The Bolt from the Blue (Working Title)

Chapter 10- The Island

Chapter 10- The Island

Sam felt good. It was though he'd sweated out his nausea, his headache and his anger at bloody Professor Patten and it had all evaporated off his skin, leaving nothing but a contented exhaustion, and a warm sensation throughout his body.

He and John lay on the sofa, their legs intertwined, most of their clothes strewn about the place, like the majority of John's other possessions. The TV was on, but it didn't matter- the point was the contact between them, not the flickering images on the screen. John bent his neck down and gently nudged Sam's arm with his head.

"Hmmm?" Sam was half-asleep.

"I think I need some fresh air." John gurgled.

"No. No." Sam shook his head, "No air. Let's just stay here."

"Come on," John stood up, extracting himself from between Sam's various limbs. Sam slumped further into the sofa in protest. John leapt forward and grabbed both of Sam's arms and yanked him up. Sam was taken aback by John's strength- he felt like a bale of hay or a ragdoll being manhandled by a crane.

"Samson, it may be time to cut your hair." Said Sam, rubbing tenderly at one of his forearms.

"What?"

"Ow." Sam explained.

"Oh sorry, sorry." John gasped and took a step forward then retreated back suddenly, "It's been a while since I've grabbed someone who wasn't, you know, trying to kill me."

"It's ok, just give me some warning next time, please."

"Of course." He stood there awkwardly, emanating guilt and apology, clearly not wanting to move in case Sam combusted.

Sam decided to take the initiative. "So, fresh air?"

John perked up slightly, "How about the beach?"

Sam looked down- all he had on was a small pair of red briefs. "Ok, did you see where my trousers landed?"

"No need to dress," John said excitedly, "Private beach." And a portal opened behind him, beckoning them both to adventure. "Very, very private."

It was, in fact, a small island. There was a beach, about a quarter of a mile long, made of slightly reddish sand. The water was the colour of cornflower and seemed to be only a metre deep as far as the eye could see. The sun beat down, but there was a canopy of trees that provided some shade; birds sang in the trees, which were rich with fruit. Sam scanned the horizon in all directions, running the circumference of the place in a few minutes, but nothing else was visible at all: it felt as if they were in the exact centre of nowhere.

"Where are we?" He asked, when he'd returned to the beach where John was playing in the tide.

"Take a guess."

A shadow passed across Sam's face. "I have no idea."

"Neither does anyone else, as far as I know. I'm the only person that ever comes here."

Sam took a step forward and let the water seep around his feet, and instantly felt rejuvenated. "The only one? So I'm the second visitor this island has ever had."

"Hell no. This is a fucking baller of a date- you think you're the first dude I've ever brought here?"

Sam smiled. "How far away is the nearest human habitat?"

John spun around so he was pointing due east, "About fifteen hundred miles in that direction."

"Wow."

"Yeah, and they're still pretty remote."

"How did you find this place?"

"When my powers first manifested, I became very interested in geography. I pored over geographic journals and accounts of old ships," John looked wistfully at the horizon, apparently missing these days of frantic research, "whenever they mentioned tiny islands that they spotted or gossip from natives about archipelagos that they knew about. And eventually, I managed to get the coordinates for this place."

"When you say eventually..."

John snorted. "It took all summer." He turned around and looked at the undisturbed beauty around him; the unimaginable quantity of space. "It was worth it, though." He reached down and picked up some sand from the sea bed, he lifted it out of the water and let it slide through his fingers in clumps and drop back into the water with a satisfying 'plop', "It's like having a summer house with no mortgage."

Sam walked up so he was standing next to John, the spray reaching just above his knees, feeling brilliant on his bare flesh. "Who else knows about it?"

"I took my sister here a lot during her divorce, and once she bought Simon and let him paddle but then she freaked out that I'd have a heart attack or be eaten by a shark or something and they'd be stranded out here forever, so that was the end of that." John seemed to be finished, but then added: "Also, three ex-boyfriends and between eleven and twenty one-night stands."

"Between eleven and twenty?" Queried Sam.

"Depending on how you define 'one', 'night' and 'stand'."

Sam chuckled and then reached out and took John's hand. For a few moments, they let the waves beat against their legs and just stood there together, the perfection of the scene washing over them. Then Sam, who couldn't quell an annoying little voice in his head turned to John and asked, "Is that all this is? A one-night stand?"

John didn't look at him in return, but instead kept gazing out over the impossibly blue ocean. "That's up to you. I hope I've made my feelings clear." He squeezed Sam's hand and then turned to him.

Sam studied John's face. He wasn't sure how close John was to figuring out the truth, or at least part of it, but he got such a thrill from just looking at this sexy, funny man and knowing that he wanted him. Being with John was like spending time with an incredibly shaggable teddy bear, or perhaps a monkey with a six pack. 'And at some point', Sam thought, 'I'm going to have to learn how to keep my secret from people or else kill John and just come to live on this island all on my own'.

"Here are my feelings," He said, kissing John.

The sun began its descent towards the horizon, casting them in an angelic glow.

They returned just before midnight, stepping instantly from the lovely warm rays of the paradisiacal island into the wintry disarray of John's house. Sam collected up his clothes from the living room floor, reluctantly got dressed and then John opened up a portal to Sam's halls of residence. It was Friday night, and a pub crawl was just about to set off. Sam thought about joining until he realised just how badly he needed to shower; the lapping waves of the island had not managed to abate the smell of last night's booze.

He stood beneath the stream of warm water and smiled up at the shower head, not able to imagine anything that could kill his bad mood now. He felt buoyant, like a weight he didn't even know he'd been carrying on his neck had melted away to nothing; he knew it couldn't last but he didn't care right now. Even if it all went down in flames- when it all went down in flames- it would have been worth it just for that day, the day that started with an exam and ended with a tropical getaway.

For the first time in years, without even realising it, Sam sang in the shower.

John crashed down on his sofa, too exhausted from enjoyment to walk to his bed. Besides, the sofa still smelt like Sam and reminded him of the day's events. He lay where Sam had been and began to commit the younger man's body to memory, every single inch, so that he would be in John's dreams.

Just as he was reaching the waist, John's phone rang. He rolled over and glanced at the screen, it read 'DARIA'. He paused for a moment and then deleted the text without reading it. He suddenly felt simultaneously red hot and ice cold. He got up and marched straight into his bedroom; he pulled out a drawer and scrambled through, pushing aside socks and condoms until he came upon the little box of foundation he had used to cover up his bruises when he went to visit his mother. It was exactly the shade of his skin. For a moment, he paused, and then looked up at the tiny mirror he kept in his bedroom. His reflection stared at him, impassive, non-judgemental, perhaps even a little bored by the whole affair. And then he lifted up his arm and, using the mirror as his guide, began to erase the word 'BENJI' from his body.

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