, struggling with his luggage, but he stopped short when he saw the massive amounts of people.
"Heyyyy!" Jack greeted everyone, grinning widely. "We're home!"
The two boys kissing in a corner couldn't hear the ruckus the others were making.
Dutchy still had many things to take care of—getting the drunkards under control, cleaning up the charred mess in the kitchen, and untangling the 'decorative holiday lights'—but somehow, all that mattered was kissing the boy in front of him. His boyfriend.
This story did not turn out nearly as well as I'd hoped, but as it sat dying in its Word document, I found that I was holding it hostage, just as I promised that I would not do with these stories. And so, I have posted it, no matter how horrendous.