Under the Westway

Chapter Four

"What's up sugar?" Jamie grins and squints in the sunlight as he approaches Damon and Graham on the platform. The youngest smiles back and nudges his glasses further up his nose. Damon raises his eyebrows and checks his watch, "Only half an hour late, the train journey's ages." He bites the inside of his lip and frowns.

They check the timetable for their train times, it's little use, it's half a laminated piece of paper taped to a lamp post. The three give up fairly quickly, sitting cross-legged on the cement floor. Graham's jeans ride up at his ankles when he bends his knees, he readjusts several times, mumbling about his legs, before giving up and leaning against the black iron fencing, his legs curled behind him. The older two shoot him confused stares.

"I don't have leg hair. You don't understand what it's like to not be a man. I have self esteem issues."

-
"Don't be gay, Graham." Jamie kicks sand and drops his bag beside him, rooting around for his camera. He presses a few buttons and it clicks, he focuses it on the boy beside him.

"Repeat what you just said." He speaks from behind the lens. Graham blushes and pulls his fringe over his glasses, leaning back as he giggles. His shirt exposes his stomach when he leans into the sand, but it hangs too loose over his body. He shakes his head and clamps his mouth shut, moving to sit in front of the camera shaking in Jamie's hands.

"Go on, Gray." Graham sighs and raises an eyebrow, but starts anyway.

"I said the sky was a similar blue to Damon's eyes. And I'm not gay!" Jamie points the camera at the sky and points at the clouds. "That one, there." He focuses before pointing back at Graham, who is now watching Damon kick the incoming waves. They only come up to his ankles, but he throws his whole body into breaking the streams of water, jeans turned up to his knees and shirt discarded further up the beach. Jamie puts his camera back in his bag and watches too. Damon turns around, grinning against the pink sky behind him. He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts for them to join him. Jamie shakes his head and decides to opt out. Graham moves forward onto his knees, dithering over whether to fuck it and join him. He clutches his jacket to his chest and bites his lip, looking between the sand and Damon calling him over.

"What's up, Gray?" Jamie rolls onto his side, propping his chin up on his hands.

"Well, Jamie... it's cold... in the sea, I mean. It's rather nippy, isn't it? In the... Sea." Jamie furrows his brow and raises a corner of his lip.
"Are you serious, Coxon?"
"And... And my jeans don't roll up like that. I don't have spare clothes."

Damon watches them talking from the seafront and jogs over to ask Graham to swim with him.
"It's warm, I promise!" He looks earnestly at Graham, sitting down to talk to him properly.

"Are you afraid of the sea?" He tries. There's a pause before Graham speaks.

"Just a little bit."

Damon smiles and pulls him to his feet, dusting his hands off on his knees.
"Well, we're gonna get over that." He starts walking towards the sea again, Graham lingers for a few seconds before following obediently. He pushes his glasses up and steps up his pace to catch up. Damon asks if he's alright, to which he nods and swallows the lump in his throat. He rolls his jeans up and throws his shoes behind him, stumbling slightly as the water hits his ankles. A strand of seaweed washes past him and Graham screams, focusing the older couples' attention on him. Damon wades back from the waist high wave he's stood in and grabs his hand, pulling him towards him. He begins to wade back out again, bringing Graham with him.

Graham looks terrified as waves hit his stomach, eyes widening every time one rushes past. He expresses his horror with silence, mouth slightly ajar and glasses too far down his nose. He stops and curls his feet into the sand beneath him, refusing to move.
"C'mon, Gray." Damon tugs at his hand again, to no result. He walks back to the shore, his jeans plastered to his skin, he kicks them off, pulling at the material stuck around his ankles. Graham watches, still rooted to the ground where he's stood.