Page 13 of Electric Boy

“Right. Exactly.”

Julian suddenly bounced up and sat cross-legged on the bed. Rahul dared to glance at him and saw that his face was eager and excited, even if there were two rosy spots high on his cheeks. Rahul slowly sat up to match him. His movements felt clumsy and sluggish compared to Julian’s. If Julian was a sparrow, flitting elegantly about, then Rahul was a badger, crashing into the hedges. Once their positions mirrored each other, knees touching knees, neither one of them seemed quite sure what to do.

Bryan Ferry’s melancholy voice was the only sound for several long, excruciating seconds.

“Um, right,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper. Rahul could hardly hear him through the rush of blood in his ears. “Why don’t we both lean forwards, then we can meet in the middle?”

“Like this?” Rahul said. He stretched his neck out a little, like a turtle.

Julian didn’t move. He was just staring at him. His eyes were enormous when he was this close, Rahul thought. It’s like he was all eyes. They were making Rahul feel rather self-conscious, in fact. Like one of those changing rooms that was all mirrors. They left him nowhere to hide.

“What? Have I got something on my face?”

“No, it’s just… I never noticed. Your eyes are kind of gold. I thought they were just brown, but close up it’s like they’re kinda yellow. Like that stone that’s got bugs in it. Amber. That’s it. Genius.”

The heat continued to creep up Rahul’s neck and he felt that if he didn’t get some kind of relief from it soon he might just faint.

“Um, thanks?”

“Right, sorry.” Julian cleared his throat and schooled his expression into one of earnest concentration. He lowered his eyes to Rahul’s lips and Rahul felt certain he was about to be sick. Julian leaned forwards, slowly, so painfully slowly. This close, his face blurred in Rahul’s vision. Their noses bumped softly into each other. Julian’s breath was on his cheek. It was nice. It was surprisingly cool in the stifling heat. A sudden desire hit Rahul then, like a punch right to the gut -- no, not a desire. A need. A need so all-consuming to kiss Julian that he felt that if he didn’t do so in the next second he was going to spontaneously combust, sending little pieces of Rahul exploding all over the room.

There was the faintest, barely there brushing of lips against his. He sucked in a desperate breath, having been holding it for who knows how long. And just as the pressure on his lips began to increase --

“Rahul!”

And three sharp raps on his bedroom door.

Rahul and Julian sprang apart as if jolted by an electric cattle prod. Julian’s eyes were wide and wild. Rahul was so disorientated that it took him a solid beat to even remember why they’d jumped away in the first place.

“Y-yeah, Mum?” His voice sounded reedy and unsteady. He prayed she wouldn’t notice.

“I have snacks. Are you boys hungry?”

“Famished, Mrs. Chaand,” Julian called out, leaping up and going to the door. Rahul was infinitely grateful, as he pulled his knees up to his chest to try and hide the mortifying tenting in his trousers. He realised with sudden alarm that maybe the reason Julian had volunteered to get up was because he’d noticed his little… situation.

Oh God. He’d seen. He must have done. They were just meant to be practising and he’d gone and gotten a stiffy and now he’d never live it down. Julian would stop being his friend for sure. Call him a woofter and tell everybody at school all about his predilections. He was done for. Finished. And worse than any of it, he was going to lose the best friend he’d ever had. All because he’d gone and fancied him like some kind of an idiot.

Julian shut the door after Rahul’s mum and bounded back to the bed with a tray of freshly baked pakoras, one already stuffed in his mouth.

“Your mum’s genius, she is,” he said around a mouthful of potatoes. “Food as good as this? I’m lucky if my mum rustles up a sandwich when we get home. Most of the time I’m making the packed lunches for me and Mel and my mum’s sat in front of the telly smoking slims and telling us to piss off.” He swallowed his food and washed it down with a glass of milk. When his mouth was empty, he grinned at Rahul so brightly and genuinely that it made his heart stop.

Whether or not Julian had noticed Rahul’s predicament, Rahul had never been more grateful in all his life. He was so relieved he could have cried. Julian’s determination to pretend that nothing had happened was the greatest gift he’d ever given him. He made a silent vow to himself then and there that he would treasure this boy for as long as he was alive. Possibly longer even than that.

He grinned back. He took a pakora and he bit into it.

* * *

1987

Rahul jumped as the Mango’s door crashed violently into the wall. Julian stormed in like hellfire and brimstone, the trailing smoke from his cigarette giving him an infernal halo.

Up on the stage, Mel and Kwambe exchanged unreadable glances. Rahul looked back as Julian mounted the stage, throwing his rucksack down with questionable force.

“In a good mood, are we?” Rahul offered sarcastically.

“Fucking shit fuck tits,” Julian muttered darkly.

“Ah, yes,” Rahul said in a sage tone. “The ol’ shit fuck tits. Of course. Why hadn’t I guessed?”