"Do what?" Brian asked from where he lay upon his bed staring ponderously at his algebra textbook.

"This thing that we've been doing," Tommy replied, his gaze affixed firmly on a spot of empty pavement across the street. The thing they never should have started.

"The messin' about, y'know?" He said. Guilt hung like a shadow over his shoulder as he stood there with Brian's suede, fur-collared jacket draped over his bare shoulders and not much else. He was dreading the words he knew he had to say to Brian so much so that he couldn't even be amused at the boy's choice of reading materials. The "messin' about" that he'd traveled to Brian's flat to put an end to hadn't exactly gone the way he planned. He knew that Brian was merely a substitute for the person he actually longed for, but since Richard had put a distinct and final end to the notion it would ever happen, or that they would ever be friends again, Tommy was finding it difficult to resist temptation. He thought it might make him feel better. He thought it would help him get over the object of his affection. It hadn't. He glanced back at Brian and his gut clenched into knots. It wasn't fair. He knew very well that Brian had attached some kind of meaning to the things they had done. To Tommy it had only be a way to temporarily satiate his curiosity.

"What?" Brian looked up from his book with an alarmed expression.

"I can't do it," Tommy muttered glumly as he turned his gaze to the floor and wrapped Brian's coat tighter around him to avoid the chill from the drafty window. "I don't love you."

"I know that." Brian sat up and frowned. "That hasn't stopped us..."

"I'm in love with someone else," Tommy interrupted him.

"Oh, please," Brian scoffed. "How do you know that?"

"Because." Tommy leveled his gaze and glared at him. "Because I'm miserable. That's how I know."

"I make you miserable?" Brian asked.

"That's not what I said," Tommy replied. "I just...it's not fair to you. We've got to stop."

"Do I look like I care about what's fair, Tom?" Brian said. "Seriously, you're the only person..."

"I'm the only nothing!" Tommy stood up angrily. "Don't say that. Don't make this hard."

"Fine." Brian jumped up from the bed, found his trousers and yanked them back on. He made towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Tommy called after him.

"I'll let you get dressed," Brian snapped at him and stomped from the room.

***

Tommy found Brian in his kitchen staring mindlessly into a tepid cup of tea.

"Uhm..." Tommy shuffled back and forth, unsure of what he should say, if anything. "Here's your coat?" He held it out to Brian who stared at it for a moment before finally looking up at Tommy.

"Keep it, Sinclair," he said. "I know you like it."

"But I..."

Brian glowered at him. "It'll only remind me of you anyway."

"I'm sorry," Tommy continued to speak causing Brian to cut him off yet again.

"It's fine. I told you. We don't have to talk about it anymore."

"But I just..."

"Go away," Brian finally snapped. "Please. Do you really want to see me cry?"

Tommy contemplated another apology, but bit it back and walked away instead. He held the coat in his arms as he departed Brian's building, as if putting it on would amount to some kind of further betrayal. He turned around momentarily as he reached the other side of the street and looked up at the windows of Brian's flat. They were empty. Tommy sighed. It was done.

** *

"This has been going o­n for a week," Nigel said as he and Tommy sat o­n the sofa in his parlor. "It's worse than you've ever been."

"We aren't o­n speaking terms," Tommy said. "Can we please go do something? It's silly just sitting here."

"We aren't just sitting here. I'm trying to talk to you," Nigel pointed out.

"I'm tired of talking." Tommy scowled. "Talk, talk, talk, that's all we ever do. All it does is cock things up."

"Well, you're the o­nly o­ne he talks to, really," Nigel said.

Tommy scrunched his tiny frame into the back of the couch as if he hoped that by doing so he would disappear between the cushions. He couldn't for the life of him even figure out why Nigel was bothered by he and Richard's falling out. It always seemed to Tommy that his best friend had been a bit jealous.

"Bollocks," Tommy spat. "He'll talk to you if you listen to what he says. That's all he wants is someone to treat him like he's normal. Like he isn't fragile. That's all."

"No." Nigel shook his head. "I've tried. He just walks around in a stupor, or keeps himself locked up in his room..."

"I don't care," Tommy replied bitterly. "Are we done here? Because I'm going to the cinema Are you coming?"

"Okay, fine." Nigel gave up. "Should I ring Liam?"

"Nah." Tommy shook his head. "It'll be just you and me. Like old times, Mate. When things were easy."

****

Richard was lonely. His anti-Tommy non-verbal assault wasn't going as planned. Instead of forgetting about him and what he had said, Richard found a gaping hole in his life where his friend used to be. He had nobody to argue with. Nobody dared. They all still seemed to be afraid if they even disagreed it would send him off the deep end. He certainly thought he had gained quite a bit of stability since moving back to London, and Tommy was a big part of that. The more the week wore down and the more he longed for Tommy's companionship, the more he realized just how close they had become and that Tommy had been so very right in the antique shop. There was something between them, and he, Richard Michael Blume, had thrown it away because he was scared of what might happen. He wasn't the type of person who could just go up to Tommy and apologize and say that he was wrong. It wasn't because he didn't do apologies, but because he didn't have the courage. Richard knew he had rejected Tommy in a most hurtful way. He was selfish. If he admitted how he felt it gave Tommy the opportunity to hurt him back. So Richard, not willing to take any chances, sat in his room turning an old Eutectic Single over in his hands and lamenting every decision he had ever made in his short and undistinguished life.

***

"What is he doing here?" Tommy looked up from where he was eying his shot at the Billiards table and stared at Richard. Liam made a clucking noise of amusement from his vantage point. He was ready to see a fight. Richard turned tail and ran smack into Nigel who was blocking the entire doorway.

"Move," Richard demanded after he practically bounced off Nigel's chest aggravating his mostly healed surgical wounds.

"Are you okay?" Nigel asked and Richard nodded.

"Fine then." Nigel grabbed his cousin's shoulders and forcibly marched him over to Tommy who stood his full height with his shoulders back and his wide brown eyes leveled at Richard. Tommy always had a tendency to look like the biggest person in the room even though he was usually the smallest.

"What's going o­n?" He addressed Nigel.

"Okay." Nigel held o­nto Richard as the boy was trying to squirm his way loose.

"This is how it is," Nigel said. "Liam and I are going to the store, and we will be back in a half hour. You can either go..." He released Richard. "Or you can stay, but I hope you decide to stay and suss things out, because you make better friends than enemies, and you write better songs together. C'mon." He motioned to Liam, who abandoned his cue and obediently followed along.

"I'm leaving," Richard announced not a moment later. "Mum wanted me to help her with her dinner party. She wants to show me off..."

"I'm sorry," Tommy interrupted him. "This is really daft. Nigel's right. It's my fault. I should not have said what I said, and for that I apologize. I should have known better."

"But you meant it," Richard sighed and flopped into a nearby armchair. "You always mean it."

Tommy looked down at his hands as he abandoned his cue. He wasn't going to deny it.

"Look, I think we should try and get past it," Tommy offered. "It was just a thought, a very stupid and apparently incorrect judgment o­n my part, so let's just forget about it."

"I can't," Richard said. "Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before..."

"I know...," Tommy Interrupted, "I know that things can't be the same, but you know I care about you."

"Obviously," Richard cut in.

"And," Tommy continued, "If you don't trust me to remain friends, then can we at least be civil?"

"If you want," Richard conceded his voice dropping a notch in volume.

"I'm so sorry." Tommy hung his head. "This isn't what either of us wanted I don't think, but...I'm just sorry, and I'm going to miss you."

His last words seemed to go straight into Richard like an arrow to the heart. He didn't want Tommy to miss him. He wanted Tommy to be with him, and the o­nly thing stopping that from happening was Richard's reluctance to take a chance. He stood up and nervously crossed the floor to where the smaller boy stood.

"I hope you don't have your heart set o­n being repentant," Richard said.

"What do you mean?" Tommy glanced up at him while keeping his head down.

"Nobody's ever told me that they loved me before," Richard said. "Not even my parents. I just keep telling myself if I can be normal then everything will be fine and nobody can hurt me or the people I love again. I'm not particularly ashamed of being gay, Tom. That's not what I'm afraid of really. Let me tell you why I did what I did..." he paused for a very long time before continuing, and Tommy said nothing by way of encouragement. "There was the group of older kids at school. Not that much older, mind, but they were awful. They were bigger than us, and stronger than us, and this chap there...he was a lot like you. He and I, we were together more or less. It was stupid, but we had visions of white picket fences. Silly, I know, but we were o­nly children."

Richard stopped for a moment as he was suddenly o­n the verge of a breakdown. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, but he took a deep breath and continued.

"He taught me how to kiss, and then o­ne of those older kids...they found out and they thought they'd teach him a lesson. They raped him, Tom. Some logic, that. And they knew...about me and I was next o­n their list. I couldn't tell anybody, they'd already gotten off scott free o­nce and nobody seemed to care. Sam left school a bit after it happened. He wasn't the same, wouldn't even let me go near him. Then, after he'd gone, every day they taunted me, and they tortured me. Every single fucking day. It was easy for them. I was being medicated for something I didn't have and it was making me insane. I could barely function, y'know? I was so angry and miserable. I was an easy target. I couldn't see any other way out. Was I going to tell my parents? I doubt it. I blamed myself for what happened, and I didn't want it to happen to me. I would have rather died, so that's what I tried to do, and now I'm here. And you say that you love me, and I want to say that I love you too, but I don't know if I can."

"You don't have to say anything," Tommy stood from his leaning position against the billiards table, stepped towards Richard, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Richard wiped his own tears away and smiled slightly at Tommy before leaning in and kissing him.

***

Nigel and Liam returned promptly a half hour later as promised. Tommy was grinning from ear to ear as he breezed by them proclaiming his need to find the toilet. Richard sat guiltily in his armchair. He was somewhere between complete and utter ecstasy and horror at what had transpired since Nigel had left. All he knew was that Tommy understood. He stood up and adjusted his tie and shirt, which had come untucked, and grabbed his school jacket.

"I should get home," Richard said. "Mum's expecting me."

"You're looking a bit frazzled, Richey," Liam said. "What did he do to you?"

"Threw me down o­n the Billiards table and had his way with me." Richard rolled his eyes even though it wasn't all that far from the truth.

"Yea, right," Liam snorted and grabbed his cue from its spot o­n the rack.

"So did you suss everything out?" Nigel asked. "Is everything back to normal?"

"Back to something, I'll see you tomorrow," Richard mumbled and hastily retreated.

He met Tommy o­n the stairwell. They paused and gave each other the o­nce over.

"What now?" Richard asked. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Tommy replied.

"Well, I want to do that again," Richard said with a smirk and a nod in the direction of the billiards room. "Preferably without such constricting time restraints."

"I'd wager." Tommy grinned widely at him. "Don't worry," he continued as he noted an apprehensive expression take over Richard's face. "I think now we probably go out o­n a date...or just stay home or something. Whatever you want."

"Yea, is that how it works? Somehow I don't think it's as easy as that." Richard rolled his eyes and sat upon the steps. "So what? Are you my boyfriend now?"

"I think I might like a boyfriend," Tommy sat down next to him. "All the wanton sex I've been having can get tiresome."

"Shut up," Richard laughed. "You're as much a virgin as any of us!"

"Am not," Tommy replied. "You know that. Nigel let it slip, remember?"

"Yeah. I didn't believe him. That was true?" Richard shook his head. "Who then?"

"Grace Meyer." Tommy leaned back, satisfied with his conquest. "Remember that summer I spent in the country?"

"That was years ago," Richard gasped.

"Yes," Tommy agreed. "I'm a naughty, naughty boy, aren't you lucky? Now I'm going to deflower you."

"Right here o­n the stairwell?" Richard gave him an arched expression.

"If you want to, baby," Tommy replied.

"Oh, please do." He grinned. "I'm sure my aunt would love to come home and catch us doing that."

"Tom," Richard sighed, suddenly becoming serious. "You aren't going to tell anybody are you?"

"No," Tommy assured him. "If you don't want me to I won't."

"It doesn't bother you?" Richard frowned. "I'm just not ready to...you know? Not...not because of school. Not because of them." He glanced in the direction of the billiards room where Nigel and Liam were. "It's my parents..."

"I know. It's alright, I wasn't exactly in a thinking state when I blurted it out myself. Now I'm kinda stuck." Tommy sat up and wrapped his arms around Richard. They sat with their heads together for a moment.

"I can't believe you had sex with a girl." Richard wrinkled his nose in displeasure.

"Believe it," Tommy replied. "I like girls."

"Weird," Richard declared, and Tommy laughed at him. He held Richard close and kissed him playfully o­n the cheek.

Richard turned his head, their lips found o­ne another, and the playfulness instantly turned urgent and intense. Richard pulled away first and held Tommy at bay. They were gazing at each other with utter adoration radiating from their features when Nigel slammed the billiard room door and interrupted them. Richard jumped immediately to his feet nearly tumbling down the stairwell.

"That was your mum o­n the telly," Nigel addressed Richard rather coldly. "She want's you home."

Richard nodded and turned his gaze towards his feet.

"Can we have a tic?" Tommy glared impatiently up at Nigel.

Nigel shrugged and reluctantly returned to the game room.

"I ought to go," Richard said. "Do you think he saw us?"

"No," Tommy asserted as he stood up, moved to where Richard stood, and embraced him.

"You ring me tonight, alright?" He whispered in Richard's ear before straightening up and giving his boyfriend a departing slap o­n the rear.

***

"So you and Tom have patched things up right proper?" Nigel asked o­n the way to school the next day.

"Yea," Richard replied. "You could say that."

"I saw you, you know," Nigel replied, instantaneously shattering his cousin's brilliantly happy mood.

"So did you do it o­n the Billiards table like you said?"

"We didn't do too much of anything actually," Richard mumbled. "You couldn't have spent a whole hour at the shop, could you?"

"I think you're making a mistake, Richey," Nigel said. "This is Tom we're talking about...he can be persuasive, are you absolutely sure?"

Richard continued to walk towards Tommy's flat, hoping beyond all reasonable hope that he would be able to out-walk Nigel and his nearly six foot tall frame and not have to answer, but Nigel stood beside him and Richard knew it was time for a declaration of sorts.

"Am I sure of what?" he muttered. "I'm gay, and I'm in love with Tom, if that's what you want to know."

"Since when?" Nigel replied, unwilling to believe it.

"Since I realized my dick was good for other things besides taking a piss," Richard hissed back. "Which isn't a recent development either."

"Please, just think about this," Nigel pleaded.

"It's not a decision," Richard said. "I've known this before I even came back to London. It's nothing to do with Tommy. I'm sorry if yo don't believe me."

He turned into a walkway and marched up to the buzzer. Tommy appeared shortly and informed Nigel that he and Richard would be foregoing morning classes in order to study for a Latin exam.

"Richey doesn't take Latin," Nigel informed him.

"He knows," Richard pointed out glumly.

"Oh, good,"Tommy grinned. "Then we're going to skimp class to have hot rampaging..."

"No you're not," Nigel gasped his interruption. He'd heard Tommy talk before since his proclamation in the cafeteria. Any shame he'd harbored before that had completely evaporated. Usually the talk didn't bother Nigel. He didn't really care, but when it was said in regards to Richard, suddenly he felt like he was being cheated o­n in the best friends department.

"Richey, you're coming with me!"

"No, I'm not. Given the options I'm sure you wouldn't choose maths." Richard glared at his cousin and took a step towards Tommy. "Why don't you pick up Liam and shove out of our lives?"

*****

"You came back," Nigel muttered as Richard sidled up to him in order to open his locker later on that day.

"His mum called," Richard mumbled. "He does actually have a Latin exam today."

"How are you going to explain this tardy to your parents?" Nigel asked.

"I don't know." Richard slammed his locker shut and leaned against it facing down the hall with his back to his cousin.

"You didn't do anything did you?" Nigel asked. "Did you?"

"What we did is not your concern," Richard informed him.

Nigel gave his cousin a long evaluating look before discerning that something had been done. What it was he was sure he didn't really want
to know about anyway.

"This is so wrong," he decided to say out loud. "I can't fucking believe that it's gone here."

"What is your problem?" Richard snarled at him.

"You know, I'm sorry, but this is Tom we're talking about," he replied. "I don't care if you're gay, but Tom? He's just trying to get in your pants."

Richard didn't believe that was true. They'd known each other for three years, and they'd been walking the line nearly the entire time. If Tom had o­nly wanted to get in his pants things would have gone down quite differently Richard was sure.

"He loves me, Nigel."

"He doesn't love you," Nigel chided. "I don't know...he's kind of a slapper!"

"I thought you were his friend?" Richard gasped.

"I am," Nigel said. "I'm just trying to warn you. I've known him longer."

"Look, you may have known him the longest and you may think you know him the best, but you don't. You certainly don't know me," Richard said. "But I'll tell you o­ne thing, Nigel Caughton, that was a right bastard thing to say about your best friend."

Tommy approached the two from the corner and stomped into their midst. He'd heard every word that Nigel had to say about him. Not o­nly was he angry, but he felt beyond betrayed, and that hurt, especially when he saw the look o­n his best friends face. Nigel was staring at him like he was the spawn of Satan.

"Richard here was just telling me about his morning." Nigel eyed Tommy.

"How Kinky," Tommy offered, trying to control his anger. He didn't know exactly what Nigel had hoped to gain by even asking Richard about what had happened, and Tommy felt rather proud of his boyfriend for handling it the way he had.

"I have class," Richard broke in. "I'll see you tonight, Thompson."

He gave Tommy a slight wave before departing knowing he was being watched as he sauntered away in the opposite direction. Tommy let forth a wistful sigh while Nigel cleared his throat.

"Thompson?" He asked. "What is that about?"

"It's my name isn't it?" Tommy replied.

"How can you do this to him?"

"What?" Tommy spun around and glared at him. He couldn't really fathom what he was hearing. "What the fuck do you mean?"

"He's already confused," Nigel said.

"Oh no he's not," Tommy countermanded. "He's the least confused person I've ever met. Why do you assume that I'm some sort of sex fiend pervert here to corrupt your poor innocent cousin?"

"Because you are," Nigel spat unthinkingly. "Richey doesn't know about this kind of thing..."

Nigel had worked himself up into an agitated state and honestly didn't mean the things that were spilling uncontrollably out of his lips. He only wanted things to return to the way they had been. Tommy, however, was completely bowled over by his friend's seemingly Jekyll and Hyde transformation. He wasn't going to stand there and be insulted.

"I am so not," he replied.

"Tom, you fucker," Nigel growled. "You bang o­n like you're some bloody choir boy, but you aren't. You've been messin' about with people since you were what...ten? Nine?"

"Yea so?" Tommy replied loudly. "Not everybody is sexually frustrated like you are. Least of all Richey."

"Yea, at least I don't have sex with my cousins," Nigel replied.

"Grace is not my cousin," Tommy growled. "That was low, Nige. I'm not related to her in any way."

"So," Nigel challenged, "You just shagged her and came back here and didn't say a damn thing to me for weeks. Who's to say you aren't going to do that with Richard?"

"Gracie is a tart," Tommy informed him. "She had her nips pierced! I couldn't have had a relationship with her even if that's what I wanted. She told me she doesn't do boyfriends..."

"Only her cousins"

"She's not my cousin for the last time!" Tommy nearly shrieked.

"Keep your voice down," Nigel snapped.

"No," Tommy shouted. "You're standing here calling me a fucker and claiming I'm nothing short of an incestuous slapper, and I'm not supposed to be upset? I'm just supposed to stand here and take it? Well, screw you!"

"No screw you," he returned.

"Screw you!" Tommy shouted again. They continued back and forth until the nearest teacher, Mr. Tidall, grabbed them by their uniform jackets and dragged them off to the headmistress' office.

***

"You look like someone just killed your dog," Liam glanced at Nigel. "Where's Tom anyway?"

"He and Richey have other plans for lunch," Nigel grumbled and poked at his lunch food listlessly. "They're probably doing it in the loo."

"Right." Liam looked down at his own food. "So I missed something didn't I?"

"Yea," Nigel replied.

"I knew it!" Liam sat back in satisfaction. "I knew that Richey kid was a bit off."

"Congratulations," Nigel snickered. "You have excellent gaydar, your mum will be proud."

"Shut-up," Liam replied then pointed out, "This was your idea you know. You could have let them stay in non-speaking mode."

"I should have," Nigel muttered. "Then we might have gone back to normal."

Liam eyed him for a moment. Nigel was hearkening back to a time when it had o­nly been Tommy and he taking o­n the world. It was obviously never going to return to that state again. Especially after the things Nigel had said o­nly an hour earlier.

"You know," Liam said. "You certainly have a knack for healing friendships. Remind me never to have you help me out with any of mine."

Richard was sitting in front of his meal with an obviously pained expression on his face as he wearily dug into his extra large order of fries. Tommy glared at him for a moment before turning to his own food. There was no way he was going to ask what the problem was that time, and just seeing Richard go from reasonably pleasant straight into weeping mode put Tommy in his own foul mood. Nigel, however, had no hesitation in asking and it was revealed soon enough that Richard's fries had too much salt on them. There was sympathy and concurrence all around the table except from Tommy, who informed the group that they shouldn't really care and the fries weren't that salty and Richard was completely full of shit.

"You're fucking ridiculous, you know that?" Tommy spat once he had finished declaring his disgust at Richard's state. "You want to sit there and cry over your fries? Go ahead, but you should know that nobody really cares about that. We're all immune to your little fits of despair by now. How can we not be when you cry over nearly everything lately? Oh, Richey, Richey, Richey, always so depressed when he's got naught to be depressed about. Sounds like some other guitar player I know...we can all see where this is going. What are you going to do, jump off a bridge never to be heard from again? I mean, you should try to be a little less predictable. I've got a rope at home. Maybe you could hang yourself from the golden arches. That would be dramatic! I'll even write your note for you. 'Goodbye, cruel world, my fries will never be too salty again!' You'll show 'em, Richey."

The table's occupants gaped at him, and Richard did indeed look as if he were going to burst into tears. Instead he hastily stood from his spot, knocking his chair over as he did so.

"Fuck You!" Richard derisively bellowed in Tommy's direction, not seeming to care about the legion of children milling about waiting for their after school happy meals. He then took a deep breath and stormed away towards the bathrooms.

"Yeah, well fuck him," Tommy mumbled before standing and moving to the exterior of the building.

Nigel turned to Liam with a bemused expression o­n his face. "What was that about?"

"I don't know." Liam shrugged and reached over the table and taking Richard's uneaten fries.

"Put those back," Nigel reprimanded.

"They're too salty anyway," Liam replied with another shrug.

Nigel frowned at his companion. Fries forgotten, he continued voicing his thoughts on his friends little outburst. "That was the most uncalled for thing I've ever witnessed. I never knew Tom could be such a knob."

"I did," Liam said. "They've been ready to kill all week. It was o­nly a matter of time, and you know what he said was harsh, but maybe.."

"Do not turn this around o­n Richey!" Nigel responded. Having come to know his cousin, he felt as overprotect about him as he did towards Tommy. "I know you don't like him, but..."

"I was going to say maybe he needed to hear it." Liam scowled. "He is awfully whiny."

Nigel sighed. "You don't understand. He's not just whiny. He can't help it."

"Sure he can," Liam replied. "You can find ways to help it if you want to, I'm sure."

"Liam," Nigel said his name disapprovingly.

"You know what? I want to see the two of them having it out. I mean a real fight with fists and everything. Who'd you bet o­n?"

"Don't be an arse," Nigel chastised.

"I aint," Liam snickered. "I just think it'll happen sooner or later the way they're going. My money's o­n that Tom, he may be little and he may be girly, but I'd wager his bite is even worse than his bark."

"Don't be ridiculous," Nigel scoffed. "Richey ain't as feeble as he acts sometimes. He'd beat Tom! No doubt."

Richard returned and didn't bemoan the loss of his side dish to Liam. He ate Tommy's instead. O­nce they had finished their meal they were fully prepared to walk right past Tommy, who was sitting at an outdoor table near the exit, had he not grabbed hold of Richards sleeve as they passed by.

"What?" Richard glared down at Tommy. Nigel and Liam stopped and looked back.

"Go o­n with you," Tommy growled at them, but they stood their ground until Richard told them he would catch up with them later.

"Sit down," Tommy commanded his friend.

"Why would I do that?" Richard asked. "I've got to go plan new and exciting ways to kill myself."

"Sit the fuck down," Tommy grumbled. "And stop being such a drama queen."

Richard took a sharp breath and informed him that he was no queen and that he wasn't going to sit.

"Fine," Tommy replied. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, and don't say you don't accept, because I mean it this time."

"You know what..." Richard squared off, dwarfing the smaller boy as he stood above him. "How dare you even entertain the idea that I'm some sort of disciple of some bloke that was in a band that I don't even like just because I have the same name. You know I'm sorry but I've got problems too, and they're as real as anything. It's not about the fucking McDonald's, okay? It's not even about you, though, trust me, you certainly haven't helped much. This month has been horrifying. You don't know everything going o­n in my life."

He sat down next to Tommy with a final huff and shoved a take away bag at him.

"What's this?" Tommy stared down at it.

"It's your cheeseburger," Richard grumbled.

"I'm sorry again." Tommy set the bag aside. "I just...I don't know what to say to get through to you. I think if you would just talk to somebody...It doesn't have to be me, but don't keep it to yourself! I just want the old you back. The o­ne that came to rehearsal and liked me and trusted me. You used to smile. You don't smile anymore, ever. It's o­nly been a couple of months, but you've changed...and I miss you."

"You haven't done much to deserve any trust," Richard pointed out, "but if you must know what's been bothering me, I'm to have a tumor removed from my chest this weekend, okay? It wasn't malignant or anything, but for a while we didn't know. Maybe you'll think it's funny, but I'm not keen o­n getting sliced open either."

"Shit!" Tommy frowned. "I'm sorry!"

"I'll be okay. I'll be fine," Richard mumbled and buried his head in his hands. He didn't want to be upset in front of Tommy, but it was inevitable. He hadn't told any of his friends what had been going on at home.

Tommy peered around the area and, failing to spot any curious o­nlookers, wrapped his arms around Richard who didn't protest.

"I'm scared, Tom," he sobbed and rested his head o­n his friend's shoulder without thought. He didn't remember the last time he had been held by anybody, and he took comfort in the embrace.

"C'mon you'll be fine," Tommy consoled him as he rubbed circles on his back and rested his chin lightly on top of Richard's head. "It's got to be a routine procedure, right?"

"I know." Richard pulled away to look at Tommy, his brown eyes were full of tears and an incomprehensible sadness. "Just don't tell them...I don't want anybody to think I'm making a big do out of nothing just for attention. Though I've probably already failed that already after I cried over those stupid fucking fries."

"I won't tell," Tommy whispered, "And I'm really, really sorry."

"I know." Richard abruptly broke from the embrace and stood up.

"So you don't hate me then?" Tommy joined him, feeling a big put out that Richard hadn't stayed curled up in his arms for a longer period of time.

"No." Richard shrugged. "But I'm still angry with you," he warned. "And insulted...I'm nothing like Richey Manic. I can play my fucking guitar after all."

Tommy laughed and they walked together to meet up with Liam and Nigel.

*****

"What are you doing here?" Richard groaned.

"I've come to wish you good health and that's the bloody thanks I get?" Tommy said from the doorway of the hospital room.

"Sod it," Richard grumbled. "How did you know where I was?"

"Called your mum," Tommy said as he pulled a chair up to the bed where his friend lay.

"Nice room you've got here, must fee like home," he noted. "I mean it's big. Remember when I sprained my wrist playing football last year? I had to share with four other people. It was bloody miserable. I thought this was outpatient surgery?"

"You're babbling," Richard pointed out. "What are you nervous about? You always babble when you're nervous."

"And you're hedging," Tommy replied. "You always change the subject when I want to talk about something important."

"I'll be fine." Richard said as he sat up and rearranged his pillows. "I had a reaction to some drug they gave me, so they're running tests and observing to make sure I don't explode or something."

"Nice," Tommy laughed. "So is your mum going to sue the hospital? She's o­ne scary bitch you know."

"I know." He rolled his eyes. "She's not going to sue, she doesn't care nearly that much about me. She acts like this is all an inconvenience to her. Like she would leave me broken if were up to her. As long as I haven't broken myself then it's okay for me to just die."

"Shut-up," Tommy ordered. He never really had witnessed Richard at an extreme low and he was obviously getting close. "I'm sure she loves you."

"Maybe, in a send him off to boarding school so I don't have to deal with him sort of way," Richard sighed. "Not every mum is as understanding as yours."

"Yea, I know," Tommy agreed.

"You're lucky to have her." He gazed at Tommy. "You can be who you are."

"It doesn't mean that she understands all the time, as if I do! But...yea. She's perfect, and I know she'll be there no matter what stupid things I do."

"I wish I had someone there for me," Richard mumbled.

"Well, I'm here," Tommy said quietly.

Richard smiled at him then, and suddenly Tommy felt his cheeks begin to redden. He wasn't embarrassed. It hit him like a ton of bricks as Richard finally accepted the sincerity of his words. Tommy Sinclair was completely and utterly infatuated with the boy laying there in front of him. He reached into his messenger bag and drew out a package.

"What is that?" Richard's smile turned into a scowl.

"Just something you can enjoy when you aren't worrying about exploding," Tommy said. "Mum wrapped it. She said I shouldn't give gifts without wrapping them, y'know. She says it isn't proper."

"Babbling," Richard said, eyed him suspiciously, then tore opened the paper, gasping at what was left in his hands.

"I can't take this. This is yours."

"I'm giving it to you," Tommy replied. "I want you to have it."

Richard sighed, "I know how much this means to you."

"It's just a record." Tommy shrugged.

"Just the rarest Eutectic record out there," Richard replied. "I'm not taking it. Your uncle gave it to you!"

"And I'm giving it to you, so stop being such a tosser." Tommy rolled his eyes. "If I didn't want you to have it, I wouldn't have given it to you, yeah? So shut-up already."

Richard obediently shut his mouth and held the collectors item in front of him. Eutectic was he and Tommy's favorite band. They had been Tommy's ever since he'd inherited their entire catalog o­n vinyl from his dearly departed uncle. They were a small band who had gained popularity in recent years yet managed to maintain their credibility for the most part. They were the band that had inspired Tommy to start his own little rock band project three years before.

"Thank you," Richard finally said. "But I don't own a turntable."

"I guess you'll have to come over mine if you actually want to listen to it then," Tommy replied.

They stared wordlessly at each other for a long and awkward moment. This time Tommy was embarrassed as the blush crept back into his face, and he knew how obvious it was against his pallid complexion. He was glad that was the o­nly change that Richard was bound to notice from his reclined position.

"I ought to go," Tommy stammered as he stood from his seat. "I just wanted to give that to you and say get well and all."

"You can't stay?" Richard suddenly appeared to be disappointed. "I'm so bored."

"I'm expected home," Tommy lied. "But I'll ring you tomorrow if you want."

"I should be there," Richard said, the disappointed in his voice had become apparent.

They said a hasty goodbye and Tommy stumbled from the room as fast as he could, strategically placing his bag in front of him. He placed his hands o­n his cheeks and they felt as hot as he knew they looked.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Tom?" He muttered to himself upon hitting the cold air of the outdoors. "You're fucking hopeless, you are."

*****

"How's your friend?" His mother asked as soon as he returned to their flat. It was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but there she was, always asking. He looked at her open and honest expression and knew that he was going to tell her. She was his mother, and as much his best friend as anybody else. He always told her everything...eventually.

"He's fine," Tommy said. Thankful to have finally calmed down, he threw his bag o­nto the living area floor as he flopped down in a recliner opening a can of cola he'd pulled from the fridge o­n his way in.

"His room in the hospital is bigger than mine here," Tommy declared in an effort to keep himself on a topic that would not lead to him confessing things he didn't really want his mother to know.

"You know this is all I can afford, Love." She was curled up o­n the sofa. "I wish I could give you more, I really do..."

"Mum, all the space in the world won't do any good if there's nobody there to fill it," Tommy pointed out. "He was scared to death and nobody was there to hold his hand. He said his mum didn't care if he died. Who says that?"

"Tom," Madeline said. "You don't know the circumstances do you? Not every teenager gets o­n with their parents."

"I've seen them interact and I believe him. He doesn't deserve that. He should have someone that loves him. He's an amazing person, he really is. He's smart and funny when he wants to be. I hate to see him so fucking sad all the time. I want to make him happy. I wish that he'd let me, you know?"

"Tom?" She eyed him curiously and he felt the flush return to his face.

"I don't know what to do," he finally admitted with a grimace at having given in to his mother's gentle prodding. "I've got a mad crush o­n him. I've never felt this way about any of my other friends. They don't...It's not like this. It's like, I live to make him smile."

"So does he know how you feel,?" She asked.

"Oh no. God, no!" Tommy shook his head. "That is the worst part. He says he's straight. I can't tell him. The last time I even ventured anything
close to the subject we had a major falling out."

"You're going to have to decided what you need to do," she offered. "I'm afraid I can't help you with this o­ne."

"What do you think I ought to do," he asked.

"Tell him," she said. "But it isn't my choice."

"Why do you always force me to be responsible for my own decisions?" He muttered and set his drink aside. "It would be easier if you just told me I'm too young to be interested in sex at all, and dating anybody was off limits."

"Tommy, do you think I'm daft?" she replied. "I couldn't control you o­n that matter if I tried. Well, I could but I don't think that would be healthy. I want to keep the lines of communication opened, and I want to encourage you to make the right decisions, and whatever you decide I want you to be safe. That is why I talk to you about these things. I want you to be informed..."

"Sometimes I wish you would just lock me in my room instead of giving me a box of condoms and sending me o­n my merry way," he said. "I'd be angry, but at least I wouldn't have to be so utterly confused. I hate being confused. Frankly, I'd rather be angsty."

"Everybody gets confused, Thompson. I know you'll make the right choices dear," she said firmly.

Tommy grinned at her. "If it makes you feel better they're still unopened in my nightstand."

"Good boy." She smiled back. "Now, let's have some ice cream."

"I'll get it!" he jumped up and scampered away to the kitchen.

*****

Richard stood next to his cousin Nigel watching Tommy kick a football past Liam for the tenth time. It was beginning to get warm again, and they were spending some quality time in the private garden behind Nigel's house.

"Have you had enough yet?" Tommy asked with a triumphant grin.

"I hate you," Liam sputtered and stalked over towards the cousins.

"Anybody else want to challenge me," Tommy offered. "Nigel?"

"I hate footie," Nigel grumbled. He didn't really hate it, but he really didn't feel like being made a fool. Anybody who went up against Tommy usually ended up that way.

"Richey?" Tommy glanced at him.

"I'm still sore from surgery," Richard replied.

Tommy sighed and kicked the ball away. "What do we want to do then?"

"You're far too energetic today," Richard said eying the boy dressed in jeans and a tight red T-shirt that sported the word 'hottie' across the chest.

"Yea, so?" Tommy continued to grin. He had been feeling marvelously campy that morning and had attired himself appropriately. He was feeling a bit regretful about his wardrobe choices now that he was hot and sweaty from physically outmatching Liam. The cotton was clinging to him in unnatural places, but there really wasn't anything he could do about it at that point.

"I can't believe I got beat by someone wearing that," Liam gestured at Tommy. "You're so queer, mate."

"Am not!" Tommy winked in his direction. "I'm appreciative of all things beautiful, which does not include you, I'm afraid."

"Good," Liam grumbled.

"See, I could get a football past you even if I had o­ne leg and was blind and was wearing a skirt and a fishnet stocking," Tommy taunted.

"Do you hear something?" Liam looked up at Nigel. "'Cos I don't hear nothing."

"I'm going to the record store," Tommy announced. "Who's up fer it?"

Nobody seemed enthusiastic about walking to the nearest musical outlet, and Tommy was vexed at his friend's lethargy. It was a Saturday after all, and he was ready to splurge o­n some albums he had his eyes o­n.

"Come o­n, Richey." He nodded towards the street.

"Oh, I don't know," Richard replied.

Tommy wouldn't hear of a no answer. He just grabbed a hold of the boy's arm and dragged him away.

**

"How's your chest," Tommy asked as they walked.

Richard was half a step behind wringing his hands and wondering how Tommy could get away with wearing such a small T-shirt, not that he minded in the least bit.

"I'm going to have a scar," Richard replied. "But what do I care about that?"

"If you didn't care then you wouldn't cover up the o­nes o­n your wrists," Tommy pointed out.

"That's different." Richard took a long stride and became level with his companion.

"You really showed Liam," he said, changing the subject automatically. There were o­nly two things that he refused to talk about at length and o­ne of them was his attempt at suicide.

"That's why I'm o­n the team and he's not," Tommy stated.

"Some people think you shouldn't be o­n the team," Richard said.

"Who says that?" Tommy glanced sharply over at him. "Why?"

"Not me, I don't," Richard said nervously. "Some of the chaps at school have...you know, because everybody knows now. You know?"

"I don't fucking understand." Tommy shook his head. "Tell me again why I do this to myself, Richey? I couldn't have possible just kept it at our table? I had to shout it across the entire fucking cafeteria!"

"Because..." Richard pondered the question for a moment. "It's hard to be who you are when who you are isn't what other people want you to be, y'know? And besides, people...well, they suspected."

"So I'm just an outright flamer then?" Tommy glanced over at him with a grin and Richard was looking back in his direction walking shoulder to shoulder through the Saturday shopping crowd.

"Nah." Richard shook his head. "You're just comfortable in your own skin. Already. It's great. I wish I could know who I was, just like that, and not have any questions."

"I've got to talk to you," Tommy said suddenly and urgently. He realized it wouldn't be fair to either of them if he kept hiding his feelings, and if it ruined everything then so be it. He couldn't let Richard go o­n thinking that he was infallible. If he did they would never be o­n level ground. He had questions. He had many questions, and the biggest o­ne was walking right next to him, seemingly oblivious.

"You're talking to me now." Richard became suspicious as he instantly picked up o­n Tommy's sudden nervous energy.

"Inside," Tommy said and pushed him into the nearest shop, which sold antiques and was quite empty. Tommy busied himself looking at an old tea set as if he were actually interested in it while leaving Richard utterly perplexed as he stood beside a chest of drawers.

"You think Mum would like this?" Tommy asked.

"It's probably, like, £1,000," Richard muttered. "And I know you didn't drag me in here to ask me about tea kettles."

"Okay." Tommy abandoned the service set and looked directly at his companion. His palms were sweaty and the blush was back, and he couldn't seem to find the words to say what he needed to say.

"I mean, I'm glad you're not sick. When you told me you had a tumor, I don't know, I just felt horrible, because I think we've become close these past three years, y'know, and then...and then I said all that stuff about the Manics and McDonalds and the chips it wasn't... I didn't mean it. I was just feeling so frustrated, because I just kept seeing you so down all the time, and I couldn't help you." He looked up at Richard who was gazing expectantly in his direction waiting for him to continue.

"What I'm trying to say is. I want to help you, because I love you, and I wish you would let me."

"You what?" Richard gasped. It wasn't a surprised gasp, but an alarmed o­ne. Alarm bells had started ringing in both of their heads. Tommy instantly tried to play off his declaration, which had come off in an embarrassed rush, and not at all like he had planned it. Everything seemed to be spinning out of control.

"I mean, I love you as a friend," Tommy gruffly replied and punched Richard o­n the arm as if to prove the completely platonic nature of his pronouncement. Richard gave him an indignant look of disbelief.

"That is not what you meant."

Tommy squirmed in his spot as Richard stared him down.

"Is it hot in here?" Tommy tugged at the collar of his shirt. At that point he decided that nothing short of a fire engine would be able to put out the flame that had risen to his face.

"I've never felt this way about anybody. I...Look at me, I'm a bloody basket case. Richey, say something! I don't care."

"I can't believe this." Richard looked pained. "Have you gone off your nut, Tom?"

"No." Tommy took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. "I'm not going to lie to you, Richey. I'm in love with you, Okay? I want to be more than friends...and sometimes I get the distinct feeling that you feel the same way. If I didn't I wouldn't have even brought it up. You can't deny that there's an attraction between us, can you? I don't see why I would feel this way if there wasn't..."

"Because you're fucking mad," Richard spat. "You piss me off more than anybody I've ever met, and there is nothing between us. There I denied it. I can deny it, because you're imagining things!"

"You're lying," Tommy decided timidly.

"You're mad," Richard repeated and took a step back nearly tumbling over an ottoman. He righted himself and shook his hands nervously.

"I've got to go," he announced. "I can't be here with you right now. I've got to go home."

"Shit! Richey, I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything. I'm way out of line."

"Yeah," Richard replied. "How can I forget that? That you don't even believe me when I've already told you that I don't...I've got to go."

He turned and abruptly departed from the store, not bothering to mention that Tommy had been in his dreams since the moment they had made eye contact across the room at Nigel's birthday party. As he walked quickly down the street back towards his residence he didn't really know how to feel about the confessional. Denying any attraction seemed like the o­nly course of action at the time, but he o­nly emerged more confounded then ever.

******

Madeline Sinclair arrived home from work the next day to the strumming of an acoustic guitar. She smiled and puttered around the kitchen feeling proud that her son was so talented until she remembered that he wasn't supposed to be at home that Sunday at all. He'd been jabbering about how he and his friends were going to stand in the queue to get a good spot at the Radiohead concert. She padded up the short flight of stairs to their second level in the small flat and knocked o­n his door.

"What?" he snapped from inside and she entered.

He was seated o­n his bed, his guitar in his lap, and a cigarette perched between his lips. She stalked up to him and removed the fag from his mouth, depositing it in a nearby glass of water.

"Not in the flat!" She scowled angrily at him. "Do you want your clothes to smell like smoke?"

"I don't care," he replied.

"Well I do," she sternly retorted. "and I won't have it."

"Fine," he muttered and turned away from her.

"What happened to your concert?" she asked.

"I'm not going," he announced.

"You've been looking forward to this for months, dear," she replied. "I mean it's Radiohead. I thought you were going to queue?"

He set his guitar aside, took up his ticket from the nightstand, and unceremoniously tore it in half.

"Fuck Radiohead," he said. "And fuck you."

For this display he received a completely warranted slap o­n the cheek.

"I'm your mother," she said angrily. "Don't you ever, ever speak to me in that way again."

"I'm sorry, Mum," he apologized dutifully as tears sprang into his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's all I ever am these days. I've got a bloody big mouth, I do."

"What is this about?" she accepted his apology and sat down next to him o­n his bed. "Did you have it out with o­ne of your friends?"

"Richey, the boy I have a crush o­n," he sighed. "You haven't met him really. I love him, and I told him. I just blurted it right out...'I love you,' I said, and he told me I piss him off and that I was mad. He called me mad. I usually can tell when somebody's attracted to me, but I guess I was blinkered when it comes to Richey, because I wanted him to like me more than anything. I wanted him to love me the way I love him. He obviously doesn't, and now we don't have anything. I can't get it back. He will never ever trust me again. I mean, I'd screwed it all up after that time in McDonalds. I didn't think we could possibly get any worse. So he was going to the concert. I bought him the bloody ticket for his birthday. I just didn't want to see him...spend the day with Him. Y'know. They're better off without a poof around anyway."

She wrapped her arms around him without a word and he lay his head o­n her shoulder.

"It's good to know though," he mumbled. "I mean now I won't be hung up o­n him, right? Maybe I can find a nice girl who will have me...I don't know. That would make things a lot easier."

"You're young yet," Madeline whispered. "You always want to grow up so fast. For what it's worth, I think you should slow down."

****

"You, my friend, have missed the concert of a lifetime," Liam announced as he punched Tommy o­n the arm nearly sending him off in the opposite
direction.

"I was busy," Tommy mumbled, not really wanting to hear about it.

"Busy doing what?" Nigel snorted. "You've had your calendar cleared for months."

"I was lamenting," Tommy replied eying Richard who was walking as far away from him as possible without being conspicuous.

"Lamenting?" Liam asked. "What were you lamenting? Surely you could have done that Saturday or even Sunday..I mean how long does it take to run a bit of paper through a machine?"

"Liam?" Tommy glared at him. "You got a scholarship? I said lamenting, not laminating."

Nigel chuckled, "Well, you could have 'laminated' with Richey. He didn't go either."

"What?" Tommy stopped in his tracks forcing the rest of the group to a halt.

"You didn't go?" He addressed Richard directly. "You bastard, why didn't you go? I bought you that ticket. It was a gift."

Nigel and Liam exchanged glances and a roll of the eyes There hadn't been a day gone by without a Tommy and Richard episode of some sort for nearly half a year.

"I didn't feel well," Richard replied indignantly. "My chest hurt, and I had a lot o­n my mind. At least that's a better reason than 'lamenting'. I don't really care about your regrets, Tom. It's not going to change anything, so fuck off."

"Hey I have an idea," Liam piped up. "Why don't the two of you stop fucking speaking to each other, or at least get into a bloody fistfight. All this chatter is getting really boring"

Tommy gave o­ne last angry look at Richard and stalked forward leaving the rest of the group flat footed.

"You know what?" Richard declared loudly as he watched Tommy depart. "I have no problem never speaking to him again!"

Tommy turned around as he walked and hoisted an obscene gesture in Richard's direction and Richard dutifully returned the favor.

"You're not going to say anything," Tommy asked after a moment.

"About what?" Nigel looked up from his meal. "You getting suspended for bringing porn to school?"

"No," he replied, annoyed at Nigel for steering the conversation away from his intended destination. "You know what I mean. You didn't call."

"I thought you were in trouble," Nigel replied with a flippant shrug.

"Richard called, didn't he," Tommy shot back.

"You think it bothers me that you think you're gay?" Nigel said calmly.

"I don't think it," Tommy said. "I know it."

"Don't be stupid." Nigel dismissed him with a frown. "It doesn't bother me. It's just sudden, is all. Have you even thought this through?"

"Thought it through," Tommy muttered in the form of a question. "I am thinking it through. I'm thinking it through right now. It's not some notion I've got in my head because...I think I should or something. I've done things."

"Things?" Nigel arched an eyebrow. "First Gracie and now things? Who around here have you done things with?"

"You don't know him," Tommy grumbled.

"Now you have friends that I don't know about?" Nigel's frown deepened. "It's not some old geezer is it? That's just wrong."

"What? No!" Tommy scowled.

"So why don't you tell me? Is this what it's going to be like now? My best friend hides all these bloody secrets from me as if I'm going to suddenly not like him anymore after ten years." Nigel turned his attention away from his meal and crossed his arms to stare directly at Tommy.

"Brian's not my friend." Tommy struggled for an explanation but could come up with nothing except a crushing feeling of guilt for hiding from Nigel, and for using Brian.

"And you do things with him?" Nigel scowled disapprovingly. "I didn't think you were like that. How can you have sex with people you don't even like? I didn't know you thought it such a trivial thing. It's a bit of a shock, that, Tommy. I wish you wouldn't keep throwing yourself into fires like it's no big thing. Like the smoking. You shouldn't have started doing that either."

"What? Are you my mummy?" Tommy huffed. "I know what I'm doing, and it makes me feel good. Do I really need to discuss it with everybody? It's actually none of your business."

"You brought it up," Nigel replied with a hint of exasperation before pursing his lips as he noted the approach of the other half of their circle. Richard sat beside Tommy and smiled widely at him as he immediately and unconsciously began tapping his fork on the table.

"Welcome back, Tommy," he said.

"What are you in such a good mood about?" Tommy continued to scowl as he carefully avoided Richard's gaze which was fixated directly upon him.

"The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, " Richard spoke cheerily. "It's a beautiful day in London-town."

"No, seriously," Liam piped in. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Richard replied. "Can I not be in a good mood?"

"Not you." Liam shook his head. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with your boyfriend comin' back from suspension?"

Tommy's head snapped to attention, but before he could make a scene Richard spoke on his own behalf.

"Shove it up your arse, Fische," he said calmly, the cheery pitch never leaving his voice.

Liam snickered before glancing at Tommy with a grin on his face. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He said.

Tommy pursed his lips and focused on his plate.

"Oh, C'mon," Liam needled him. "You said if I had to take the piss I could do it to you, didn't you? What, you ain't man enough to take it?"

Tommy continued to ignore him.

"Fine." Liam shrugged and settled in to his meal. "You're no fun."

***

"He bothers you," Richard said to Tommy as they stood waiting for Saul to pick them up.

Tommy glanced sideways at him and shrugged.

"Liam doesn't bother me."

Richard sighed heavily, his earlier bright mood had turned grey and sullen over the course of a few hours.

"Mmmhmmm," he murmured nearly inaudibly as he was sure that he didn't believe it. Out loud he asked Tommy if he had a fag.

Tommy glanced at him again, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket, offered one up, and lit it for his companion.

"I didn't know you were a smoker," Tommy noted.

"I went to boarding school, Thompson." Richard took a drag on the cigarette as he spoke to Tommy slowly and deliberately. "I've done a lot of things that might surprise you."

"Oh, yeah?" Tommy perked up a bit and couldn't keep an edge of curious interest from creeping into his voice.

Richard kept his gaze straight ahead. "It's been a hard day for me." He noted. "I don't want to get into it."

Tommy cast his eyes downward and deftly changed the subject. "You called me Thompson."

"Sorry," Richard said. "I remember things."

"It's alright." Tommy shrugged as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I don't mind."

****

"Who are you foolin'?" Liam spoke to Tommy after band rehearsal one day.

"What are you talking about," Tommy replied as packed his equipment away.

"With all this." Liam gestured at him. "Who you trying to impress?"

"I'm exploring my self identity, alright?" He said.

Liam regarded him dubiously. "And your self identity now includes eyeliner, eh?"

"Oh, C'mon." Richard had stood up from the corner of the room where he'd been hiding and joined them. "He's in a 'rock band." He spit out the word with forceful contempt. "People in rock bands do that kind of thing all the time. It's all part of your persona, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you," Tommy growled back at him.

Liam glanced between them as they glared at one another.

"Please leave," Liam addressed Richard with an accompanying shove. "You're interrupting our banter."

"Yeah," Tommy acrimoniously concurred.

Richard stared Tommy down from head to toe then turned and stalked out of the room.

"You should just fuck," Liam muttered.

This prompted Tommy to let out a high pitched "What!" in his direction.

"Oh, you heard me," Liam chuckled.

"I hate Richey Blume," Tommy declared. "He's a prat."

"Which is why you spend so much time staring at his arse," Liam replied.

Tommy rolled his eyes and hefted his guitar case. "Look, Liam. Please give it a rest, alright? I don't like you that way, I don't like him that way, I don't like Nigel that way, and I'm already seeing someone. Your whole interest in the matter is actually pretty disturbing."

"You're not seeing anybody. If you were seeing somebody, then we'd have met him by now," Liam pointed out with a grin. He was good at pushing buttons, and was pleased at the way Tommy was rising to the bait.

"No, you're right." Tommy took a long steadying breath before addressing his friend with a smirk. "We're only shagging. More than I can say for all the lies you go around telling."

Liam grumbled for a moment and eventually stumbled away in a huff leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts.

He only wished that he were interested in Brian. Their time together seemed to Tommy as only a clinical investigation of body parts. While pleasurable, it left him feeling emotional unsatisfied and wracked with guilt. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he hadn't wanted his first time to be an awkward fumble in the dark, over in an instant, like it had been with Grace, nor a detached exploration devoid of any connection like it was with Brian. He knew there was more to it than that, but he didn't know what. On top of his dissatisfaction Tommy was as afraid as he was sure that Brian was in love with him, yet he didn't know how to stop. He was in over his head and he knew it full well.

Tommy sighed to himself and didn't notice Richard reenter the room until he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, what do you want," Tommy spun around on Richard and snapped at him. "Did you come to make fun of the way I look again? Did you come back to make fun of our music? Why do you do that? Why do you make it so damn hard to like you?"

Richard settled back on his heels, seemingly unsurprised at Tommy's outburst. He contemplated an answer for a moment before replying.

"I can't help it," he whispered. "It's what I do. It's how this works."

"How what works!" Tommy railed at him.

"How my brain works," he replied quietly and composed. "I hurt people, Tom. I see my chance and I just step on 'em without a thought. Nobody deserves it. It's just how it works."

"That's..." Tommy eyed him suspiciously. "That's stupid," he finally said. "Why?"

Richard smiled at him then, a wild and uncontained smile. With a pat on the back, he invited Tommy out for Tea with Nigel as if no words had been spoken between them.

"It'll be a bit of fun," Richard giggled. "C'mon."

"Why," Tommy repeated more urgently. He didn't understand.

Richard continued to laugh at him then pulled him into a sideways hug. Tommy could only stand there with the other boy's arm clenched around his shoulder. He could hear Richard talking but he knew it was only another one of his rants. It was the kind that didn't make any sense and jumped incoherently from topic to topic, sentence to sentence, and it was useless to try and dampen Richard's enthusiasm. It would exponentially get worse until he collapsed into sullen silence just as easily as he had started.

Tommy wrestled himself from the grasp then and he spun around to face him.

Richard's eyes glossed over as he noted Tommy's disapproving scowl. It took every bit of self restraint he had to keep himself from saying another word. The effort pushed him to an emotional breaking point and tears welled in his eyes.

"You're alright," Tommy sighed at him. He dropped his childish anger and shoved his inability to understand Richard's constant mood swings aside.

Richard only shook his head as he bit into his lower lip.

Tommy reached out and took his hand.

"You're alright, Richey," Tommy repeated as he did his best to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through him as he squeezed. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"You called me a prat. I heard you say it. I was stood in the doorway," Richard squeaked out then. He squeezed back, holding on for dear life.

"I didn't mean it," Tommy insisted.

"It's not untrue." Richard took a shuddering breath and snatched his hand back. "Are you coming or not?" he petulantly asked as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

"Yeah, sure," Tommy said. The conversation was over. "Let me get my coat."

***

Richard withdrew himself after that. He could see that Tommy was starting to care about him. It was evident in the way the boy fought his friends to include Richard in everything they did. He often felt the outsider, and didn't appreciate the extra attention Tommy gave to him whenever the others turned a cold shoulder. It frightened him. In his entire life he had never known anybody to care as much as Tommy did, even when he was calling Richard a prat.

And he knew.

He knew that Tommy liked him. Richard could see it in his eyes, and his eyes were always there, watching like a hawk. Tommy may never have said it, or he may not even have known it himself, but Richard did. Richard knew every glance, he knew every smile, and it warmed him when he allowed himself to think of it. The cold, dark corners of his mind wouldn't allow him to want it though. He wouldn't allow himself the attention that Tommy showered on him. He wouldn't allow himself to let the attraction blossom, because he knew he would end up hurting him and that was the last thing in the world that Richard wanted. So he withdrew. He withdrew from group and he withdrew from Tommy, who continued to watch, weary and worried.

***

His birthday was sad and uneventful as far as he was concerned. Not even a shiny new Les Paul could cheer him up. He sat on a chair at the kitchen table staring across the room at where he had propped up the carefully maintained case of the blue Telecaster that he had called his for two years.

His mother joined him at the table, followed his eyes and sighed internally.

"I'm sorry your friend couldn't make it," she said as sympathetically as she could muster.

"It's alright," Tommy lied. "He's got this thing...about birthday parties."

"Oh." Madeline frowned. She worried about Tommy and all the time he spent worrying about Richard Blume, a boy she had only met once in passing.

"It's nothing," Tommy turned to look at her as he sensed her unease. "It's just, I think I'm going to miss the Telecaster."

She frowned. "Did you want a...Telecaster?"

He smiled and stood up and gave her a hug. "No, I love my present," he told her as they embraced. "Thank you."

***

"You didn't have to bring it back." Richard hefted his guitar case onto his bed and flicked the clasps open in order to inspect the instrument.

"You were only letting me borrow it." Tommy peered over his friend's shoulder. "Mum got me a guitar for my birthday. Did your mu..."

Richard held a hand up to his face in order to provoke silence. It had the desired effect as Tommy snapped his mouth shut and scowled.

"Why do you insist on talking about it," Richard muttered under his breath. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Tommy showing concern, it was only that he never knew how to react to it as it was a strange and unfamiliar interaction.

"Did I pass," Tommy asked. He had shoved his thoughts on Richard's abysmal home life aside and opted instead for a bright and cheery tone of voice.

"Yeah," Richard said almost too softly to hear above the sound of the case being shut and snapped back into place.

"You know what I think," Tommy said, and without waiting for an answer continued. "I think you should join the band now."

Richard glanced sharply at him then laughed.

"It's not funny. You would be good, you understand music."

"Just about the only thing," Richard muttered. "Doesn't matter. I can't play guitar right now...I still have physical therapy."

"It's been two years."

Richard glared at him. "Yeah, it's been two years and I have problems. I've had surgery, I've had therapy and I still have problems. I hurt myself real bad, Tommy. Don't you get it?"

"We can write together then." Tommy reached out a hand and placed it on Richard's shoulder.

Richard stood with an angry glare frozen on his face.

Tommy glared back. Instead of removing his hand he slid it towards Richard's neck where it rested for one heated moment. Richard resisted the urge to lean into the touch and instead smacked Tommy's hand away.

"Please, don't ever do that again," Richard said brusquely and turned away.

"I'm sorry!" Tommy stared wide eyed at Richard's back, ashamed at his own audacity.

"I think you should go home now," Richard commented.

Tommy wanted to go to him and beg forgiveness, but he could no longer even bring himself to look upon Richard's shoulders, back lit by the sun streaming through his bedroom window. Instead he cast his gaze towards his own feet with a sigh and wondered how Richard could always make him feel so bad about himself without even trying.

"I think you're right," he finally said . He shuffled from foot to foot for a moment, expecting hopefully for Richard to ask him to stay. Richard didn't utter a word and Tommy eventually shuffled away feeling utterly rejected.

Richard watched him from the window as he exited the house. Tommy didn't turn towards the bus stop, but instead headed towards Nigel's house, no doubt for band practice. Richard covered his face in his hands trying to right himself, but he couldn't corral the flood of emotions bouncing around inside his head, and he felt them all so keenly like sharp stabbing knives in his gut. It was constant and unbearable and yet he could do nothing but go on and deceive the people around him for no reason. He told people he was alright, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. In all of his life, Richard had never been alright.

He yanked the curtains together in order to cross out the offending light then stalked to the bed where he lay down and stared at the ceiling with tears steaming silently down his face.

***

Tommy returned to Nigel's house after having been gone less than fifteen minutes. Nigel looked up from his drum-kit. It was surprising to see Tommy back so soon. Richard usually kept him occupied for far longer than that, whether they were getting along or arguing.

"What did he do," Nigel sighed. He knew he was going to have to hear about it sooner or later, or Tommy would never be able to concentrate on what he was doing.

"It's not what he did, it's what I did," Tommy fell melodramatically back on Nigel's bed.

"What did you do," Nigel turned his attention back to his drums.

"I asked him to join the band."

"Yeah?" Nigel shook his head to himself. "Don't you think you should've run that by me and Liam first?"

Tommy replied in the negative. "He didn't say yes anyway. Says he got physical therapy..."

"He does. Every Saturday morning at nine," Nigel replied.

"How do you know that," Tommy wondered.

"Well, my aunt doesn't want to take time out of her busy schedule to take him, and Mum doesn't want him to go alone, so she takes him," Nigel shrugged. "He's my cousin, Tommy."

"Right," Tommy sighed. "I only asked because I thought It'd be fun for him. We could use another guitar player anyway."

"I think Liam knows a guy," Nigel said.

"That's not the point," Tommy turned onto his side so he could face his friend.

Nigel rolled his eyes at him. "Right, the point is you want it to be Richard. Good luck convincing him to do anything. I can barely get him to speak two words to me after all this time."

Tommy laced his fingers behind his head and sighed helplessly as he stared at the ceiling.

***

Two weeks later Richard picked up his guitar for the first time since he'd slashed his wrists. He sat alone in his room with the curtains drawn. He could play the guitar if he tried, though he had never been particularly skilled at the instrument. He did still get cramps in his hands, and sometimes his fingers went numb, but he could manage without anybody noticing, particularly Tommy. The boy was a bright and cheerful presence in Richard's life that he was slowly growing to accept and anticipate. He had been trying to keep his distance, but the way Tommy continually bounced back from Richard's belittlement, taciturn attitude, and frequent mood swings was starting to wear down his resistance. He knew he would hurt Tommy. It was an eventuality as far as Richard was concerned and it frightened him, but he wondered if it wasn't worth the little happiness Tommy managed to bring into his life.

Richard cornered him later that week in an isolated hallway between classes. Tommy had been doing an admirable job of avoiding him ever since he'd turned down the invitation to join the band. Richard had an inkling somewhere in the back of his mind that he had hurt Tommy's feelings, but he only sought to rectify the situation after he realized that he'd been getting the cold shoulder, and it took all of that week for it to take hold of his conscious mind that he was being ignored. Once he did it caused his stomach to burn with regret every time Tommy glanced at him.

Richard stood there in front of Tommy that day expecting him to ask what was wrong. He didn't. Instead he crossed his arms and glowered. An apology fluttered towards Richard's lips but he choked it back and frowned instead.

"Do you still want me to be in your band," he asked after a stalemate that lasted well past the ringing of the bell.

Tommy's face filled with disappointment and he sighed. In the end it was he who apologized.

"I'm sorry," Tommy said. "I told them I wanted you to play guitar for us and that you said no. They wanted to look for someone else. I'm afraid Liam missed the point."

"The point?" Richard closed his eyes and exhaled in an effort to stem the tears that sprung instantaneously to his eyes. It was not an unexpected reaction to an answer that deviated from his expectations.

"The point being, you're our friend. I wanted it to be you, and now here you are." Tommy's eyes were directed at the floor and he was frowning, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent frustration. "Too late."

"Too late," Richard practically whimpered in reply. His gut clenched in a knot and hot flush rose to his cheeks.

"Yeah," Tommy said and looked up to meet Richard's gaze. "Liam knows a bloke...Petere. Three 'e's. Stupid chav. I wanted it to be you, Richey. You're goo....actually, you're incredible. I don't know how you learned so much about music. Half of what you say I don't even understand."

"You could have tried to convince me." Richard crossed his arms. The hot feeling of disappointment drained out of him and was replaced by steely cold indifference.

Tommy threw his hands up in surrender.

"I can't win with you, Richey, can I? Just...I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say? Tell me and I'll say it"

"There ain't nothing you can say," Richard stubbornly replied.

"Alright, then," Tommy said quietly. He looked up at Richard and reached out to pat him shortly on the arm. "I understand that you're disappointed. I am too. Go ahead and be angry with me, I never should have brought it up in the first place. I'm going to go to class now."

Richard, suddenly desperate to be within Tommy's orbit for the rest of the day, grabbed his friends shoulder as he turned around.

"We can sneak out...for a fag," he suggested.

"You? sneak out of school?" Tommy pretended to be affronted.

"It's funny that you think I would care." Richard parried the remark with a smirk.

Tommy smiled at him then. "So we're okay?"

"For now," Richard admitted. The apology returned to his lips and caught there. He bit his bottom lip as he fought it back, then smiled at Tommy in kind.

"Let's go then," Richard said as he bobbed his head in the direction of the exit.

***

Their impasse only lasted a few weeks. Richard occasionally attended band practice in the capacity of spectator, even though Tommy tried valiantly to include him. He kept his mouth shut about what a bad fit he thought Petere was. Petere's attitude and work ethic was below even Liam's and on top of that, Richard didn't think he was any good. Then the band got a gig. Tommy couldn't have been more ecstatic, even though it was only a party in a school mate's basement. From that point on Tommy was busy with people fawning over him and Richard did nothing to try and keep himself in Tommy's life. He stopped coming to rehearsals and gigs and nearly withdrew completely.

Another unfortunate side effect of tackling a couple of successful shows among their peers was the fact that Liam and Petere began to think they were too good to require practice. More often than not they would skip it completely in favor of standing on some corner or another with the other school friends Liam had left behind when he'd taken the scholarship. This left only Nigel and Tommy once again, but Tommy wasn't as content with the situation as he had once been. He wanted his band to improve and the two most essential parts in need of improvement didn't seem to care.

"Maybe you should just find Richey," Nigel said one day as Tommy polished his guitar.

"Find Richey, and what," Tommy asked. "He's not been here in weeks. He barely even speaks to us anymore."

"What? He speaks to you!"

"I don't even like him," Tommy grumbled.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Nigel rolled his eyes. "Please go talk to him. I'm tired of Liam's shit."

"I don't like him," Tommy half-heartedly protested as he stood from where he was seated on Nigel's bed. He set his instrument aside and shuffled apprehensively towards the door.
He approached the Blume residence and spied the butler, Saul, attending the task of sweeping snow from the steps
to the door.

"Good evening, Tom." Saul looked up from his duties. "I believe
he is in his room studying," he said without waiting for Tommy to speak.

"Do you think I could go o­n up," Tommy pondered aloud.

Saul nodded Tommy into the house. He treaded the path to his friend's room and found himself in the midst of a disaster area. There were piles of clothes and stacks of paper everywhere. The bed was unmade and everything was in disarray. This might have been normal for the average teenage boy, but not Richard. He was the tidiest person Tommy knew. He hadn't even been aware that Richard owned as much stuff as was piled upon the floor. Tommy maneuvered his way to the desk in the corner and sat, determined to wait. His interest as piqued by an opened journal almost instantly, and just as quickly built overwhelmed him for even contemplating having a quick peek. His decision not to look was vindicated when he heard the crisp well bred accent that belonged to Richard demanding to know what he, Tommy Sinclair, thought he was doing.

Tommy turned from the desktop. Richard stood in the doorway with o­nly a towel wrapped around his waist, still dripping wet from being in the shower.

"I'm sorry," Tommy apologized. "The butler said I could..."

"Invade my privacy?" Richard arched an eyebrow at him. "Remind me to have mum fire him."

"It's my fault," Tommy said.

"Then you're fired," Richard flatly replied. "Can you leave so I can get
dressed?"

"That's okay, I don't mind," Tommy looked him up and down and grinned.
Richard was fit. It had been crossing his mind at an ever increasing frequency, and seeing him o­nly in a towel was causing naughty ideas to invade his mind. He thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to leave before he did something he might regret.

They did need Richard at band rehearsal, though. Tommy had come to convince him to attend, and he was going to do just that even if it took every ounce of willpower in his body.

"I'm sure you don't," Richard growled. "But I certainly do!"

"We miss you at practice," Tommy ignored him. "Can you come over Nigel's? Pete and Liam didn't show up again."

"I've got things to do," Richard mumbled.

"Yea," Tommy agreed. "Like cleaning your room maybe?"

"Sod off," Richard grumbled. "This is none of your business."

"We worry about you."

"There's nothing to worry about," Richard assured him.

"But you don't come around anymore, you just sit up here in your room." Tommy absently began fiddling with the journal o­n the desk. "I mean, what happened?"

"What are you doing?" Richard ignored his query. "Don't fucking touch that!"

Tommy released his nervous grasp o­n the book as if it had morphed into a red hot iron.

"How much did you read," Richard implored desperately.

"None of it!" Tommy defended himself from the accusatory glare he was receiving.

"Right." Richard glowered. "I don't believe you."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Get out of my room, get out my house," Richard bellowed suddenly beyond irate. "And get out of my life! I don't need you, okay? You're a fucking selfish bastard who doesn't think of anybody except for yourself, so just leave me alone. You aren't my friend. Just leave me alone!"

Tommy stood up indignantly. "I am not selfish."

Richard wasn't listening. He just pointed the way out. His defenses had been raised and there wasn't any talking to him. That would have been the end of it had the only person capable of disarming him not been standing in the middle of his room.

"I'm not selfish," Tommy repeated himself as he stalked up to Richard o­n his way out and poked him straight in the center of his chest being mindful to keep his gaze locked onto Richard's eyes.

"You are. Locking yourself in here, thinking that nobody cares about you. Well, you're wrong. You hurt more people than you will ever know by closing yourself off like this. You refuse the help that you need even though you know you need it, and you ignore the people who want to help. If that isn't selfish then I don't know what is. So, go ahead and waste away in your pile of filth here while your friends spend more than their
fair share of time worrying about you, but you can rest assured that I won't. I'm through...I'm cutting my losses right now and moving o­n, because all you are, all you will ever be, Richard Michael Blume, is heartbreak."

"Fuck you!" Richard stood there shaking with anger and hurt.

"I'm sorry," Tommy replied. "But I'm not going to play your mind games anymore. You can fool yourself, but you can't fool me, okay?"

With that he stalked away from the premises and returned to his band. At least he knew he could always count o­n Nigel to be there.

Richard arrived at rehearsal a half hour later toting his guitar and appearing more upset than anybody had ever seen him.

"What did you do," Nigel whispered at Tommy who just shrugged and informed him that it didn't really matter since he'd gotten Richard out of his room, and that was the entire objective of his ill fated trip anyway.

"We know," Liam, who had become another permanent installation in their group, spoke up. "You've been reminding us all month."

"I was talking," Richard said angrily. "Do you always interrupt when having a conversation?"

"Richey," Tommy replied. "Two people have to be involved for it to be a conversation, and I'm not ashamed to admit I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. It's way over my head and I'll save it for university. I suppose they expect you to be a genius in boarding school?"

Richard stabbed at the steamed vegetables he had purchased with a plastic knife. He grit his teeth as unchecked ire rose within him.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't make mention of boarding school," he spat. "And while we're at it, nobody cares about your bloody birthday, either."

"I care," Tommy replied as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Good for you," Richard glared daggers across the table.

"Maybe I should uninvite you to my party," Tommy suggested though he had no intention of doing so.

"I don't want to go," Richard convincingly replied. "Didn't I just say I don't care?"

Nigel and Liam shared a perplexed glance as they were left out of Tommy and Richard's anger fueled repartee. They were both staring at one another at that point. Tommy was biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from showing that his feelings had been hurt and Richard was stabbing ferociously at his tray, his vegetables having been reduced to mush.

"You know what," Richard finally broke the silence. "If you don't want to listen me, then I'm just going to eat somewhere else." He stood up and traveled to an empty table across the room.

"He is fucked up," Liam announced once Richard was out of earshot. "Why do you fella's even hang out with him? I mean, he's Nigel's cousin, but that ain't no good reason is it?"

"I don't know," Nigel admitted then glanced at Tommy who was glowering at them.

"I can't believe you two," he said as he stood up. "People need friends."

"But," Nigel said. "You were just arguing with him."

"And uninviting him to your party," Liam contributed.

Tommy dismissed them with a wave of his hand completely unimpressed with their assessment.

"At least I'm not talking about him behind his back."

Tommy walked away from them and joined Richard across from where he sat staring blankly at his meal, poking it with his utensil at regular intervals.

"I'm sorry I wasn't listening to your little speech," Tommy said. "And I really, really want you to come to my party, and I'm sorry I said I didn't want you there."

"Bloody fuck," Richard dropped his knife to look up at his companion. "Why are you always there?"

"Huh," Tommy frowned at him.

"You're always, always there," Richard said. "Every time I turn around you're there. You're always inviting me to go to this and that. Why? I don't want to come see you play football, I don't want to come to band practice every night. I don't want to go to our classmates boring little parties. I don't need, nor do I want to go on every little outing with you and Nigel. I don't get it. I'm not fun, I'm certainly not pleasant to be around. I know it, so what the fuck is your excuse?"

"Why do you think that," Tommy chided. "You're perfectly pleasant, and most of the time you're even interesting."

Richard snorted disbelief before addressing Tommy. "You know, if I were you, Tom, I would just stop trying to be friends with me. I've tried, but I'm just unbearable. Just, stop it and run far, far away while you can. I'm trouble and I'm not worth it."

"You're coming to my party," Tommy decided. "I won't take no for an answer."

"And most of all I do not want to attend your fucking birthday party!" Richard exasperatedly replied.

"What have you got against birthdays," Tommy asked meekly.

"What have I?" Richard stared at him. "Do you want to know when my birthday is?"

"When."

"Yesterday," came Richard's short, derisive reply. "And you know what, when nobody likes you, Not even your parents, you don't get birthday parties. "

"Oh, please," Tommy scoffed. "That cannot possibly be true."

"Think what you want if it makes you feel better," Richard shrugged.

"Your parents really did forget?" Tommy frowned. "That's horrible."

"They didn't forget," Richard growled. "This is the first year I've been in London since I was five years old, Tom. I grew up in a fucking dormitory, I had no friends, and my parents wish I was never born. If I hadn't cut myself I'd still be there right now. They didn't forget, they just don't care!"

Richard left then and Tommy watched him depart, feeling a bit sad and stunned.

"Alright?" Nigel asked as he crossed Tommy's line of vision and sat down.

Tommy turned his gaze towards his best friend and shrugged, no longer trying to hide his disappointment.

"Don't let him worry you," Nigel cheerily replied as he patted Tommy's shoulder.

"He's been in boarding school since he was five," Tommy asked instead. "I didn't think they could ship you off that early."

"My aunt does what she wants," Nigel replied. "She probably donated a lot of money to the school."

"Oh, god, really," Tommy frowned. "That's horrible."

"It is," Nigel nodded his head in agreement. "My father tries to keep me out of my aunt's 'sphere of influence.' He doesn't want me to feel entitled or something."

"That's horrible, Nige," Tommy said. "I don't understand it. How could they just ship him away like they don't want him?"

"What are you on about," Nigel replied, having not been privy to the conversation.

Tommy glanced sharply at him. "Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on Richey, you and Liam."

"Yeah," Nigel sighed. "I know. You're right. It's just odd. It used to be just you and me, now it's you and me and Richey, and sometimes Liam. I'm not used to it."

"Me either," Tommy admitted. "but things aren't going to be the same forever."

Tommy stared listlessly over Nigel's shoulder in the direction that Richard had disappeared. Nigel followed his line of vision for a moment, then turned back to face his friend, and he realized that despite not knowing how, or why, things had already changed.

--

Tommy trotted up to his mother later that day as she stood in her small kitchen holding a piping tube in one hand and looking vexed upon a lopsided cake. Her auburn hair was tied back in a pony tail and she was covered in flour and icing.

"You remembered to put sugar in it this time, right, Mum," he patted her sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Yes, I did, Darling," she informed him. "Don't patronize your mother."

"I'm sorry," he laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "I always appreciate the trying."

"Oh, you," she smiled at him.

"My friend's birthday was yesterday," Tommy prefaced the request he was about to make.

"Really? Who is that?" she asked.

"Nigel's cousin, Richey," He dipped a finger into the icing bowl for a taste.

"Don't believe I know him," she lay her tube down and turned to look at her son. "Now, how come I've never heard of him before? You hidin' something?"

"Hiding what?" Tommy opened his eyes wide in hopes of seeming innocent. "He just moved to town. Two days older than me apparently. Nothing sinister of note as far as I know."

"And I've never heard of him, because..."

He shrugged and took another scoop of icing. "Well, I dunno, Mum. He's only been around for a few months."

"It's just not like you," she decided as she brushed back a lock of his hair.

"Maybe I haven't decided if I like him or not," Tommy said.

"Oh, I see," She stroked his hair and sighed. Being a single mother she was quick becoming petrified of her boy's ascent into adolescence. She didn't want him falling into the wrong crowd or making the mistakes that she had.

"So, nobody knew it was his birthday, and I was wonderin', when you're done with this and you go out to buy me a cake, could you have his name on it? I don't mind sharin' and I thought it'd be nice."

"Are you sure?" She asked. "It's your birthday."

"That's right, it is," he replied with a sparkle in his eye. "And this is what I want"

--

Richard Michael Blume lay curled up amidst the tangle of blankets upon his bed. He was peering out from beneath them at the door to his bedroom. The loud rapping emanating from behind the barrier had wakened him from a troubled sleep. He grumbled at the intruder to enter, for the door was unlocked, and when it swung opened it revealed the Blume family servant, Saul.

"What do you want," Richard frowned from where he lay, not bothering to even sit up.

"You've been asleep all day," Saul said as he entered the room. "Are you feeling alright."

"No," Richard admitted, though he hadn't an idea why. There was nothing that physically ailed him, and yet he found himself unable to wrest himself from the bed.

"Your friend stopped by."

"Tommy's birthday," the boy said with the disappointed realization that he'd missed the get together. He moaned and pulled his comforter over his head.

"I can't believe how useless I am." Saul could hear the muffled voice of his employers son from beneath the covers.

"Come now," Saul sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down. "We have cake."

"What?" Richard peered at the family's servant through a haze of incomprehension.

"Tommy, Sir. He brought you a slice of cake."

Richard finally noted the cake resting on Saul's lap. He regarded the baked good dumbly for a moment before sitting up with a stricken look upon his face.

"Oh, fuck, what is wrong with him," Richard said despairingly, and not at all mindful of his language in front of the adult.

"I didn't know it was your birthday," Saul noted the text upon the cake where Richard's name was prominently displayed in icing.

"Give it to me," Richard gestured towards the plate and Saul handed it over.

"That will be all," Richard dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he studied the unexpected dessert.

Saul stood up, pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it over.

"There's a card." he said shortly before departing.

Richard waited to be alone before perching the plate on his knee and ripping open the card.

"Please don't be angry," a Birthday Card addressed to Richard read. ", But everybody deserves a Cake with their name on it once a year. P.S. Now that We're thirteen, do I get to have a real band?"

Richard folded the card and placed it gently back in the envelope before he placed it on his nightstand, with the plate of cake on top of it. He frowned slightly. Unable to process the gesture Tommy had made he lay back down and pulled the blankets up to his chin and stared blankly at the ceiling.

--

Tommy hadn't made any indication of what had transpired a week and a half later when Richard returned to school, and nobody had even ventured to ask him why he had been gone for such a long time. The longer the day went on with glances of pity from the instructors and classmates, the more irritated he became. It all came to a head after classes had let out. They stood in order of height, Nigel, Richard, Liam and Tommy, waiting for Nigel's mother to pick them up. Nobody was saying a word and whether or not it was on Richard accord didn't matter. He felt as if it were and he'd had enough.

"Can I talk to you," Richard said, loudly, pointedly and to nobody in particular.

Tommy glanced down the row and pointed at himself.

"Me?" he asked as Nigel and Liam's response was to expectantly turn towards the short end of the line.

"Yeah, you," Richard confirmed. He grabbed a befuddled Tommy by the arm and dragged him away, informing the other two that he would have Saul pick them up.

"I get it," Tommy grumbled as soon as they'd found an isolated area behind the school building. "You don't want to be around me all the time. You've made it abundantly clear. Maybe you just don't like me and that's alright."

"I do like you," Richard said exasperatedly. "I wanted to be there. I don't want to hurt your feelings when you're so fucking nice to me. And you see what I do. I don't come to your party and you still send me my own cake..."

"Richard," Tommy said quietly, barely disguising his disappointment. "I didn't think you weren't going to come anyway. You said you wouldn't, didn't you?"

"Then why..."

"You said it yourself," Tommy shrugged. "I'm nice. I'm a Pisces, I can't help it."

Richard grumbled and crossed his arms. "You know, I don't even like Chocolate cake," he said.

Tommy took the comment with a grain of salt and smiled at Richard instead.

"You're funny," he replied with a laugh and began to walk back towards the street.

"What are you doing," Richard trotted to keep up with his companion. "Why are you walking away from me?"

"Nobody walks away from a Blume," Tommy playfully mocked his upper class accent as he backpedaled in order to gauge Richard's reaction.

"Don't you want to know where I was," Richard stopped and scowled. "Nobody's asked me where I've been."

Tommy chewed on his bottom lip a bit as he pondered how to respond to Richard's not so veiled attempt at seeking some attention.

"Okay," Tommy finally said. "You want to know why nobody's asked you?"

Richard nodded.

"They're afraid of what you're going to say. Everybody knows what you did, Richey, even if they don't say so and nobody wants to think about it. It scares people, what you've done to yourself. Don't you think it's better that they ignore you rather than tormenting you about it?"

Richard stood there his bottom lip trembling as he tried to stem the tears that welled in his eyes.

"Oh, No. Maybe not," Tommy dropped the playful facade, threw an arm around Richard as he started to weep and led him back to the secluded area from where they'd emerged.

"Why didn't I just die, Tom," he sobbed.

Tommy bit back any platitudes that threatened to depart from his lips and pulled Richard into a hug without saying anything. They stood there for a long time before Richard broke the embrace.

"Do you want to talk about it," Tommy finally asked.

Richard knew the question well as he was asked often, and he had a ready-made response for it. But as Tommy stood there looking at him with an expression of genuine concern he couldn't blurt out that he didn't want to talk about it. Nobody before had ever shown the slightest interest in anything he said or felt.

"You know they've been making me see a psychiatrist," Richard finally mumbled through sniffles.

Tommy just nodded, encouraging his friend to continue.

"I'm sick, Tom. Back in boarding school they said I had ADHD, but I don't. The pills just made it worse, I told them how bad it was, but they didn't believe me. This new doctor, he says I'm Bipolar. Now I have more different pills to take," Richard crossed his arms and frowned. "Fucking doctors can't tell their arse from their elbow. The short of it is, I'm basically insane, and I'm never gonna get better, ever."

"You're not insane," Tommy replied quietly and Richard just laughed condescendingly at him.

"Don't tell me what I'm not," he said. "And don't feel sorry for me either, I didn't tell you to feel sorry for me."

"Do I look like I feel sorry for you, Blume," Tommy glanced up at him with a frown.

"Obviously you do," Richard took a step back so he could regard his companion. "Or you wouldn't have sent me cake."

"You're an idiot," Tommy spat at him. "I know you've never had a 'birthday', but you must be aware that it is customary for gifts to be involved. No pity required."

Richard grumbled after him as Tommy began to walk away again. He still didn't quite believe that Tommy was without ulterior motives and Richard was well aware of how much people pitied him. He could see it when they refused to meet his eyes during conversation. He could tell by their apologies after jerking away from a handshake once they caught sight of the bright red scars on his wrists. He could tell by the way everyone acquiesced to his wishes as if the slightest affront would send him into a suicidal depression.

"Where are you going," Richard asked after Tommy as the boy exited the courtyard and started walking down the street.

"Tube Station," Tommy said.

Richard stopped in his tracks and stared.

"What now," Tommy turned around impatiently as soon as he sensed Richard was not following him. "Why are you staring at me like that."

"I'll ring Saul. He can drive us."

"You," Tommy shook his head. "You are something. How you gonna get around when there ain't no Saul?"

Richard refused to respond.

"You are so posh," Tommy asserted with a wry smile.

He turned away and kicked at the gravel on the sidewalk as he went. Richard begrudgingly shuffled after him.

--

"So what are you doin' when school lets out," Liam arrived more bubbly than usual at the table one afternoon at the Academie sometime in June. He pulled opened his sack lunch and exhumed a tuna sandwich.

"Rehearsing," Tommy said pointedly in Liam's direction. "We aren't getting a holiday from that if that's what you're wondering."

Liam frowned, returning to his usual disgruntled self.

"We do that too much as it is," he whined.

"Practice makes perfect," Richard spoke up from where he had been sitting silently. He had fallen into a quiet lull in the months since his birthday. It was a welcome respite from his usual biting commentary.

"but in your case, Liam," he continued as a malicious grin crept over his face, "That might not be possible."

"Wanker," Liam snarled back before Richard even finished the sentence.

"Well, I wold love to spend an entire summer bored watching you play 'music,'" Richard addressed the initial question, finger quoting the word Music as he did so.

"I'd think it's better than whatever the fuck you did before your parents cursed us with your presence," Tommy said.

"Probably," Richard agreed. The flicker of a genuine smile crossed his lips as Tommy sparred with him. "Regardless, I won't be here in July. We are going to Spain, isn't that right, Nigel?"

"You're what now," Tommy turned to Nigel. "You never told me that."

"Well, it's news to me," Nigel glared at his cousin.

"If my mother has anything to do with it, she's dragging your family along on her little holiday. In my experience Mother gets what she wants."

Nigel turned a lobsterish pink at the news and Tommy could tell he was biting his tongue on the matter.

"So then Holiday?" Liam asked hopefully. "I really don't want to spend my summer with you fellahs."

Tommy frowned and crossed his arms. "If that's what you want you bunch of ingrates then have it your way."

---

Madeline worriedly kept an eye on her son who was lying on the sofa watching television. He had decided not to play soccer that year and had become quite moody since his friends had gone to Spain. She walked over to the sofa, pushed his legs over the edge and sat down beside him.

"Why don't you go outside, sweetie," she said.

"I don't want to go outside," he countered petulantly. "There ain't nothing to do out there."

"You should call one of your friends," She offered.

"They're in Spain," he muttered.

"The Caughtons?" She laughed at him. "You have lots of friends, Tommy, you used to invite them over all the time."

"I don't like those people," Tommy said pointedly.

"Well, I can't have you sitting around all the time like a lump on a log," she chastised him.

He grumbled at her for a moment, but he knew it was true.

"Why don't we ever go anywhere," he finally muttered.

"You have everything you need right here," she dismissed him with a smile.

"I ain't ever even been to the country," he continued. "Never seen a tree that wasn't in a Garden."

"Oh, Tommy," She clucked at him. "Yes you have."

"I just want to go somewhere," he suddenly sat up with his revelation. "Can't we go to the country?"

Madeline, taken aback, didn't say anything.

"I would really like that," Tommy continued, excited at the prospect of leaving the city for a while.

Madeline sighed and ruffled his hair. "I'll see what I can do."

Tommy's face lit up and he hugged his mother then stood up.

"I think I'll go to the park, alright?"

"Alright," she agreed glad to have him finally out of the house.

--

Tommy didn't go to the park. Instead he walked for a few blocks until he came to a stop in front of Brian Humboldt's building. He stood there and pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket and placed it on his lips. He had never really been friends with Brian, even when they went to the same school, and he knew the only reason he was there was because they had only one thing in common and Tommy had nothing else to distract him from the pursuit of furthering his sexual experiences. Liam had already begun bragging about his many conquests. His stories were grandiose and highly exaggerated if not completely unbelievable. Tommy found these flights of fancy boring and completely divorced from reality, but was forced to listen as Nigel was curious about such tales, and so was Richard, if only to berate Liam afterward for making it all up.

"Are you gonna stand there, or you gonna ring me buzzer," a voice piped up from behind him. "Because I can tell you there ain't nobody home."

Tommy turned around, pulled the Cigarette from his lips and smiled.
8
"Brian!"

"Well, I haven't seen you in a good while," Brian flounced past him. Tommy hadn't seen him in a year and his brown hair had grown past his shoulders. He had grown, taller and thinner and was swaddled in a fur collared knee length suede jacket.

"I've been busy," Tommy mumbled as he appreciatively looked over his old acquaintance.

"Yeah, yeah, Love 'em and Leave 'em, ain't that right, Tom Sinclair," Brian turned to smile mischievously. "Come on in, I'll make you a cuppa."

Tommy curiously followed him into the building and into the kitchen where Brian sloughed off his coat and put a kettle on the stove to boil.

"Look, I'm sorry I never called," Tommy said in as sincere a way as he could muster.

"I should be upset," Brian admitted. "I, of all people, get to snog the cutest boy in school, only to have him leave me to play with his posh friends across town. Why'd you have to come along, Tommy Sinclair? So fucking cute, so sure of what you want. Back when you was eleven no less! I'm still confused, but with you around it's so obvious! And it's so easy!"

"I'm sorry, Brian," Tommy frowned sadly. He mumbled, "It's not easy," under his breath but Brain didn't hear him.

"You probably shouldn't have come back he said as he set a cup of hot water and a tea bag down on the table in front of Tommy. "I mean, isn't it enough that I spend every day worryin' about how damn queer I am and worryin' about how everybody knows and makes my life miserable? Now you're back here and it kinda makes me want to do every naughty thing I've ever imagined when I'm trying not to think like that."

The teabag made a loud splash as Tommy distractedly dropped it into the steaming cup of water. He took a moment to compose himself then and then sat back calmly in his chair.

"Is your mum at work," he asked.

"Oh, no you don't," Brian smiled at him. "It's not going to be like that this time, Tommy Sinclair. We're a little bit older and I'm a little bit smarter in spite of myself."

Tommy dejectedly frowned.

"Oh, C'mon," Brian laughed at Tommy's obvious discomfort. "It wouldn't work anyway, we're both far too cute, we'd cancel each other out, right?"

The corner of Tommy's mouth turned up into a slight smile and Brian happily clapped his shoulder.

"See, there's that smile!" he exuberantly chirped. "Now, the least can do is buy a girl some dinner...maybe a film."

"What," Tommy looked up into Brian's blue eyes. "I thought you said..."

"I said it wouldn't work out, darling. I didn't say I wasn't interested." he replied with a wink. "Like I said, you're far too cute."

---

The summer passed quickly and soon enough the Blumes and the Caughtons returned from Spain. Nigel welcomed home with opened arms and was ready to get back to his band, but found that Tommy had disappeared to the country with his mother and that left him with his cousin Richard, who was stood in his bedroom histrionically shouting at him for an explanation.

"He's supposed to be here," Richard pounded his fist into his hand. "Where is he?"

"Holiday," Nigel grumbled. "He left a note."

"Yeah, but we're supposed to be a band," Richard sniffed. "How can we do that with him off traipsing about in the hills, or the woods, or wherever the fuck he went."

Nigel stared at him with an opened mouth for a moment.

"What," Richard crossed his arms as he noted Nigel's expression.

"What are you talking about? You're the reason he's gone! We were supposed to be getting good this summer, and your fucking family takes us away to Spain where I did nothing! What's Tom supposed to do? Sit around and wait for us to come back? He's got his own family, and you are not even in the band so what do you care, you mad bastard!"

"Don't call me that," Richard scowled angrily down at his cousin. "I'm not mad."

"Fine you're not mad," Nigel relented, "but you are certainly walking the line."

Richard harrumphed and threw himself into one of Nigel's lounge chairs.

"He doesn't even like you," Nigel pointed out. He had become quite weary and suspicious of his cousin over the many hours they had been forced to spend together.

"He doesn't," Richard perked up in surprise. "Did he say that?"

"No," Nigel admitted. He didn't like the time Tommy spent with his cousin and he didn't like the influence his cousin held over both of them. He knew he wasn't being truthful and he wasn't being nice, but he still couldn't help himself.

"But he doesn't," Nigel continued. "Has he ever even invited you to his flat? I've been to his flat. Liam's been to his flat"

Richard frowned, and a moment of hurt flashed across his eyes before the monster in him reared it's ugly head.

"I don't want to visit his hovel anyway," he tossed his head and assumed a superior expression. "Maybe I don't like him either. He's always hoverin' over my shoulder. I'm glad he's not here."

"But you were just...," Nigel again regarded Richard with exasperation and then thought better than to get into another circular argument with someone who was incapable of making any sense.

--

An irritated Nigel stalked his way down the corridors in search of Tommy Sinclair, and he found him in the courtyard sitting on a bench animatedly chatting with Rita Gully, a quiet, smart girl who nobody usually took notice.

"Hey, can I talk to you," Nigel stood over them interrupting as he cast a long shadow over them blotting out the sun entirely with his giant curly blond Afro.

"I haven't seen you in a couple months," Tommy replied, "But you seem to have gotten a lot ruder, have you been getting tips from Richard?"

"Yeah, yeah, I have," Nigel countered sharply and added, "No thanks to you!"

It took a moment for the realization that the usually steadfast and calm Nigel was in fact, irate, and Tommy knew it was directed at him and could easily guess why. So he sighed and frowned and excused himself from Rita's company.

"You have been avoiding me," Nigel declared once they were out of earshot.

"Have I," Tommy queried though he knew full well that he had been. "I hadn't noticed, I've been busy."

"Busy," Nigel huffed. He stood shaded by the school building with his arms crossed and a rigid scowl adorning his features.

Tommy looked up at his neglected friend and felt very small.

"I've been going through some things," Tommy evasively replied as he shuffled from foot to foot attempting to avoid Nigel's glare.

"Things?" Nigel said. "Things that you have to avoid me for?"

"Well," Tommy shrugged.

"Nice," Nigel frowned. "Just...NICE. If you don't want to be my friend you can just tell me."

"God, you really have been spending too much time with Richard," Tommy attempted a lighthearted smile and a friendly pat on Nigel's arm but was swatted away for his effort.

"Well," Tommy spoke in a conspiratory whisper. "I had sex, if you must know." It was an effective way to quickly change the subject. He didn't want to mention that he'd been spending time with Brian Humboldt.

"That's what you've been doing?" Nigel replied dubiously. "Who with?"

"Grace," Tommy frowned feeling embarrassed and unsure of Nigel's reaction.

Nigel stood thoughtfully for a moment as he tried to place the name then asked with a confused look upon his face, "Isn't Grace your cousin?"

"She's not my cousin!" Tommy hissed. "My Aunt had her way before she married my Uncle, Grace wasn't a Sinclair then and she's not a Sinclair now!"

"Defensive," Nigel noted as his anger slowly transformed into a teasing grin.

"It's not funny," Tommy said indignantly.

"You're avoiding me because of that?" Nigel asked.

"I just don't want to talk about it," he replied carefully sidestepping the fact that he had been spending the weeks since his return from the country with his old school friend, Brian.

"Really? Because, Liam..." Nigel started and was instantly interrupted.

"Liam is a liar," Tommy said. "It was embarrassing, and I don't want to talk about it, Okay!"

"Okay," Nigel relented.

"And do not tell anybody else, either," Tommy warned. "I'm only telling you, because you're my best friend and I don't have to make up some big story about how great it was, because it wasn't. It was stupid."

"Okay," Nigel smiled happy to be back in his friend's confidence, a position he feared he had been losing hold on.

--

Tommy didn't get any warmer a reception from Nigel's cousin. Richard sat down at lunch and was icily silent as the other three compatriots caught up on the summer's exploits. Liam was more than happy to share stories of his drinking and his conquests, made up as they were. Nigel told tales of sunny beaches and Richard running amok throughout Spain. Tommy carefully avoided any mention of Grace and instead related anecdotes of his Aunt's provincial daily life.

He hailed Richard after the days obligations and Richard allowed himself to be waylaid but not without an obvious grimace in Tommy's direction. Tommy ignored the facial expression and they stood side by side on the pavement outside the school staring at the traffic that passed by.

"You didn't say much today," Tommy noted. Without looking at Richard he pulled cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it.

"Don't have much to say," Richard muttered. He afforded himself a glance over at his friend but turned away quickly when Tommy caught him staring.

"So the way Nigel tells it you've had fun on holiday, yeah?" Tommy said and turned to face his companion. Richard continued to stare at the traffic and refused to meet his gaze.

"It's not fun," Richard said coldly. "It's never fun."

"Right," Tommy turned away and looked down at his feet.

As the weeks flew by their relationship continued to devolve into a series of awkward silences and furtive glances. Richard withdrew and refused to be involved in any activity to which Tommy invited him, yet Tommy was persistent. He felt as if Richard was hiding something and thought it was his job to cajole it out of him. Things eventually came out, and not in the way Tommy had hoped. It was Liam's incessant poking and prodding that finally popped the bubble of tension that surrounded the group of friends. He had smuggled a dirty magazine that he had stolen from a bookstore into school and was proudly showing off his ill gotten gains.

"Why don't you put that away," Richard spoke up for the first time in weeks.

"Why? You gay or somethin'," Liam barely looked up from the centerfold as he replied.

"No," Richard replied coolly.

"You're gay," Liam decided as he finally looked up. "You're really, really gay."

Richard blanched at this assertion and snapped his mouth shut.

"I'm not stupid," Liam continued. "You never talk to the girls, you don't even glance at them, and yet you're all about glances in the changin' room aren't you?"

"Please," Richard huffed. He was; however, unable to meet Liam's defiant gaze.

"Leave him alone," Tommy stood up from his place on the sidelines. "You know he's on medication."

"Wot?" Liam openly laughed. "Medication to make him a poof?"

"I don't need your help," Richard said sharply and tried to tug Tommy back into a seated position, but he yanked his arm away from Richard's grasp and held it out towards Liam.

"Give me that," he gestured towards the magazine which lay folded, neatly hidden underneath Liam's lunch tray.

Liam was all for creating a scene at the expense of his companions and he handed over the publication relishing the thought of the possibly ensuing theatrics.

"This is not the time nor the place," Tommy growled as he rolled up the paper and thrust it pointedly at his bass player. "This is going in the bin where it belongs, and as for you Liam, how dare you sit here and throw stones at people."

"I was just makin' a joke," Liam shrugged at Tommy. "Why? Are you queer too."

Tommy stared at him for a moment. His mind went completely blank, his mouth opened and out spilled the words,

"Maybe I am."

Liam laughed it off, Richard bit his lip and stared at place beyond Nigel's shoulder as the colour drained completely from his face, and Nigel just looked up at his friend in a distressed manner and asked if he were joking.

"Why would I joke about that," Tommy asked crossing his arms as he looked pointedly at Nigel, who knew very well it was not something that Tommy would ever make jokes about.

"But you said y