Simon Says

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 4

To say that Will was relieved to get Ryan's letter would be an understatement. The buff coloured envelope was sitting on the hall table when he returned from KCS. It had to be from him……and it was. He ran upstairs, threw himself on his bed and ripped open the envelope. He read it far too quickly the first time, and ended up reading it probably twenty times, over and over again. Sweet boy. There were tears too……it was everything he could have hoped for. Not only did it begin with apologies and what he thought was rather a lame excuse, but there was an invitation to meet in London one Saturday. And there was more. There were words that he wanted to read when he went to bed that night, a little earlier than usual…..and again in the morning. And there was something else. A photograph. He thought that a lovely gesture, and it wasn't just any photograph. Ryan is holding a football on the beach smiling back at the camera. His hair is wet, so he must have been in the water recently. He's naked, apart from a pair of pale yellow swimming pants.

Will studies the photograph. He wonders why Ryan chose that particular one. He hopes what he thinks is true. He hopes that Ryan chose that one for a reason…….that it wasn't just a coincidence.

When the package of holiday photos came back, Mrs Smith looked through them. They were the usual things…..various activities and family groups….all that kind of thing to remind them of happy times. She almost threw away the one of Ryan standing holding the ball. When she asked him to pose on the beach, she hadn't noticed. She looks at the shiny print once more. Her beautiful son. He's thirteen now, and growing up fast. Surely no one will notice? She slips the photograph back into the pile, and into the paper folder from Kodak, and is privately rather pleased with herself.

He's already written back to Ryan to say that next Saturday would be perfect. Two o'clock by the RAF memorial statue….the tall figure with the golden wings on the Thames Embankment. He was excited that night, but he's rushed his homework rather. He takes the letter and the photo to bed. He reads the letter several more times and then studies the photograph of his beautiful friend. Ten minutes later, he places the photo under the pillow, reaches for the bedside light, and switches it off. He feels sleepy now. He turns onto his side, closes his eyes and begins to think about Saturday. Just three days to wait. Sleep well, sweet William.

Ryan was there first. He leans against the stone wall and looks down at the passing tide below. The water, flowing fast seawards, looks a dull grey-green colour that seems in keeping with the overcast sky. The occasional 'jogger' jogs past, their skin glistening with perspiration, some with bare arms. A tug passes towing two barges sitting deep in the murky water. He looks at his watch. Ten to two. He'll be coming from Embankment station, some twelve stops from Wimbledon.

Five past two, and no sign of Will. All sorts of thoughts pass through Ryan's mind. Has he forgotten, or thought better of it? His stomach turns over through nerves. Fifteen minutes past two now. Surely not?

He sees a figure running with a small bag on straps over his shoulder. It looks like Will, but it can't be. The boy is in school uniform. It can't be him.

It is him!

'Sorry Ryan.' the boy says, breathless with a final patter of feet on the pavement. 'I just missed the first train…..had to wait for the next. Sorry. Am I late?'

For a moment Ryan does not speak, as Will looks at him with that wonderful smile of his. His expression changes…….

'What's the matter Ryan?'

Ryan laughs.

'I'm just surprised, that's all. You're in your uniform.'

'Is that ok then? I didn't have time to go home and change. I thought you wouldn't mind. Do you?'

'Of course I don't! You look……ok……good……nice! Really…..you do!'

'Thanks. So do you.'

'Do you want to look at the river for a minute? There's a good place behind here to stand?'

Both boys needed time to collect themselves. Feelings had been running high. Leaning on the stone wall overlooking the river, Ryan speaks first…..

'So, you're here then. I thought you weren't coming.'

'Of course I was! I would never not come. Are you glad I'm here?'

'Of course! Very glad…..very.'

The two boys face each other. They are close now……now they are almost touching.

Ryan slides his arms inside Wills, and pulls him towards him. He feels Will's hands meet behind his back tightening their hold on one another, their faces pressed against the skin of necks……breathing heard louder. Both boys feel tears forming. A minute passes before they let each other go.

'We're silly aren't we? Are we?' says Will looking at Ryan.

'Probably.' Ryan answers, as the boys stifle laughter.

'Shall we go now? It starts at three.'

It's a fifteen minute walk to Leicester Square…..to the Odeon cinema where the film is showing. They wanted to see the sequel to 'Home Alone'. It stars Macaulay Culkin. It's been at the cinema for a while now, so it shouldn't be crowded. Will particularly wanted to see it.

'Do you like Macaulay Culkin?' asks Ryan.

'Umm. Do you?'

You might guess what the answer was. Will had said that he would love a little cousin just like him……..brother even.

They had almost ten minutes to spare before the film started. Ryan insisted on paying for their tickets, as his mother had given him a five pound note which would be enough money to cover their entrance and something to drink afterwards. Anyway, he's asked Will out. He feels he should pay.

The cinema was nowhere near full, and the two boys found good seats close to the back and right in the corner. Neither were in any doubt about what they wanted from each other in the next hour and three quarters, and a bit of privacy would be required. Ryan neatly folded Will's blazer, along with his own jacket, and laid them over the seat in front. In the event, there was no one even vaguely close to them. The lights dimmed, which was Ryan's cue to find Will's hand, which he enthusiastically provided. Then it was an arm around Will's shoulder. Cinema seats are not the perfect place to rekindle a physical relationship, but they were going to manage come hell or high water.

The two boys put their faces together playfully at first, but very soon the smell of each other's skin served as a urgent reminder of times past. Their mouths joined, and heads are pulled together by eager hands, blissfully re-united. Within ten minutes both the excited boys' immediate sexual needs are satisfied, mutually, and with almost an almost painful urgency. Before the end of the film, they had both managed each other a second time, followed by a period of prolonged and warm holding. They left the cinema flushed and fulfilled……and made happy by such mutual tenderness.

Ryan insisted that he escort will back to Embankment Station, pointing out as they went the house where Rudyard Kipling lived, the last house on the left just before the station entrance.

'Have you read the 'Jungle Book' Will?

Of course he had, but hadn't seen the edition that Ryan's family owned…….the 1921 edition with the Detmold Brothers illustrations. It was one of Ryan's favourite images…….'Mowgli leaving the jungle'……..the beautiful naked boy that he thought looked just like Will. Indeed there was a strong resemblance.

'He looks like me?'

'Umm. Exactly like you. He's beautiful.'

'Can I see it sometime?'

They walked back to where they had met that afternoon…….under those golden wings that soared above the spirit of brave airmen.

Speak to me tide and air

Softly in my ear I hear you

Touch my soul, sweet lips

As I touch yours

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Just after Will finally releases his friend, Ryan slips a small package into Will's blazer pocket.

'What's that Ryan?'

'My mother insisted. They're yours……she said you should have them back.'

In the cinema, Will had noticed Ryan's 'not before time' updated wardrobe, and approved of the change in a physical way by running his fingers under and around the excited forms that they constrained. In with the sleek and soft……and out with those ghastly 'parachutes'.

A friend of mine once suggested that relationships between boys of the type I have been describing, seldom last long. I don't have a huge amount of evidence to agree or disagree with his view. However, when Will sat on his bed and opened the small package Ryan had given him as they parted company, Will had come to the same conclusion, sadly, that Ryan had. The distance between Wimbledon and Hampstead was going to prove a bar to their meeting as they would want and need to do. The flame was likely to flicker, and then disappear. Opening the package was like returning everything…….drawing a line under all that had taken place between them. Not that all would be forgotten…….no, that would never happen. The boys are too young to call it love, surely? Perhaps, but what existed between them was and is and always will be a special and pure form of 'love' as we call it…….perhaps the very purest of them all…..uninhibited, generous, respectful, powerful, and magical. That which is made between such individuals can never die.

Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence that the second of Will's blissful moments came quite suddenly, just as Macaulay Culkin emerged from his bath, wet hair and shiny pale skin. The boy was not shown naked of course, just a modest part of him, but in bed that night, it wasn't the image of Ryan that occupied Will's mind. No real surprise then, that he should make friends with a new member of Junior Choir…..a Year Seven boy who had acquired the nickname of 'Mac'. Intelligent boys are not slow at inventing and applying nicknames to teachers and pupils alike. Here's a boy who closely resembles a famous contemporary character. The name 'stuck' throughout his entire school career. He didn't mind in the least, in fact he was rather pleased to be likened to one of the best know faces in the world.

Mac lived five minutes from Will's house. Mac walked home with Will most days, and every day to school. They chatted about this and that on their way home, and it wasn't long before Will gets invited into Mac's house. Mac has a front door key on one of those red spiral plastic things attached to his trousers so he can't lose it. He invites Will up to his room.

'Do you mind if I get changed Will?'

'No.'

Will won't, I suspect, will be easy meat, but the sight of Mac in his underpants excites him, especially as Mac seems to have little interest in getting dressed.

'Aren't you going to get dressed Mac?'

Mac doesn't answer Will's question. He walks closer to Will. He's a few inches shorter than Will, so he has to look up slightly……….

'Do you want to see me…..all of me?'

Will's mouth is dry…….words seem irrelevant, so he just nods.

Moments later, Mac stands before his friend, naked, and smiling.

'Can I see you now?'

To Will, that seemed a fair request.

Mac obviously liked what he saw. He steps up to Will and starts stroking his chest. The effect on Will was immediate. Mac walks over to his bed, and Will follows.

Nothing has really changed in Will's mind about Ryan, but the circumstances of their relationship meant that a more flexible approach is required from both of them. What Ryan had said in his letter to him was right. It had upset him hugely, but he knew he was right.

There is no immediate substitute for Wills company. The question….'What am I?' still gnaws at Ryan's consciousness. Attending a mixed school inevitably meant contact with girls, and there were one or two he quite liked. One or two liked him too. But when it came to developing a friendship in a sexual direction, he found he had limited interest. He took a girl to the cinema. The girl encouraged Ryan to touch her breasts. He did, and he quite liked the sensation. So did she. The girl in turn, felt for where she thought his penis should be, and soon discovered no doubt to her great disappointment that her body had had little effect on his. He didn't help her by unzipping his fly. Within five minutes she had given up on him. This mouse, as good as it felt to her, was not going to roar. Her friends had told her what to do, and what to expect when the boy came. The idea had excited her. There were smiles as they left the cinema, and momentary hand holding, but then that was that. He had tried to masturbate that night with the girl in mind, but it didn't work.

After football that afternoon, he'd seen a boy in the changing room. The boy, Adam, had chosen the shower head next to his, and had rather flaunted himself. Nothing was said, but Ryan had enjoyed the spectacle. Frustrated with his inability to reach orgasm, his fantasy now focused on the boy in the shower, thus relief was at hand! Thank goodness for Adam.

Adam, more senior than Ryan, saw Ryan and stopped him in the corridor the next day. The conversation, albeit brief, resulted in an arrangement to meet for a coffee in the town that Saturday morning. Ryan found Adam already waiting for him. They chatted, mainly about football, and got on rather well. Another arrangement was made. They would walk on Hampstead Heath the flowing afternoon. They looked for a suitable spot to take the weight off their feet, and found one. Things went on from there, but the images, and now the memory of William was never far away.

In the succeeding weeks, there were opportunities for Ryan to ask Adam to take his virginity. Once he did ask him, but Adam insisted that he wait, saying……..'There's plenty of time for that.' Ryan was disappointed at the time, but with hindsight knew he was right. Ryan had lied to his parents about where he was spending that night. He and Adam's parents were away, and they would spend the night together in Adam's bed. It was Ryan's first real opportunity to make proper love with another boy. They did, but with his virginity left intact.

Their friendship lasted until Adam left for University. Sport and exams dominated his life after Adam. Academically sound rather than brilliant, he gained a place at Leeds to read History. His first year went more or less according to plan, but there was little or no romance in his life. His second year started much as the first one had, but this time he would not be a 'new boy'. He could watch the 'Freshers' make fools of themselves, before they realised that they had eventually to do some work.

It was one evening, about nine, in the Union bar….that relatively new shuttered concrete piece of building, as opposed to architecture. He noticed the back of the boy's head first……..dark hair just creeping over the collar of a plaid shirt. He slowed to take note of the boy's bottom, as he always did when he saw a something interesting. They looked like Levi casual chinos……in pale beige. The cut was fitted, almost to the point of discomfort. It looked like the boy wanted to be noticed. He made an excuse to himself to take a seat at the empty table next to him. He placed his pint glass noisily on the table. It was his third that evening.

The boy hands money to the young barman, who gives him change from the five pound note. He turns with the overfull glass and stops to check he has put the change in his pocket. The chinos are just as fitted at the front as they are at the back and he is 'dressed' to the right, and obviously so. Ryan immediately has him 'down' as queer. The boy is some six feet away when Ryan gets to his feet, having realised just who this person is.

'I don't believe it!'

The boy, concentrating on not spilling his drink, hasn't seen him yet. Then, his attention drawn, he looks up and stares at Ryan……

'Bloody hell. Is it you?'

'Will?'

'Ryan?'

The boys made an arrangement to catch the bus from Leeds out into the Yorkshire Dales. Beyond Otley is a great place to walk along the banks of the Wharfe. There, they could talk properly. Late September can be beautiful, and there would plenty of places along the way to rest and talk. Ryan knew the place well….just a half hour ride which took them out of the city into peace and calm and contemplation.

The conversation is general to begin with, but both boys have a lot to catch up on, so they want to wait until they are in the right place before anything significant is discussed.

'Is this ok Will?' asks Ryan

'Yes, it's a good place.'

'Is that where we are?'

Will laughs.

'I hope so. Do you?' Will asks, as they arrange themselves on dry grass a few yards from the river bank.

'Yes. So have you had many friends?'

'If you mean special friends, then yes, two or three, but if you're thinking about the 'V' word, then no, I haven't given that away……..not yet. I'm still waiting Ryan.'

'I suppose I was thinking of that. Nor have I. I came close once, but the boy in question was very sensible……fun, but sensible unfortunately.'

'Boy?'

'Yes, a boy……a bit older than me. I found that the female gender didn't do it for me.'

'Did you give it a try?'

'Yes, but not a lot happened….if you know what I mean.'

'Not like it did six years ago?'

'No. Do you still think about that holiday Will?'

'Oh yes.' says Will. 'I still have the photo. The one you gave me. I've spent a long time looking at that. I'd take it to bed with me and think about…..well, you know. Your mother obviously hadn't noticed your state of mind when she took the photo. I love that image of you. It reminds of happy times.'

'Not hard times?'

'Very amusing…….very hard times.'

'I'd been lying down thinking deep thoughts. Mum said she wanted a snap of me holding the ball. I just stood up and did what I was told. I thought it was quite funny. I remember going very red when I saw the photo. She just smiled and gave it to me. I must have been thinking about you.'

'Thank you. I did a lot of thinking about you …….and not stopped since. I was trying to decide whether I really loved you, or if it was some sort of illusion.'

'Did you decide then….come to any conclusion?'

'I came to a conclusion many times, and it didn't take long either. Yes, I loved you…….very badly. Sometimes I'd feel quite ill with it.'

'Oh dear, sorry, but you said 'loved' in the past tense?'

'I meant then ……. and ever since. It's ebbed and flowed a bit, but it's always been there. Didn't you realise? I suppose being just twelve years old, I didn't know how to tell you. I knew it was the beginning of sexual attraction for me because even then I would get a physical reaction whenever I pictured you in my thoughts.'

The moment had rather affected them both. Inspired by Will's beautiful words, Ryan reached for Will's hand, and held it.

'Can we talk about that holiday? It's where we came in…..so to speak?'

They laugh at Will's unintended witticism.

'Starting with my accidentally on purpose exhibitionism?'

'So you meant to show me?'

'Yes, probably. I don't know really…..maybe in the back of my mind I wanted to, but not really consciously. I'd noticed you before, but I was angry at myself for…..'

'For what?'

'For finding you attractive. It was one of those moments. You looked perfect. You still do.'

'Ryan……what was it about me you liked? I'd like to hear you say it please?'

'Lots of things. Not the bit at the front because there was nothing to see. Your bottom……that did it for me, and your face of course. I thought you were beautiful. I was angry and frightened about what I was revealing to myself…about myself. That's why I lashed out at you. What I did made me cry when I thought about it later. I had accused you of something that I probably was myself. I realised how unfair that was. I know boys 'like that' suffer horribly sometimes, and I was just adding to jour injury. You turned the other cheek, as they say, like some Saint Sebastian. It made me feel even worse about myself. I'm still very sorry for what I did.'

'It's over Ryan. Get over it please? For me? Anyway, I didn't mean to leave my knickers on the floor for your mother to see. I was in a bit of a hurry if you remember?'

'Oh that. Yes. Bad luck really. I should have kicked them under the bed. She thought I'd had a girl in there. It wasn't until she found them in my bedroom later, that she realised that they belonged to a boy. She looked at the label and saw your name sewn into them. There's not much doubt about the name 'William' is there? There aren't many girls called William. She put two and two together and worked out fairly easily that I'd had a boy in bed with me. We had a little chat about that as you might imagine, but after the initial shock they were ok.'

'They?'

'Yes, my father knew everything. My mother had told him that I was a bigger boy now and she had noticed evidence of one or two 'happenings' on the bedsheets. That was her word for my frequent and not always perfectly controlled ejaculations. She was changing the bottom sheet when she found them. They were wedged between the mattress and the wall. I'd just forgotten they were there from the night before. They realised that in theory I could impregnate a girl. That's what really worried them……the thought that I was capable of getting a thirteen year old girl pregnant. '

'I feel quite defiled. I wish I had known.'

'You were very defiled! I wish you had been there. Can you imagine how I felt when I saw them back, nice and clean, sitting at the very top of the pile in my chest of drawers.'

'Literally!'

More laughter.

'Anyway, as a result, I got updated in that department.' recalls Ryan.

'I know, and not before time if I may say so. It was a nice little surprise. The cinema trip?'

'Yes. I hoped you would notice.'

'I noticed alright. You were so sweet to me….and in your last letter to me. I still have it. You were right. It was never going to work, long distance.'

'Oh dear. You haven't got the letter here in Leeds I hope?' exclaims Ryan.

'Yes I have. I would never leave that at home. It would like leaving an arm behind.' says Will.

'Or something else.'

'Quite. Should you require its services, I hope you'll approve Ryan.'

'I'm sure I will.'

'I don't think I was up to much the last time was I?'

'I'm not going to be unkind Will. I totally adored it as it was, but it was a rather diddly little diddler wasn't it?'

'I suppose so. There's a new and improved version now.'

'Enough to take care of my 'V' word?'

'Perfect for that purpose. How do you feel about that?'

'I cannot imagine it would be anyone else. Mine is yours and yours, hopefully quite soon, will be mine.'

'What….here……now?'

'Impractical dear boy, but that's not the only thing is it?'

'No, but it's not that warm here is it.'

'Have you ever done it on a bus?'

'Yes. I was alone on the back seat, upstairs. The mood suddenly took me. I looked around and there was no one there to see me doing it. It wasn't long after your last letter.'

'Success?'

Will smiles. Is the Pope Catholic?

Their hand holding had become more demonstrative. The boys had turned towards each other, and holding one another close and hard together, they began a kiss that both of them hoped would never end. Finally, they came up for air….

'Do you really love me……still?' asks Will.

'Silly boy. Yes, I do……really. I love you for everything you are……loyal, steadfast, cryaboutanythingness like now, sexiness, loveliness, lovingness……and all those other wonderful things about the real you .'

'Steadfastness?'

'Yes.'

'How does that work them?'

'I'm not sure, but I'm sure that right.'

The boys begin another kiss, and their hands begin their journeys to places they have not known since those perfect days of a summer past. Things have changed……moved forwards……and not to put too fine a point on it…..grown.

'Crikey Will!'

'What?'

'This……..thing.'

'What about it?'

'Bloody hell! I'm not sure now….about handing you responsibility for my virginity.'

'Sorry Ryan, it's too late. We shook on it. Remember? Anyway, it takes two to tango. I will have to put up with yours won't I? I hope so?'

Indeed you will.

Will, back in Hall, was in bed by nine that evening, tired but exhilarated by his outing to the Dales with Ryan. On the bus back to Leeds, they had made important commitments to each other. They had waited long enough, so a few more days would make little difference. He reaches for the wooden knob so he can pull open the drawer in the bedside table. He feels for the sheet of buff coloured notepaper he has read a hundred times. It's the last letter Ryan wrote to him. The words have taken on a new meaning now…….deeper, more sharply focussed, even more loving………and only for him.

Dear Will,

I hardly know how to say this. Did you know I have come to love you? You know HOW I did. I know that I do now. I'm sorry for my unkindness to you, and I know in a way this may seem the biggest unkindness of them all, but perhaps it's not, but a kindness. I can't see you anymore. It's NOTHING you have done, believe me. It's not your fault. I want to see you every day, and touch you, feel you, and BE with you, like we were. Everything we did was beautiful Will. [!!!!] I CAN'T see you every day, not even every week, not even next summer. I know that now my dear sweet friend. Maybe ONE DAY it will be different. Maybe one day we will be together, every day, and we can do all those things every day. I love your smiling face, and to pull your ears and squish your nose like you did to me. I love your face. I love your mouth. I love all of you right down to your feet. I can see your eyes looking into mine like dark blue pools of water. I can see them now. I know this sounds silly but I don't care. Of course I do care. I care about all this dreadfully. Please try not to hate me? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Will. Don't forget me Will. Think of me sometimes please. Please?

I love you. Ryan

Thus ends this tale.

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Simon Says

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 4

Voting

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну