Midnight.         

           Eli lifted the sheets as gently as he could making no noise at all so as not to wake the sleeping Newt, though he knew well that Newt was a heavy sleeper he didn’t want to risk disturbing him. He could faintly make out his features through the dark: he was lying on his side facing Eli, his body hunched slightly and his hands resting lazily on the pillow in front of his face.

Eli slid into the bed next to him desperately trying to be subtle, but the other boy didn’t stir. Eli mirrored his position and contented himself with tracing the younger boys face with his eyes, as his own grew accustomed to the lack of light. After a while he reached out his hand and slowly brushed his fingertips across Newt’s pale cheek, listening to the steady sound of his soft breathing in the silence of the room.

Satisfied that Newt was definitely in a deep sleep Eli delicately lifted the sleeping boys head off the pillow just enough for him to slide his arm underneath, and around his shoulders. Newt mumbled wordlessly in his sleep as Eli pulled himself closer wrapping his other arm around Newt’s slim waist, but didn’t wake. Newt subconsciously nestled into the material of Eli’s shirt, causing him to smile down at the younger boy before pressing a soft lingering kiss on the top of his head through his black ruffled hair.

Eli rested his cheek against Newt’s head and closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of holding him in his arms. It was only at night while the other boy slept that he could ever feel this way; so safe and content. He didn’t know what would happen if Newt was to wake up, he couldn’t bare to think about it. Just so long as he could hold him close like this, he could sleep soundly.

Eli Was Right About Most Things.

            Newt charged up the stairs of The Dog flying up them two steps at a time, why couldn’t Lauren just get off his back? She was always interfering but this time she’d gone too far, she was supposed to be his friend, and he thought she was, so what’s with all these interrogations? She even said– no, threatened -she’d speak to Jack. He’d told her firmly (very firmly) to mind her own business and leave him alone if she wasn’t going to be any help. She’d started to reply angrily but Newt just turned on his heel and sped off towards The Dog, leaving her to rattle on by herself in the middle of the village. She won’t follow him, she shouldn’t follow him. Eli had always said she was one of them, and Newt guessed he was right all along. Eli was right about most things. Newt made a mental note to listen to him more (though sometimes it seemed Eli influenced his every move). Newt didn’t stop running until he reached his room passing Darren on the way, knocking his handfuls of mail flying,

‘Oi! Watch where you’re going!’ Darren yelled after him, but Newt disappeared behind his door leaving a cloud of fluttering paper behind him. ‘Little weirdo.’ Darren muttered under his breath, bending to pick up the scattered letters littering the floor.

Newt slammed his door shut and skidded to a halt within the safety of his own room, he thudded down onto his bed burying his head in his hands, his elbows resting heavily on his thighs. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to think, his breathing shallow and quick after his sprint from the centre of the village. Was everyone against him? Well, he knew Jack and Frankie wanted the best for him, but he could swear they exchanged certain…obscure glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. Eli had always warned him about them, and Eli was right about most things, but not this, surely not Jack and Frankie…? But what if he was right…what if they were plotting against him…Lauren too…?

‘Alright Newtos?’ Newt jumped at the sudden sound of Eli’s voice, jerking his head up to see where he was, he hadn’t noticed him when he came in. Eli was slouched in the little office chair in front of the TV. He spun the chair with his feet to fully face Newt,

‘Why are you so jumpy?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, ‘and where’ve you been all morning anyway, we’re meant to be planning what we’re gonna do about Warren?’ Eli continued, getting to his feet and leaning against the wall directly in front of Newt, his arms folded across his chest. Newt followed Eli with his eyes before returning his face to his hands,

‘I went into the village-’ Newt began, but Eli cut his answer short,

‘What, to see Lauren?’ He interrupted almost mockingly,

‘Yeah,’

Eli sighed angrily, looking to the ceiling in despair, ‘what’ve I told you about her, Newtos? She’s bad news!’

‘I know-’

‘No you don’t know! That’s why you keep running on back to her,’ Eli threw his arms out of their folded form,

‘She’s supposed to be my friend,’ Newt said pitifully, not risking a look up at Eli,

‘Friend? She was never you’re friend, Newtos. She’s just trying to set you up, get you into trouble and blame everything on you. She even works at Warrens salon, she’s one of them, and she’s turning you into one of them too-’

‘No she’s not!’ Newt stared up at Eli with an almost disgusted frown on his face,

‘Yes she is, Newt!’ Eli replied angrily, his voice rising, ‘and she’s doing a good job of it too-’

‘Keep your voice down!’ Newt interrupted, jumping to his feet, ‘Darren’s just outside!’ He said unnecessarily quietly, heading for his CD player and turning it up unnecessarily loud. When he turned around he was confronted by Eli standing alarmingly close to him, making him jump for the second time within the last 5 minutes.

‘Someone really is jumpy today.’ He smirked, but Newt didn’t return it. Instead he pushed past him, muttering angrily to himself as he went, just loud enough for Eli to hear:

‘I’m not turning into one of them-’

‘Of course you are! Look at you! Hanging around with salon-workers, who make a living promoting looks as the only option with their superficial attitudes, they’re all slaves to the media and to beauty, they all strive for beauty when really they’re the ugliest people around!’  Newt could tell from Eli’s voice that he was getting more & more irritated, but he kept his back to him.

‘Lauren’s just as bad as them, Newt. If not, worse. She’s pretending not to be to get to you, so she can set you up and turn everyone against you!’ Newt could sense that Eli was close behind him, but he didn’t turn round. Eli scared him sometimes. Though he was sure Eli would never really do anything to hurt him, he could still intimidate him whenever he liked. Newt continued staring straight ahead. He wanted to turn and confront Eli and tell him that he was wrong, that Lauren wasn’t like that, but he remembered his promise to himself earlier on. Eli was right about most things, he should listen to him more. So he did.

‘Frankie’s just as bad, she works at that salon too, along side all those brain dead clones-’

‘But-!’ Newt attempted to contradict Eli, Frankie wasn’t like that, she’d taken him in, she’d let him stay, she was always so nice to him. But he was barely able to voice the first word of his sentence,

‘But nothing, Newtos. Stop trying to protect them. They’ve done nothing to deserve it. All these people are such blatant fakes and your too blind to see it. You’re lucky you’ve got me to make you see sense.’ Eli was now so close Newt could feel his breath ruffle the hair on the back of his head slightly with each word.

Newt glared at the window in front of him, his breath quickening. He muttered something Eli couldn’t quite make out over the loud music still filling the room.

‘What was that, Newtos?” Eli growled from behind him.

‘I said,’ Newt began, trying to force confidence into his voice, ‘I don’t need you.’ He hadn’t meant it. He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t even know why he said it, but it was too late now. For a second or two there was nothing but the blaring music in his ears. Then suddenly he felt a hand seize his forearm so tight he could feel Eli’s nails dig into his skin through his clothes. Suddenly the room span around him and he was turned violently to face Eli at such a speed that he very nearly lost his balance, now both his arms were being clamped in Eli’s fists. Newt stared up at him, his eyes wide with shock, Eli’s own green eyes glowered back at him. Eli pulled him forward before ramming him up against the wall to his right, causing Newt to whimper in his grasp. He held him there for a few seconds, neither one of them moving, not even to blink. Eli was stood so close to Newt, all his strength pinning him to the wall behind him, their breath heavy. Newt opened his mouth to speak, even though he had to words to say Eli was quick to silence him,

‘You do need me, Newtos.’ Eli said darkly, not breaking their locking eyes, his gaze so strong it could’ve been solid. Newt still couldn’t find any words. Eli was of course right; they both knew that, Newt needed him. So why was he being so stubborn? Eli seemed livid, Newt always knew he was easily wound up and was used to him being angry and irritable, but it never made it any less scary. Eli was so unpredictable.

‘Say it, Newt.’ Newt looked up at him blankly, he could feel himself trembling slightly,

‘Wh-what?’ He managed to force his voice to say. Eli pulled him forwards a little then brought him slamming back against the wall in an instant, Newts entire body embracing a flash of pain on impact, causing him to gasp Eli’s name.

‘Say it.’ Eli spat through gritted teeth, his eyes bearing into Newts. Newt could do nothing but stare back up at him, his mind racing, though he felt like his thoughts had never paced so slowly. Say what? Eli was so close to him, their noses were only a few centimetres apart.

‘I-I…I need you, Eli…’ Newt said quietly. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t draw his eyes away from Eli’s, which continued to watch him. A few more seconds passed, the loud music pounding around them. Eli’s expression remained a hard as stone. But his lips began to curve into a smile, then he laughed. A low, insincere dark laugh, his eyelids closing momentarily. Newt didn’t join in the brief laughter. He seemed almost paralysed.

Eli’s laughter stopped as quickly as it had started though the smile remained on his face. Before he knew what was happening Newt felt Eli’s lips force themselves against his, pressing his lip ring against his teeth. Eli’s grip around his arms was still as tight as before, if not tighter. Newt could feel Eli’s stubble against his chin and lip, scratching his skin, though it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. Newt was suddenly conscious of Eli’s body being so close to his, pushing him to the wall even more, so close he could feel Eli’s heartbeat, quick and regular. Still he didn’t move.

Eli drew back a centimetre of so from the unresponsive Newt,

‘You’d better kiss me back, Newtos.’ He said defiantly, but only just loud enough to be heard. Newt’s eyes remained open but Eli was so close he couldn’t make anything out, it all just blurred into one, so he let his eyelids drop shut. Eli closed the gap between them again, just as hard as before, and this time he was welcomed by Newt’s receptive lips, pressing back against his. Newt could feel Eli smile against him, he didn’t know whether it was a satisfied smile, or a cruel mocking smile, or a genuinely happy smile, but it was a smile all the same.

Despite the underlying fright that coursed through Newt (and that had been since their conversation had begun) he found himself willing Eli not to pull away, he wanted Eli to kiss him and not to stop. Eli parted his lips a little, and Newt’s copied. Their tongues met tentatively in the middle, before pushing against each other to gain dominance, which of course Eli won. Their mouths moved perfectly in time with each other, though Eli remained firmly in control, coordinating the kiss into a slow but passionate one.  Somehow Newt managed to slide a hand between their chests and around Eli’s neck, his fingertips brushing the curls at the very tip of his spine, his thumb stroking against Eli’s earlobe. Eli responded by releasing his grasp on one of Newt’s arms, instead he ran his hand over Newt’s shoulder and through his hair, holding him closer, (whether it was possible to be any closer or not). Newt’s now freed hand wound around Eli’s waist and clung to the material of his shirt. He kissed Eli back as deeply as he’d let him, softly tracing his unshaven jaw with his thumb. Their tongues entwined again, Newt’s fingers sliding through Eli’s curls round to the back of his head, pulling him down into an even more heated kiss.

Eli suddenly pulled away from Newt, but continued to hold him against the wall. Newt’s eyes opened to look up at him, Eli was smirking again. The let out a small laugh, the same laugh as before, the one that always unsettled Newt.

            Oh god my head! What the fuck was I drinking last night. I’m holding my head in my hands but unsurprisingly it’s not doing much to ease the pain. I manage to prop myself up onto my elbows and the room spins a little, I cling to the bed sheets for support, though they don’t help much – apparently hangovers compel you to do totally useless things in an attempt to save yourself. I gaze around the room through squinted eyes, as the sun seems to think that by blinding me it would mean I’d never have to look at alcohol ever again, which I’m seriously considering. My eyes fall on a discarded mobile phone near the open door, I recognise that phone…ah, yes, of course. It’s Russell’s. Russell. I feel a frown creep across my face as I think of him. Memories from the night before are beginning to seep back into my head. He turned up at my door with the decision it was high time we had a movie night – and an arm full of beers. I never knew his puny arms could manage to carry so much! Though clearly they are fully capable to carry enough to make feel like death personified.

I suddenly notice I can hear music sneaking through the open door. He’s still here then. I groan and haul my heavy body out of my warm cocoon, clasping my head, even though I’ve already analysed this and discovered I may as well be holding my elbow, I just can’t seem to help it. I pad across the room, not bothering to step over the pile of clothes from the night before and empty beer cans. Though I do stop to pick up Russell’s phone on the way.

I almost stumble into the living room and am greeted by the amusing sight of a half naked Russell slumped on the sofa, absentmindedly munching on a slice of burnt toast scattering crumbs all over his bare chest, blond hair sticking up at every angle possible, eyes staring drearily at the flickering TV screen, though they brighten up when I announce my arrival with a hoarse laugh.

“What the fuck do you look like, Russ?” I snigger as I collapse into the cushions beside him. He laughs back at me,

“Take a look at yourself, mate! You like you’ve been in a near-fatal accident.”

“God, I feel like I have.” I rub my eyes with my palms sleepily, it’s not until I glance down at myself that I realise I’m only in my boxers. Oh well, Russell’s no better sitting there in just his jeans and an unintentional vest of toast crumbs. I swear he’s getting more on himself than in his mouth. Only he could manage to make a mess while eating toast, one of the least messy foods in the world. My eyes flicker up to the TV screen,

“What are you watching anyway?”

“Dunno.” Comes the muffled reply as he shoves the rest of the toast in his mouth, he dusts down his hands and emphasises a groan as he forces himself to stand up. He stretches his arms dramatically, pushing he chest out, before slouching over again, then straightening up into his default posture, a satisfied grin on his face. He is such a drama queen.

“Come on,” he says, turning to stand directly in front of me. He holds out his hand, “let’s get you some breakfast. Or lunch. Depends whether you’ve seen a clock yet.” He smirks and I reach up and grip his hand, he hauls me to my feet. We’re now standing pretty close, our feet are practically touching, why doesn’t move already? I meet his mischievous blue eyes; he’s still smiling to himself. I push past him; my stomach has decided it needs food. Now.

I hear him following me to the kitchen and am suddenly reminded that I have his mobile phone still clasped in my hand. I spin round,

“Oi, Russell, I found your-” I’m cut off as he bumps into me, apparently he was closer behind me than I had expected. I’m thankful our heads managed to avoid the collision, I don’t think my head would be able to withstand a knocking, it already feels like its been battered. The rest of our bodies end up momentarily pressing together though, he must have been walking pretty fast, as the force of it nearly knocks me over. Luckily he’s quick to steady me, his hands seizing my arms. My back knocks against doorframe despite his efforts as he chuckles to himself, his hands continuing to hold me up. I grunt in pain and annoyance, but then look back down at his phone in my hand,

“Here, your phone was in my room-” I hold it out to him, but realise that his he is still holding onto me even though it is clear I have regained my balance. I raise my eyes to meet his; his piercing blue eyes are quickly becoming blurred as his face moves closer to mine. Before I know what’s happening I feel his lips against mine – they’re surprisingly soft. I feel his hand slide up my arm over my shoulder and round my neck, his fingers entwining themselves in my curls. I feel his bare torso press up against mine once more. The kiss is gentle, but I can feel his stubble against my chin and upper lip – this is man kissing me, Russell. My best mate Russell!

I manage to regain the ability to move in an instant and wedge my arms between our chests and push against him violently, shoving him away with quite some force. He stumbles backwards, arms flailing slightly,

“What the fuck you doing, Russell?” I demand. He stares back at me with a bewildered look,

“Wh-…but…” he stammers, I barely give him time to answer,

“Why the fuck you kissin’ me?” What has gotten into him? He just kissed me! Is this some sort of joke? As I continue to stare at him its pretty obvious its no joke, he looks terrified.

“B-but last night!”

“Last night?”

“Last night you kissed me!”

“I did what?!”

“I told you I loved you and you kissed me!”

“No way. I wouldn’t-”

“You did, you kissed me!”

“Stop saying that! I didn’t-“

“You did-”

“Russ, I was pissed! I can’t remember a thing of last night.” He opens his mouth but no words come out, his expression says it all really. He looks like a puppy that’s been kicked in the face. He takes a step back, his eyes glistening. He turns on his heel and disappears back into the living room,

“Russell,” I call after him. But he’s already emerged before the word’s left my lips. He’s hastily pulling a crumpled red t-shirt over his head; he’s heading straight for the front door.

“Russell!” I groan as the door slams, drowning out the second syllable of his name. I stare at my feet for a few seconds. What the fuck just happened? We were just walking, then suddenly… he kissed me. No. Maybe it was an accident or something. Well, it’s painfully obvious there isn’t a chance of that being true. Why did he kiss me? I hastily replay the last few minutes in my head. He insisted that… that I kissed him last night. Oh god, I wish I hadn’t drunk so much last night. I wouldn’t have kissed him, would I…? I guess with that much of alcohol inside me its not impossible… I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands.

“Fuck…” I murmur to the empty hallway. I notice there’s still something gripped in my right hand – it’s Russell’s phone. After a few seconds of staring blankly at the black mobile in my hand for several seconds, replaying the mornings events once more in my head, a particular sentence suddenly jolts my attention. “I told you I loved you and you kissed me”… he-…he told me he loved me…?

Secrets.

          Everybody gets used to things over time, though that doesn’t mean they get any easier to endure. I mean, I’ve been keeping secrets since the day I learnt to speak, I’ve been lying to cover my tracks since my first words, lying to the ones I love and care about. I’ve gotten used to seeing disappointed and hurt faces of friends when I weave a story and deny them the truth, it’s become a second nature. But every time I meet their eyes, and I see them pleading silently with me to just be honest, it hurts. It’s like a punch in the stomach, I can just feel their trust for me slipping away, when I know that they can trust me with their lives – many of them ­have, they just didn’t realise. I wouldn’t let them realise. I wont let them. Though I wish I could.

There are some people who hurt more to lie to than others. Like Lana. I care so much about her, and she always seems to be the one who gets hurt more than anyone else, because of me and my lies. She always is the one to get caught in the middle, and the one who deserves the truth the most. Everyday I strive to tell her the truth, though in a way I’m glad I never can; it stops her from loving me. Lana and I, we have something special. But so do me and Chloe, me and all my friends. All my friends are special to me. I just don’t love Lana. And it’s my lies that create a barrier between us. If there was no barrier, she’d fall for me again, a fall that I’ve learnt does not have a safe landing. I can’t let her do that again.

The other one I dread lying to, is the most important. Sometimes I get the impression my life depends on keeping my secret from him. If he was to discover the truth I just no he’d no longer see me as a friend but as an experiment, a profit, another meteor freak who needs to be kept under control – his control. I’d stop being Clark, and end up being experiment number 0684, or whatever number I’m allocated. The point is the truth would signify the end to our friendship, and that’s something I just couldn’t bear. I guess over the years, I’ve grown to like him more and more, despite the arrogance and the disregard for the consequences of his actions and despite what he’s done to me and my family and friends and how much pain he’s caused. I just can’t help feeling – knowing – that there’s a truly amazing side somewhere within him, I’ve caught glimpses of it before but there’s something holding him back. Like I have to hold myself back, you see, I’ve grown to like him, more than I should. I catch myself drifting off into blissful fantasies… about him. I find he’s constantly on my mind, I’m wondering what he’s doing right now, what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling, whether it involves me. I battle with my imagination to restrain it from conjuring up things I know I shouldn’t be yearning for. I end up finding the littlest excuse to go see him, just so I can be with him, speak with him, just be in his presence. I watch his face as he talks, the way his lips move, the glint of his eyes, the curve of his mouth when he smiles – the smile that makes me melt inside. I watch the way this shirt stretches over his body as he moves, suggesting a toned torso underneath. There’ve been too many times that I’ve saved his life, too many times that I’ve held his lifeless body in my arms, dreading that this time could be the last. I almost lost myself the last time; I ended up running my fingers along his jaw, gently wiping away a trickle of crimson blood from his cheek. I could feel his cold skin beneath my fingertips, the beads of sweat on his brow. I thought that he was really gone. I couldn’t stop my eyes from crying, tears making damp patches on his shirt… It wasn’t hard explaining to Chloe, who found me holding him, why this time had such an affect on me. It’s trying not to fall anymore that is the hardest.

But my feelings for Lex are just something else I have to keep from the world, and proven good at hiding my true self, so what’s another secret?