Westpoint Tales - Christian & Roman's Tale, 7 (Final)

Christian was afraid. He wasn’t scared, (much), but he was afraid that he was going to get beaten up today. It had to happen. If it did, when it did, it would be his own fault but, whatever. He was doing this for Roman.

He had to keep telling himself that – he was not going to ruin the life of the boy he loved.

He held his head up and minced into the school. That wasn’t deliberate, he hadn’t planned on the mincing. It was just that it was hard to walk in high-heeled, backless, woman’s shoes when you’re not used to them and Christian certainly was not.

He’d never liked being the centre of attention and avoided it whenever he could; but, not today. Today he was up-front and every eye in the place was on him. Inside, he wished he could shrivel-up and die, but he kept his head up, kept the painted smile on his face and made his way through the crowded school.

His life was over now anyway. He didn’t care what happened to him. He was doing this for Roman; for his life and his future, though he’d never know it.

The jeers and taunts had started as soon as he appeared, long before he even reached the school. So far, it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared it was going to be. Most people just stood and stared in open-mouthed shock. Then came the moment he’d been dreading – the whole point of this charade.

Coming out of the locker-room, he rounded the corner and came face to face with Him. Roman Dallas stood stock-still and staring at him. Like so many others, his mouth hung open as he stared.

Christian waited for the sneer and the look of hatred to appear on Roman’s face, but it didn’t happen. All that did happen was that his face got redder and redder, like a tomato skin. Good. He’d embarrassed him anyway.

“Hey, Roman.” Christian wanted to cry but forced himself to smile instead. “Still invited to your party, am I?”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Roman stood still, staring in stunned disbelief. THIS was Christian? This was the quiet boy that he was coming to have great respect for? This was the boy that the whole school knew that he wanted for a friend?

His eyes slowly rose up the sight before him, taking it all in. Christian was wearing red woman’s high-heeled shoes, skin tight, sausage-skin tight, long-legged white shorts, (they were actually his brother’s and three sizes too small for him). He wore a hideous, fluorescent pink and orange shirt – long-sleeved and loose and flowing, but it barely reached his mid-riff. His hair, gelled and stiff, had been coloured green with pink high-lights. And the face!!

His face was powdered white with far too much red blusher on the cheeks. A wide cherry-red smile was plastered around his mouth and his eyes were heavily mascarred. Very heavily and with a deep-blue and purple eye-shadow up to his brows. Gaudy silver and glass ear-rings dangled from his ears.

He looked like a clown. He looked like a cheap two-bit hooker after a hard night on the streets.

The silence dragged on and on until Christian could stand it no longer. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up. He held his hands out from his sides, painted nails and all, and turned a slow, mincing, circle.

“Mufti day,” he announced. “Like my new look? This is who I am.”

Roman still stood staring at the apparition before him. One thing that had attracted him to Christian squires was his masculinity. Christian was 100% boy. But this? This look was a travesty and really, really hideous.

His first words still rang in Roman’s ears. “Still invited to your party, am I?” and, he knew! He knew exactly why Christian had done this to himself. He was trying to shock him and drive him away.

Well it was not going to work. He knew that the self-confessed ‘loser’ was doing this out of love for him. More than that, in that instant, he knew that he loved this boy. He’d fallen in love with Christian Squires. Silly little shit that he was!

Maybe he should have been embarrassed by this whole scene, but he was not. He was mad, really mad that this beautiful boy thought that he had to do this to himself. He was mad that their whole lives and families conspired to keep them apart. In that instant, Roman’s life changed.

He was not having it! He was not going to allow anything or anyone, including Christian himself, to keep him apart from the boy he loved. Nothing! Nobody! Nothing mattered except this silly-looking boy standing grinning nervously at him.

“No way!” Roman exclaimed. “You bloody little idiot!”

He grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the unresisting crowd who hurriedly got out of the way of Roman Dallas’ anger. He marched him into the boy’s toilet block. The few kids in there fled when he demanded, “Get out! Now!” and they were left alone.

Christian looked really frightened now, but he was not about to let up on him. Still gripping his arm, he turned the taps on, on a hand-basin, then stood back and demanded.

“Get that crap off your face. All of it. Now!”

This was not going as Christian had planned it. He’d expected that a lot of people would give him a hard time today, maybe even beat him up, but Roman was not one of them. This was not what was supposed to be happening.

The barely-contained rage on Roman’s face was scaring him, and he bent to obey.

Finished, he looked around and up, seeking approval. Roman just growled. “And the hair.” And he pushed his head back under the water. The temporary dyes easily washed away, leaving just a few streaks on his skin.

Finished again, he stood up, turned, and looked down at his feet. Roman stepped forward, turned the taps off and then removed the earrings. He handed him some paper towels.

“Dry it.” He ordered.

Christian complied, and then took the ridiculous shirt off when told to do that too. Roman took it from him and dropped it on the floor, where the earrings already were.

There was one, hopeful, instant when Roman surveyed his now bared torso and a soft look crossed his face, but then it was gone.

“The shoes,” he demanded. “Get those stupid bloody shoes off!”

He stepped out of them. His feet were relieved, but he still didn’t know what was going on here. He wasn’t going to make him take the shorts off next, was he? He’d be naked! In the middle of the school.

He didn’t. What he did next was to turn and walk out of the door. Uncomprehending, and all-but naked, Christian stood still not knowing what to do.

Roman stopped and looked at him. “Well? Are you coming or not? Follow me.” He started walking without looking back.

Christian didn’t know what else to do, so he obeyed again. He was almost running as he followed Roman’s angry striding through the motionless and staring crowd. They went right out of the school.

They came to Roman’s car; he opened the passenger door and commanded, “Get in.”

Christian hesitated. How long was this going to go on? He was nobody’s slave. “What about school?”

Roman wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Fuck school. Get in the car.”

He took hold of his arm again and pushed him in. Half of the school were standing out on the pavement now, staring at them. Roman didn’t care. He got into the car and drove away at speed.

They went past the racecourse and the stables, left into Coach Street and along, past the fish-factory, (which his father owned), and right out to the end of the tiphead protruding into the sea.

For one horrible minute, Christian thought that he was going to drive right off the end and into the sea. He didn’t. He jammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop at the end of the road.

He sat still, staring straight ahead and breathing deeply as Christian, cautiously, studied his face. Then he pounded the steering wheel, with both fists, and he yelled, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck and Fuckit!”

He swung around and faced Christian who gulped nervously as he began.

“Roman, I’m sorry. I. . .”

“No! No, Christian, you shut up. You shut up and listen to me. You’ve said what you wanted to say; you said plenty turning up dressed like that. Now you can listen to me.”

“Well, say it then!” Christian snapped. “What have you got to say?”

“This.” Roman leant over and kissed him on the lips. Christian froze. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but not this.

“”Roman? What are you doing?”

“Loving you. I know what you were doing. You were trying to drive me away. It didn’t work; it’s not EVER going to work. I love you, Christian, and I’m not ever going to stop loving you. Nothing and no-one, not our families, not the school, not the whole bloody town is ever, EVER, going to stop us from being together. I love you.”

“Really? Are you sure, Roman? This could cost you everything.”

“It will cost me nothing. I don’t care about anything else; if I have you then I’ll have all I want. Without you, I’ll have nothing. I need you. I love you. Bloody idiot!”

“Oh Roman! I love you so much. If you want me, then I’m all yours, always. Kiss me, bloody idiot yourself.”

And – he did.