Pseudology

Twenty.

EDITED. 

His face was hurting as he woke.

Sideways, eyes blurred and head pounding, Adrian was covered with a blanket with his body curled up on Martin’s bed. His back was stiff and his ankles weren’t covered, and there was a cold draught coming in from the open window which was letting a stream of chatter and male sounds, but there was a spreading warmth in his chest that made him sigh.

“You’re awake.”

Adrian moved his head a little, suddenly feeling a thick arm under his weight- gripping his hips and gently stroking the tender skin with a thumb- and turned to see Martin behind him, face buried in his own pillow and his school blazer covering his torso. His mouth was pushed into a smile and his hair was messy, covering his forehead.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. Want to get up?”  

Adrian shook his head, turning so that he was facing Martin. He shuffled closer so that their stomach’s were nearly touching, and Adrian put his arm around Martin’s waist.

“Why does this feel good?” Adrian’s voice was small and almost incoherent, and Martin had to move closer to hear him.

“I’m not sure.” he replied; he was then silent in thought, unsure of what to say. Adrian pushed his head into his friend's chest so that nearly every part of their bodies were touching, and he felt a small tingling sensation spread over him. “Adrian, I’m not sure that this is a good idea.”

Adrian’s hair ruffled as he looked up at Martin. He wasn’t sure what his facial expression told- his brow was furrowed and his mouth was straight, yet Martin’s eyes were full of something that Adrian couldn’t decipher, yet it wasn’t a sad emotion, he didn’t think.

“What?”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

Adrian moved away, his muscles tensing and his breathing becoming deeper. He tried to  calm himself. What could he say? He sat up.

“Why?”

“It’s… it’s not right, Adrian.”

“It’s legal.”

“Adrian, stop it.”

“Should I go?”

Martin gulped.

“Yeah, I think so.” Martin’s voice wavered, but Adrian didn’t notice. He was getting up and heading towards the door, face red and body shaking, when Martin sat up, putting his glasses on. “Adrian?”

Adrian paused before opening the door, his hand outstretched.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Adrian didn’t reply.

II

He’d taken two pinches before going down to breakfast, feeling his body slowly come alive with a hot, feverish electricity which he knew would soon fade. His heart was palpitating under his chest and his face and neck were flushed from the heat of his emotions: he was shocked that he felt so much. The emotion he felt- unknown to him by name- was painful, but it was almost a delight to feel something so strong, so definite, flowing through his body.

He walked down the corridor with his head down and his hands in his pockets, his teeth gritted as his feet hit the solid wooden floor. He came to the doors of the dining hall and opened them; sounds of laughter echoed around the room, mixed with a low hum of chatting and the sound of crunching food. Adrian sat down in his usual place by the side door, near his friends, and dragged the bowl that was set in the middle of table towards him, and filled it with cereal. The ceiling was high and vaulted, causing everything to seem louder; the walls were made of tudor plaster with paintings hanging from it, and large arched windows were set deeply within it, letting in huge amounts of strong, yellowish light.