Camera Shy || Ben Barlow

Twenty Three

This year was the first Christmas that I was staying with the boys; normally I went home to endue dinner with my family and the boys had grainy phone photos, courtesy of Sam and Dani usually. But this year, my mum had pissed me off too much over the course of the past few months and, if we're being honest, I wasn't really willing to leave the boys this time. This year, I actually cared about them as more than just the people who indirectly paid for everything I owned. 

We were back in the UK now, finally, and had decided to spend Christmas in my little flat in Nottingham (as it had only ever been slept in approximately three times) and visit our families later in the week for Christmas part two. Dani's mum had been outraged when we'd told her, ranting and raving about how she hadn't even seen him since his 'tragic skateboarding accident' - basically, he'd fallen off - to the point where he eventually just hung up the phone and pretended she'd never called.

So, here we were, in my sad little flat in sad little Nottingham, dragging unused blankets and still packaged pillows out of the cupboard in the bathroom and trying to figure out where to put everybody. Tragically, it was only a one bedroom flat and the bedroom wasn't exactly king sized if you get my gist. I had a three quarter twin bed in there and a toddler wardrobe because nothing else would fit; we'd get two averagely sized humans in that bed, maximum. 

Option number two was the love seat in front of the TV, but that was really only big enough for myself to sleep on, so none of the boys would actually be comfortable in any way. 

Option number three was a single airbed that had a really tiny hole in it that mum had never found (which is why she bought a new one and gave me the broke one - thanks mum). The other problem with that was finding somewhere to actually put it where whoever was sleeping on it wouldn't keep getting hit with a door. 

In conclusion, I was capable of housing four people comfortably... we had eight. And to top it all off, we didn't actually have a Christmas tree because, as it happens, we couldn't actually find a place to put one. Instead, we'd stuck Christmas themed Neck Deep images to a pineapple, shoved it on top of the (broken) microwave and hoped for the best. 

All donned in ridiculous fluffy Christmas socks, the boys - including Zach - were all piled onto the two person couch in the middle of my poor excuse of a living space, expectantly waiting to be told where to put their shit. 

"We're going to have to put three people in my bed," I said, unhappy about leaving three of the boys alone in my bedroom, "and two on the single airbed. That bumps us down to... two people without beds? I think?" 

"Right, Dani, Fil and Sam can take my bed. Cara on the sofa?" She shoved Zach as Dani, Fil and Sam removed themselves to fumble around for their things. 

"Get off my bed, dickhead." I rolled my eyes as Ben and West stood up before she could get to them, too. 

"Me and Ben will have the airbed," which I'd strategically placed in the kitchen, next to the table. "And West and Zach caaannn... sleep on pillows wherever you kind find space?" I asked, optimistically. This wasn't going to be a comfortable night for anyone. There was no point in sugarcoating it. 

"Dani," I heard Fil grumble at about two in the morning, my face crushed against Ben's shoulder because he lost all gentleness when he was asleep. "If you kick me with that fucking cast one more time I'm breaking your other leg and pushing you down the stairs to make it look like an accident. I hope you break your neck at the bottom." I tried to roll out of Ben's grip, laughing softly to myself at his entire body moving with his snores. 

"Yeah, well I'll tell my mum."

"Not with a broken fucking neck you won't. Hopefully a bit of brain damage you sadistic fuck. Go to sleep." Apparently, someone got cranky without his beauty sleep.