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Luxemburger Queen -- Part 6 (I'm getting addicted to writing this stuff, really!) 6: Rendezvous "Here, you can go in already, I'll just get us something to drink." Frank shoved Brian into the room and then hurried downstairs into the kitchen. Brian looked around and was glad Frank wasn't here, since his face distorted into a sneer at the sight of the posters decorating Frank's room. Madonna? Kylie Minogue? Had he ended up in hell already? He slumped down into the only chair beneath a looming picture of Genesis and quickly scanned the vinyls in the record shelf. Not much better here, he decided. He'd better convince Frank that music was only distracting. The door opened and Frank entered with two glasses and some juice on a tablet. "So you like Killer Kylie, huh?" Brian couldn't suppress to ask. "Killer Kylie?" Frank asked confusedly. Brian nodded at the enormous portrait at the door. "Her. Her voice is deadly. She's a siren, just that sirens kill people by singing beautifully and she kills them because their ears explode - or because they struggle to get out of the room and are trampled down by the masses." Frank put the tablet onto his desk. "You really don't like her, huh?" "Nope." "Bad luck for you, I think she's great." Brian sneered. "If you say so ..." He took the glass offered to him and sipped at it. Mh, apple juice. Frank sat down on the bed. "So what music do you like, then?" "Bowie." "Bowie?" Now it was Frank's turn to sneer. "He's cool!" "He's a lot of things, but cool's not among them ... but however, let's not quarrel about music, it's not that important." Yes it is, Brian thought, but he chose not to enlarge on the subject. Instead, he examined the book shelf and raised his eyebrows with astonishment. "Kant? Descartes? Kirkegaard? Jesus, Frank, other people just smoke some dope if they want to blow their minds!" Frank grinned and shrugged. "I like philosophy." Brian stood up, took one of the books and gave it a quick inspection. "You're really into this stuff, aren't you?" "Yeah." "I'm impressed." "Thanks. I suppose it's not easy to impress Brian Molko, is it?" Brian blushed. "Sorry, I didn't meant to sound derogatory." "You weren't. You sounded impressed," answered Frank, grinning. "And I was serious about my question. You're not easily astounded, are you?" Brian smiled back. "No, not really. But then, usually, there's not much to be astounded about ... this combination of Madonna and Kant and," he took another book and sniggered, "The Complete Work of Shakespeare, well, it's highly unusual." His eyes moved up the shelf. "And a huge collection of plays, I see. Ibsen ... Strindberg ... Wilde ... Goethe ... Schiller ... impressive as well." "Thanks." Frank moved and walked up to Brian, standing behind him. "So I'm not a total disgrace to mankind, even though I like Kylie?" Brian turned and threw him a little devil's smile. "Not a total disgrace, no. Only halfway there ..." "You know, you should be more careful criticizing other people's voices with that nasal cat's whine of yours!" "Nasal cat's whine?" exclaimed Brian infuriated. "See? I mean, hear? That's what I meant!" "I'm not whining!" "Correct," smiled Frank, "now you're pouting." Brian glared at him. "And it suits you well, you know?" Frank added with a wink. Brian didn't know whether to slap him or blush or just storm out of the room. He chose to continue with the conversation instead. "So that's your life, then? Dead philosophers and playwrights?" "Ah, no," Frank dismissed the idea with a shrug, "it's just stuff to read. My real thing is languages, that's what I'm going to do when I go to uni. Linguistics." "Lucky bastard you," sighed Brian. "It'll be YEARS until I finally get out of this place." "Only about two more years, though. You'll survive." "I'm not sure." Brian walked back to the chair and sat down again with another sigh. Frank sat down on the bed. "So what do you want to do when you get out of school?" "London. Goldsmiths." The older boy raised his eyebrows. "Really? Wow. Didn't know you where that serious about acting." Brian smiled. "Well, I am. I love it. My parents think I'll be a banker, though ... like Stuart." He grimaced. "But seriously, I don't think so." "A banker? You?" laughed Frank. "I heard you suck at math!" "Exactly. And also, since I'm creative and, as a result of that," he winked at Frank, "gay, you know, it'll have to be acting since all the biggies are faggots, to quote mastermind Christian." "That jerk! What was it with the two of you today, anyway?" "You mean, what was it with the two of us YESTERDAY ..." Brian answered before realizing that maybe he should keep his mouth shut about the changing room incident. Too late. "What do you mean?" asked Frank. Brian hesitated. "Well ... let's just say Chris is not as straight as he wants to be when he's alone with a freshly showered nancy boy. Can I get more precise? I don't think so." Frank gaped at him. "You mean ... you two ... yesterday ... after gym class ...?" "Yepp. I mean, no. Not really. Just - not much, okay, but he started." "And?" "And then he realized what he was doing and gave me that bruise here." Brian touched his face carefully, but jumped slightly because it hurt even if he was only brushing it with his fingers. "So next time you call ME a closet-case, I'll get very angry." "I'm not calling you a closet-case, Bri." "No?" "No. Undecided, was it? Ever thought about another term for it?" Brian frowned. "What do you mean?" "Bisexual?" "Hm." Brian stood up uneasily. "Don't know." He paced across the room uncomfortably. "So," he said then, deciding to focus the conversation on Frank instead, "do your parents know, I mean, about you?" "That I'm gay?" Frank asked, frowning. "Yes." "Are you kidding?" exclaimed Frank. "My dad would kill me! Don't tell me your parents know you're 'undecided'!" "I'm not insane! I get in trouble with my mom already just by listening to David Bowie, imagine what she'd say if I slept with him!" He sneered and mocked his mother's voice: "That man's a sinner, Brian, and he'll end up in hell!" Frank grinned, and Brian added with his normal voice: "You know, today she caught me trying to cover the bruise with her make-up, man, I thought she was going to explode, but then she found out why I was messing around with her stuff so she only got angry because I didn't tell her what happened to my face. But I think that at first she thought, damn it - oh no, in her case: oh dearest Lord Jesus, what have I done wrong, my son is the devil's brat!" Frank laughed out loud. "Christ, is she into that stuff?" "Christianity? Very much so! It's her life!" "Guess it's not easy for you to get along with yourself then," Frank said thoughtfully. Brian shrugged. "I'm getting along with myself. Most other people don't, though." "Well, they're stupid. They just don't see what a great person you are." "Very funny." Frank smiled. "I mean it. You're far more interesting than most people at school." He turned slightly red. "And a lot cuter," he added quietly. Now it was Brian's turn to blush. "Uhm ... I need to call my mom before she calls the police," he muttered then. "Yes, right, the phone's downstairs right next to the door, can't miss it." "Okay, I'll be right back." Brian walked out of the room and down the stairs. Indeed, the telephone was easy enough to find. He dialed his number and waited for his mother to answer. "Yes?" her voice said after four rings. "Hi, Mom, it's me, I just wanted to let you know that I'm at Frank's, so don't worry, I'm not getting into trouble or so, okay?" Pause. "Who's Frank?" Of course. Brian stifled a sigh. "A guy from the drama club." "Ah, so you're rehearsing?" "Yeah." Well, not really, but sort of, and anyway it was none of her business, right? "When will you be home, then?" "Don't know, when am I supposed to?" Another small break. "Just be there in time for dinner, okay?" "Thanks, Mom. Bye." "Bye. Have much fun." Brian felt heat stream into his face. This was perverse! His mom wishing him to have fun spending the afternoon in a gay boy's bedroom! "Uhm ... thanks, I - I'm sure I will." Had he just really said that? He must be going crazy! "See you." He hung up the phone, taking a deep breath. Well, at least she wasn't suspecting anything. He swallowed and went back upstairs into Frank's room. "She says I can stay till dinner," he announced, heading for the chair. "Won't you come sit here with me?" Frank asked silently, still sitting on the bed. A funny feeling suddenly spread in Brian's stomach. "Well ..." He hesitated for a moment. "Are, I mean, what about, aren't you parents at home?" Frank grinned, amused about Brian's embarrassment. "No, they'll both work late." "I see ..." Slowly, Brian walked over to the bed and set down, trying to appear cool and knowing he hopelessly failed. Frank reached out and smoothened his hair. "You know, I don't mean to frighten you or anything ..." "Are you kidding? Christian, THAT was scary, I tell you, but you ..." His words were interrupted by Frank's lips pressing against his own. "Mmph." Nice. He felt Frank licking against his lips and opened them slightly to allow his mouth to be explored. Nicer even. Very nice indeed. Frank gently pressed him down to lie on the bed, and Brian gave in all too eagerly, eyes closed, arms around Frank's neck. Whatever you do, just don't stop, he thought as Frank parted his legs with his knee to lie between them, but just then Frank broke the kiss, causing Brian to groan with disappointment. "Shh," whispered Frank, "I just wanted to say, you tell me if you don't want to go any further, okay?" "Shut up, stupid!" Brian grunted, pulling him down to continue the kiss, gasping slightly when he succeeded, and then switched off his mind, drowning in the sensation. Prev | Next Home |