Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Graham must have been awake for he was aware that his head hurt, but he had no desire to open his eyes and traditionally wake up. Instead he burrowed his head slightly into the warm mass in front of him. His head was always hurting nowadays. Though he couldn't complain. It was really his own fault at the end of the day. And the fault of the cheap ass alcohol he insisted on downing throughout each gig.

When he was younger, he couldn't stand the stuff, never imagining he'd bare the taste of the bitter and sweat like liquid. But now he relied upon its powerful ambrosia.

When he was younger, he couldn't stand Damon Albarn either, never have imagining he'd rest his hungover forehead against the latter's tanned back.

OK, it wasn't like he had ever hated the man, in fact he could still remember how mesmerising he found the blonde the first time he had seen him. In that play, the plot and the title were never important to Graham, the 12 year old had exuded such a fixating aura he supposed of confidence. Or pride. Or just general energy. Graham had sat for the 2 hours fixated on what ever trait had enthralled him, knowing he missed it from his own life. He found himself smiling as the character smiled and laughing when he laughed, but never really registered the joke or the words he spoke.

When the play had ended Gra had felt slightly empty. He had just assumed he'd never meet the older boy again.

Perhaps it would have been better if they had remained separate. The next time they met had definitely not been enjoyable.

Graham at that point was half way through year 8, and had spent the week running away from Greg and his ever so friendly gang. They had decided that Graham was a poof, a stupid suggestion really Graham reaffirmed to his adult self lightly kissing Damon's shoulder blade, and had decided that as such every time they saw Graham Cocksuker they would push him into a wall and proceed to beat the living shit out of him. So, the ungainly 12 year old had taken up sprinting, which was suiting him just fine, apart from the fact he was hideously unfit so when he stopped he would have to lean against a wall for moral support, feeling horribly red and sweaty. On this particular day Graham had paused by the doors of the lunch hall, and was fearfully surveying the area for either Greg, at which he would reside to skip lunch and sit in the library, or the small but pleasant band of friends he had made. He instead had found neither.

He stayed by the doors catching his breath and fixing his hair. His eyes wandered again across the room, and fixed subconsciously upon one particular table. Surrounded by a gaggle of girls, seemingly from different year groups, sat the strange actor. He was looking right back at Graham. Graham didn't realise he had been staring at the older boy until he stood up, maintaining eye contact and started to cross over towards him. The boy had grown quite a bit since Graham had last seen him, he towered slightly over Graham with a blond stringy fringe. Perhaps Graham wouldn't have even recognised him if he hadn't had such notable bluey green eyes. Graham didn't believe he was exactly making a bee line for him, it would be much more realistic for the blonde to be heading for the doors Graham's small frame was partially blocking, why after all would the older boy want to be talking to him.

But lo, after strutting around the tables he paused face to face, or more accurately chest to face, with Graham. He looked down and after a moment bit back a laugh. “Your shoes are crap mate. Look, mine are the proper sort.”

Graham blinked, interrupting his shell shocked staring at the chest.

“Wha-” he looked down, he and the other boy where wearing the same shoes. Okay the other's brogues looked slightly more posh. But really? “What?” Graham repeated very confused. He took in the boys appearance a bit more, a hideous leather trench coat was draped over the school uniform. Some how the other boy almost pulled it off.

He finally raised his eyes back to meet the others when he still hadn't responded. This close Graham could appreciate how well formed his face was, a strong ski-scope nose that was just small enough to be considered cute and button like whilst being masculine. The start of pale facial hair around his pointed chin. The eyes where bluer up close and glinted malevolently. The boy was chewing on his lip, with crooked teeth, almost seeming confused himself.

“Your shoes suck...” He repeated sounding as confident as before.

Graham furrowed his brow. He had been bullied a lot recently, and this was nothing like that. Sure the words were mean, but there wasn't any venom behind them, it seemed to be just an observation.

“Thanks.”

The boy cocked his head, weighing up the response.

“I-”

He glanced over Graham's shoulder and sneered.

“Right,” he clapped one hand on Graham's shoulder, and eyes still behind him, flipped his hair. As a finishing thought he crooned “Get some better shoes lad.”

He then turned away and followed a girl back to his table.

Graham was utterly floored. He had no idea what had just happened. He was so deafened by his thoughts screaming unformed ideas, that he didn't hear Charlie calling his name the first three times. Only when the ginger tapped his shoulder, making him jump, did Graham come back to reality.

His friends walked out from the corridor behind him and lead the bemused Gra to a table, they knew better to ask figuring it was about Greg and so swallowed Graham in their light conversation about the new maths teacher. As Graham followed them he felt the stare of the strange year 9 still upon him and had to restrain himself from turning around.

To this day Graham was still confused about what Damon had been doing, as Damon remained stoic in not discussing it. Graham had figured he must have forgotten about it. He hadn't.

Damon was just too embarrassed to explain the situation.

Damon had had his eyes upon Graham for a while. In a school where everyone was a cardboard cut out version of the typical English stereotype Damon found it both boring and pointless to waste his time socialising with them.

But then there was Graham: the boy full of contradictions.

Damon spent most days in detention and half way through his year 8 he found himself following a short boy with a soft brown bowl cut most of the way home. At first Damon had assumed like him the boy must be a little bit of a trouble maker, and didn't pay him much attention

But then he found himself watching the boy more in school, as Damon would expect of the boy he seemed to have quite a few friends. But on the occasion he separated himself from them, the boy seemed to remain calm in his isolation, and almost as though he preferred it. This intrigued Damon.

And then there was the strange coincident that whenever Damon looked up the boy seemed to be staring at him. Often they would maintain eye contact throughout lunch. But when, Damon could remember, one lunch time at the end of year 8, he sat on the same table as the boy he didn't even look up from his book Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. A surprising and good choice. Damon bet the boy would love DH Lawrence, maybe he should recommend him. But of course he for once couldn't get his attention as hard as he tried, he coughed but the boy seemed oblivious to his presence for once. Damon found it harder and harder to class the boy into a box so absorbed in the novel. Damon spent the whole lunch studying the boys facial expressions, when he would furrow his brow, turn back a few pages. The small elfin grin he adopted.

The book suggested he was a nerd. So Damon explored the idea that instead of detention, the boy spent time in the library after school. A week later Damon skipped his maths detention to prowl around the book shelves, to not find the boy. Yet when he left at 4 15 their the boy was like clock work walking in front of him. So maybe he had had detention after all.

The nerd/trouble maker would listen to their Walkman on the way home, tapping his hand against his thigh to the rhythm of whatever song. Damon wished he knew what he was listening to.

Damon never saw him on the way to school, and so figured he must leave earlier than Damon. Not that Damon often left for school in any sensible way, Damon did not care if he were late and instead of walking,one of his older friends, in their early twenties, would pick him up from his house and give him a lift on their motor bike.

When Damon entered year 9 he stopped seeing Graham on the way back from detention.

In fact he barely saw him at all.

He told himself he didn't care. But at the tale end of February, it became apparent to Damon he had somewhat missed the stranger's presence as he spotted the brunet walking home. Instead of turning off up the usual road leaving Damon's route, he merely paused before continuing straight.

Damon's interest spiked. He knew he shouldn't stalk the boy but when he got close to the turning to his road the boy was still in his sight line. And Damon was nosey god dammit.

He told himself he would only follow for five more minuets to get a feel of the different route.

After two minuets, the boy paused and ducked down a side foot path by a hedge. Damon tensed the muscles in his jaw. It would be weird to follow him.

But he did.

The alleyway was surprisingly spacious. It meandered round and round, taking the boys on a labyrinthine route that Damon feared would never end, before weaving back on itself before widening to its concluding dead end: the hedge at the back of the school field. This calm oasis was so sectioned from the urban surroundings that plants had managed to grow, and the boy sat back against a tree facing away from Damon, pulling out a notepad and a pencil from his bag. He began to draw, quite oblivious of Damon's presence. So not only was the boy a nerd, and a rebel, but he was also an artist? Damon was about to make his subtle exit, a cat sped from the alley behind him, the fast unexpected movement made him jump. The cat paid no notice, sprinting past Damon to the boy. There the ginger tom stopped and rubbed his face against the boys leg mewling pitifully. The boy huffed out a laugh and rummaged around in his bag again, pulling a tuna sandwich out of it. He threw it on the ground, where the cat began to feast on it.

An animal lover as well then.

Damon realised as he left with a grin on his face, that he had never heard the boy laugh before. He hadn't even heard him talk.

Later in that week their was another surprise twist in the mystery of the boy. Damon could tolerate most people in the school even if he didn't like them, but not Greg. Damon knew him quite physically, he had “accidentally” stole Greg's “girlfriend” and often the two fuelled by general anger and testosterone would often battle it out in the corridors. But recently, Greg had been imposing his presence on more fragile members of the school as a desperate and quite pitiful bid to gain more power. Damon hadn't really been surprised when he noticed the familiar small brunette was pushed into a locker by Greg. This was his chance. He stepped forward preparing to save the boy. When to everyone's shock the boy who had collapsed lower down against the locker, pushed himself up swinging his knee with his momentum into Greg's crotch. As everyone else stood stock still, the kicker followed through with the movement, rolling forward across the floor, shakily getting up and then sprinting down the corridor without glancing back.

A crumpled Greg groaned at the retreating figure, preparing to claw his way back towards his prey.

“Oi,” Damon yelled at Greg, the younger boy was impressively fine, so now Damon's vengeance was just for himself.

“Aww you protective over yah boyfriend Damo?” growled Greg, as the boy tried to regain his height, Damon punched him in the jaw, drawing blood and then walked off in the opposite direction.

Damon was bemused but worried as to what quite the boys actions would have gotten him into.

So when he noticed the boy standing alone at lunch, leaning mysteriously on the door frame, hair sticking up, skin pale, worried eyes staring right at him. Damon felt again he needed to protect the younger boy, or at least congratulate him.

He walked forward, leaving Grace, Daisy and Sarah halfway through their jokes. He watched as the boys pupils expand and melt across his dark chocolatey eyes.

He pulled back his mouth in a smile, his heart thumping a little, soon they could become friends. When Damon got closer he realised there was a flaw in his plan: he had nothing to say.

He continued walking, continuing up right close into the others personal space, stalling. Damon finally panicked and dropped the penetrating glance, then noticed the boy had the same fashionable shoes as himself. Maybe they were similar people after all.

So like a fool Damon commented on the shoes.

As soon as he said it he knew he had confused the boy, hell he had confused himself.

Damon stood his ground and remained, although awkwardly, talking to the boy. He was almost ready to relax into the conversation when he spied the boys friends over his shoulder. His presence not only strange would also become purposeless as he knew that the spinless Greg would leave the boy alone if he had company, so Damon quickly made his exit.

Chapter Text

Graham ran a finger down the blonde's back making him shiver in his presumed sleep.

Damon really had a stubborn backbone Graham giggled, he had assumed after their mess of a first meeting that that would be it, but after that incident Graham had found the older boy crop up in the strangest scenarios. Eventually, Damon had wormed his way into Graham's life.

The lesson after their first meeting, Graham had had a supply teacher in maths. He remembered slouching in his seat at the back of the class, prepared to relax into his formula for such a lesson.

For half the lesson everything folded out as usual: he ignored the work and happily scribbled hideous caricatures of his classmates all over his notebook; he then lobed the designs at his friend Callum,who on opening the note creased as usual silently in his chair.

No-one had ever paid attention.

Until that day. Jane, the tall blonde girl who was forced to sit next to Callum, picked up one of the notes that Graham had thrown, and arched one of her curved eyebrows. Graham sank in his chair, typically the note she had picked up had been a drawing of her.

Now Graham had only interacted with her once previously, but he didn't have a positive impression. She was in the popular sphere, played hockey and so had unusually muscular arms but was still considered one of the attractive girls by the majority of his friends liked, she also was friends with Greg.

But hey, the young Graham was sure she wouldn't know who had drawn the picture.

He shielded his gaze, lifting his text book up, but spied over the top of it. She turned her attention to Callum, she seemed to speak, Callum seemed to faun over her. Oh no. He wouldn't. He did. Graham saw Callum sheepishly point at him.

He shrunk even further in his chair trying to become invisible, he'd just have to sneak out of the class before she started anything.

He had packed his bag ten minuets before the lesson ended and sat poised on his chair ready to make his exit.

“Hey,”

He flinched, but quickly steeled his nerve, her voice sounded almost friendly, but he wasn't going to fall for it. He'd apologise, quickly, sincerely, and then make his exit.

“Did you draw this?”

“Uh ye-” he started to mutter his sorriness when he was interrupted by a light tinkling laugh.

“It's pretty accurate in a, funny, sort of way” she pulled a face mimicking the grotesque grimace of the drawing.

“Uh ah hahha- yeah well. I'm glad you like it.” Graham looked around her before dragging his eyes to hers trying to gauge her sincerity, “You can keep it if you want?”

She laughed again and this time it was less light. “No. that fine. It's cool though, you're cool... Graham?”

He couldn't prevent himself pulling a bemused face, this didn't add up. “Alr-”

“It is Graham right?” she interrupted him again, and before he could even begin to respond to her question she continued “I saw you at lunch.”

“Huh?”

She twirled a section of her perm that had fallen across her face.

“Uhuh!” She affirmed excitedly “You and Damon friends huh?”

“Who- Oh.” Oh indeed. Graham berated himself he shouldn't have been surprised, of course Jane would only talk to him if she thought he could help her popularity. Stupid Damon. Though to be far to him, he had just prevented Graham getting punched. But still annoying, Graham was sure he could have made his way out of the situation by himself. “Yeah we're close. In fact I'm suppose to be meeting him now sorry, gotta go, he hates it if I'm late.” Graham babbled preoccupied with his thoughts.

Jane's eyes lit up. “Hey maybe you could introduce me-”

“What- oh no sorry not today, its his Gran's funeral” He really didn't know what he was saying.

“Oh what a poor boy” she emphasised pouting, her lips where a pleasant pastel pink and Graham couldn't help but focus on the shapes they made.“Well tell him if he needs any comforting-”

“Sure,” Graham pushed past her finally making his exit.

His mind had buzzed. It had been such a remarkably strange day that when he left art club and collided into a Damon prowling the corridor he hadn't even been surprised. The blonde's eyes however widened in shock as Graham trotted back apologise on instinct about elbowing him in the stomach.

The older boy blinked “What?”

“Nothing, just-thanks... Damon.” The infliction was an afterthought that he really just hadn't thought about. But it was worth it the older boy looked like he had just been shot. Graham relished the confusion, sadistically it had made him feel better if Damon was as confused as he was,

But quickly the surprise on Damon's face melted into a slick smirk, “Yah heard about me then?”

He had looked far to pleased with himself, “Unfortunately. Jane says 'hi' so you know.”

“Jane?” Damon inquired his blue eyes gleaming. “Jealous?”

Stone-faced Graham furrowed his eyebrows, “Ah yes, there's nothing I'd want more than to be fixated on by gangs of teenage girls just based on my looks.”

Damon hummed in response, “It's good for a shag though.”

Graham had somehow resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “I can imagine, is that why you're stalking around here?”

“Might be,”

Graham pulled a thin lipped grimace “Well as can't help you there, I'll go.” and then tried to walk past him.

“That's not what I heard-”

Graham's cheeks coloured. “What?” He had turned back to Damon just in time to see the grin fall off his face, “Nothing.”

The whole week he was annoyed, raging with bitter thoughts that all centred around Damon and bitterer thoughts about how many of his thoughts where taken up by the boy. He had talked to him once and know his entire life was defined by the boy? Random people he could not care less about would talk to him. Not about him. But Damon. Great! And the twat had the nerve to imply he was gay? Graham's blood boiled.

Damon kept trying to make eye contact with him at lunch Graham knew, but Graham coyly avoided all further interactions.

Or tried to.

Typically a week later, Damon had been sent out of his own maths class, for what it would later turn out for throwing a rubber at his teacher, and into Graham's. This again had to be a coincidence. As did the only free chair in the class being behind Graham.

But it was still annoying.

What was more annoying is the look of revelry that crossed Damon's face as he also realised this fact. He strutted over to the chair before the teacher could tell him, and sat down with a saint like look on his face.

Subsequently Graham's teacher was called out to help remove a boy from another class, apparently it was a busy day for twats in lessons,

The suspected ruckus broke out as soon as the door closed. Lewis poked Graham on his arm happy to join in the cacophony, but Graham buried his head in his work. He hated maths and he hated that Damon's eyes where burning into the back of his skull, and he hated that Lewis was still trying to talk to him, and he hated that he was ignoring him, and he hated that if he replied Damon would be listening.

“Graham?” Lewis poked him again, Graham's head was spinning,“Gra- you alright?” Lewis asked. Graham silently closed his eyes hoping to disappear.

Again his invisibility tactic failed.

“Oi swat,” Damon kicked the back of Graham's chair, “You okay mate?”

Graham groaned and without turning around muttered “You're not my mate.”

Damon coughed a laugh, “Ouch, pay attention to your actual friend then you weirdo.”

Lewis frowned at Damon.

“You think he's a weirdo? Take a look in the mirror you-”

Damon demonically grinned at Lewis and the younger boy blanched.

“What you smiling at you-”

Graham finally spoke.

“Look both of you shut up before I-”

Damon giggled at the prospect of the boy half a foot shorter than him trying to threaten him

“Do what?”

Before Graham could answer the teacher returned and the class fell collectively into a hush.

Graham left the class annoyed.

All the other incidents had been coincidences so Graham assumed what happened a week later had also been down to chance.

But unbeknownst to him it had completely and utterly be orchestrated by Damon. Literally and figuratively.

He didn't know that as soon as Damon knew his name he'd sent out his feelers to gather as much information on the kid as he could.

Graham assumed it had just been a random music assignment from Mr Harris, an assignment that now he was overly thankful but at the time one he almost didn't go through with.

After the lunch session in which Harris told Graham his saxophone skills where wanted and pointed him to a prominent Damon sitting in the corner of the room, Graham had to disguise his frown.

“Oh hey,” Damon's eyes remained fixed to the book in his hands, Graham was about to move closer to the boy assuming that he hadn't heard him, but before he could Damon replied without looking up

“I guess your the sax player huh?”

“... Yep.”

“OK, we'll practise round yours tomorrow and the performance in on Friday.”

Graham paused, “You- you can't just invite yourself round mine?” He asked incredulous.

“I think I just did, mate,” Graham's anger threatened to peak, but with that Damon's eyes had flicked from the page into his, looking almost worried but almost challenging.

“I- fine,”

It hadn't escaped Graham's eyes that as Damon looked up the bright purple bruise on his cheek was illuminated.

The blonde stood up from his seat, towering Graham. “See you tomorrow then.” Before he strutted off.

That had left Graham over 24 hours to puzzle over the situation. This was not good.

He talked to Lewis: to calm himself, to complain, to worry he didn't know. Any way it was unsuccessfully.

“Ugh that wanker Gra?”

“Yeah,”

“Just don't go simple.”

“He's coming round mine.”

Lewis shrugged, “Don't let him in.”

Graham frowned

“Look I don't know mate, anyway its just one rehearsal you know what I mean?”

“Hmm.”

“Anyway, did you see-”

At the end of the day he found Damon leaning against a tree as he was surrounded by Jane and her gang. Graham walked up to the crowd and coughed pointedly, the mass shifted to further shelter Damon.

Seeing Graham stuck behind the canopy, Damon shoved his way through the semicircle.

“What's that sour look for Grah?”

“-ham,” Graham muttered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Damon squinted at him through the smoke of his cigarette. Sighing he snubbed it.

“Which way then, Graham?”

They went back to Graham's home making little small talk, Graham reached for his Walkman and passive aggressively put it on.

Damon pouted and petulantly pulled at the ear phone, “Watcha listening to?”

Graham sighed. “The Beatles.”

“I love the Beatles.”

Graham sighed again “Who doesn't?"

They then had walked in silence to Graham's house.

Both his parents where at work so they entered seemlessly. Graham only paused his Walkman after leading Damon to his saxophone.

“What's this song then?”

Keeping it business like Damon pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket.

Graham squinted at the barely legible scribbles. “Hold up,” Graham crossed quickly to the other side of the room and pulled a glasses case out of the draw. He had stopped wearing his glasses to school after they had been broken after his first week. He peered again at the paper:

“When you meet a beautiful alien”

Opposite you

is the opposite of you

quiet when you are loud

subtle were you were proud

opposite you

is a world quite unexpected

twisted and blurred

its a world of something

fine to see if allowed

when you meet

a beautiful

alien.

The world slips away

from you

the skies grey not blue

and you're alone again

He smiles

does he mean it?

he laughs

can you believe it

when you meet a beautiful

alien?

Transcending norms

he forgives and

to you he warms,

when you greet a beautiful alien,

How sweet a beautiful alien.

Saxophone solo

How bittersweet

a bittersweet

beautiful

alien.

The world slips away

from you

the skies grey not blue

and you're alone again

“This is shit, where's the notes?”

“Hmm,” Damon had be absent mindedly fiddling with a photo frame containing baby Graham

“You've just written 'Saxophone solo' what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Do you have a piano?”

To Graham's surprise on sitting at the piano Damon closed his eyes, whilst singing his fingers flew over the keys creating a haunting minor progression, that crescendoed over 'beautiful' before dying at 'alien'.

Graham “Wow-” the word slipped from his mouth.

“Just play to complement that it shouldn't be that hard.”

So Graham did.

At first the notes were awkward, unconnected but soon the two unified in the melody the notes flowing together, it was something speech alone could never have achieved but Graham found after staring at the older boy surrounded by the surreal haunting unity of the music that he felt closer to Damon than he had ever felt to his other friends.

Then came his solo, into he bleed all his misplaced anger at Damon the notes were jarring but melted in to a harmony. He didn't know how long his solo was meant to be, but he wouldn't have kept to it anyway as when playing like this he had no track of time. At a point that must have seemed natural Damon resumed the song.

The two didn't stop when the song did, instead they flowed right back to the start. Again they repeated and again. At some point Graham's mum must have arrived home for after the fifth or sixth time playing through there was a knock at the music room door.

Damon jumped coming out of the musical revere to stare wide eyed at Graham who was also rather displace.

“Grear bear? Can I come in?”

“Ah sure mum,”

As his mother walked into the room greeting her son she walked straight past Damon. He grinned demonically over her shoulder mouthing with a sneer 'Grear bear?', Graham pulled a face at him but smiling slightly.

His mum turned around “Oh sorry! Gray I didn't realise you had a friend around, you must be-” she paused her hand half out stretched.

Damon took it in his and kissed her knuckles “Damon ma'am, Damon Albarn it's a pleasure to meet you.”

Graham shook his head at Damon's antics but couldn't help grinning.

His mum looked slightly bemused but took in the response of her son and let it go as he was enjoying himself.

“Ah the a famed Mr Albarn himself, I have heard such a lot about you.”

Damon winked at Graham over her shoulder “I'm sure you have.

“Anyway mum, Damon and I have just been paired up for a music project so”

“Ah I was wondering what all that ruckus was, but it sounds important so I'll leave the two of you alone. Unless you want tea?”

Before Graham could answer Damon interjected “Lovely offer, but I've got to go quite soon.”

“Ah okay!”

Pauline Coxon then walked out of the room.

As soon as his mum left Graham balled the song and threw it at Damon's forehead

“Hey!” Damon feigned shock.

“You're a proper wanker aren't you?” Graham laughed.

“Guilty.” Damon threw his hands up in defeat.

“Do you really have to go soon?”

Damon dropped his act sensing the serious tone in Graham's voice, “Yeah sorry, mate. It's my Grans funeral at 6.”

Graham stared at him for an honest minuet before asking “What?”

“Kidding.”

Graham started laughing again and pushed Damon aggressively in the shoulder “Shut up what else was I s'pose to say.”

“Oh sorry Grear bear.”

Graham pushed him again “Wanker!” before collapsing in a giggle fit beside him.

Damon smiled slightly in shock at the boy's relaxedness.

“But I do actually have to go,”
“Hmm,” Graham propped him self up on his elbows, “Yeah that's fine, see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Of course, mate.”

Graham and his mother saw the boy out, watching him go she said “Damon's certainly an interesting character.”

"Interesting's the word for it yeah.”

“Hah, seems like a good friend Grah look after him.”

“Hmm,”

Back to long distance staring for three days, then came the concert. Friday morning just before assembly and Graham was worried.

Damon met him behind the stage with a smile, in the dim lighting it was hard to see that Graham was shaking, pale, sweaty.

“Damon I-”

“Are you okay?”
“I don't think I can do it,”

“Wait,” Damon bent over to eye level and saw the fear in the chocolate eyes. “Hey its okay,” he cupped the boys head in his hands supporting him, “What's worrying you?”

Graham avoided his gaze “I don't think we've practised enough Dam-”

“Bullshit.”

Graham frowned worry eclipsed by confusion.

“What?”

“Comon sit down,” the two boys sank simultaneously to the ground then Damon let go of his grip,

“I didn't write a saxophone solo to have the only saxophone player too much of a nancy to play it.”

Graham looked up,“You didn't write a saxophone solo! Look I just...” He trailed off dropping his gaze.

“Graham, listen mate, everyone gets nervous before performing.”

“Yeah but look at me-” Graham held a shaking hand before Damon, “I can't play like this.” Damon took the hand in his steady ones.

“Tell me a story.”

“What?”

“In drama we're told to make a story instead of focus on the performance.”

Graham raised his eyes to Damon's looking unconvinced.

“Okay I'll start then. There was a big green field full of grass trees and in the corner there was a...”
Graham grunted”... a Rabbit?”

“Yes! A sleek grey rabbit nursing her kittens, she had a small oval face, with a pair of glimmering brown eyes. As the sunlight danced across them the chocolatey orbs reflected glints of shifting gold and-”

Graham had been staring blankly at Damon up until this point, “This is stupid.”

“You've stopped shaking though Gray,”

Graham narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand back, vaguely annoyed that Damon was right.

“Is that why you're so good at writing lyrics?”
Damon shrugged.

Graham cocked his head.

“There are better writers,” Damon dismissed.

Before Graham could contest the bell went.

“We better set up.”

Graham stood up, wobbled slightly but then widened his stance. “OK.”

The lights on the stage where slightly to bright so that his saxophone almost blinded him with the reflection.

Damon introduced the song and then sat at the keyboard. Graham breathed heavily watching the boy, an image of a rabbit danced around him in Graham's minds eye. Then he placed his fingers on the keys and Graham was transported.

He became aware of his surrounding again at his solo but instead of his notes he focused on the kind smile Damon was shining at him. It occurred to him that up until this point all Damon's grins had been malevolent in some respect.

Then the solo was over and the final verse flowed out.

To a light smattering of applause the two boys exited the stage: Damon first Graham following.

As soon as they entered the recess behind Graham sped up and tightly hugged Damon-

“Fuc- hah.” He laughed slightly winded. Damon wrestled free of the hug and turned to face him.

Graham was beaming.

“See it wasn't that bad, mate.”

“You were so good!”

Damon mockingly ruffled Graham's hair “Your solo wasn't too shabby either.”

“Can we do something like this again?”

“I don't see why not.”

The bell for first lesson rang.

“Alright,” Damon continued, “See you around, mate.” and started to walk away.

“Yeah see you.” then Graham added carefully “Mate.”

Damon glanced back towards him with sly eyes and a wide grin.

Chapter Text

Damon rolled over his lips moving lightly in his sleep as he dreams, reminding Graham of –

God he hadn't thought twice about it at the time. 14, halfway through year nine, and Graham's perception of Damon had changed a lot. Greg and Graham had bonded months before to both of their surprise, when Greg cornered him after an art class and asked for help in music. Sure he was a dipshit, but he was almost nice when you could keep on his good side. Damon couldn't. Damon couldn't keep on anyone's good side.

At break that day, Graham pulled a tight lipped smile as Lewis, Harry and Charlie made their normal excuses as Damon approached. Lewis went as far to clap Graham on the shoulder and to mutter that he wished Graham luck. Damon approached hearing range with a wide smile. The three boys avoided eye contact whilst side stepping him. Damon flipped his hair seemingly unperturbed but Graham could easily detect the hurt hidden in his ocean eyes.

The tension diffused as Damon sat down beside Graham, stretching his long legs out in front of him on the grass. Graham was nearly as tall as him now. Damon was fast approaching O-levels but again that didn't seem to phase him. Instead he was only vocally concerned about whether he should get an ear-piercing.

“You'll look good, whatever,” Affirmed Graham

Damon yawned lecherously lying down on his back “I know.”

Graham smirked“Vain prick.” and lay next to him. His eyes tracked on Damon's face as the other boy half heartedly laughed, but Damon didn't return his gaze instead he remained studying the branches above them.

“Khaln said he'll do it for half price so might as well yah know.”

“You can always take it out id you don't like it.”

“True. Yeh fuck it.”

Graham turned his eyes to the branches now. “It will suit your-” he flailed with his arms trying to grasp the word “you know.”

Damon huffed another laugh.

“Yeah. Do you want one to?”

Graham paused. “Ew. no.”

“Nice vote of confidence.” Graham darted a glance at Damon who was now smiling at him all residue annoyance diffused.

“Hm.”

“What do you have last?”

Graham feigned shock “I'm surprised you haven't memorised my timetable.”

“...English?”

“That's sorta creepy Dame.”

Damon laughed properly though exasperatedly. “You asked!”

The bell rang.

“Why?”

“Do you wanna come back to mine afterwards?”

“Sure- you not here at lunch then?”

“Nah.”

Damon got up proffering an arm to pull Graham to his feet also. After Graham rolled his eyes and dragged himself up independently, Damon hijacked his newly found balance with a hug. The boys made vague small talk before going their separate ways.

At lunch Damon staid true to his word and didn't approach the table Graham was occupying, rather he winked at him and crossed the hall to relax with the flock of girls he still managed to attract.

Now, Damon did not know of Graham's ceasefire agreement with Greg. And so when he saw the beefy 16 year old halt at Graham's table and forcefully ruffle his hair he was put on edge.

Greg lent over to Graham's eye level, “a'ight Cocksucker?”

“I've told you, I'm not gay Greg.”

“I know, its a nickname” he grunted taking a seat, “I wouldn't be here otherwise”

Lewis Charlie etcetera arrived and the first half of lunch past seamlessly through light banter about football, the head teacher's new peodo moustache and Lewis' girlfriend.

Then Damon past by to buy some food.

“talking of fags, eh I'm outer here before your boyfriend comes over cocksucker.”

Damon glowered “What?”

Graham stood up before Greg could getting between the two, “come on Damon,”

“Grah, sit down, why the fuck does he think he can call you that.”

“its just-”

“no Graham. Fucking perv wishes you were gay.”

at this point Graham had pulled Damon away from the table by his sleeve.

“Fucking poof!” Greg snarled at the retreating boys. Damon pushed against Graham trying to return the table.

“Hey Day don't- I-” Graham pleaded.

“You cant let that prick talk about you like that,” Damon honestly was oblivious that Greg's slurs had been directed at him.

“please don't,” Graham repeated,

Damon blinked at the fear in Graham's voice, “alright I understand if you don't want a fuss.”

“Can we just leave now Day,”

Damon was still glaring behind him but agreed and as the two boys silently walked through the corridor they came to face to face with Jane. She blushed a delicate pink, Damon wasn't in the mood to flirt but on instinct his face slipped into a salacious smile. She ignored this.

“Hey Graham.”

Graham smiling at the shock plastering Damon's face replied with a joyful “Hi,”

“I was wondering if-”

Now Graham grounded himself in the conversation as a new smirk arose on Damon's face,

“Sorry Jane, hold that thought I needa leave.”

“oh. Well ok!” She forced a smile, “See you Gray.” She waved coquettishly as they walked past.

“What you smiling at Damon?

“You and-”

“huh?”

Damon paused trying to work out her name, and failing pointed back towards Jane, “Something you want to tell me?”

“Jane?” Graham was lost. It wasn't that Graham hadn't previously realised Jane had had a crush on it. In fact since the start of year 9 he had noticed that she had turned her affections away from Damon, Graham assumed dismissing him as a lost hope, and fixating on the next best thing: Graham. But he just really hadn't cared about it. He didn't even like the girl as a friend,

“Yeah! Jane! That's it. Well... when were you gonna tell me you dark horse?”

Let alone as a girlfriend.

“I- What?”

“Hmm, keep playing innocent you're not fooling anyone.” Damon pouted.

The two walked around the corner.

Graham couldn't think of anything else to say and instead of considering his words he let slip out “Day, are you?” he coloured, mind wondering to Greg's spitting words“I mean, you'd tell me if you were gay? Its cool if you -”

Damon interrupted his stuttering “Not gay no.”

He paused, then in typical Damon manner spilled a jumble of over thought words. “Not exactly. You know Bowie?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I'm probably bisexual you know what I mean?”

“Oh.” Graham thought about it for a long moment as they entered Damon's house. The silence wasn't awkward per say, but uncomfortable. “Can you only straight gay or... bisexual then?”

“I mean- wait. Hah- Something you want to tell me Graham?”

if Graham was red already he know transcended into the purest scarlet. He couldn't even look at Damon. He couldn't even imagine it, like guys were sort of attractive but actually having sex with them? “No, I like girls yeah,” the words tumbled out of his mouth. Unconvincing. He breathed. “And anyway you were right- I'm dating Jane we're just on the down low you know.” He didn't know why he felt like he had to lie.

“AwwW!” Damon pulled a sickening cutesy face and Graham whacked him.

“Anyway,”

“Anyway- I'm gonna get some whisky, you want some?” Damon asked with a laugh. They had a usual ritual knowing that Graham would reject it, that and smokes, in fact anything even vaguely rebellious, but first he occasionally he would pretend to consider it, asking the type but then always. Always declining. So it goes without saying that he was shocked when Graham replied

“go on then.”

“Gosh Jane's changed you man.” Damon giggled.

They sat on the carpet of Damon's room drinking and listening to XTC's English Settlement. An album Damon had been raving about ever since his dad had brought it the previous week.

Graham having never drunk before, quickly felt the effects of the booze. After the second glass his eyes started shining.

A fifth a way through the album and a quarter of way through the bottle he started grinning uncontrollably. He stretched out forwards on the floor, laying on his stomach gazing up and Damon perching on his bed. Damon looked bemused down at the softly giggling boy.

“What?”

“Noth'n” Graham's smile widened as he rolled onto his back. He drew his eyes back up to Damon's..

“Graham,”

“Yeah Day?”

“I'm gonna take the bottle from you ok?”
“You're meannnn.” He hugged the bottle to his chest.

In time with the lyrics Damon recited “little Graham promise us you'll be a good boy.” Graham blushed and let Damon, laughing, pluck the bottle from his un restricting hands.

“You're still mean Day.”

Damon pushed himself off his bed and placed the bottle far out of reach before sitting cross-legged on the floor by Graham.

“And you're still an idiot Gray.”

“Very mean.. your eyes are pretty though.” Graham reached up and patted his palm on Damon's forehead who laughing again moved his hand away.

“You're pretty too.”

“Noh,” Graham rested his forehead on his arm breaking the gaze and childishly muffling the words into the floor..

“Oh sorry,” Damon rolled Graham onto his back, and leaning over to speak into Graham's ear. “You are very handsome, Mr sir.”

“No Day I'm not 'tractive,” he swatted at the blonde boy who had shifted again, and had lain down by his side.

“Yeah you are,” he wrestled the contentious boy “Shh. Look I think so I'm sure Jane's said so, so there. 2 against 1.”

“She doesn't actually. We don't do much talkin'.”

Damon smirked, “She probably finds it hard with your tongue down her throat,”

Graham petulantly shook his head, “thas not what I meant.”

“Oh so its not your tongue tha-”

“Damon,” Graham properly slapped him,

“look Grah don't be prude I was doing it at your age too its natural.”
“Yeah and then you never saw her again, I'm not a fuckin tart.”

“I'm affronted” Damon giggled, “You have kissed Jane though right.”
“Uh.”

“Graham!”

“Look I'm not scared of it or anything, its just the start of the relationship you know.” Damon raised an eyebrow “I know how to kiss her.”
“I never said you didn't mate.”
“hmm.”
“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Graham was feeling sick, again their conversation had swirled round to dangerous territory and now his stomach was swirling. He wished he still had the whisky.

“You know I haven't.” he groaned.

“Awwh Gray don't sound so sad.” Damon ruffled his hair and at the touch Graham felt slightly better. Opened his eyes and found that Damon's were a few centimeters from his own.

“Your eyes are really pretty Damon,” he mumbled confused.

These eyes narrowed as if in confusion. But the waning winter sunlight shone upon them to reflect golden sparks almost making Graham think Damon was malevolently planning something.

The opposite was occurring for Graham his large brown eyes shone under the cool light with heartbreaking innocence.

Abruptly Damon sat up. Graham pulled on his arm, but followed him up when Damon remained stoic.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm too sober for this.”

“thas not a problem,” Graham stood up intending to get the bottle back, he wobbled and then fell on top of Damon who laughed and hugged the boy close to him.

“H-” The blue eyes were so close to him again. He wrapped his arms around Damon and steadied himself on his lap.

In the back ground All of the sudden began to play.

Damon paused seemingly mulling over his words.

“Do you know how to kiss Graham?”

“hmm,”

“Like would you disappoint Jane?”

Graham attempted to shove Damon, but this proved to be hard to achieve when you were clasped to the other person. Instead he just managed to face Damon to sullenly glare at him. “oh like you're so good a kisser.”

“Which of us has had 5 girlfriends?”

“There's got to be a reason they all broke up with you,” Graham sniped.

“Ouch here I am just trying to help you and-” he trailed off pouting.

Graham cocked his head, frowning, “what?”

Damon sniffed melodramatically,

“Shut up- you want to kiss me then?”

“No, I want to teach you,” Damon said like he was explaining to a child.

It was the alcohol surely, but Graham felt uneasy about this innocent offer.

“I-” he did need to know how to kiss though really.

Damon let go of his shoulders, freeing him but remained silent waiting.

“I want to kiss you Day... I mean.” the alcohol was making his head swirl again “teach me,” he rocked back off Damon's knees but just in time he felt Damon's arms steady him as he hugged him again.

“Ok,” Soft lips pressed lightly against his, he was shocked by how quickly it happened, by the time he processed it and began to close his eyes the warmth moved away.

“Is that it?”
Damon laughed inches from his face. “You have to start slow you mug, get them asking for more.”

“Oh,”

“Well?”

“What?”

“you're meant to go “oh Damon that was amazing, please kiss me again.”

Graham rolled his eyes and scathingly moaned “Oh Damon!” he licked his lips dramatically, “That was amazing! Please, oh please kiss me again.”

A shit eating grin consumed Damon's face, “Calm down there I'm the actor.”

Graham rolled his eyes again but the grin was contagious.

“and then you would place your hands behind her head; like this,” Damon laced his hands at the back of Graham's neck resting his thumbs on the peaks of Graham's cheek bones, “then you pull her in. Keep your eyes closed. At first close yah lips to and then you slowly open them. Work it up slowly, suck at her lower lip get her accustomed to your presence- its a play point to suss out the others rhythm. Then if its going well Grah push up and work your tongue in there. And if it goes really well Gray, move you hands round to trace every part of her.” Automatically one of his hands trailed round to Graham's front dipped below his collar bone, Damon's eyes followed his hand seemingly entranced, following it as it swirled around the curve of Graham's ribcage. The fingers then flayed up, dancing over his nipple.

Graham coloured. “Go on then?”

Damon had distracted himself playing with Graham's chest, “hmm,” he looked back up to Graham's face.

“Damon, please kiss me again.”

“What-” Damon looked startled having forgotten the entire situation in his bliss.

Graham glared then pulled Damon into a kiss himself. Sure it wasn't as smooth as Damon had described it, but for a first attempt Graham was pretty proud of himself. Damon certainly looked impressed when he surfaced.

Damon's eyes were certainly malevolent now.

“Terrible.”

“What-”,

“your meant to do it like this.” Damon kissed him with such a force that he knocked Graham back onto the floor, there was non of the niceties that he had instructed Graham just hot and heavy tongue coated in the intoxicating taste of whisky.

After he recovered from his shock he pushed back at Damon. “Prick.”
They spent the rest of the evening 'practising' and occasionally drinking.

The next day, Graham had a hideous headache he had crawled out of his bed with a squint. When he barely touched his breakfast, Pauline worriedly looked at him.

“Graham are you ok? You look sick? You don't have to go to school.”
“I'm fine,” he muttered head hurting from the light.

Hayley walked down the stairs, “He's just anxious about asking out his girlfriend.”

His mother smiled wide, “I did wonder, you have been staying out late recently. Aww Gray. What's her name?”

“I've heard all the rumours,” his sister supplied in the silence “this hockey player called Jane,” the two fell upon the Graham related gossip as he nursed his headache.

Whilst the noise was annoying, it had helpfully reminded him of his plan for the day.

At break he asked Jane out, with a light kiss, and maybe it was still the hangover but he didn't feel the way he felt when kissing Damon.