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Simon wasn’t one for parties.
As he approached the shrieks and giggles, coiling nerves in his gut reminded him why. But this was the seventh sesh Gaz had invited him to since the college year started in September, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
His backpack suddenly felt heavy. All it held was the cheapest bottle of vodka in Asda, two bottles of Coke, one of the large bottles of WKD - the blue one, since Irn Bru was shit and he didn’t fancy ‘berry blast’ or whatever the pink one was, a portable charger, and a bottle of water.
It probably weighed more than someone would assume, but not enough to suddenly make him stumble.
The field had four tents up, with one currently lying flat with a heap of three people on top. They kicked and laughed, making no real effort to get up. Someone else snapped a picture.
He watched from the corner, partially hidden by both the fence and dead trees.
Some of the people looked familiar. The man prodding at a small fire - Rodolfo - was on his course, but now that they were doing specialist subjects he didn’t see him much. He liked him, though. They talked sometimes. Dry humour was always fairly bonding.
The man that came up behind him was a face Simon had also seen before, but he had no idea what his name was. Rudy did, because he squeaked when said man cradled hands over his abdomen.
“Alejandro!”
Alejandro murmured words into his neck, hands sliding up Rudy’s shirt.
Simon looked away.
A small group of smokers had gathered in the bottom of the field. Two women shared a cigarette, both a touch older than the rest of the group. Someone in a bucket hat was sat cross legged on the grass, facing away from Simon.
Sudden chaos erupted from an orange tent. There was a yell, followed by a man stumbling out. He was shirtless, save for a black bra cupping his pecs. There was a flush on his tan cheeks, the breeze freeing small hairs from a gelled mohawk. Beige baggy shorts had an undone fly, and there was nothing on his feet.
He ran haphazardly, coming precariously close to the fire. Rudy dislodged himself from Alejandro, scrambling before the stranger fell in, but someone else pulled him away.
“What the fuck, Soap?!” Kyle berated, serious for a moment before they toppled to the floor. ‘Soap’ was wheezing with laughter, practically hugging the other. Gaz shook his head at him, pulling up and looking up at the same time. His eyes widened before Simon realised he’d been caught.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, holding on tighter to the strap of his bag.
Kyle rolled away and booked it towards the fence, arms out like he could give Simon a hug. He gripped at the wire instead.
“Oh my god! You’re here!”
“Yep.” Simon gave a tense grin.
“Oh my god!” Kyle repeated. He repeated it a few times, before trying to climb over the fence. Simon backed away, hastily telling him to stop, but Kyle’s jeans got caught in the barbed wire anyway. He swore, plummeting to the ground.
Simon flapped his hands uselessly, going to help him up but being shooed away.
Kyle shimmied out of his jeans, leaving the torn denim to flap in the occasional wind. He stood proudly in black boxers and grass stained socks. “Simon!”
“Gaz.”
“You’re here!”
“You’ve said that already.” Simon was not used to drunk people.
Kyle just laughed at him, grabbing at his shirt and tugging him along towards the gate. If only Kyle had used that a minute ago.
A few people looked their way but no one was actually interested. Simon couldn’t be happier. He was brought to the largest tent and directed to sit in the middle. He was a bit hesitant, spying a dribbling and snoring man half off an air mattress, but Gaz waved at the man dismissively.
“Phillip’s from America,” he said simply. Simon felt his mouth drop into an ‘oh’. “Do you want a drink? I can make you a drink.”
“I’ve got my own stuff-“
Kyle scrounged around for a bright green bottle of apple Sourz. Simon scrunched his nose but didn’t object.
“Soap poured some Smirnoff in earlier,” a scrunched up cup was picked off the floor but thrown away in favour of one from a stack. “Dunno how much so I can mix it with like… lemonade or something if you’d like.”
‘Soap’ definitely seemed to be a very prominent character.
Since it was his first drink of the night, Simon agreed. Kyle returned shortly with a battered Tesco bottle of lemonade.
It wasn’t particularly nice. There was a burn from a clearly generous amount of vodka, fizz from the lemonade, and a cloying sweetness from the Sourz. Definitely not his usual drink of choice, but appreciated nonetheless.
Gaz simply drank the remains from the bottle.
“Did you bring a blanket?”
Simon sipped at his concoction. “Wasn’t really planning on staying the night.”
Kyle pouted. “You should! It’s fun. Someone must have a spare or one of those big sleeping bags. I’ll find you something.”
“No, Kyle-“
He followed him out of the tent and made half hearted attempts to stop him. The smokers were approached first, still huddled together. Only one had a lit fag by now, the rest deep in conversation.
The one with the bucket hat turned out to be John Price. He’d been doing second year as Simon did first, renowned amongst the art department for his ceramics. The college sold some of his pieces, others kept safe in glass cabinets. Simon’s favourite was a huge mountain scape with a border collie herding sheep. It’d been a commission, but it was displayed whenever an exhibition or tour was on.
He was skilled and had countless universities on his ass, practically begging him to join. That all came to an end when he was expelled.
In January, the second years went on a trip to Berlin. All was well until the third day. Price attacked another boy, and ended up pushing him out of a window. It was from the third floor. Broken leg, wrist and collarbone.
The trip was cut short and everyone was sent home, Price exiled at the front of the bus alone.
Simon blinked and found his cup empty. Price was staring. He supposed he’d stared first.
He thought about saying hello, but that would probably make things worse. Instead, he just nodded. Price nodded back, looking away again. Simon didn’t remember him with a beard, and that thing looked memorable to say the least.
Gaz suddenly bounded back to his side. “Kate’s sharing with her girlfriend so you can have one of her blankets. Do you know Kate? That’s her,” he babbled, pointing at one of the two that had shared a cigarette earlier. She was blonde, and gave him a slight wave. He waved back.
“Thank you.”
“It's fine,” she said smoothly. Another American? “Our tent’s the orange one, and our stuff is- I’ll come with. No way in hell you’re taking the purple one, Garrick.”
She gave the other woman a kiss before heading towards the orange tent, Simon and Kyle following dutifully behind. Kate looked dismayed at the fact it was open, and swore colourfully after finding what seemed to be her stuff strewn across the floor.
There was another woman in the corner, sipping some sort of wine straight from the bottle. She rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t directed at Kate.
“I tried to stop him. All he took was a bra.”
Kyle burst into laughter, leaning heavily onto Simon for support. The man from earlier - Soap. Again.
“You just let him go through my stuff, Val?!” Kate hissed as she gathered up the mess.
“I said I tried to stop him.”
“Mhm, yeah, definitely. Bet you said no once and gave up.”
Another sip, no reply. Kate handed Simon a worn grey blanket with embroidered flowers in the corners, white thread slightly yellowed. He thanked her and escaped, tugging Kyle along.
Gaz was still cackling, clutching at his sides.
Simon tossed the blanket to the corner he’d designated for himself, clearing away empty cans. The floor wouldn’t be that comfortable, but maybe if he was drunk enough he wouldn’t notice.
Anyways, he could always just go home like he’d planned. Wait for Kyle to go to sleep, then toddle off. Send him a message, maybe just to say he had to leave or something.
He twisted the cap off his WKD, deciding to still keep it light before vodka-cokes. Warmth was already building in his cheeks, his tolerance embarrassingly low; he didn’t drink much. Downing the Sourz concoction had probably done more damage than he thought.
The American - Phillip - groaned next to them. Kyle covered his mouth, still snickering.
His eyes opened sluggishly, and he sat up before plummeting back down with a grunt. He pressed at his temples before promptly covering his mouth, a gag barely suppressed.
Gaz suddenly seemed to lock in and dip a plastic bag under the man’s chin. He hardly brought anything up, just a mouthful of saliva and a dribble of brightly coloured liquids.
Despite most likely having thrown up the majority of his alcohol, Phillip was still very much out of it.
“Where ‘m I,” he slurred.
“My tent,” Kyle supplied, ever so helpful.
“S’ my… s’ my tent?”
“No. You never put yours up. I think it’s probably broken by now.”
Phillip gasped, crawling his way out with vomit still clinging onto his chin. He got stuck in the tent’s door, falling face first into the grass. His recovery was swift and he zombie shuffled over to a green plastic sheet.
No one was piled onto it anymore, which was probably good. They’d given up on trying to do anything with it.
It was still decently bright, but the sun was steadily climbing down, the clouds tinted pink. Phillip should put it up sooner rather than later, but he was in no state to do so.
He began to fumble around for pegs and the rods you click together, waving them around haphazardly. Simon crouched ready to help, but Kyle pulled him back up. He gave him a questioning look.
They took a few steps away and turned around.
“Nobody actually likes him. Kate’s family is friends with his, and then her mum asked if he was invited, and then his mum started to get like, angry that he wasn’t. So I just pretended I forgot to add him to the group chat.”
“So you’re not helping him with the tent…? It’s going to get dark.”
Kyle just shrugged. “I literally offered to let him stay in mine. He didn’t need to bring that thing. Nobody can figure it out, doubt he can.”
“He won’t sleep outside, right?”
“What do you care? Alcohol bring out some warmth in you?”
“Shut up.”
“The guy was bragging about having his own tent and how he thought it was weird to share. If he would rather sleep outside, he can. No one’s making him.”
“Ah.”
“Yknow, then he said he’d ‘do it later’ when everyone else was putting theirs up, and got like, pissed, then he started throwing up a bunch and couldn’t talk straight, then he passed out.”
“Ah.”
“Get it now?”
“Mhm.” What an ass.
“Carried ‘im in there myself.” Kyle puffed his chest out proudly. “See? I’m well nice.”
Simon patted him on the back. “Good job.”
There was a snap behind them, followed by a delayed yelp. One of the poles had broken and pinched Phillip between his thumb and pointer. Some laughed, and others got down to help the poor sod.
Simon took a few deep gulps before deciding to abandon the WKD. Wasn’t really his drink, and there was only a quarter or so of the bottle left. He handed it to Kyle, who took it without question, and headed back for his bag.
He got about through the top part of the way through the coke before adding the vodka, doing his best to keep his hands steady. Didn’t want anything getting over the tent.
With his drink prepared, he headed out again. Phillip’s tent was beginning to look like a tent by now.
The smokers had dispersed, and Gaz was nowhere in sight. He felt lost for a moment.
Rudy was still by the fire, but so were some others. Alejandro, sat beside Rudy, and ‘Val’ opposite them. Between them was ‘Soap’, who no longer wore a bra. He was in a shirt instead. Simon contemplated for a moment, but the decision was taken from him. Rodolfo turned his head, avoiding the sudden direction change from the smoke, and looked directly at Simon. His eyes widened and he grinned, beckoning him over.
Simon steeled himself with a swig, and went to sit beside Rudy.
The log dug into his left asscheek, but if he moved it felt like he’d topple over. For a summer heatwave they’d started the fire early. It was cozy, though. Would be even more once it got dark and a bit colder.
“Haven’t seen you at anything like this before!”
“Not really my area.”
Rudy smiled.
Alejandro cocked his head. “Don’t think I’ve seen you at all before. I’m Alejandro.”
“Valeria,” she chimed unprompted.
All eyes fell on Soap. “Uh- John.”
“Why do people call you Soap?” Simon couldn’t help but say it. He wanted to know. If that wasn’t his name, then what was it?
There was a laugh amongst the group. Simon hadn’t meant it to be a joke.
John laughed, too. “They told me to wash my mouth out with it all the time in primary. Ah’ did, ev’ry single time. Only caught on when I coughed up a bubble. Got took to A&E cos’ they were reit worried ‘bout how much ah’ consumed.”
Oh. Simon laughed at that.
John nodded at him. “Your go.”
“I’m Simon. I uh… go to college with Rudy.”
“Same course?”
“Yeah.”
“S’ it nice? Ah’ wanted tae’ ‘ave a go but apparently it’d put my brain tae’ waste.”
Not to say Soap seemed like an idiot, but Soap seemed like an idiot. Or at least not like the college type; straight into work. “Yeah, it’s good. What do you do then?”
“A levels.”
“Smartass. Which ones?”
“Chemistry, maths, physics.”
Simon grimaced. That sounded like his own personal hell. John chewed his lip.
“It’s good. I get why my parents want me at it- ah’ do. But… I don’t know what am’ gonnae do. With it, after it, nothing. And even though I know ahm’ good at, it’s not my thing.”
Alejandro shuffled from Rudy to put an arm around the Scot. He leaned into the touch. Simon picked at his arm, feeling he’d upset John by bringing up the subject.
He stayed where he was so that he didn’t draw any attention, but said nothing when another conversation started. He didn’t really listen, either. Just picked at a few scabs and drank. After a while it felt like he wasn’t really there.
Phillip finally had his tent up, but he hadn’t actually done very much to help. Just shouted and poked around.
He was now dragging his things inside. A huge backpack, one of those hiking ones, and two tote bags filled with something or other. Still drunk, he struggled a bit. Kate came over and took one tote bag for him.
When she left the tent, she held a bag of fancy looking crisps and a tube of sour cream and onion Pringles that were half shoved down her jeans.
Simon doubted they’d been given as payment.
His bottle was empty. He shuffled away back to Kyle’s tent and split the coke between the two bottles, and topped up the rest with vodka. It was probably too strong for what he should be having, but if he even wanted a chance at staying the night he needed more than a light buzz.
Kyle stumbled in as he was packing his things back up, a pair of loose fitting joggers on. They hung low on his hips; clearly not his.
“Where’d you get them from?”
“Eh?”
“The trousers.”
“Oh!” he smirked. “Priiiice. Tol’ me to put my cock ‘way.”
Simon gave a low hum. “Lay off the drinks for a while, Gaz.”
The other pouted, sitting prettily on the floor. “Jus’ having fun. What about you?”
Another low hum, and a swig of his beverage. Christ, that was foul. Kyle made a sad ‘ooohhh’ noise, and suddenly came up to hug him. Simon tensed but didn’t pull away.
“I love you, yeah?” Kyle sniffled into his shirt. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, please God don’t cry. Simon was never good with crying. “Miss you now we’re going different places. Feels like you don’t want to see me but… y’know, I know how you are. I’m not gonna stop inviting you. Even if you never show up again.”
Simon pet him awkwardly. “Thanks, Ky.”
“I’ll take you home, if you want?”
“Fuck no. You’re not going anywhere. I’ll… I’ll stay,” he said, albeit hesitantly. He felt bad leaving Kyle in this state. Not that he’d been planning on leaving right this second.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Kyle pulled back. “You’re not saying that to be nice? You want to? You want to?”
“Yes, Gaz. I… want to stay.”
It wasn’t true. He wanted to get pissed and see how he felt then. Which, he assumed he’d still want to go home. But at least then he’d tried.
The way Gaz beamed at him made it worth it. Suddenly, he didn’t care about anything. He dove in for his own hug, burying his face in the junction between Kyle’s neck and collarbone. “I love you too. You’re so nice. I’m- I’m sorry I don’t show up. I want to.”
Together they rocked back and forth. It was like they were the only ones that existed.
Until Soap entered.
“Oh! Are you-?”
“No!” Simon was mortified. Gaz just laughed.
“Everything good, Soap?”
“Price kicked me out of his tent.”
“Why?”
“He said I stank so I sprayed some Lynx.”
Simon could see - and, by now, smell - where this was going. “How much.”
Soap grinned, and slung his bag onto the floor. The blue cylindrical bag clinked. “Can I move here? Promise not to Lynx bomb ye’.”
Kyle crawled for the bag and unzipped it. He pulled out a fancy looking bottle with a bird and some fruit on it, mouth agape like he’d found gold. “Fuck yeah if we can share this!”
The agreement came easily.
Simon half wished that John had been sent away. He still felt bad about earlier. But clearly the two were fairly close friends, and Gaz was never really one to send anyone away unless he hated them.
They fussed over what they should have now. Soap produced two cans of some sort of lemon cider, and a bag of crisps. They said Walkers, but they were fancier than what Simon had. He shuffled closer to the corner and tried not to look.
The two giggled and nibbled away, Simon getting out his phone and looking through things blindly. He didn’t have much social media - didn’t really see a point in it. His TikTok feed had been miserable in the short time he had the app, Instagram reels were a bit odd, and Twitter was a mixed bag he wasn’t sure he could face at the moment. The Discord servers he’d joined were either inactive or just filled with things he wasn’t actually that interested in.
He looked through an account he liked instead. It was a tattoo studio. All of the artists were cool, and the second he turned 18 he was getting started on a sleeve. There, preferably. He knew he had some money saved up.
Apparently sleeves were fairly ambitious for a man with only two and a half stick and pokes. Half was for the one that wasn’t nearly deep enough and quickly fading; soon it’d only be two.
He wanted a skull for his first.
No particular reason why. Just looked nice.
“Simon?”
He looked up with a start, jolting and practically throwing his phone. Two marginally dishevelled faces gaped at him.
“Hi?”
“Shots?” Gaz held up the fancy bottle from earlier, Soap peeking over his shoulder with a grin. Simon couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“M’ fine,” he murmured, holding up his own drink.
Soap tutted. “That’s not the saaaame. C’mon. It’s nice, promise!”
They had two very different definitions of nice.
It wasn’t that Simon didn’t want to join in, it was that it was John’s alcohol. John, the man he’d upset in their first ever conversation. John, the man with a stupid haircut. John, the man his best friend seemed to adore. He didn’t feel like this should be offered to him.
But it was. And he didn’t get the feeling that it was just out of courtesy. But Simon had never been one for picking up on feelings .
He wriggled out of his corner, the two cheering.
After only two each, they were loose-limbed and loose-lipped, their earlier antics aiding in the sudden intoxication.
A decent way into the bottle, Kyle decided a game would be good.
“We drink like… less tha’ way and is’ fun.Y’know the one where you like ask a question n’ if you’ve done it you drink?”
Despite not actually understanding, Simon agreed. John cheered loudly and threw an arm around him.
“Have you ever stolen from a corner shop?”
All but Gaz.
“Swore at a teacher?”
“Seriously?” Soap said, head cocked. Simon chuckled.
Only he took that drink.
They toddled off to piss midway through, then continued on their return. Simon had been worried about issues concerning his bladder; he usually had trouble using public bathrooms, for fucks sakes. But the alcohol must have helped, one way or another.
Kyle had some weird questions. Soap had specific, wild ones; what ordinary person had a bb-gun pellet lodged near their kneecaps? Simon, meanwhile, had no idea what to ask. He mumbled out the most generic things he could manage. Skipped a day of school or college, hid in the toilets, snuck onto a bus or train.
“This feels really American,” he said when he couldn’t think of anything more. John snorted.
“S’pose it is.”
“Mmmm.” Kyle was suddenly rag-doll limp, face dopey. He leaned heavily onto Soap. Simon expected him to shove him away, but instead John cradled him.
It was intimate in a friendly way.
“Fresh air time. C’mon!” John dragged Kyle up, gesturing for Simon to follow.
As soon as he went to stand, everything hit. He threw out his arms to balance, stumbling wildly as his head swam. Despite being wildly dizzy, it felt amazing. He had to watch his feet to be able to walk but it was funny rather than terrifying or embarrassing.
When Soap looked back, rather than flushing and feeling the need to leave, he laughed. And when a hand was given to help, he took it.
It was fairly dark by now, the fire burning bright with a crowd surrounding it. When they made to approach, Simon hesitated before realising the usual knot in his chest wasn’t there. He felt fine - in fact, he wanted to join in. They were roasting marshmallows, and he really fucking wanted one. So did Kyle, if his sudden yells were anything to go by.
John led the two to sit together on a log, asking Kate very nicely not to let them burn to a crisp as he went to fetch their marshmallows. Simon thought it was a bit overkill - he could definitely still think, and knew that the fire was a mild hazard - but the swaying of the fire instilled a need in his body to copy the motions.
Plus, Kyle didn’t seem to have any rational thought left. Someone threw their wooden marshmallow stick into the fire, and the madman went to pick it up. Simon yanked him back in alarm, and the two fell backwards.
He didn’t feel a need to get up, and neither did Kyle.
Simon’s chest made a good pillow, and the sky was beautiful. Pink clouds, fading orange hues and a rapidly darkening blue. Stars were just beginning to peek out.
“You’ve got great tits,” said Kyle.
“Thanks.”
“Like, really great.”
Kate suddenly started pulling them off the grass, tutting something about being ‘too gay’. Her girlfriend agreed.
Gaz complained bitterly, attempting to put his head back on Simon’s chest. It didn’t work particularly well with them both upright. Simon let him anyway, still enamoured with the sky. More stars were appearing, twinkling, and that big one was probably a satellite, and he wondered if he could find that saucepan thing, and what if that one over there was a planet-
There was a marshmallow being waved over his face.
“Yummy?”
Simon took it, and bit it. “Mhm. ‘ffanks.”
Soap sat next to their log, seeing as there wasn’t enough room on it. They munched away. It was a bit hot in the middle, so Simon took his time. John cooked them well. He told him so, and the Scot grinned. He had marshmallow at the corners of his mouth.
Gaz gagged.
“Oh my god, not by the fire Kyle,” Kate gasped, jumping away and behind him. Gaz covered his mouth, eyes bulging, and swallowed. They watched intently. He took in a shaky breath, blinked, before lurching and making another hideous noise.
He was swept away to be sick elsewhere. Simon moved to follow, but Soap placed a hand on his knee.
“Kate an’ Jen an’ - uh, other ones - that’s plenty ‘nuff with him.”
“But he’s my friend,” Simon said dumbly.
“Ah’ ken, but… ah’ think they’re a wee bit more sober than us, Si. Let them deal with.”
Simon didn’t really want the rest of his marshmallow. He offered it to John, who did take it.
Si.
“Nobody’s ever called me that before.”
“Eh?”
“Si. Nobody’s ever called me Si before.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Sorry.”
“No. It’s… yeah. I… it’s fine. Nice. Good. Yeah. It’s good.”
John looked at him, smiled, and nodded. Simon didn’t feel compelled to smile back. Instead, he shifted to where Kyle had been sitting on the log and pet the empty space.
John took it.
“So do I… call you something?”
“Hm?”
“I mean like, you can’t really get shorter than John. Unless you what to be called Jo. But that’s weird,” Simon babbled, but quickly backtracked. “It’s- if you- no, you might. That’s okay.”
He was laughed at, kindly. A hand on his thigh made his already blushing face warm. “You’re funny.”
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
The hand was removed. “What?”
“No- I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Fuck.
“Christ you change up fast,” Soap hissed, snuggling up close. “Sarcastic and big until you’re not. C’mon, I’m not angry with you?”
“I…” Simon glared at the grass like each individual blade had offended him. Or maybe like he was counting them. “When we talked. About college. I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh.” John stiffened. “Well… yea’ but… no? You didn’t upset me. College did. I wasn’t like actually upset anyway, it’s fine - you don’t know me so you wouldn’t… know.” It was awkward, until John punched Simon’s arm playfully. “I don’t know you either. Tell me something, I tell you something.”
“My name’s Simon.”
He dared look at Soap’s face. The corners of the Scot’s mouth twitched.
“My name’s John.”
They bounced off of eachother for a good while, It flowed naturally, in a way Simon wasn’t used to.
People tended to misunderstand him. Thought he was being sarcastic when he wasn’t, thought he was being serious when he wasn’t. Found him dull when he’d rather listen, found him irritating when he had something to say. He didn’t understand why. It was just always the way things had been.
With a drink or two he felt a bit more normal. Everyone was around him was blunt, so it didn’t matter if he was. And everything just came to him easier - the emotions, the talking.
Simon had gone to a whopping two seshes. One when they finished their GCSE’s, the other for Kyle’s birthday shortly after.
The first was fine. He didn’t drink much, didn’t sleep much, and stayed in one room for the majority of the night. A girl tried to talk to him and that was about it.
On Kyle’s birthday, he drank until he could hardly walk, vomited, and tried to get back to it. He’d found a group and had gotten along with them perfectly fine beforehand, but very suddenly it was too much. He froze, tried to get away, and lay on the ground shrieking. Then he’d gone home.
This was his first since.
He ended up telling all of this to Soap, as they relocated to stare at the sky.
“That’s rough,” he murmured. “Are ye’ autistic?”
Very straightforward. Not the first time Simon had been asked. “Maybe. I looked into it a bit. I don’t like… fit everything, though.”
“I don’t think ye’ have to fit everything. ”
“Don’t you have to have most?”
“Uh… probably? I dunno.”
“Neither.”
“Clearly.”
Then he found out about Soap’s experience with such things.
John was social, and found events relaxing. He drank lightly at home, giving him a higher tolerance than most, and was seen as a supplier. Fancy vodkas, rums, boxes of cans or bottles, good snacks. Always willing to share. He thought it was great at first since he was always invited and appreciated.
After a busy summer last year his supply had been drained, and he’d only been able to get one small vodka and a four pack of ciders. He hadn’t mentioned it since it didn’t seem particularly important.
When he arrived, everyone seemed disappointed.
His close friends didn’t give two shits. Why would they? They shared with him instead. But nobody outside of his immediate circle wanted to talk. They asked if he had anything, and left when he had nothing. When he tried to sit with them they hardly even knew who he was, and gave him odd looks.
He wasn’t invited to the next.
“But that was when me and Kyle got proper close, so I s’pose it’s no’ all bad. Started being with his friends more. I sort of realised then that… I’d had friends, but ah’ felt like we never properly connected. Ah’ tell these fuckers when ma’ knob smells of piss an’ we laugh about it ‘nstead of getting radio silence and glares.”
“Maybe stop reeking of piss? Always good for a lack of looks.”
Another punch, deep laughter.
“Fuck off.”
They stared at the sky again.
It was dark by now, and seeing as they were located in a field surrounded by farms there was a distinct lack of light pollution. Simon didn’t think he’d ever seen so many stars.
John asked about the art course after the silence, sounding wistful. Simon wasn’t sure how to explain it. Should he emphasise the bad points so that he didn’t feel like he was missing out? Say it as it was to be realistic? Exaggerate and say it was amazing so that he could fantasise?
Simon settled on ‘it’s good,’ and explained their tutors were a bit weird.
“I kind of hate calling them by their first names. There’s less of a… divide? I guess. Like it feels like you know them but they’re still just teachers.”
“Mmm. What about the actual course?”
“Uh. It’s… we do things? Like we get sort of briefs n’ stuff. And you have to reach it. In second year we get to choose tasks. It’s… good.”
“You doing foundation?”
“Yeah.” Pause. “You definitely know what we do anyway. If you’ve talked to Price.”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
“Nah, s’ fine. I was just… checking. If you want to do it, you should.”
John hummed. “That’s two extra years. Three, maybe. Ah’m already two years into my shit.”
“But if it’s what you want, who cares?”
“Ma and da’.” Soap got up. “Am’ getting the rest of the vodka. Be right back.”
Simon grabbed his hand without thinking. “Johnny.”
John froze, giving him a deer in the headlights look. If deer had blue eyes. Simon went to let go of his hand, but John gripped tighter and pulled him up.
They went together, Simon bringing the rest of his own drinks as well.
The remaining vodka was split between the two of them, motions becoming bubbly and stupid. Whereas Simon sipped at the remains of his coke, Johnny chugged the share he offered.
Time ticked by without the two noticing. Kyle was guided to bed once his stint in vomit corner was over, and he muttered near incoherent ‘goodnight’s as he passed. Kate’s girlfriend - Jen - also bid them goodnight as she helped Kyle. Kate was far too busy to say anything, hauling Phillip’s ass to his tent. He wasn’t even walking.
She later joined the crew around the fire, sharing one last cigarette with Price. Rodolfo, Alejandro and Valeria seemed to be making no nighttime preparations, sharing a bottle between them instead. There were two Simon hadn’t seen before as well, who John identified as Farah and Alex.
Apparently they preferred to wait until everything had calmed before emerging. Farah didn’t drink, and Alex didn’t want anything happening to his leg.
“If Jen were there all the couples would be huddled together. No wait, shit, Nik.”
“Nik?”
“Nikolai. Price’s boyfriend.”
“Oh.”
Johnny sniffed. “Homophobe.”
“What? No! No, I’m-“
“I’m joking. Or at least, I hope you aren’t. Don’t think Kyle would bring in a gay hater here. Well, ‘part from Phillip. But he’s definitely hiding something.” A thoughtful sigh. “But Kyle didn’t actually want him here, so that still stands.”
Simon said nothing.
“You got anyone?”
“No. I’ve never… yeah.”
“Never? Like, not even a week-long stint in primary?”
“Never.”
“That’s mental. You’re fit.”
Simon was marginally stunned. “ Fit and weird.”
“You don’t seem that weird. Not tha’ you being weird is bad. ‘specially if yer’ autistic, cos’ tha’ means your brain literally works different . Either way, yer’ jus’ you.”
“You’ve only really seen me not sober. It’s… I don’t think I’d be able to talk to you if I was.”
“I’d wait. Until you could.” His hand let go of the empty bottle to come up to Simon’s face, stopping just short of touching. “Can I?”
He breathed out a soft ‘yeah.’
Soap cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing gentle circles over his cheek. The hand was warm, and Simon hadn’t realised he’d gotten cold.
“We should probably call it a night,” John murmured.
“Mhm.”
Faces were intimidating. With Johnny looking at his own, it felt like an invitation.
John had strong features. A sharp jawline, the tip of his chin rounded. Light stubble accentuated his cheekbones. There was a constant slight pout to his lips, something catlike in the way his mouth rested. Below them lay a faint scar, lightning shaped - realistic, not in the Harry Potter way.
There were creases around his eyes already, most likely caused by a permanent squint. Like he wanted to focus on everything, all the time.
A drop of water hit Simon’s nose, and he flinched. Soap sat up.
There was another, and it landed on his arm. Then another, and another, and another.
It was raining.
They hurried into the tent, and everyone else ran to their own. The fire, small to begin with, died rather quickly.
Kyle was curled up small on the air mattress, wrapped up in a spiderman blanket. He shifted when they clambered in, one eye opening sleepily.
“H’llo.”
“Go back to sleep, Kyle,” Simon whispered.
Gaz murmured and shifted to one side. “We c’n share? Warm…”
“Give us a minute to get changed an’ we’ll be right with ye’.” Soap began to scrounge around in his bag.
Simon kneeled awkwardly, watching Soap rifle through his belongings. He hadn’t actually brought anything with him, having not expected to stay the night. It didn’t really matter, since he’d chosen something comfortable anyway. An oversized band shirt he’d bought when there was a sale on, the only sizes left being 2XL or 4XL, and some ratty pair of joggers. Underwear and socks too, obviously.
All he had to do was kick off his boots, and he was immediately bed-ready.
John suddenly began to strip. He was a bit surprised, but if the Scot wasn’t bothered neither was he. Gaz made an abhorrent attempt at wolf whistling, but based on the way his eyes were hardly open he wasn’t very awake.
It turned out Soap slept in shorts and socks and nothing else.
“Usually it’s ma’ boxers but I don’t think that’s good fer’ the first date,” he winked at Simon, lobsided grin expressing that he was being very much unserious.
“Ha ha.”
John continued going through his things. After a while of fumbling, he sucked his teeth. “Aw fuck.”
“You good?”
“I forgot my blanket in Price’s.”
Simon shrugged, fetching his own. “Kate gave me this one. It’s pretty big.”
“Are- you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you don’t plan on wetting the bed. You sound nervous.
“I doubt that’s planned most of the time, but naw, I’m not.”
“Very good.”
They squished together on the air mattress, with Soap in the middle. Kyle snuggled up to his side, huffing in his sleep.
Simon hadn’t particularly been looking forward to this. He wasn’t very good at sleeping anywhere but his own bed, and even then not always.
But he managed.
-
He was startled to wakefulness by the sound of vomiting just outside the tent. His head didn’t hurt but it felt… off, and his stomach churned ominously.
The other two were still asleep. He rolled out from under the blanket to step outside, nausea hitting almost as soon as he got up.
His footwear was put back on for fear of wet socks. Outside it was cold and a bit grey. Dew covered the grass.
Simon went to see who the vomming culprit was. He expected Phillip, but instead found Rudy on his hands and knees. The man was pale and shivering. He actually looked sick .
“Are you okay?”
He spat whatever remained in his mouth and sighed, sitting on his haunches. “I’m okay. Valeria made me a drink.”
Simon gave him a somewhat confused look.
“It never ends well.”
“Just the one?”
“Yeah. It might have had malibu in it. I can’t drink that at all. I’ll have to ask her.”
Simon looked around. It didn’t seem like anyone else was awake. Rudy watched him.
“Just you and me. I didn’t want to wake them.”
“Impressive.”
“Not really. Alejandro is a heavy sleeper, and Valeria puts earplugs in. She says we snore. Have you got any water? I don’t… think I can move.”
“Yeah. Yeah! Hang on.”
Simon fetched it as quickly as he could, taking a quick sip of his own before hurrying it out to Rudy. The other looked a bit better now, but he was still a bit worse for wear.
He sipped the water gingerly, shutting his eyes for a moment. He seemed to struggle to keep it down, but he did.
When he handed it back, Simon told him to keep it. “I think you need it more.”
“We have bottles in the tent. You can have one when everyone else is awake.”
“Thanks.”
“Thank you, too. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. You?”
“Uh-huh. Still wish I hadn’t taken a Valeria drink, though. If you’re ever offered one, decline. She’s very good at making a lot of alcohol taste like… juice.”
Simon laughed. The fresh air made him feel better. He was still mildly concerned about shitting himself, but he concluded that he probably wouldn’t.
He considered sitting next to Rudy, but the thought of damp joggers made him wince, so he stood instead.
They talked until life began to stir, soft mumbles coming from other tents. It took a while of said mumbles before people began to emerge, the first of which being Alejandro. Simon already felt his chest grow tight. Shit.
“Rudy?”
“I’m fine, Ale.”
“It’s cold. Come back inside or - here,” Alejandro was already halfway out of his hoodie. He pulled it over Rodolfo, the material hanging off of him. “ You’re cold. What were you doing?”
“I threw up. I couldn’t really move for a while. Simon stayed with me.”
“Thank you.”
“S’ fine,” Simon said stiffly. He went back to Gaz’s tent to hide, other bleary faces emerging and beginning to scamper about.
Kyle was sitting up inside, rubbing at his eyes and trying to smooth down his hair. It looked so short before, but it’d fluffed up during the night.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He went to fetch his bag, double checking that he had everything. All that was left was his portable charger, the remains of the vodka (about two shots worth) and his phone was in his pocket. Set, and ready to go.
And then Soap woke up.
He stretched and yawned, blinking furiously and giving a deep sigh. He didn’t seem particularly pleased, his nose scrunched up. Simon supposed he’d drank much more than he himself had; he might feel awful. The same went for Kyle though, and he seemed fine. But Kyle wasn’t moving much, so maybe he was wrong.
They said nothing, but Simon didn’t feel like he could leave anymore. He sat down instead and checked his phone.
John and Kyle shuffled around. It took a while for the Scot to fully wake, and Kyle seemed hesitant to stand. He was yawning a lot. Maybe he felt sick. Or maybe he was just tired.
Eventually the two stepped outside, John clad in more appropriate attire. There was a bit of gagging, but no actual vomiting. Simon ignored the conversations outside as he scrolled through emails. Nothing particularly interesting, just some notifications about games he didn’t even remember signing up for and college notifications.
There was some clanking. Tents must be coming down.
Simon sighed, pocketing the device and heading out. He should probably help with something, be it pulling down tents or the clean up. Or both.
Seeing everyone made him freeze up, though. Had there always been so many people? And had he talked to them?
Christ.
They’d reignited the fire somehow, despite the logs being damp. It was pitiful, but enough to cook more marshmallows.
John was chomping on one, with the other John - Price - busy charring his own to high hell. It’d probably be charcoal by the time he was done. Simon had no clue how either of them could stomach the sugar, but each to their own.
Kate and Jen were the ones taking down a tent, with Alejandro and Valeria helping. Farah and Alex were packing up their things.
He couldn’t see Rodolfo anywhere, but maybe he’d gone back to sleep. The man probably needed it.
“Si!”
Oh, fuck.
Johnny grinned at him, goo coating the corners of his mouth. Simon slouched, but shuffled over.
“Feelin’ okay?”
“Mhm.” I really really want to go home. “You?”
“Aye. Dandy.”
Price grumbled. “You knock everything back like it’s nothing and come back fine every single time.”
“That’s cos’ it is nothing.”
“I hope the day comes where you puke so hard you shit yourself, MacTavish.”
Simon snorted.
“Only if you’re buying.”
“Try Jeff Bezos. Don’t think anyone else has enough for that.”
Despite his complaints, Price looked alright. He had a pack of cigarettes ready and waiting, a lighter being rolled through his fingers.
Simon listened to John talk, checking his phone every now and then. Half an hour passed before part of the tent dismantling was done, and then they got started on Alex and Farah’s. This went by much quicker. Alejandro’s was next.
Rodolfo emerged half asleep, but looking much better than he had earlier. There was a healthy colour to his cheeks and he didn’t seem to be in any discomfort. Valeria laughed at him, as Alejandro went to empty the tent of their belongings. Once Rudy woke up a bit more, the two joined him.
It was 9:48, and they had a bus to catch by 10:30. Apparently the group were heading to get breakfast somewhere.
Simon looked over to Kyle’s tent. John followed his gaze. He didn’t even have to say anything.
“Yeah, I s’pose. Where ‘fuck is Kyle?”
Good point. He didn’t seem to be anywhere.
Soap got up to look around. Simon stiffened where he sat, and Price lit a cigarette.
John bounced around, receiving a few head shakes and considering looks. Jen pointed at Phillip’s tent. Understandably, John looked confused.
He popped into said tent, and found Kyle shaking a sleeping Phillip.
The man was limp as could be, eyes open just a crack. His mouth gaped a little, and Kyle looked mildly desperate. “I’ve woken him up like- five times? And he went back to sleep every time but now he won’t wake up at all.”
Five minutes later, and they were dragging him out. He babbled incoherently, clearly still half asleep and unappreciative of being disrupted.
Simon picked at the skin around his nails.
They took Phillip’s tent down instead of Kyle’s. Phillip didn’t help even when he did wake up properly. It was actually much easier to take down than put up though, but they were still running out of time.
He got his backpack just to get that out of the way. He didn’t think he should start messing with the other two’s stuff.
Maybe he could just send Kyle a message and slip away. He didn’t want to go get breakfast, so would it be rude to not help? They’d shared drinks. He probably owed them something. Fuck.
“Si?”
He jumped.
“You’re bleeding.”
He was.
Humming, he shoved the offending finger into his mouth. Infections be damned, he wasn’t dripping blood all over himself.
John stared at him with a cocked head. Simon looked at the fire instead.
“Are ye’ okay? You…” John rubbed his hands together, sucking at his bottom lip. “I can get Kyle if you want?”
Simon shook his head. Gaz had a good night. He wouldn’t ruin the next day by getting into a mood. “Need to take the tent down.”
He didn’t mean to have his speech be so clipped. He just couldn’t manage anything else at the moment. Soap didn’t seem bothered, and just started gathering his own stuff. A few minutes later Kyle joined him.
Simon helped them put everything together, then aided in removing pegs and poles and whatever else. It was beginning to warm up, which was nice.
They were done by 10:20. The walk to the bus stop was 15 minutes.
Since all he had to his name at the time was the backpack, he was designated to carry some other bags as well since they were running to catch the bus. It wasn’t the end of the world if they missed it since there was another in an hour, but breakfast wasn’t being served past 11:30.
The warmth was no longer nice.
He grew sticky, his shirt sticking to his back. His eyes burned from where the sun shone into them, and both hands were occupied for purposes other than shielding.
The bus stop was reached by 10:33, which wasn’t that great. People fished out their phones to find out if the bus had left or not, and Kate found there was a ten minute delay. A collective groan came from the group.
Simon wanted to shower, but now that he’d joined them here he again felt trapped.
He shifted from foot to foot, rocking back and forth. He didn’t want to go. All he wanted was some toast, a wash, to brush his teeth and a nap in his own bed.
“Si?”
Once more, John emerged. Strands of his hair were plastered to his forehead. Simon hummed in response.
“Put the bags down an’ come with me for a minute.”
It felt wrong, but he popped all the bags but his own into a corner and stepped out of the shelter with Soap. They went to the opposite side that the smokers chose. On second glance, though, it was only Kate and Price that had cigarettes in their mouths. Kyle was there, talking to Phillip. He looked angry.
“First thing, Kyle’s busy or he’d have come over. Second, do you want to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Get, then. These fuckers can carry their own bags,” he said lightly, a grin pulling tanned cheeks taught.
“Is Gaz okay?”
“Eh? Oh- yeah. Last time we went out Phillip ordered a shitload of food, ate it and projectile vommed all over the toilets. Go’ a wee bit kicked out.”
“Oh.”
“Mhm. He’s complainin’ he feels sick an’ Kyle’s telling him to fuck off home if he feels that sick.”
“Yeah.”
“Can ye’ get home?”
“Yeah. I’m walking.”
“Far?”
“No.”
Soap nodded, looking mildly worried. “I’ll tell Kyle. An’… before you go, can… you got snapchat?”
Simon didn’t realise what John was asking for a moment, but raided his pockets for his phone when he did.
He never knew bitmojis could have a mohawk.
-
Later that day, Simon awoke to his phone buzzing. Two notifications.
A mohawk peered at the bottom of the chat.
heading out w kyle next weekend. wanna come?
Simon began to type, but Soap took over.
just to town n stuff
He was still tired, and didn’t feel like facing anyone ever again at the moment. So that was a solid maybe depending on his week.
Kyle sent a message before he could reply.
U don’t have to say yes but he has not shut up abt you 😁
He ignored that one, and replied to Johnny’s instead.
Ok.