Confide/ant - 5. Chapter 5

My week is peppered with kisses, hurried frantic orgasms, lies, and detention. The library is sparsely populated by first years and girls with no social lives - or social lives which revolve around adoring the characters of various books and Japanese comics. I hate spending my time there, when I could be playing music and hanging out with my friends, but the upside is that none of my friends visit the library and Hrishi comes to find me in the stacks. We kiss between shelves of redundant sports science textbooks and references books for everything from cold weather camping to the history of cylinder seals, trying to be as noiseless as possible. Hrishi tells me I’m a good kisser and grinds against my crotch before he walks away, always leaving the time to drag by after he’s gone. I catch up with Leon after our lecture on Thursday and apologise for bailing on him and the band. He’s terse, tells me I’m a shit friend and a worse guitarist, but he doesn’t mean it, and by the time we’re back in the common room we’re both plucking on our strings and ready to make some noise. With what feels like half the music department, wind section included, we end up having a totally cool impromptu jam session. Leon and I sing Highway to Hell and Good Vibrations at the top of our lungs with more backup singers and harmonies than I can count.

Hrishi and I don’t talk during computer science, but I have to put my phone on silent as he texts me under the cover of the desk. The boy is obscene, and I damn sure hope no one ever steals my phone, because our sexting will make their toes curl. I make sure to hang around where I can’t be seen after the lesson and after our lecturer leaves, Hrishi pulls us both into an empty seminar room where we make out for the longest time and I’m dizzy for lack of oxygen. We’re both so on edge, it takes only the work of a moment for him to get me on my knees, and I suck him off enthusiastically for three minutes before he grabs my hair hard, and comes in my mouth. Hrishi strokes me to completion, and paints my lips with my cum before we kiss. Only after he leaves, do I realise that neither of us said a word the entire time.

The whole time I’m home, I avoid my parents as much as possible. At breakfast on Friday morning my mother asks me how things are going, as though she genuinely cares, and I impress her with the news of our latest gig and my high scores in my most recent technical music essay on style and influence within a genre. I chose classic rock, which gets my father’s nod of approval as he passes through the kitchen like a ghost. I don’t miss the acidic glare my mother shoots him, and I know she’s pissed that he invaded her conversation with me. Both of my parents like to feel they should be the one to take all the credit for my creative and academic skills. She asks about my love life, and I sink into my hoodie with embarrassment when she invites me to ‘feel free’ to bring a nice girl home. I tell her I haven’t time for girls avoid mentioning Hrishi or my failing grades in computer science, make my excuses as fast as possible and vanish from the house.

I’m early to college, and though a part of me wonders if going to the sports centre would result in me finding Hrishi naked under the shower again, I end up in the main building on autopilot. Very few people are around, and I feel conspicuous with my Fender strapped to my back and my Hummingbird acoustic in my hand

“Hey, Marty.” Bayley and Christina, already in uniform with their hair and makeup perfect and crisp, are standing by the double doors which lead into hair and beauty. “Early in the morning for a rock star isn’t it?”

I blush at the compliment, because if Leon was standing next to me, I don’t know if either of them would look twice at my shabby appearance.

“You wanna come with us, Marty?” Christina’s smile looks somehow dangerous, but fun.

“Um… I should, er….”

“He’s gone all shy again,” Bayley says with a flick of her hair. “I think you’re failing to style your hair deliberately just to get our attention.” She reaches out and grabs my free hand. “C’mon, we’ll sort you out, but we want a song too.”

They know all my weak spots, and I can’t resist an opportunity to play, especially to people who might listen. I rifle through my bag for my lyric book, pulling out of it a slightly cleaned up photocopy of something I’ve been working on in the wee hours when I can’t sleep. I set it on the reception counter where I can see it, and tune the Hummingbird with a twist of the wrist.

I’m two lines into the first verse when I realise my audience is bigger than it first appeared. The larger numbers bolster my confidence as I draw out every note and sing about longing and desire, imagining the sections where the drums will add rhythm, the bass will round out the sound, and hearing the faster and more vicious way Leon will sing it in my head. There’s applause when I finish, and I can’t help but take a little bow, my fringe falling in my eyes, and grin to myself.

“You’re gonna be famous someday, Marty.” Christina’s smile is warm and open, and for a moment, I wish I could just blurt out everything I’ve been holding secret for so long. Even Leon has no idea why I’m always the first of our friends to arrive at college, and the last to go home after every gig, party, and jam session.

“I’m not that good,” I say eventually.

“False modesty is so unattractive,” Bayley chirps, and takes my guitar from my hand. “I’m just going to borrow this.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry big guy, she’ll bring it back.” Christina steers me to a swivel chair without a mirror in front of it, and I’m instantly suspicious. “Don’t you trust us?”

“Less far than I can throw you. I can tell you’re plotting something.”

She doesn’t reply, just grins, and gets to work fussing over me.

*

I feel incredibly noticeable as I make my way to the music department. I keep wanting to touch my hair, but Bayley was very strict that I wasn’t to fiddle and that I looked really hot. I do trust her, and Christina, and I can’t help but grin as I catch sight of my reflection on my way up the stairs to the common room. Everyone is there already because classes will start soon. I draw instant attention when Leon and Jerome look up see me from where they sit bent over an mp3 player, sharing headphones.

“Well fuck me sideways!” Leon shouts, because he can’t hear himself over the music, causing everyone to look up then swivel to stare at me. “Marty! You’ve gone and done it now!”

I feel the blush creep across my cheeks as Leon bounds over the common room like an overgrown puppy and wraps an arm around my neck.

“You’re gonna be stealin’ all the girls.” His smirk is all I need to feel good about myself right now. “It matches your Epi.”

I can’t help but finger a strand of my new sunburst-flame-red fringe. It looks awesome. From across the common room, I see Debbie smiling at me in a way I recognise. Hrishi wears that look when we’re together. Just the thought of him makes my heart beat faster.

Leon sees where I’m looking, and brings our heads close together, mock whispering for effect. “So you switching sides on us now, Marty?”

I panic, looking everywhere but in his eyes. What did I do to fuck up? Or, has Bayley written ‘homo’ in hair dye across my forehead?

“The ultra-kinky girls into metal music don’t do it for you anymore, that it? Spending your time flirting with the hair and beauty babes rather than hanging out with us?”

“Leon….” I want to roll my eyes at his teasing, but I can’t, because it isn’t funny.

“You’d better not be trying to take over the band too.”

“Like I’d want to, you’re such a glory hound, Leon. C’mon, let’s work on the new song.”

“Seriously, you need to go talk to Debbie. She’s totally into you.” Leon jabs me in the shoulder, then runs a hand through his own hair. “Fuck knows why, I’m totally the hottest.”

“That might be the gayest thing you’ve ever said,” I quip.

I don’t know what it is that makes me turn around. There is a stillness maybe, the ceasing of movement as an intruder enters our space, a place reserved and populated solely with those of us who would rather make music than hold conversation. I turn to find Hrishi standing on the top step, staring at me, a mix of surprise, desire, and anger written across his features. I know he heard me. We both hear what Leon says next.

“Aww, Marty, your hair is like a flame attracting all the gay butterflies!”

I wish Hrishi was a mind reader, that he could see how scared I am of my friends finding out, that he knew how much I hate Leon’s words and that his dismissive, mocking tone makes me want to punch him. But Hrishi’s not a mind reader, and he turns and flees the music department without a word. I want to chase after him, every instinct I have tells me to catch him up and soothe the hurt I saw in his dark eyes, but I can’t. Everyone is here, people are watching, and classes are about to start.

Leon chuckles as he rubs the unstyled back of my hair with one hand. The gesture feels suddenly possessive and I duck away.

“What’s with that guy following you around? You need to put him out of his misery, Marty.” The bell sounds. “C’mon, let’s go to the lecture.”

I’ve never felt less like going to class in my entire life. The idea of concentrating on anything at all, let alone an in-depth lecture on the subtleties of different recording techniques and their sonic qualities, fills me with a weird kind of dread. But that’s nothing compared to the loathing building in my stomach every time I think about Hrishi. Leon finds us our usual seats, Jerome settles in on his other side, and to my surprise, Debbie grabs herself the chair next to me. I shuffle awkwardly, not wanting to invade her space, but when I turn, she’s smiling broadly.

“I like your new hair.”

“Thanks, Christina and Bayley did it for me.” I figure that polite conversation will be enough, the lecture will start soon.

“Oh, I know them. Christina does mine these days. I hate dying it myself.” Debbie flicks a multi-toned purple strand of her own super-long hair. “I’d love to come jam with you guys sometime, you know, outside of the common room when I actually have my drums?” My phone buzzes at me, the lecturer is up on the stage, shuffling notes and setting up the presentation. “What do you think, Marty?”

“Um...” I pull out my phone, knowing that electronic devices are frowned upon, and if I’m not careful, the lecturer will call me out in front of the entire musical student body. “Whatever. Maybe.” There’s a text from Hrishi.

Meet me in the big common room. Now.

A second text follows a minute later.

Now Marty. I fucking mean it.

I grab my bag from where it’s fallen at my feet and make to stand.

“Dude?” Jerome arches an eyebrow at my sudden movement.

“Marty, sit your punk-ass down.” Leon grabs the back of my jacket, and I have to twist out of his grip.

“Sorry Debbie, I gotta run.”

“The lecture’s about to start!” All three hiss at me in something like unison.

“I don’t care.”

And I don’t. I can feel people watching as I trip down eight steps with my bag and jacket trailing behind me, my newly dyed hair like a beacon attracting attention. It’s not far to the main common room, a place I never go, but already my phone is buzzing with Leon’s frantic and unread texts.

Hrishi is leaning against the radiator, glaring at his phone, his brows drawn low and his eyes dark. His gaze jerks up at me before I can say anything. He grabs me by the wrist and tugs me along a dimly lit corridor with a dozen twists and turns that I’ve never been down before. The air smells of grease, metal, and burnt things.

“Where the fuck are we?”

“Blacksmithing.” Hrishi pushes open a door and then we’re standing in a small room containing nothing but what appears to be a weird square fireplace, a large corrugated flue, and a lot of bits of strange looking metal. Hrishi slams the door behind us. “What the fuck happened, Marty?”

“Seriously, where are we?”

Hrishi grits his teeth.

“You’re not the only one who plays outside his comfort zone, Marty. I chose blacksmithing as my extra curricular.”

“Didn’t think you were the type. Ow!” I rub my abdomen because Hrishi has just punched me surprisingly hard. “Fuck, Hrishi….”

“What the fuck was that earlier?” Hrishi pushes my chest with both hands, and I drop my bag. “Marty! Why did you say that?”

“I….” I have no idea, but I doubt that answer is going to be any good.

“Fuck it.” Hrishi grabs me by my shirt and I gather him up in my arms for a kiss. He tastes amazing, his teeth are super slick under my tongue, and I moan into his mouth as he pulls the whole of himself against me. He yanks my shirt up to feel my chest, and my hands sneak down to his butt. I’m panting when we break apart. “You’re still a terrible excuse for a person, Marty, but damn you kiss well.”

My lips are almost back on his when Hrishi’s words punch through my haze of lust.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I get that you’re not out to your friends,” Hrishi speaks between gritted teeth, “but you can’t mock being gay, and perpetuate an unfair stereotype, and then expect me to be happy about it.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” I’m shouting now too, “other than run off like a scared little girl, which you’re so good at.”

“Oh, fuck you, Marty!” Hrishi pushes me off him and folds his arms over his chest decisively. “You’re still a damn coward.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I snap. Rage makes me strong, and I grab hold of Hrishi as I step forward, lifting him from the floor so he needs to balance on tiptoes and grope for the support of the forge wall behind us. His face is inches away from my own.

“It’s not good enough,” he growls.

I don’t answer him, I’m too busy kissing my way down the slender brown column of his throat, and Hrishi’s fingers are in my hair, ruining my carefully styled look. I’m tense, too tense, the fear of discovery mixing with the strange wonder of being stared at, the vibrating need I can feel from the boy in my arms, and the lingering dissatisfaction of the conversation I was forced to have with my mother this morning nearly overwhelm me. I know I can’t get through a whole day feeling this torn up, Hrishi’s here, we’re somewhere private, and he’s the only cure for sexual frustration I know.

I’m about to sink to my knees in front of him, but his fingers push on my chest, flicking at my nipples, and I gasp as he bites my shoulder briefly and pushes me back against the wall. I never knew my chest was so sensitive, but as his lips graze each hard nub in turn, it’s like a shortcut directly to my cock. I get a small warning, a press of his fingers over the spot on my pec where he so effectively claimed me, now faded and gone, and then he bites down again, grabbing the muscle and skin with his teeth, sucking and biting until my fingers in his hair are trying to pull him off and it’s only the scent and heat of him so close keeping my erection from flagging.

“Fuck…” I groan when he lets me go, “did you have to?”

“Shut up, Marty, or I won’t be so nice to you.”

I glance down at the raised red-purple bruise marring my otherwise pale skin.

“This is you being nice?”

“You’re not bleeding are you?” Hrishi’s dark eyes flick up to me, and he grins in a possessive manner I find incredibly arousing. “Just try not to be so fucking loud. Okay, rock star?”

I’m about to ask him what he means, but I can’t. His fingers open my fly with speedy dexterity and he drops to his knees in the same moment. I can’t tear my eyes away, his lips and my cock in such close vicinity, because it’s been the subject of my late night and middle of day fantasies for weeks. Hrishi says something I don’t catch, his voice a low rumble of pleasure, and then he looks up at me and holds my gaze as he takes the length of my erection into his mouth. He doesn’t close his eyes until his nose is brushing the skin of my abdomen and I’ve never seen anything more erotic in my life. The heat, the tight, undulating wetness of his mouth; the hard edge of his teeth, right there and waiting as though this might be somehow dangerous; the stroke of his tongue underneath the head: everything builds me up until I’m teetering on the edge of my orgasm. I’m hardly able to breathe for fear of crashing over the top and losing myself into the pleasure.

Then Hrishi looks at me, and purrs.

“Oh shit! Hrishi, if you don’t want a mouthful you’d better-!” I don’t make it to the end of my warning, and Hrishi digs his fingernails painfully into my hips as I explode inside the hot confines of his mouth. He drinks me down like it’s the most natural thing in the world, each swallow causing twitches and aftershocks to shake my body. It takes me a while to find my voice, by which time Hrishi is back on his feet, grinning like he’s won a prize.

“You’re amazing.” He blushes quickly, easily embarrassed for someone who just had his lips around my cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, and I love your hair.” I run my fingers across the back of his skull, and he practically melts against my hand with a happy noise. “And I love that sound you make too.”

“Careful, Marty, you’re starting to sound like a guy with feelings.”

“Would that be so terrible?” I ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Fuck off, Marty. You’d better go sneak back into your lecture. I’m coming ‘round yours tomorrow to pick your arse up out of the failing grade column.”

I reach for his crotch, and the very obvious ridge of his hard penis in his chinos, but Hrishi steps away.

“What about you?”

“I can take care of myself y’know.”

“But-?”

“Sod off, rock star.” Hrishi’s tone brooks no argument, but then he pauses and almost smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It takes me a while to find my way back to the main common room, and I’ve missed so much of my lecture there’s no point showing up just to get harangued. I head to the music department, grab my flute, and find music flowing itself out through my fingers and lips. I’m going to need to write some of this down at some point, but for now, I’m happy just to be a conduit and let myself be played.