Post by Vanessa Winchester on Jul 20, 2009 17:17:52 GMT
It was commonly accepted across all the ranks, from the high to the low, that Gritty (AKA Jasper Robson- but no-one other than a select few knew that) was completely and irrevocably in love with one Vanessa Winchester. This ‘fact’ existed because of a slightly surreal event in the two best friends’ lives when, at the end of their first week in the Forces, the two decided to, er… ‘blow off some steam’. They’d disappeared into Gritty’s room, bolted the door and remained inside for five hours straight.
Five hours, twelve minutes and six seconds straight to be exact. Gritty’s disgruntled and temporarily homeless dorm mates had taken it upon themselves to time exactly how long Vanessa and Gritty spent in there.
When both finally emerged- sweaty, ruffled and looking distinctly pleased with themselves- everyone had already decided exactly what had been going on inside that room… and pounced on the pair.
Well, at first Nessa had found it pretty funny. She encouraged the whole thing, and had dragged a reluctant Gritty along with it, too. Everyone thought they… well, they…
Well, they made an interesting piece of gossip the next day, anyway.
But after a while, the jokes had really started to píss Nessa off. So she told Gritty she wanted to pack it in and tell them all the truth.
What she hadn’t been expecting was Gritty’s reaction.
He’d panicked. Utterly and totally panicked. Nessa had had to slap him several times to shock him out of it- and Nessa’s slap was a mean one. His face had been left stinging for ages afterwards. And after he’d been returned to his usual, sane self, she hadn’t left him alone until he’d explained exactly what was going on-
Well, two things really worked in her favour, here-
1. Vanessa was a persistent búgger.
2. Gritty didn’t cope well under pressure.
He’d cracked after two days of it. Then, in a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor at Vanessa’s feet, he’d drawn a deep breath and confessed, in a quivering voice-
“I’m gay.”
It was the crowning moment of Gritty’s manhood, that.
What he hadn’t been expecting was her reaction-
A shrug. “So, what? I’m bi.”
If he’d’a been straight, he would’ve floored her, then and there.
Nessa- as per- thought him ridiculous. She usually did. But she was a lot more confident than Gritty about… that sort of thing. Gritty wasn’t confident... well, at all. She didn’t ever really… get why it had to be such a big secret, but at least she went along with it. Actually, she did more than that- it was her who masterminded the brilliant cover-story that still kept his secret intact today.
It was simple, she’d told him. All they had to was break up- on Vanessa’s terms- loudly and publicly. Then, they wouldn’t speak for a week before deciding to be, ‘just friends’. Nessa would even do him the justice of telling everyone she, ‘got bored of him’.
Meanwhile, Gritty could to remain hung up on Nessa ‘til the end of his army career.
“You mean until you come out of the closet.”
He’d frowned. “No… no, I don’t want to do that.”
“Fine,” she’d rolled her eyes, “but you owe me, jerk-off.”
Gritty didn’t mind when Nessa called him names. He knew she only did it because she liked him.
Then, Nessa had picked him up off the ground by the scruff of his collar (she had amazing strength for such a little body) and tossed him bodily out of her room onto the mud-splattered grass outside. He had to hand it to her- she’d been bloody convincing. Hell, the tears in Gritty’s eyes had been real. And everyone had been much nicer to him after that. Girls had lavished their pity on him in the form of hugs and smores and the guys…
The guys…
They’d… rallied around him like he was a fallen soldier. Picked him up, scrubbed him down, cursed women to hell and snuck in several six-packs of lager for his benefit. And they’d had a brilliant night.
Sometimes, Gritty felt guilty about lying to them, but Nessa always knew how to knock that out of him:
“Trust me, Gritty. Those guys are all much happier believing you’re dream-fúcking me, not them.”
Once, much to his horror, one of the guys had thought it would be a good idea to try and set Gritty up with someone to help him get his mind off Nessa. Gritty had no idea anything was happening ‘til it was too late- i.e. when the ‘someone’ in question (an annoyingly overly-talkative brunette) was trying to unbuckle his jeans. He’d yelped, sprang off his seat, and ran for the hills.
The guys were disappointed, but made no effort to try anything like it again.
“Gritty will get over it in his own good time,” they’d amended, knocking back a bottle of beer in unison.
Gritty would never get over it. Not ever.
This thing was too far-gone.
Gritty wasn’t… he wasn’t like Nessa. He wasn’t okay with it. He wasn’t happy. Mostly, he wished their whole stupid story was true.
He wished he was in love with Nessa. Sometimes, when they were sitting together, joking and laughing, he would squint at her really hard and try, with all his might, to fall in love. He would look at her legs and her chest and all those other things the guys talked about when they talked about girls and he would try really hard to think… something…
Like… like… like they thought. Something like, “nice legs”, or… “she’s fit,” or… something. But it was hard work, falling in love. He couldn’t get anything to happen. He couldn’t feel those feelings he was supposed to feel- he couldn’t make his heart beat any faster, and he couldn’t make his stomach swell with butterflies. Once, in desperation, he’d asked her to kiss him.
It had been horribly awkward. So awkward, actually, that he’d spent the rest of the day apologising to her for suggesting it. She shook her head, and told him it didn’t matter.
But it did. Not to her, maybe. But to him… it mattered a lot.
And here was the dámn truth-
By, ‘blow off some steam’, Vanessa and Gritty had meant one thing only- playing ‘Call Of Duty’ on Gritty’s smuggled PSP. He was good and Vanessa was better and they’d kicked butt in record time.
A PSP… for Chrissake!
“Hey, Gritty.”
But there it was.
That rush. That feeling of… warmth and wonder. That feeling he was supposed to have when he looked at Nessa. But Gritty knew in his heart of hearts that no matter what Nessa did, she could never make him feel like this.
But he could… and all because he’d said Gritty’s name.
“Hey… Smith.”
He wasn’t a tall man. He was shorter than Gritty by about a head. He was of a stocky build; broad across the chest and shoulders. His arms were bound thick with muscle, as were his legs. His eyes were bright green. His smile was crooked. His nose was straight. His face was angular. His hands were wide and strong.
And his hair…
That’s what Gritty had noticed first about him. His hair. It was a rich crimson colour and stuck up- all over the place- in natural, wild spikes that grew and criss-crossed and gleamed in the sunlight.
He stood casually before Gritty; his crooked smile creasing the corners of his mouth. His medic’s uniform was clean today.
“It’s Ryan, Grit; I’m on my lunch break,” the medic replied, jumping down on the bench beside him. “You got anymore of those sandwiches? I’m starving.”
“Sandwiches?”
Ryan’s eyebrows rose; his glittering eyes bemused. “The ones you’re eating.”
So he was. Gritty nodded dumbly, and picked his other sandwich off the bench, passing it across to Ryan.
Ryan snatched it and bit into it with great gusto.
“So,” awkwardly, Ryan punched his chest, struggling to swallow a particularly large lump of bread. Gritty resisted the urge to thump him on the back. “Heard about Vanessa’s announcement. Did she get in trouble?”
“Yeah,” Gritty nodded, “she did. She… um… she got some kind of… clean-up duty.”
“Ouch,” Ryan laughed, “they must be mad.”
Gritty watched him, nervously observing the small glob of mayo which had come to rest on the edge of Ryan’s chin.
They sat in mutual silence now, which was broken only by Ryan’s chewing. Dimly, Gritty realised he was supposed to be doing the same thing, and took a small bite out of the edge of his half-eaten sandwich.
It tasted dry in his mouth.
Ryan wasn’t very talkative. He never was with anyone. Gritty kept glancing towards him, watching him- but his green eyes were staring fixedly ahead. Gritty wondered if he should try and make conversation. It seemed appropriate, really, to try and make conversation with the man he loved.
Thought he loved.
Maybe.
“Er… how are you?”
“Tired,” Ryan replied, still staring straight ahead, “you?”
“Yeah,” Gritty said weakly, “same. Really… really tired.”
“Mhm. I didn’t see you in the Medical Unit after battle.”
“I wasn’t…” he wondered if he was imagining the accusation in that statement. “I didn’t… get hurt.”
“Good.”
“Yeah… good.”
Silence.
This was bad. If Nessa could see him now, she’d be banging his head off the ground. She knew all about Ryan and Gritty. Once or twice, she’d threatened to tell the young medic the truth, but Gritty… hadn’t dealt well with that particular threat on the basis he’d… um… starting crying again.
Gritty wasn’t a weepy guy. Really, he wasn’t. In fact, before Nessa, he hadn’t shed a single tear since he was 3 years old. Nessa just… brought it out in him.
“Thanks.”
Ryan’s voice was abrupt. He was smacking his lips. His index finger swept his chin, swiping the glob of mayo that had been worrying Gritty so and leaving his skin once more unblemished. Already, he was moving. Getting up. Turning and crookedly smiling his goodbye.
“Oh.” Gritty felt deflated. “Okay. No problem.”
“Are you gonna eat the rest of that?” Ryan’s eyes were suddenly transfixed by the half-eaten meal in Gritty’s hand.
Gritty glanced down. “Um… no.”
“Cool.” A hopeful pause.
Ryan mightn’t say much, but Gritty felt that, after months of distant observation, he knew how to read him pretty well. Ryan was a stoic sort. He could say a thousand things in one sentence. A thousand in a word.
Gritty had never known anyone quite like him before.
“You can have it,” Gritty said softly, correctly interpreting Ryan’s gaze.
Another crooked smile. “Sure?”
“Y-yeah,” Gritty held it out uncertainly, and just as quickly as the first sandwich, Ryan snatched it up. He folded it, twice, into a small, high cube, and in one deft movement, stuffed it into his mouth.
How… practical.
Fascinated, Gritty watched him swallow.
“Thanks, Grit,” Ryan’s crooked smile was back. “I really was starved.”
Gritty found himself smiling irresistibly back. “No kiddin’.”
Ryan laughed. An abrupt sound. As abrupt and bold as his voice. Gritty liked its sound. It didn’t flow up and down like other peoples’ did in a series of broken chords. His was one brief note. A prolonged, “Hah!”
A much more practical way to laugh, really.
There was another silence, but this one felt more comfortable than the last. Ryan watched him and Gritty watched him back. But just as he was beginning to feel confident enough to initiate further conversation, their companionable silence was broken by an unwelcome visitor.
An unwelcome visitor carrying a mop.
“Hello, boys!”
Typical.
Ryan’s smile was gone. “Hey, Vanessa.”
Dámn her.
Gritty felt a dull reddish flush begin to creep up the back of his thick neck.
“Where’s lunch, then?” she dropped her mop and hopped onto the bench beside him. “Gritty, you jerk! You said you’d save me something.”
Had he? Gritty wasn’t sure what he’d said. He had definitely been sitting on this bench for a reason. Everything had gone a bit hazy when Ryan had shown up. Yet Vanessa had a way of saying things with such confident assurance, Gritty found it difficult to doubt her.
“Smithy, you’ve taken my sandwiches.”
Gritty flinched. Smithy…
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Ryan replied, looking blankly at Gritty.
Nessa hit Gritty playfully on the back of his head. “You gave ‘em up, didn’t you? Son of a- well, that’s Gritty for you. He’ll do anything for a pretty face.” She winked up at Ryan, who blinked slowly in response.
Gritty’s fists curled. He dropped Ryan’s gaze, muted by the embarrassment he suddenly felt; the embarrassment that was now cutting off the air from his vocal chords. Vanessa was talking, chattering enthusiastically between the pair. Ryan didn’t speak and Gritty, feeling a sluggish atmosphere of awkwardness begin to spread, did his best to choke out a couple of laughs, trying to shake it off.
God. Was Nessa actually enjoying herself?
“- but I don’t think the colour suits me.” She paused, tilting her head up at Ryan. Her ponytail from earlier had come loose- Gritty wondered if she’d realised- and her hair was a cascade of cocoa brown curls. She smiled brilliantly. “What do you think, Smithy? Does it suit?”
Gritty’s eyes swivelled back to Ryan, whose face was its custom, stoic mask. Any sign of the crooked smile Gritty loved so was wiped clean. Gritty wondered why Ryan stood so still like that; why his bright emerald eyes bored so intently into Nessa’s. Gritty had never seen him look at anybody for so long…
Ryan barely made eye contact with most people.
Gritty glanced again at Nessa’s gleaming grin and ran his tongue nervously along the bottom set of his own ragged incisors. A sick, new and uncertain feeling was stirring in the pit of his stomach- one Gritty was sure he’d never felt before; about anyone- least of all Nessa.
Jealousy.
Finally, Ryan opened his mouth and said one final, fatal word: “Yes.”
Gritty… was drowning.
“I have to go, now,” Ryan said, with his usual brusque manner. “Lunch break’s almost over.”
“Take care, Smithy!”
“Okay… Ryan,” Gritty tried not to look too miserable as he looked back up at those deep green eyes. “See you.”
“Yep.” A pause. “Hey, Grit- next time you’re in the medical unit, ask for me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gritty replied weakly. “Yeah… ‘course I will.”
The two best friends watched the young medic go; dust kicking up at his heels as he walked.
The moment he was out of sight, Nessa sharply and gleefully dug her elbow into Gritty’s ribs.
“Ooh! Grit?! I think he likes you!”
“Naw. Don’t be thick.”
“Me? Never!” For a moment, she looked a bit annoyed. “Come on, Gritty- he practically asked you out there now!”
“No, he didn’t,” he replied dully. “Not so loud, Nessa.”
She tossed her head back haughtily. “There’s no-one about to hear me. You know, your doctor boy’s pretty cute for a ginger-”
“Don’t, Nessa.”
“Well,” she looked at him again, two little vertical lines creasing the area between her brows, “what’s eating you?”
“Nothin’.”
“Right.” Nessa dully looked at the mop she’d dropped alongside the bench where they both sat. “Clean-up duty, eh? Since my lunch has just walked off in your would-be boyfriend’s stomach.” She blew outwards in a sigh. “Peakes bloody has it in for me.”
Gritty had to agree with her there. “Aye.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n,” she teased lightly, hopping to her feet. “See you later, Gritty.”
See you.
Because they’d nothing better to do, most evenings Gritty and Nessa visited each other in their allocated dorms. Their sleeping quarters weren’t far apart; separated only by a low row of washing facilities and a stretch of muddy grass- the very grass where Gritty had apparently had his heart ‘broken’ just over a year ago.
Tonight, it was Gritty’s turn to visit Nessa.
It was a cool March evening. The day had been… tiring. Hoodham had been in a really good mood ever since the battle (Nessa’s announcement and Knight’s death had been minor blips on the scale) but that meant that Training had gotten even tougher.
So Gritty was zonked. He shuffled- not walked- his large feet sinking into the mud as he moved. Reaching Nessa’s door, Gritty threw his shoulders back and knocked three times.
“Hi, Gritty.”
“Hi, Hannah,” he smiled. “Nessa in?”
“Yep- Vanessa!” the blonde called over her shoulder. “He’s here!” Smiling unusually widely back at Gritty, Hannah side-stepped his hulking frame onto the gravel outside.
Dimly, he noticed her make-up was heavier than it had been earlier. Then he noticed her hair. It was sleeker, straighter and shinier than usual.
“You’re going to see Vlad,” he suddenly realised, thinking of his tight-lipped Russian friend.
Hannah froze, a couple of paces forward. “Jeez, Gritty! Announce it to the whole camp, why don’t you?!”
He flushed a dull red. “I- I didn’t mean-”
“Oh whatever,” she huffed, marching on.
Dumbly, Gritty shuffled into Nessa’s room.
His friend was curled up on her bed, flipping lazily through the pages of some dusty old classic Gritty didn’t recognise. When he closed the door, she looked up, chuckling wickedly.
“Oops, big guy. Looks like you let slip we all know her dirty little secret.” She tossed the book aside, jumping up. “Look away. I’m about to change.”
He stared. “You don’t care about stuff like that.”
“But you do,” she rolled her eyes. “Look away.”
Good point.
He ducked his head, awkwardly running his large hand over his short, thick black bristles. They were growing again, wiry and ugly, and needed cut back.
Automatically, he thought of Ryan’s soft red spikes, blowing gently in the breeze.
“Alright, tough guy. I’m decent.”
He looked up once more to find her sporting a baggy pair of pyjama bottoms and a sleeveless top. A faded pattern of stars swirled across her chest, along with the lettering, ‘Dream Big’.”
She chuckled suddenly, picking at a loose thread from one of the stars. “See Ally? He used to make the crudest comments about this top when we were dating.”
Gritty paled. “Ally saw you in your pyjamas?!”
“Only twice. Don’t look at me like that, Gritty. We didn’t do anything.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he mumbled.
“Oh, fúck off, Gritty.”
“Sorry, then.”
He couldn’t help it. He didn’t like her stories. He didn’t like the way people talked about her behind her back. Sometimes, when he heard the guys crudely bantering about her, it made Gritty sorry he was gay.
Then later, he’d hear some girls bítching and be not so sorry, after all.
Sometimes, he’d wonder her Nessa wound up with so many random people; strange people, too- sometimes, downright scary people. He guessed there were so many because of the bisexual thing. It made everyone available to her.
Funny. His being gay made him feel cut off from everyone.
“How was Training?” Nessa asked eagerly, sinking back onto her bed.
“Fine.”
“Just, ‘fine’?” She swore. “You’re killing me here, Gritty!”
“Not much to tell. Teddy broke his nose.”
“‘Course he did. He’s a clutz,” she muttered viciously. “Sit down, then, Gritty.”
He did, his heavy frame sinking low onto her mattress beside her. She turned up her nose at the sound of the straining springs and punched the bed.
“Life of luxury they live up at that school,” she spat bitterly, “and what do we get?!” Another punch.
“Sod?” he offered helpfully.
Nessa smiled suddenly at him. “Yes. Exactly. Sod.”
Encouraged by her smile- once she smiled, stuff got better- Gritty asked, a little cheekily.
“Have you- ah- seen Evangeline, today?”
Nessa’s blue eyes softened now, like they always did when Gritty said her name. And Gritty was glad of it. He liked Evangeline better than all those other people. Evangeline was…
“Elusive cow,” Nessa said- and she said it real affectionate, too. “Not today. Clean-up duty means I… tend to miss her around the camps.”
Peakes, when he’d punished Nessa for her outburst at the after-battle celebrations, could have had no way of knowing just how good a punishment it was for Nessa. He was depriving her, unknowingly, of the two things she loved most-
Training, and Evangeline Clare.
“But, you, sir,” her punch moved playfully from mattress to his arm, but Gritty didn’t mind that anymore than the name-calling. That was just Nessa’s way. “You saw your lovely Smithy today.”
“I don’t like it when you call him, ‘Smithy’,” he told her, feeling a sudden wave of nausea as his stomach started to nurse the sick feeling that had been there since that afternoon. “It doesn’t… suit him.”
“Ryan Smith, then,” she chuckled. “Doesn’t say much, does he?”
“He says a lot, actually,” Gritty mumbled. “Just… y’know-”
“Not all at once?” She was teasing him, now- but in a nice way.
A bad nice way. Nessa wasn’t nice. So her being nice now meant one thing, and one thing only-
Nessa knew exactly how bad Gritty had got it. And boy, oh boy, Gritty had got it bad.
“And now you’re saying less and less,” she leaned backwards, kicking out her legs over the edge of her bed, “that can only be an improvement.”
He tried to laugh, but the sound was small and sad.
“Alright, Gritty- I mention good ol’ lover boy and you clam up,” she frowned, “but last night you couldn’t stop talking about him. Bored me half to death. What’s with that- hmm?”
Her light hands gently placed themselves on either side of his rough face, and turned it towards her.
“Hmm?”
“I…” Gritty struggled for a moment, trying to figure what to say. The bad feeling had been following him around all day like… like a bad smell (his comparisons were always much less poetic than Vanessa’s). “I…”
“Spit it out, Gritty,” she said patiently.
Gritty, although able to keep everything from everyone, couldn’t keep anything from Nessa.
“Ithinkhelikesyou.”
The words came out like one big messy word- fast, long and awkward. Just, actually, as the words had come when he’d first confessed his orientation to her.
For three whole seconds- Gritty counted- Nessa stared at him in stunned silence.
Then, slowly, she opened her mouth… and she began to laugh.
No. She began to roar.
“Gritty, you díck!” she finally exclaimed, two minutes later, most of which Gritty’s face had spent creeping further and further back inside his shirt collar. “You had me really worried there- y’know?”
“I don’t understand,” Gritty stared at her. “Isn’t it… bad?”
“It would be,” she smiled, “if it weren’t for the fact that Ryan Smith hates my guts.”
Unbidden, hope blossomed in Gritty’s battered heart. “H-how do you know that?”
“Did you see the way he looked at me?”
His heart… promptly sank. “Yeah.”
And looked and looked and looked at her.
“That’s what’s commonly referred to as a, ‘glare’, Gritty,” she beamed. “And did you see the way his smile smacked itself off his face the moment I showed up? Come on, Gritty- you have eyes, don’t you?”
“But…” Gritty was confused- but in a happy way. “He said that top suited you.”
“That’s what’s commonly referred to as, ‘manners’, Gritty.”
“So, then… he isn’t in love with you?”
She started chuckling again. “You’re really serious? You really believed that?”
He nodded mutely; shyly.
“Fúck, Gritty.” Another guffaw. “The guy goes all tense, gives me the dirtiest look ever, then proceeds to ask you- not me!- out on a date… and you think he’s in love with me?! I thought you said you understood this guy!”
“I- I do-” he stammered. “That is-”
“Come on, idiot,” she shook her head. “Let’s play ‘Mario Karts’, or something. I’m sure April hid a Wii in this room somewhere…”
Two hours, thirty-five minutes, a broken Wii remote and a catfight later, Gritty was re-crossing the patch of muddy grass to his own dorm. In the daytime, people kicked a deflated football about the grass and kicked each other when the ball stopped rolling. Nessa often complained that with so much magic around, people shouldn’t be using such a rubbish ball- they should be using something top-of-the-range.
She wasn’t alone in her complaints. But actually, no-one could be bothered fixing or replacing the ball, because it only return to its dilapidated state just under a week later. What was the point?
Gritty’s head was bent low, and he watched his feet as he walked. He watched his boots sink and when he looked behind him, he could see a trail of his own muddy footprints following him.
The mud made noises when he stepped.
Squelch.
Squelch.
Squelch.
“Grit?”
Oh, God- there it was.
That rush. That brilliant rush. That ‘lighter-than-air’ feeling they could use to blow up a balloon.
“Ryan,” he half-choked, swivelling to face the medic. “Hullo.”
Ryan’s face was half-bathed in moonlight; and blurred by the white smoke that was rising from the burning cigarette held crookedly in his crooked mouth. His emerald eyes were now black glints.
The glints didn’t watch Gritty. They gazed fixedly at the muddy tracks Gritty had left in the grass.
The cigarette shifted in his mouth.
“You were with Vanessa.”
That… wasn’t a question, was it?
“I… was,” Gritty said slowly, unsure of how to react. He couldn’t see Ryan’s face properly. He couldn’t understand his tone. Suddenly, he began to doubt what Nessa had told him back in the dorm.
“Why?”
Oh. Oh. Okay. That was… brief.
Gritty shrugged. “Well, y’know… she’s my best friend… so I go see her… sometimes.”
Ryan came forward now, out of the shadows of the washing unit where he’d been standing. Carelessly, he swept the cigarette from his mouth between his index finger and thumb. He exhaled again- and this time, the smoke wound its way across Gritty’s parted lips.
Suddenly, Ryan seemed very, very close.
“Gritty, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here.”
Gritty shook his head, slightly dazed. The black glints were gleaming up at him now, only a few inches away.
“But you’re better off without that kid.”
“N-Nessa, you mean?” he blinked.
“Grit, after all she put you through last year, you don’t deserve the way she treats you. She’s messing you about.”
Oh. Oh, no. No, she’s not. Ryan meant…
With dawning horror, Gritty realised exactly what Ryan meant.
What Ryan thought.
What everyone else in this stupid, stupid place thought.
“Look,” why didn’t Ryan look away? “I know you’re in love with her. We all do. And Grit… you’re doing yourself more harm than good by hanging about with her all the time like that. You need distance. And she’s not giving it to you. And that’s not fair.”
Gritty had never heard Ryan say so much at once. Ryan, too, seemed slightly staggered by the number of words he’d just said, and steadied himself with another puff of his cigarette.
The smoke burned in Gritty’s throat.
“I…”
“I know- I’m way out of line here,” Ryan spoke softly. “Sorry. Just don’t like seeing people get messed about… is all.” Another puff. “That’s all.”
Gritty wasn’t sure what made him say it. Probably desperation.
“I’m not in love with her.”
Ryan laughed. That one, long note. “Brave words, Grit.”
“No,” Gritty gulped. “I’m not in love… with her, I’m in… I’m… well, I lo-”
I love…
“Fine,” Ryan shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the muddy ground. He raised a foot, and stamped it out. The smoke sighed; damp steam rose. Almost immediately, Ryan started rustling in his jacket pocket for another one. He pulled out the packet, pushing out two fresh cigarettes as he did so, and wordlessly offered one to Gritty.
Gritty didn’t know what to do. He was panicking now. Ryan didn’t know… but he had to know… but how could Gritty explain about Nessa? About… the cover-up and the lie… and… oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
“It won’t bite,” Ryan said abruptly.
“Smoking’s bad for you.” The moment the words- the wrong, awkward words- were out of his mouth, Gritty felt his cheeks begin to burn.
Ryan, however, didn’t seem bothered. He let out a, “Hah!” then plucked his own cigarette from the pack. “Don’t I know it.”
His lighter flickered, and for a moment, Ryan’s face was completely illuminated. Gritty was taken aback by the brightness of his eyes; the vibrancy of his hair. His red spikes cast flickering shadows across his face.
Then the flame disappeared with a click, the moonlight returned to Ryan’s face and the glowing end of the cigarette blew fresh smoke thick and fast into Gritty’s mouth.
“Sorry.”
Gritty now felt really stupid. “Why… are you sorry?”
The cigarette rolled along the edge of Ryan’s bottom lip, lodging itself in his mouth’s corner.
“For interfering.”
Gritty wished he could read some emotion in Ryan’s blank expression. Anything- even the slightest sign of… something. Something. Gritty didn’t know exactly what he wanted to read there. What he wanted to see.
“Ryan?”
“Mhm.”
“I… I really… I’m not in love with Nessa.”
There was a short pause. “Okay, Grit.”
“Okay?” Relief washed over Gritty, his thick eyebrows moving outwards and downwards. “Okay! Great! You see,” his voice lowered now, and his stomach shifted suddenly, like it was halfway behind his mouth. As, apparently, was his brain. “See, I’m g… well, I’m g…”
Nope. Wait. Brain catch-up, right there.
He couldn’t say it.
Of course he couldn’t say it.
What would Ryan think? What had he said, anyway?
“Just don’t like seeing people get messed about… is all.”
But Gritty and Nessa were messing everyone about, weren’t they? They were liars. Gritty was a liar.
He was lying to the man he loved.
Thought he loved.
Maybe.
Oh, God.
“D’you know what?”
That was… sharp. Really sharp. And really sudden.
Gritty had observed before that Ryan exhaled and inhaled evenly when he smoked, releasing a slow, almost laid-back stream from his lips. But along with his sudden, sharp sentence, Ryan’s usual pattern of breathing was disrupted by a quick puff- a thick, fast burst of heat. Gritty’s mouth, foolishly open, swallowed it and started to cough. Ryan didn’t appear to notice.
“D’you know what, Grit? I said I was sorry. I was outta line. Should’ve shut my trap and stayed quiet- right?”
The shorter man drew a long drag from his fast burning cigarette and tugged it roughly from his mouth.
Gritty was stunned. He didn’t really know what was going on. Ryan didn’t speak a lot. He rarely- if at all- showed emotion. And now he was speaking… too much. And he sounded mad.
He was mad at Gritty.
But he’d said it was okay!
Why was Ryan mad at Gritty?
“I should’ve listened to the guys,” Ryan said softly, and his breath blew the smoke rhythmically in and out of Gritty’s mouth, making him gradually more and more dazed. “You’ll just have to get over it in your own good time.”
“I… am… over… it,” Gritty was struggling to breathe for himself. “I’m… not… in… love… with… her.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Grit,” Ryan’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “I meant well. Don’t insult me.”
Gritty was, in a word, horrified. “I wasn’t-”
“Okay, Grit.”
Close. Much too close. Any closer and Gritty would’ve felt the burning end of the lit splint press against his own mouth.
“Okay.”
And Ryan stepped back, turned away… and left a trail of wafting white smoke in his wake.
It took Gritty’s lungs a while to adjust to having oxygen in present in them once more. Gritty’s mouth tasted of ash. His clothes stank of ash. All the tension in his body he hadn’t known was there was now broken.
Gritty was sad when he climbed into his bed that night. His mind was groggy and clouded by smoke. Vaguely, he cursed the lie he and Nessa had tied themselves to, and vaguely, he reflected that even if there had been no lie, he could never have admitted the truth.
The horrible, stupid truth.
He wished again he was in love with Nessa, like he was supposed to be. He wished again he could just, as Ryan had said, ‘get over it’.
Also, note to self: he should really take up smoking. Smokers often huddled together and spoke close with their heads bent low. He’d seen them do it. And now that he thought of it, whenever he saw Ryan with a cigarette in his mouth, the medic was always more inclined to speak than when he was without one.
Five hours, twelve minutes and six seconds straight to be exact. Gritty’s disgruntled and temporarily homeless dorm mates had taken it upon themselves to time exactly how long Vanessa and Gritty spent in there.
When both finally emerged- sweaty, ruffled and looking distinctly pleased with themselves- everyone had already decided exactly what had been going on inside that room… and pounced on the pair.
Well, at first Nessa had found it pretty funny. She encouraged the whole thing, and had dragged a reluctant Gritty along with it, too. Everyone thought they… well, they…
Well, they made an interesting piece of gossip the next day, anyway.
But after a while, the jokes had really started to píss Nessa off. So she told Gritty she wanted to pack it in and tell them all the truth.
What she hadn’t been expecting was Gritty’s reaction.
He’d panicked. Utterly and totally panicked. Nessa had had to slap him several times to shock him out of it- and Nessa’s slap was a mean one. His face had been left stinging for ages afterwards. And after he’d been returned to his usual, sane self, she hadn’t left him alone until he’d explained exactly what was going on-
Well, two things really worked in her favour, here-
1. Vanessa was a persistent búgger.
2. Gritty didn’t cope well under pressure.
He’d cracked after two days of it. Then, in a crumpled, sobbing heap on the floor at Vanessa’s feet, he’d drawn a deep breath and confessed, in a quivering voice-
“I’m gay.”
It was the crowning moment of Gritty’s manhood, that.
What he hadn’t been expecting was her reaction-
A shrug. “So, what? I’m bi.”
If he’d’a been straight, he would’ve floored her, then and there.
Nessa- as per- thought him ridiculous. She usually did. But she was a lot more confident than Gritty about… that sort of thing. Gritty wasn’t confident... well, at all. She didn’t ever really… get why it had to be such a big secret, but at least she went along with it. Actually, she did more than that- it was her who masterminded the brilliant cover-story that still kept his secret intact today.
It was simple, she’d told him. All they had to was break up- on Vanessa’s terms- loudly and publicly. Then, they wouldn’t speak for a week before deciding to be, ‘just friends’. Nessa would even do him the justice of telling everyone she, ‘got bored of him’.
Meanwhile, Gritty could to remain hung up on Nessa ‘til the end of his army career.
“You mean until you come out of the closet.”
He’d frowned. “No… no, I don’t want to do that.”
“Fine,” she’d rolled her eyes, “but you owe me, jerk-off.”
Gritty didn’t mind when Nessa called him names. He knew she only did it because she liked him.
Then, Nessa had picked him up off the ground by the scruff of his collar (she had amazing strength for such a little body) and tossed him bodily out of her room onto the mud-splattered grass outside. He had to hand it to her- she’d been bloody convincing. Hell, the tears in Gritty’s eyes had been real. And everyone had been much nicer to him after that. Girls had lavished their pity on him in the form of hugs and smores and the guys…
The guys…
They’d… rallied around him like he was a fallen soldier. Picked him up, scrubbed him down, cursed women to hell and snuck in several six-packs of lager for his benefit. And they’d had a brilliant night.
Sometimes, Gritty felt guilty about lying to them, but Nessa always knew how to knock that out of him:
“Trust me, Gritty. Those guys are all much happier believing you’re dream-fúcking me, not them.”
Once, much to his horror, one of the guys had thought it would be a good idea to try and set Gritty up with someone to help him get his mind off Nessa. Gritty had no idea anything was happening ‘til it was too late- i.e. when the ‘someone’ in question (an annoyingly overly-talkative brunette) was trying to unbuckle his jeans. He’d yelped, sprang off his seat, and ran for the hills.
The guys were disappointed, but made no effort to try anything like it again.
“Gritty will get over it in his own good time,” they’d amended, knocking back a bottle of beer in unison.
Gritty would never get over it. Not ever.
This thing was too far-gone.
Gritty wasn’t… he wasn’t like Nessa. He wasn’t okay with it. He wasn’t happy. Mostly, he wished their whole stupid story was true.
He wished he was in love with Nessa. Sometimes, when they were sitting together, joking and laughing, he would squint at her really hard and try, with all his might, to fall in love. He would look at her legs and her chest and all those other things the guys talked about when they talked about girls and he would try really hard to think… something…
Like… like… like they thought. Something like, “nice legs”, or… “she’s fit,” or… something. But it was hard work, falling in love. He couldn’t get anything to happen. He couldn’t feel those feelings he was supposed to feel- he couldn’t make his heart beat any faster, and he couldn’t make his stomach swell with butterflies. Once, in desperation, he’d asked her to kiss him.
It had been horribly awkward. So awkward, actually, that he’d spent the rest of the day apologising to her for suggesting it. She shook her head, and told him it didn’t matter.
But it did. Not to her, maybe. But to him… it mattered a lot.
And here was the dámn truth-
By, ‘blow off some steam’, Vanessa and Gritty had meant one thing only- playing ‘Call Of Duty’ on Gritty’s smuggled PSP. He was good and Vanessa was better and they’d kicked butt in record time.
A PSP… for Chrissake!
“Hey, Gritty.”
But there it was.
That rush. That feeling of… warmth and wonder. That feeling he was supposed to have when he looked at Nessa. But Gritty knew in his heart of hearts that no matter what Nessa did, she could never make him feel like this.
But he could… and all because he’d said Gritty’s name.
“Hey… Smith.”
He wasn’t a tall man. He was shorter than Gritty by about a head. He was of a stocky build; broad across the chest and shoulders. His arms were bound thick with muscle, as were his legs. His eyes were bright green. His smile was crooked. His nose was straight. His face was angular. His hands were wide and strong.
And his hair…
That’s what Gritty had noticed first about him. His hair. It was a rich crimson colour and stuck up- all over the place- in natural, wild spikes that grew and criss-crossed and gleamed in the sunlight.
He stood casually before Gritty; his crooked smile creasing the corners of his mouth. His medic’s uniform was clean today.
“It’s Ryan, Grit; I’m on my lunch break,” the medic replied, jumping down on the bench beside him. “You got anymore of those sandwiches? I’m starving.”
“Sandwiches?”
Ryan’s eyebrows rose; his glittering eyes bemused. “The ones you’re eating.”
So he was. Gritty nodded dumbly, and picked his other sandwich off the bench, passing it across to Ryan.
Ryan snatched it and bit into it with great gusto.
“So,” awkwardly, Ryan punched his chest, struggling to swallow a particularly large lump of bread. Gritty resisted the urge to thump him on the back. “Heard about Vanessa’s announcement. Did she get in trouble?”
“Yeah,” Gritty nodded, “she did. She… um… she got some kind of… clean-up duty.”
“Ouch,” Ryan laughed, “they must be mad.”
Gritty watched him, nervously observing the small glob of mayo which had come to rest on the edge of Ryan’s chin.
They sat in mutual silence now, which was broken only by Ryan’s chewing. Dimly, Gritty realised he was supposed to be doing the same thing, and took a small bite out of the edge of his half-eaten sandwich.
It tasted dry in his mouth.
Ryan wasn’t very talkative. He never was with anyone. Gritty kept glancing towards him, watching him- but his green eyes were staring fixedly ahead. Gritty wondered if he should try and make conversation. It seemed appropriate, really, to try and make conversation with the man he loved.
Thought he loved.
Maybe.
“Er… how are you?”
“Tired,” Ryan replied, still staring straight ahead, “you?”
“Yeah,” Gritty said weakly, “same. Really… really tired.”
“Mhm. I didn’t see you in the Medical Unit after battle.”
“I wasn’t…” he wondered if he was imagining the accusation in that statement. “I didn’t… get hurt.”
“Good.”
“Yeah… good.”
Silence.
This was bad. If Nessa could see him now, she’d be banging his head off the ground. She knew all about Ryan and Gritty. Once or twice, she’d threatened to tell the young medic the truth, but Gritty… hadn’t dealt well with that particular threat on the basis he’d… um… starting crying again.
Gritty wasn’t a weepy guy. Really, he wasn’t. In fact, before Nessa, he hadn’t shed a single tear since he was 3 years old. Nessa just… brought it out in him.
“Thanks.”
Ryan’s voice was abrupt. He was smacking his lips. His index finger swept his chin, swiping the glob of mayo that had been worrying Gritty so and leaving his skin once more unblemished. Already, he was moving. Getting up. Turning and crookedly smiling his goodbye.
“Oh.” Gritty felt deflated. “Okay. No problem.”
“Are you gonna eat the rest of that?” Ryan’s eyes were suddenly transfixed by the half-eaten meal in Gritty’s hand.
Gritty glanced down. “Um… no.”
“Cool.” A hopeful pause.
Ryan mightn’t say much, but Gritty felt that, after months of distant observation, he knew how to read him pretty well. Ryan was a stoic sort. He could say a thousand things in one sentence. A thousand in a word.
Gritty had never known anyone quite like him before.
“You can have it,” Gritty said softly, correctly interpreting Ryan’s gaze.
Another crooked smile. “Sure?”
“Y-yeah,” Gritty held it out uncertainly, and just as quickly as the first sandwich, Ryan snatched it up. He folded it, twice, into a small, high cube, and in one deft movement, stuffed it into his mouth.
How… practical.
Fascinated, Gritty watched him swallow.
“Thanks, Grit,” Ryan’s crooked smile was back. “I really was starved.”
Gritty found himself smiling irresistibly back. “No kiddin’.”
Ryan laughed. An abrupt sound. As abrupt and bold as his voice. Gritty liked its sound. It didn’t flow up and down like other peoples’ did in a series of broken chords. His was one brief note. A prolonged, “Hah!”
A much more practical way to laugh, really.
There was another silence, but this one felt more comfortable than the last. Ryan watched him and Gritty watched him back. But just as he was beginning to feel confident enough to initiate further conversation, their companionable silence was broken by an unwelcome visitor.
An unwelcome visitor carrying a mop.
“Hello, boys!”
Typical.
Ryan’s smile was gone. “Hey, Vanessa.”
Dámn her.
Gritty felt a dull reddish flush begin to creep up the back of his thick neck.
“Where’s lunch, then?” she dropped her mop and hopped onto the bench beside him. “Gritty, you jerk! You said you’d save me something.”
Had he? Gritty wasn’t sure what he’d said. He had definitely been sitting on this bench for a reason. Everything had gone a bit hazy when Ryan had shown up. Yet Vanessa had a way of saying things with such confident assurance, Gritty found it difficult to doubt her.
“Smithy, you’ve taken my sandwiches.”
Gritty flinched. Smithy…
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Ryan replied, looking blankly at Gritty.
Nessa hit Gritty playfully on the back of his head. “You gave ‘em up, didn’t you? Son of a- well, that’s Gritty for you. He’ll do anything for a pretty face.” She winked up at Ryan, who blinked slowly in response.
Gritty’s fists curled. He dropped Ryan’s gaze, muted by the embarrassment he suddenly felt; the embarrassment that was now cutting off the air from his vocal chords. Vanessa was talking, chattering enthusiastically between the pair. Ryan didn’t speak and Gritty, feeling a sluggish atmosphere of awkwardness begin to spread, did his best to choke out a couple of laughs, trying to shake it off.
God. Was Nessa actually enjoying herself?
“- but I don’t think the colour suits me.” She paused, tilting her head up at Ryan. Her ponytail from earlier had come loose- Gritty wondered if she’d realised- and her hair was a cascade of cocoa brown curls. She smiled brilliantly. “What do you think, Smithy? Does it suit?”
Gritty’s eyes swivelled back to Ryan, whose face was its custom, stoic mask. Any sign of the crooked smile Gritty loved so was wiped clean. Gritty wondered why Ryan stood so still like that; why his bright emerald eyes bored so intently into Nessa’s. Gritty had never seen him look at anybody for so long…
Ryan barely made eye contact with most people.
Gritty glanced again at Nessa’s gleaming grin and ran his tongue nervously along the bottom set of his own ragged incisors. A sick, new and uncertain feeling was stirring in the pit of his stomach- one Gritty was sure he’d never felt before; about anyone- least of all Nessa.
Jealousy.
Finally, Ryan opened his mouth and said one final, fatal word: “Yes.”
Gritty… was drowning.
“I have to go, now,” Ryan said, with his usual brusque manner. “Lunch break’s almost over.”
“Take care, Smithy!”
“Okay… Ryan,” Gritty tried not to look too miserable as he looked back up at those deep green eyes. “See you.”
“Yep.” A pause. “Hey, Grit- next time you’re in the medical unit, ask for me, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gritty replied weakly. “Yeah… ‘course I will.”
The two best friends watched the young medic go; dust kicking up at his heels as he walked.
The moment he was out of sight, Nessa sharply and gleefully dug her elbow into Gritty’s ribs.
“Ooh! Grit?! I think he likes you!”
“Naw. Don’t be thick.”
“Me? Never!” For a moment, she looked a bit annoyed. “Come on, Gritty- he practically asked you out there now!”
“No, he didn’t,” he replied dully. “Not so loud, Nessa.”
She tossed her head back haughtily. “There’s no-one about to hear me. You know, your doctor boy’s pretty cute for a ginger-”
“Don’t, Nessa.”
“Well,” she looked at him again, two little vertical lines creasing the area between her brows, “what’s eating you?”
“Nothin’.”
“Right.” Nessa dully looked at the mop she’d dropped alongside the bench where they both sat. “Clean-up duty, eh? Since my lunch has just walked off in your would-be boyfriend’s stomach.” She blew outwards in a sigh. “Peakes bloody has it in for me.”
Gritty had to agree with her there. “Aye.”
“Aye, aye, cap’n,” she teased lightly, hopping to her feet. “See you later, Gritty.”
See you.
* * *
Because they’d nothing better to do, most evenings Gritty and Nessa visited each other in their allocated dorms. Their sleeping quarters weren’t far apart; separated only by a low row of washing facilities and a stretch of muddy grass- the very grass where Gritty had apparently had his heart ‘broken’ just over a year ago.
Tonight, it was Gritty’s turn to visit Nessa.
It was a cool March evening. The day had been… tiring. Hoodham had been in a really good mood ever since the battle (Nessa’s announcement and Knight’s death had been minor blips on the scale) but that meant that Training had gotten even tougher.
So Gritty was zonked. He shuffled- not walked- his large feet sinking into the mud as he moved. Reaching Nessa’s door, Gritty threw his shoulders back and knocked three times.
“Hi, Gritty.”
“Hi, Hannah,” he smiled. “Nessa in?”
“Yep- Vanessa!” the blonde called over her shoulder. “He’s here!” Smiling unusually widely back at Gritty, Hannah side-stepped his hulking frame onto the gravel outside.
Dimly, he noticed her make-up was heavier than it had been earlier. Then he noticed her hair. It was sleeker, straighter and shinier than usual.
“You’re going to see Vlad,” he suddenly realised, thinking of his tight-lipped Russian friend.
Hannah froze, a couple of paces forward. “Jeez, Gritty! Announce it to the whole camp, why don’t you?!”
He flushed a dull red. “I- I didn’t mean-”
“Oh whatever,” she huffed, marching on.
Dumbly, Gritty shuffled into Nessa’s room.
His friend was curled up on her bed, flipping lazily through the pages of some dusty old classic Gritty didn’t recognise. When he closed the door, she looked up, chuckling wickedly.
“Oops, big guy. Looks like you let slip we all know her dirty little secret.” She tossed the book aside, jumping up. “Look away. I’m about to change.”
He stared. “You don’t care about stuff like that.”
“But you do,” she rolled her eyes. “Look away.”
Good point.
He ducked his head, awkwardly running his large hand over his short, thick black bristles. They were growing again, wiry and ugly, and needed cut back.
Automatically, he thought of Ryan’s soft red spikes, blowing gently in the breeze.
“Alright, tough guy. I’m decent.”
He looked up once more to find her sporting a baggy pair of pyjama bottoms and a sleeveless top. A faded pattern of stars swirled across her chest, along with the lettering, ‘Dream Big’.”
She chuckled suddenly, picking at a loose thread from one of the stars. “See Ally? He used to make the crudest comments about this top when we were dating.”
Gritty paled. “Ally saw you in your pyjamas?!”
“Only twice. Don’t look at me like that, Gritty. We didn’t do anything.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he mumbled.
“Oh, fúck off, Gritty.”
“Sorry, then.”
He couldn’t help it. He didn’t like her stories. He didn’t like the way people talked about her behind her back. Sometimes, when he heard the guys crudely bantering about her, it made Gritty sorry he was gay.
Then later, he’d hear some girls bítching and be not so sorry, after all.
Sometimes, he’d wonder her Nessa wound up with so many random people; strange people, too- sometimes, downright scary people. He guessed there were so many because of the bisexual thing. It made everyone available to her.
Funny. His being gay made him feel cut off from everyone.
“How was Training?” Nessa asked eagerly, sinking back onto her bed.
“Fine.”
“Just, ‘fine’?” She swore. “You’re killing me here, Gritty!”
“Not much to tell. Teddy broke his nose.”
“‘Course he did. He’s a clutz,” she muttered viciously. “Sit down, then, Gritty.”
He did, his heavy frame sinking low onto her mattress beside her. She turned up her nose at the sound of the straining springs and punched the bed.
“Life of luxury they live up at that school,” she spat bitterly, “and what do we get?!” Another punch.
“Sod?” he offered helpfully.
Nessa smiled suddenly at him. “Yes. Exactly. Sod.”
Encouraged by her smile- once she smiled, stuff got better- Gritty asked, a little cheekily.
“Have you- ah- seen Evangeline, today?”
Nessa’s blue eyes softened now, like they always did when Gritty said her name. And Gritty was glad of it. He liked Evangeline better than all those other people. Evangeline was…
“Elusive cow,” Nessa said- and she said it real affectionate, too. “Not today. Clean-up duty means I… tend to miss her around the camps.”
Peakes, when he’d punished Nessa for her outburst at the after-battle celebrations, could have had no way of knowing just how good a punishment it was for Nessa. He was depriving her, unknowingly, of the two things she loved most-
Training, and Evangeline Clare.
“But, you, sir,” her punch moved playfully from mattress to his arm, but Gritty didn’t mind that anymore than the name-calling. That was just Nessa’s way. “You saw your lovely Smithy today.”
“I don’t like it when you call him, ‘Smithy’,” he told her, feeling a sudden wave of nausea as his stomach started to nurse the sick feeling that had been there since that afternoon. “It doesn’t… suit him.”
“Ryan Smith, then,” she chuckled. “Doesn’t say much, does he?”
“He says a lot, actually,” Gritty mumbled. “Just… y’know-”
“Not all at once?” She was teasing him, now- but in a nice way.
A bad nice way. Nessa wasn’t nice. So her being nice now meant one thing, and one thing only-
Nessa knew exactly how bad Gritty had got it. And boy, oh boy, Gritty had got it bad.
“And now you’re saying less and less,” she leaned backwards, kicking out her legs over the edge of her bed, “that can only be an improvement.”
He tried to laugh, but the sound was small and sad.
“Alright, Gritty- I mention good ol’ lover boy and you clam up,” she frowned, “but last night you couldn’t stop talking about him. Bored me half to death. What’s with that- hmm?”
Her light hands gently placed themselves on either side of his rough face, and turned it towards her.
“Hmm?”
“I…” Gritty struggled for a moment, trying to figure what to say. The bad feeling had been following him around all day like… like a bad smell (his comparisons were always much less poetic than Vanessa’s). “I…”
“Spit it out, Gritty,” she said patiently.
Gritty, although able to keep everything from everyone, couldn’t keep anything from Nessa.
“Ithinkhelikesyou.”
The words came out like one big messy word- fast, long and awkward. Just, actually, as the words had come when he’d first confessed his orientation to her.
For three whole seconds- Gritty counted- Nessa stared at him in stunned silence.
Then, slowly, she opened her mouth… and she began to laugh.
No. She began to roar.
“Gritty, you díck!” she finally exclaimed, two minutes later, most of which Gritty’s face had spent creeping further and further back inside his shirt collar. “You had me really worried there- y’know?”
“I don’t understand,” Gritty stared at her. “Isn’t it… bad?”
“It would be,” she smiled, “if it weren’t for the fact that Ryan Smith hates my guts.”
Unbidden, hope blossomed in Gritty’s battered heart. “H-how do you know that?”
“Did you see the way he looked at me?”
His heart… promptly sank. “Yeah.”
And looked and looked and looked at her.
“That’s what’s commonly referred to as a, ‘glare’, Gritty,” she beamed. “And did you see the way his smile smacked itself off his face the moment I showed up? Come on, Gritty- you have eyes, don’t you?”
“But…” Gritty was confused- but in a happy way. “He said that top suited you.”
“That’s what’s commonly referred to as, ‘manners’, Gritty.”
“So, then… he isn’t in love with you?”
She started chuckling again. “You’re really serious? You really believed that?”
He nodded mutely; shyly.
“Fúck, Gritty.” Another guffaw. “The guy goes all tense, gives me the dirtiest look ever, then proceeds to ask you- not me!- out on a date… and you think he’s in love with me?! I thought you said you understood this guy!”
“I- I do-” he stammered. “That is-”
“Come on, idiot,” she shook her head. “Let’s play ‘Mario Karts’, or something. I’m sure April hid a Wii in this room somewhere…”
* * *
Two hours, thirty-five minutes, a broken Wii remote and a catfight later, Gritty was re-crossing the patch of muddy grass to his own dorm. In the daytime, people kicked a deflated football about the grass and kicked each other when the ball stopped rolling. Nessa often complained that with so much magic around, people shouldn’t be using such a rubbish ball- they should be using something top-of-the-range.
She wasn’t alone in her complaints. But actually, no-one could be bothered fixing or replacing the ball, because it only return to its dilapidated state just under a week later. What was the point?
Gritty’s head was bent low, and he watched his feet as he walked. He watched his boots sink and when he looked behind him, he could see a trail of his own muddy footprints following him.
The mud made noises when he stepped.
Squelch.
Squelch.
Squelch.
“Grit?”
Oh, God- there it was.
That rush. That brilliant rush. That ‘lighter-than-air’ feeling they could use to blow up a balloon.
“Ryan,” he half-choked, swivelling to face the medic. “Hullo.”
Ryan’s face was half-bathed in moonlight; and blurred by the white smoke that was rising from the burning cigarette held crookedly in his crooked mouth. His emerald eyes were now black glints.
The glints didn’t watch Gritty. They gazed fixedly at the muddy tracks Gritty had left in the grass.
The cigarette shifted in his mouth.
“You were with Vanessa.”
That… wasn’t a question, was it?
“I… was,” Gritty said slowly, unsure of how to react. He couldn’t see Ryan’s face properly. He couldn’t understand his tone. Suddenly, he began to doubt what Nessa had told him back in the dorm.
“Why?”
Oh. Oh. Okay. That was… brief.
Gritty shrugged. “Well, y’know… she’s my best friend… so I go see her… sometimes.”
Ryan came forward now, out of the shadows of the washing unit where he’d been standing. Carelessly, he swept the cigarette from his mouth between his index finger and thumb. He exhaled again- and this time, the smoke wound its way across Gritty’s parted lips.
Suddenly, Ryan seemed very, very close.
“Gritty, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn here.”
Gritty shook his head, slightly dazed. The black glints were gleaming up at him now, only a few inches away.
“But you’re better off without that kid.”
“N-Nessa, you mean?” he blinked.
“Grit, after all she put you through last year, you don’t deserve the way she treats you. She’s messing you about.”
Oh. Oh, no. No, she’s not. Ryan meant…
With dawning horror, Gritty realised exactly what Ryan meant.
What Ryan thought.
What everyone else in this stupid, stupid place thought.
“Look,” why didn’t Ryan look away? “I know you’re in love with her. We all do. And Grit… you’re doing yourself more harm than good by hanging about with her all the time like that. You need distance. And she’s not giving it to you. And that’s not fair.”
Gritty had never heard Ryan say so much at once. Ryan, too, seemed slightly staggered by the number of words he’d just said, and steadied himself with another puff of his cigarette.
The smoke burned in Gritty’s throat.
“I…”
“I know- I’m way out of line here,” Ryan spoke softly. “Sorry. Just don’t like seeing people get messed about… is all.” Another puff. “That’s all.”
Gritty wasn’t sure what made him say it. Probably desperation.
“I’m not in love with her.”
Ryan laughed. That one, long note. “Brave words, Grit.”
“No,” Gritty gulped. “I’m not in love… with her, I’m in… I’m… well, I lo-”
I love…
“Fine,” Ryan shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the muddy ground. He raised a foot, and stamped it out. The smoke sighed; damp steam rose. Almost immediately, Ryan started rustling in his jacket pocket for another one. He pulled out the packet, pushing out two fresh cigarettes as he did so, and wordlessly offered one to Gritty.
Gritty didn’t know what to do. He was panicking now. Ryan didn’t know… but he had to know… but how could Gritty explain about Nessa? About… the cover-up and the lie… and… oh, no.
Oh, no.
Oh, no.
“It won’t bite,” Ryan said abruptly.
“Smoking’s bad for you.” The moment the words- the wrong, awkward words- were out of his mouth, Gritty felt his cheeks begin to burn.
Ryan, however, didn’t seem bothered. He let out a, “Hah!” then plucked his own cigarette from the pack. “Don’t I know it.”
His lighter flickered, and for a moment, Ryan’s face was completely illuminated. Gritty was taken aback by the brightness of his eyes; the vibrancy of his hair. His red spikes cast flickering shadows across his face.
Then the flame disappeared with a click, the moonlight returned to Ryan’s face and the glowing end of the cigarette blew fresh smoke thick and fast into Gritty’s mouth.
“Sorry.”
Gritty now felt really stupid. “Why… are you sorry?”
The cigarette rolled along the edge of Ryan’s bottom lip, lodging itself in his mouth’s corner.
“For interfering.”
Gritty wished he could read some emotion in Ryan’s blank expression. Anything- even the slightest sign of… something. Something. Gritty didn’t know exactly what he wanted to read there. What he wanted to see.
“Ryan?”
“Mhm.”
“I… I really… I’m not in love with Nessa.”
There was a short pause. “Okay, Grit.”
“Okay?” Relief washed over Gritty, his thick eyebrows moving outwards and downwards. “Okay! Great! You see,” his voice lowered now, and his stomach shifted suddenly, like it was halfway behind his mouth. As, apparently, was his brain. “See, I’m g… well, I’m g…”
Nope. Wait. Brain catch-up, right there.
He couldn’t say it.
Of course he couldn’t say it.
What would Ryan think? What had he said, anyway?
“Just don’t like seeing people get messed about… is all.”
But Gritty and Nessa were messing everyone about, weren’t they? They were liars. Gritty was a liar.
He was lying to the man he loved.
Thought he loved.
Maybe.
Oh, God.
“D’you know what?”
That was… sharp. Really sharp. And really sudden.
Gritty had observed before that Ryan exhaled and inhaled evenly when he smoked, releasing a slow, almost laid-back stream from his lips. But along with his sudden, sharp sentence, Ryan’s usual pattern of breathing was disrupted by a quick puff- a thick, fast burst of heat. Gritty’s mouth, foolishly open, swallowed it and started to cough. Ryan didn’t appear to notice.
“D’you know what, Grit? I said I was sorry. I was outta line. Should’ve shut my trap and stayed quiet- right?”
The shorter man drew a long drag from his fast burning cigarette and tugged it roughly from his mouth.
Gritty was stunned. He didn’t really know what was going on. Ryan didn’t speak a lot. He rarely- if at all- showed emotion. And now he was speaking… too much. And he sounded mad.
He was mad at Gritty.
But he’d said it was okay!
Why was Ryan mad at Gritty?
“I should’ve listened to the guys,” Ryan said softly, and his breath blew the smoke rhythmically in and out of Gritty’s mouth, making him gradually more and more dazed. “You’ll just have to get over it in your own good time.”
“I… am… over… it,” Gritty was struggling to breathe for himself. “I’m… not… in… love… with… her.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Grit,” Ryan’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “I meant well. Don’t insult me.”
Gritty was, in a word, horrified. “I wasn’t-”
“Okay, Grit.”
Close. Much too close. Any closer and Gritty would’ve felt the burning end of the lit splint press against his own mouth.
“Okay.”
And Ryan stepped back, turned away… and left a trail of wafting white smoke in his wake.
It took Gritty’s lungs a while to adjust to having oxygen in present in them once more. Gritty’s mouth tasted of ash. His clothes stank of ash. All the tension in his body he hadn’t known was there was now broken.
Gritty was sad when he climbed into his bed that night. His mind was groggy and clouded by smoke. Vaguely, he cursed the lie he and Nessa had tied themselves to, and vaguely, he reflected that even if there had been no lie, he could never have admitted the truth.
The horrible, stupid truth.
He wished again he was in love with Nessa, like he was supposed to be. He wished again he could just, as Ryan had said, ‘get over it’.
Also, note to self: he should really take up smoking. Smokers often huddled together and spoke close with their heads bent low. He’d seen them do it. And now that he thought of it, whenever he saw Ryan with a cigarette in his mouth, the medic was always more inclined to speak than when he was without one.
