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1983
Saturday, 11 June
I'm horribly disappointed. Mummy and Daddy are on safari in Africa this summer and I haven't got anyone else to bring me home, so I'm being forced to stay in this Cliff-forsaken house all through summer holiday. I shouldn't call it a Cliff-forsaken house, I suppose. This one's slightly preferable to the old one, considering the old one is now a pile of rubble. At least this one has a working front door and a bathtub that is considerably less perpetually on-fire. I shouldn't blame the house, it isn't the house, it's my ruddy housemates. I HATE them. Mike won't stop going on about picking up chicks, and I'm fairly sure he conned the Dean into giving him passing marks this term, I've never seen him go to class, he's home all day. Neil won't shut up about killing himself, and I say if he's going to do it, he should do it and stop bothering the rest of us about it. Maybe if he does, we can get a housemate who smells significantly less like walking body-odor drenched in patchouli. And Vyvyan - what is there to say about Vyvyan? He's so incredibly bewildering. At least with the summer heat he's a bit slower to run after me with various weaponry, though I notice he's taken to booby-trapping my room. What is his obsession with me? He always seems to be there whenever I turn around, yet he's the one screaming at me to go away! Just yesterday he put my head through the wall again. All I said was that his bracelets matched his name, because both were for girls. I don't see what he was so upset about, it's completely true. Don't know why he wears bracelets anyway. He has the strangest fashion sense, I keep telling him that. He keeps putting my hand in the toaster. I've half a mind not to talk to him anymore.
"Neil, do you really have to garden right this moment? I'm trying to sunbathe! How am I supposed to ensure that all the beautiful girls, and especially Felicity Kendall, flock to me without maintaining my glorious, god-like tan? Don't you care about my social standing?"
"I suppose, Rick, but why do you have to do it in the vegetable garden?"
"Because, Neil, Vyvyan coated the lawn with ant poison yesterday, don't you remember?"
"Oh yeah. I wondered why it was smoldering. Is that good for the lawn, do you think?"
"No worries, Neil," Vyvyan wandered over to them, walking gingerly on the lawn as the soles of his boots melted a bit with each step, "I'll be poisoning the vegetable garden tomorrow!"
Rick glared over at him. Vyvyan was such an utter pain. Hang on a moment - was he wearing Bermuda shorts? Rick supposed it made sense, it was hot enough. But Vyvyan in shorts? He'd never seen him wear them before. He'd never seen Vyvyan's bare legs before, come to think of it. The sight of his calves flexing like that as he paced made Rick feel a little…funny. Uncomfortable funny. The reason he couldn't watch rugby around other people funny. Oh no. It was happening again. Why did this happen when he looked at Vyvyan sometimes? He couldn't imagine why looking at Vyvyan would make him feel like that. Still, he found he couldn't look away. Flex. Unflex. Flex. Unflex. The sunlight glinting off his leg hair, the sweat on his legs. It was mesmerizing. His breath caught in his throat. He willed himself to look away, and found he couldn't bring himself to. He was going to get a stiffy again if this went on much longer. He was lying on his back, it wouldn't be easy to hide. He rolled onto his stomach - time to do his back anyway, his chest had started burning ten minutes ago.
He still couldn't take his eyes off Vyvyan. Was that a bit of dirt on the back of his right calf? No, that wasn't dirt - it was a tattoo. Vyvyan had a tattoo. He didn't know why he hadn't considered it before, Vyvyan certainly seemed like enough of a delinquent to disrespect his body like that. He had the piercings, after all. Wait, he'd forgot about that time just before their house party when he'd drank that potion - he did have the mark of the bloody beast tattooed on his bloody scalp. So classically Vyvyan. But what was this a tattoo of? It seemed strangely familiar. Four thick, black, staggered vertical bars, wrapped halfway around the back of his calf and over to the side. Rick was sure he'd seen the symbol somewhere before. Knowing Vyvyan it was probably some other secret sign of the devil or something.
The tattoo somehow made Vyvyan seem a hundred times more dangerous and rebellious-looking than he was before. Oh Cliff, now he was even more aroused. This didn't even make any sense. Why was this happening so much lately? He tried to distract himself. Think about poetry. Think about school. Think about Doctor Morrison (ugh, that was a bad idea, change topics, change topics). His thoughts just kept drifting right back to those four black lines, flexing along with Vyvyan's calf muscle. Rick wondered if he had any other tattoos. He'd certainly never seen them, if he did they must be under his clothes. Oh for Cliff's sake, why did he have to think that? Now he couldn't stop imagining Vyvyan without clothes. He'd have to lie here all bloody day if this kept up. He closed his eyes and tried to think of Margaret Thatcher instead. That always did the trick.
1984
Thursday, 16 August
I forgot to mention yesterday, diary, my longstanding suspicions were correct - Vyvyan does have other tattoos! Two of them! I've only just now seen them, obviously, since I've somehow managed to go two years without seeing him shirtless. (Though not for lack of trying.) I certainly have now! I still can't quite believe we did all that yesterday. I still can't wait to do it again. Just the thought is getting me all bothered.
Anyway, tattoos. Yes. First, I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but I finally found out what the one on his calf means. It's the symbol for the band Black Flag. I should have guessed it had something to do with a band, nearly all his friends have the same thing tattooed somewhere or other on themselves - more than one of them have it on their necks. It seems to be some sort of requirement to being a punk. The other two are still a complete mystery. He's got a strange sort-of sideways number eight on his chest, a bit above his left nipple. I feel like I should know what that is, I know I've seen it before. I'll have to ask him about it. The other is a phrase written on his back, just above his right shoulder blade. The lettering is somewhat small and unassuming - it almost looks as if he simply got a tattoo of his own handwriting. It says, "exercised, not exorcised". I have absolutely no idea what it means. I'll have to ask him about that one, too.
Rick lay his head on Vyvyan's shoulder, Vyvyan's arm wrapped around him, and the two basked in afterglow. Rick hadn't had to wait long for the Thing With Vyvyan to start up again - Vyvyan had practically latched himself onto Rick the moment the skunk smell had faded out of Rick's room and skin. This was their fourth night together, and it was just as wonderful as the first as far as Rick was concerned. Nothing they'd done since that first time had been quite so frenzied and long, but it looked as though Vyvyan was going to spend the night again - he'd set Rick's deadbolt after he came in. Rick wondered if that was going to become a regular thing. He thought he didn't really mind if it did. He'd never imagined lying with Vyvyan like this would be so comfortable and romantic. It gave him the most beautiful sleep imaginable.
He traced the tattoo on Vyvyan's chest with one finger, round and round, over and over. It wasn't quite black - it was almost a greenish color. He'd seen tattoos like that on other people before, but they were always older. He'd put together that it was likely a sign of a faded tattoo - one that was old, or poorly done, or both.
"Vyvyan?"
Vyvyan grunted.
"How old is this tattoo?"
Vyvyan stiffened, shrugged, and said nothing.
"Does that mean 'I don't know' or 'I don't want to tell you'?"
"It means shut up."
Rick huffed, but he shut up. He kept tracing. It must be old. Rick wondered how old it could be - were children even allowed to get tattoos? Tracing it like this was really very comforting. Vyvyan never said a single word about his past, but this - this was proof he had a past. It was, in fact, a permanent record of Vyvyan's secret past. A visual reference to a side of Vyvyan he might never know; or might still, if he could get Vyvyan to tell him.
Vyvyan relaxed again, nuzzling Rick's head and kissing his temple. His breath grew deep and even, and Rick thought he was probably falling asleep.
"Vyvyan?"
"What?" This was muttered quietly, but somewhat angrily. Apparently he was falling asleep. Rick ignored his tone.
"What is it a tattoo of, anyway?"
Vyvyan sighed, "Don't tell me you've never seen an infinity symbol before."
"Oh," Rick said, feeling more than a little stupid, "Of course it is, I knew that, I just forgot." He hadn't actually known that infinity had a symbol, "But why do you have a tattoo of an infinity symbol?"
Vyvyan groaned and sighed harder, "Stop asking stupid questions or I'm going to sew your bloody mouth shut."
"Sorry," Rick was a little wounded, but he hoped it hadn't come through in his voice. He didn't think it was that stupid of a question. Why would anybody want a tattoo of an infinity symbol? It didn't even make any sense to him, "I suppose it means something personal to you? What about the one on your shoulder? What is 'exercised, not exorcised' supposed to mean? Something to do with aerobics or-?"
Vyvyan growled, sat up and put his head in his hands, "Rick, so help me, if you don't shut up and go to sleep, I'm going to kill you and then go and sleep in my own room. Is that what you want?"
"…No." Rick thought Vyvyan was probably exaggerating about the killing part, but he really, really didn't want Vyvyan to leave, and he thought he was probably serious about that bit.
Vyvyan lay back down and pulled Rick's head back to his chest, "Then shut up, stop asking stupid, girly questions you know I'm not going to answer and just enjoy this for what it is you poofy bastard."
Rick had about a million responses to that, but he was still afraid Vyvyan was serious about leaving, so he decided to drop it. Trying to understand the tattoos wasn't worth losing the feeling of Vyvyan's arms around him; Vyvyan's scent, musky and earthy with vague, faint traces of metal and petrol and smoke, filling his nostrils and making his head spin; Vyvyan's hand wrapped protectively around the back of his neck. Even after only four nights together, Rick was starting to think he didn't ever want to lose that feeling. He hoped Vyvyan would feel the same, at least for a while longer. He pulled Vyvyan closer and fell asleep enjoying it for what it was - whatever it was.
1985
Wednesday, 3 April
It's Vyvyan's birthday tomorrow. I'd almost forgotten, but I made sure to write it down. Well, I'd forgotten the actual date, but I've been thinking about his birthday for a long time. Since around the time TWV began, I think. It's funny, I think about him so much more now than I ever did when I was only pining over him from afar. I wonder if he thinks about me as much as I think about him? I wonder what he thinks about anything. His behavior is so erratic lately - one minute I think he hates me more than he ever has, and the next he's kissing my forehead and calling me his pretty boy and holding me tighter than I can stand. Confusing doesn't really cover it. Still, I'll take confusion over nothing at all. I hope he never stops calling me that - I love it. Moz help me, diary, I think I love him. I love Vyvyan. Never thought I'd ever write that particular sentence. I hope he never reads this, something tells me if he were to, he'd call the whole thing off. But maybe not. I have absolutely no idea how he'd react, come to think of it. You see? Confusing.
I've been saving up for his present for months. I did some research, and apparently they're quite expensive. I even skimped on his Christmas present to save more for it. I hope he likes it, I think it's very him.
Vyvyan was very quiet about his birthday. He usually reacted relatively negatively to any public acknowledgment of it at all other than a brief "happy birthday" in the morning, or a card he wouldn't read. So Rick waited until Vyvyan came up to his room that night to give him his present. He was glad Vyvyan hadn't gone out drinking and partying with his friends for his birthday like he had the past two years. Rick would have waited up for him anyway, but it was nice to imagine that Vyvyan wanted to spend his birthday night with him, whether or not it was true.
They were lying in bed when Rick gave it to him, not ready for sleep quite yet, and not having sex either, just cuddling and talking about their day, albeit in their underwear under the sheets. Rick loved that this had become a routine - he'd never imagined Vyvyan would ever be so open and casual with him. It was as if they were actually dating, strange as that seemed. He wasn't sure, but he thought Vyvyan might feel the same way.
"Vyv, I've got something for you," Rick reached over and pulled an envelope down from the bookshelf, "Happy birthday."
Vyvyan grunted, in that embarrassed way he did whenever anyone wished him a happy birthday. But he took the envelope, and to Rick's surprise, he opened it without prompting. Vyvyan never read any cards he got in front of other people, but it hadn't occurred to Rick that he might have opened them in private. He pulled out the contents and looked at the slip of paper in his hand, puzzled.
"It's a piece of paper."
Rick smiled at him, "I know that, dimwit. Read it!"
Vyvyan read it, "Punk-Sure Tattoo and Piercing. Gift voucher…£150."
He paled a bit and looked at Rick in something like shock. Rick shrugged at him.
"Thought you could use another tattoo. I know it isn't a lot, but it's enough to get something decently sized anyway. I hope you like it."
Vyvyan turned red and said nothing, his face an unreadable blank. Rick swallowed.
'Oh no,' he thought, 'He doesn't like it.'
Vyvyan turned redder. He stared at the paper in his hand. Rick could see his knuckles whitening as he gripped it tighter. He flinched back, bracing himself for an attack. When Vyvyan flung the paper aside and turned on him, Rick jumped. Vyvyan was angry. This was going to earn him a smack at the least. He hoped Vyvyan wasn't angry enough to punch. He jumped again as Vyvyan's hand made its way to his cheek - but he didn't hit him. He grasped his cheek and pulled Rick's face toward his. He kissed him roughly, hard, for a long time, until Rick's head spun with lack of oxygen. Vyvyan pulled away long enough to breathe and dove again, pressing Rick down into the bed. Vyvyan stroked Rick's side, and Rick moaned into Vyvyan's mouth when Vyvyan squeezed his ribs before wrapping his arm around his back and pulling him even closer. Rick smiled as Vyvyan tugged at the band of his y-fronts. Well, this was a better reaction than expected.
"So," Rick gasped, red-faced and panting, finally able to speak, "I take it you liked your present?"
Vyvyan laughed as much as he could manage, nuzzling into Rick's neck and kissing it. He shifted up so he could pull Rick's head to his chest, and squeezed Rick into a tight embrace. They lay there for a good while.
"I was thinking," Rick said at last, "Maybe you could get something in color? All your tattoos are black, don't you find it a bit boring?"
Vyvyan scoffed, "Color tattoos are for girls. Might as well get it on the small of my bloody back."
Rick wasn't quite sure that logic held up. Plenty of Vyvyan's friends had tattoos involving blood or roses or pretty girls, and those were always in color. Rick suspected in this case, 'for girls' meant 'too sentimental' or 'too showy' or simply 'not something I'm interested in'. He shrugged - it really didn't matter to him what Vyvyan decided to get, it was his skin it was going to be branded to for all eternity, after all.
"Well, whatever you get, I hope it's special, and you think of me when you get it."
Vyvyan groaned, "Augh, god! Are you capable of saying things that aren't girly?"
Rick squeezed him tighter, "You love it, admit it."
Vyvyan scoffed at him again, but Rick noticed it was a particularly quiet, half-hearted scoff, and he didn't actually refute it at all.
1986
Monday, 20 January
Vyvyan came home today with a bandage on his wrist instead of a bracelet. He won't tell me what's happened. He's so bloody secretive, I hate that. Everything's all cryptic looks and shrugs instead of answers and secret bloody missions. I don't think he's capable of being direct about anything. Certainly not about me. Moz forbid he say something complimentary or affectionate about his bloody boyfriend once in a while. If not for the things he says in his sleep sometimes, and his touching me like I was the most precious being on earth other times, I'd think he didn't care about me at all. That's not really fair, I know he cares. I'm pretty sure he cares, anyway. I only wish he'd say so, to my face. I don't think he understands that it's important to me. Or maybe he does, but he can't do it for some reason. I really don't understand him at all.
Three days until my birthday. The countdown begins. Think I'll start leaving notes around the house so the others don't forget. It feels so strange to be twenty-two already. Feels like I was twelve only a few years ago. Well, at least I'll have caught up to Vyvyan - until April, anyway. I don't know why it bothers me so much that he's older than me. Competition, I suppose - I do wish I could beat him at something. I wonder what Vyvyan got me? He gave me £50 and a fountain pen last year, that was rather nice. I wish he hadn't stuffed them inside a dead cat, but it's the thought that counts. Let's hope he decided to wrap this year's present traditionally.
Rick sat in his room, red eyed and sniffling, scowling at his poetry journal instead of writing in it. This was quite possibly the worst birthday he'd had in this house, and that was saying something. It wasn't because Neil had given him a bloody fern, and Mike had given him a dirty look and a stern talking to in lieu of a present and called it "the gift of fatherly advice". It wasn't because his housemates hadn't thrown him a surprise party, or any sort of party whatsoever for that matter. It wasn't even because he'd spent the entire day with a head cold. It was because Vyvyan had forgotten.
Vyvyan had forgotten his birthday completely. He hadn't even said 'Happy Birthday', and he certainly didn't give him anything. He was treating it like just another day, treating Rick like it wasn't even his birthday at all. Rick wasn't angry about it. Well, he wasn't very angry about it. More than anything, he was hurt. He was very, extremely, soul-crushingly hurt. He'd been crying for an hour, not even sobbing out loud for attention, just genuinely crying up in his room, softly, mournfully. Vyvyan hadn't even come up to the room after supper. It was like they were in first bloody year all over again, like they weren't even dating, like they hadn't been sleeping together for over a year. For somebody who professed (without professing, exactly) to care about Rick, Vyvyan sure had a funny, insensitive, terrible way of showing it.
The bedroom door opened, and Rick put his journal aside and tried to hide that he'd been crying. He looked away, scrubbing at his eyes, and eventually just lying down facing the wall so Vyvyan wouldn't see. He'd normally have no trouble letting Vyvyan see him cry. In fact, if it was Vyvyan's fault, he'd usually shove his tears right into his face. But it felt different this time. He felt embarrassed and ashamed and small. He felt ignored by the one person he cared about most in the entire world and it hurt so much, he couldn't face him.
Vyvyan came in and sat on the bed. Rick tried to ignore him, pretended to be asleep. Vyvyan shook him, surprisingly gently.
"Asleep already? It's only eight o'clock."
Rick pretended to wake up, "Oh, I must have dozed off." He sniffled. Vyvyan looked at him funny.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Oh, nothing!" Rick sat up and tried to smile. He didn't do a great job at it, "It's just this bloody cold, I've been sneezing like a madman all day!"
Vyvyan studied his face, and Rick suddenly felt very…exposed. Vyvyan's expression darkened as he watched him, but he didn't look angry - he actually looked…sorry?
"Fuck, you really thought I forgot, didn't you?"
"What?" Rick played innocent, "What is there to forget?"
"I was only drawing it out, it was supposed to be suspenseful. I wouldn't forget, poof, you should know that."
Rick looked at him suspiciously - but hopefully.
"I only wanted to build it up, make it a little more exciting than it really was. It really isn't anything very much."
Rick drew his knees to his chest and smiled a genuine smile - he hadn't forgotten! He was being a thoughtless, insensitive bastard, but he hadn't forgotten! He was going to get a birthday present from Vyvyan after all!
"I wanted to show you…I finally used my present. From last year."
He reached for the bandage on his wrist and Rick finally figured it out. He stopped smiling.
"What? You mean to tell me you got yourself a tattoo for my birthday?" he could feel himself getting worked up and he just couldn't stop himself - this was really the limit, "With money I GAVE YOU?"
"Settle down, spazmo, just look at it," Vyvyan wasn't yelling back, he just kept pulling the bandage off. Rick couldn't look at it - he could only see red.
"WHAT KIND OF A SELFISH, SELF-SERVING, FASCIST BASTARD WOULD-"
"HEY!" That was definitely yelled - loud enough to startle Rick into silence, "Just look at the bloody thing."
Rick finally looked down. It was a fresh tattoo, all right. On the inside of his left wrist. It took Rick a moment to figure out what he was looking at, he was still so angry. Then it hit him, and all the anger drained from his body. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
There, on Vyvyan's wrist, was Ursa Major - the Big Dipper. The constellation itself was small-ish, but each star was big enough to be well-defined. Crisp, clean black lines - outlining stars colored a delicate powder blue.
He couldn't stop staring at it. It was the first constellation Rick had ever shown Vyvyan, the first constellation they'd ever shared. In color. In Rick's favorite color. Tattooed onto Vyvyan's wrist. Forever. It was a code, a symbol only they would ever understand. He'd been added to the cryptic messages Vyvyan carried with him everywhere; he was officially a permanent part of the secret record of Vyvyan's past.
"I…" he whispered, still staring, "I thought color tattoos were for girls."
Vyvyan shrugged, "It's for you, isn't it? You're the girliest girl I know."
Rick looked at him. Vyvyan was smiling softly, smirking in a sort of half-affection, half-apology. Rick's eyes welled and he threw his arms around Vyvyan's neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Oh Vyvyan, I love it! I love it, it's beautiful!"
Vyvyan laughed at him, but it wasn't a cruel laugh. He wrapped his arms around Rick and squeezed.
"Happy birthday, poof. I'm sorry I made you cry like the incredibly poofy girl you are."
Rick only laughed and cried at the same time in response, and Vyvyan laughed again and held him closer.
"You're such a bloody girl, Rick. You're making me feel all girly just being next to you. I'm getting girlier and girlier by the minute through osmosis."
Rick laughed more, and pulled away enough to meet his eyes. He watched Vyvyan with love and admiration for a few moments, before leaning in and kissing him for a long time, pulling him down onto the bed. When he pulled away, Vyvyan watched him, his smile fading to his typical cryptic expression.
"You know it's going to be covered up most of the time, right? I'm not going to stop wearing my bracelets."
Rick shrugged, "I know, I don't mind. It can be our secret - that's more romantic anyway."
"Ugh, when you put it that way it makes me want to keep it visible after all."
"I wouldn't mind that either," Rick grinned at him, and Vyvyan grimaced. Then he grinned a mischievous grin back at Rick.
"I still had some money left over, it didn't cost nearly as much as the voucher was for. Maybe you could get one."
Rick was so surprised he jumped a little. He'd never even considered it.
"I...I don't know...maybe..."
Vyvyan laughed, "I'm kidding. You'd get one look at the needle and pass out on the spot. We should start smaller. Maybe we should get you an eyebrow ring like a proper girl."
Rick blushed. A piercing? On his face? Well...maybe. He couldn't really think of a reason not to, actually.
"Um...sure, okay."
Vyvyan looked surprised, "Seriously?"
Rick shrugged. Vyvyan grinned wider than before, "All right then, we'll go in the morning."
He got up, ruffled Rick's hair and smiled down at him. "We'll make a punk of you yet, girly." He left the room with somewhat of a bounce in his step.
Rick sank into thought. A piercing. Huh. He supposed it was all right. He had a mohawk now, after all, they would complement each other. It wasn't as if he needed to look employable or anything, he was technically already employed. He could always take it out if he didn't like it. Who knew, maybe he would like it. Maybe he'd like it so much he'd get another. Maybe, with enough time, he might even get a tattoo.
He already knew what he wanted, even after only considering it for a few minutes. If he ever got the guts, he'd find an inconspicuous spot that wouldn't be too painful, and in a nice script, plain and black, he'd get a single word. A word that really did suit him when he got down to it. Just one word, the definition of which had changed for him forever:
Poof