Falling for Ocean Blue [BxB] ✔️

Chapter Thirty four*

*WARNING!* Reference to suicide and mental illness

"Drive down the alley!"

Steven spits a mouthful of orangeade onto the carpet.

"No, take that shortcut!"

"It isn't a shortcut, it's a pavement! There's people walking!"

Fray is shouting like a child lost at the fair with sticky toffee grin and round eyes.

His teeth are still impossibly paper white. They bite his bruising bottom lip as he concentrates with his eyes squinting. The gigantic TV lords over the boys, washing their faces in an unnatural colour. Three blue boys are playing with reckless abandon.

I'm sitting in a bean bag watching them. An outsider looking in. Perhaps it's enough to see my brother with his head thrown back and the golden boy without his defences, play like children. I feel their warmth like a hand pressed against a radiator.

The end card plays announcing Soren the winner.

"What the fuck?"

"Don't hate the player, hate the game!"

Fray catapults the controller across the room. His face is creasing above his temples in contempt, but the lines are superficial. His joy peaks closer to the surface of his skin every second he spends in our company. I want to see its colours gleaming in the full light of day.

"Loser makes popcorn!" Steven shouts. The boy scrambles to reach the controller.

Fray stands and brushes kernels off his jeans. He shoots me a smile. When he's sure I've seen him, the boy stalks up the steps. I feel my oxygen leave with him.

"Game on, asshole. Max, you're next." Steven says, but he's not looking at me.

I sneak out of the basement room with light steps and a false nonchalance. The game blares on all four speakers, masking the sound of my rubber soles. When Soren spits piercing colour, I know my absence goes overlooked. I have a smile permanently etched in my face by the time I've reached the kitchen.

Fray is standing with his back to me, loading the microwave with another bag of popcorn. The salt scent wafts in the breezy air. All the windows are cracked wide open. I inhale the invasion of fragrances, noting how his presence has given the air a touch of sweetness.

He's caught in the open window, so the orange-blue sky beats down on him an angelic glow. Fray is beautiful basking in the radiance of my kitchen. His blonde hair has lost its shape, the gel cast broken sending locks into his temple. It's entirely possible that dream has escaped my nights and filled me with a dreaded hope that one day I might call him mine. The distance between us is physically painful so I move to him. Spellbound by his aura. Silence is too harsh a word to describe the kind quiet in this room. Peaceful is a better one. Fray's lashes are splayed across his high cheek before I can connect our lips. It's a sweet kiss. Chaste and calm. It takes all of me not to deepen the embrace. He tastes like toffee and coco-cola. I savour every note of flavour on his lips. I've acquired a taste for Fray Anderson.

When we part, he chuckles softly, pleasantly surprised by a kiss unexpected.

"Hey." He exhales.

"Hey." I repeat it back to him, unable to think original thoughts.

"It's going well, isn't it?" He asks, the climb in his voice betraying insecurity.

I nod dumbly.

"You think they know?" His eyes are searching, a humming blue that wades around two blown pupils.