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Damon sighed loudly. He sat, legs splayed wide, on the floor of Graham’s bedroom. He had sorted through all of Graham’s records and read the track listings for each one at least twice, but still, he found nothing he wanted to listen to. Graham was rather absorbed in fiddling with his guitar, fumbling through some tune he found a songbook. He was content with the silence, sitting cross-legged on his twin bed. It was like he could’ve gone forever without saying a word. Damon, however, was growing terribly bored. He would’ve suggested they went for a walk to break up the day, give them something to do, but it didn’t seem like the weather would allow for that. Outside, the rain poured down in sheets with no sign of letting up. Damon huffed again.
”What’s wrong, Damon?” Graham looked up from the open book in front of him. His pale face nearly glowed in the cool light beaming in through the window.
“Bored,” said Damon. “Is there anything we can do?”
“I dunno, not really. Unless you wanna go out in the rain,” Graham shrugged. Damon made a face.
“No, thanks. What’re you learning on guitar?”
“Oh, nothing. Just some song, for practice.” Damon cocked his brow.
“Yeah? That’s really specific, isn’t it? Some song.”
“I don’t know it, I’m just figuring it out.” Graham put his guitar back in its case and set it on the floor. He gestured to the records.
“Anything there you wanna listen to?”
“Nothing we haven’t heard a hundred times before,” Damon pushed himself up and walked over to flop on his back on Graham’s bed. He sighed, dramatically, a third time, prompting Graham to smile slightly.
“You’re in an awful mood.”
“I just hate feeling like I’m wasting a weekend. We’re only off school for two days of the week-- shit, I think I have homework due Monday,” Damon groaned and rolled onto his stomach with a muffled ‘fuuuuck’.
“I think we deserve longer weekends. Longer breaks too. Cut the bullshit from the curriculum and just teach us what we need to know. That’ll shorten the year up.” he stated.
“I agree,” Graham leaned back on the wall.
“Christ, it’s only November, too. I’m already sick of school.” Damon rested his chin in his hand.
“It’s your last year, though. I still got another year after this one.”
“Oh, yeah. Bloody hell, I’m graduating this year. I have no idea what I’m gonna do after school,” Damon collapsed back on the bed. “Theatre, maybe?”
“Yeah, you wanna be an actor?” Graham asked. Damon quite liked attention-- this was no secret. He surely had the charm, the talent, the looks, and the drive to one day achieve fame.
“Yeah, or a musician. That would be cool,” a lazy grin broke out on Damon’s face. “I’d be on Top of the Pops . Everyone would want to get with me, girls and boys. I’d get crazy rich, and influence a generation.” Graham chuckled and ruffled his dark hair.
“And you’d stay just as humble as you are now, right?”
“Absolutely!” Damon sat up and poked Graham’s leg. “And you can be my drummer-slash-saxophonist-slash-guitarist.”
“Actually,” Graham prodded Damon back, “I think I’d like to be a painter. Go to art school and all that.”
Graham wasn’t opposed to the idea of pursuing a career in music, but he wasn’t good enough to be a professional yet. Perhaps he would enjoy it more than painting, though. And doing it all with Damon sounds like it could be fun. The time they spent in Real Lives was alright, but it would be much different if they were in a real band, playing arenas instead of their school’s auditorium.
“You can paint all our promotional posters, then,” Damon moved closer. “Can you imagine it? You and me, on the road, touring together? Playing sold out shows for thousands of adoring fans?”
“Don’t you think we’d get sick of each other after a while?” Damon let out an exaggerated gasp at the very idea.
“Never! I could never get sick of you.” Despite his humorously overplayed reaction, he really believed he couldn’t possibly tire of his best friend. He often dreamed of this scenario-- being in a famous band with Graham. He pictured Graham always at his side, during interviews, concerts, press conferences, signings, and at parties. Damon couldn’t think of doing any of this without Graham.
“I think you could.”
“Would you get tired of me?” Damon inquired. Graham opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again to ponder his reply. Damon grew more and more offended the longer it took Graham to answer him.
“I mean, maybe,” Graham tried not to giggle. “You’d keep me up all night, messing about with groupies.” Damon looked wounded by such an accusation.
“I’m not a whore, Graham!” he gave Graham a playful shove.
“I’m not saying you are, but what about all those girls and boys who wanna get with you? Just gonna turn ‘em away, are you? ‘Cause you’re so modest.”
“Oh, and you won’t screw any groupies, of course,” Damon smirked
“No, I’d be in it for the music! Besides, no groupies would wanna get with me, anyway.” Graham scrunched up his nose a little.
“No way, who wouldn’t want you? You’re just the sweetest,” Damon batted his lashes flirtatiously, making Graham laugh and bow his head to hide the light blush dusting his cheeks.
“Shut up,” he swatted at Damon’s shoulder. Damon reached out to affectionately muss up Graham’s hair with a snicker. Graham pushed his arm away, only to have him try again. Graham attempted to fight him off, but he before long, he realized this was a losing battle. He and Damon playfully kicked and smacked one another, laughing and struggling to pin the other down to the bed and officially be proclaimed the winner of this impromptu bout of horseplay. As expected, Damon wrestled with Graham until he held both of his wrists and straddled his waist. Damon’s wide grin never once faltered. He eyed Graham through his golden blond bangs.
“Let me up!” Graham squirmed in his hold. Their closeness left him a bit breathless, it always did.
“Nope,” Damon paused. “Give me a kiss and I will.”
Now, Damon wouldn’t say he was confused or that he particularly fancied boys, but there was something about Graham. Not quite a physical attraction, but something like that. A magnetic attraction. He always wanted to be near Graham, touching him.
“Why do you like kissing me so much?” Graham gave him a quizzical smile.
“I just like it,” Damon began to lean in.
“Is it because you ain’t got a girlfriend, so I’m the closest thing?” Before Graham could get on with more self-deprecation, Damon kissed him firmly. One thing he had no time for was when Graham was talking himself down.
A moment passed, then Graham was shyly kissing him back, moving his lips slowly against Damon’s. He had no real reason to be bashful as this most definitely wasn’t the first time they had done this. On more than one occasion, Damon had instigated a scrap just to have Graham at his mercy so he could kiss him, though Graham was far from being an unwilling party. He tussled with Damon, fully aware he was going to lose. He knew Damon liked to provoke him into something like this, or surprise him. Damon’s confident, but even he’s not brash enough to make such bold desires and their motivations known.
Damon let go of Graham’s wrists shortly after so he could properly hold himself up. He seemed to dominate these situations with impossible ease. He set a leisurely pace for Graham to follow. It was like a dance with Damon as the lead. Graham brought his arms down, both hands coming to Damon’s shoulders. He allowed the kiss to deepen without any protest, Damon’s tongue grazing over Graham’s bottom lip. Normally, he would be anxious someone might walk in on them, lips locked in what would surely look like a passionate love affair, but he was entirely, if briefly, at peace.
Sadly, it didn’t last at all long enough for his liking. Damon eventually pulled back, but just barely. He was still close enough that his nose lightly brushed Graham’s. He simply couldn’t resist giving him a final peck before crawling off of him. A part of him wished they could stay like that all day. Graham almost tried to chase him back, quickly catching himself to avoid looking a fool. Damon chuckled.
“That was nice,” he said. Graham, rather speechless, nodded in response. His face was bright red.
“Anyway, I definitely wouldn’t be fucking just any groupies, thank you very much. I’d like to say I have standards.” And with that, Damon continued on with the previous conversation like nothing had happened. He had to, or else he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from pouncing upon Graham once more. He didn’t permit himself to ponder such things on a regular basis, lest he was to fall into some introspective black hole of doubt, but maybe he should. Maybe he needed to realize a few things. Maybe his heart leaping into his throat when he made Graham laugh was something of a clue, or the odd sort of fluttery feeling swirling about in his stomach right then and whenever else they found themselves casually crossing “friendly” physical boundaries. Maybe there was a reason he couldn’t imagine a future without Graham.
Hopefully, he’d figure it all out someday.