Title: Falling, Face First
Fandom: Vortex
Characters: Serapi, Boy
Rating: G-
Warnings: Drunkenness, implied shenanigans
Notes: It's someone's truth… I remember it. I want to say this one was written in 2001.
We finally came to this conclusion late one monday night. Boy and I were seeing each other for the first time since Outlandish, and we had, in the absence of each other, almost managed to convince ourselves that we had just been stupidly drunk in the dark together…
flashback
Saturday morning, 06:30, and I am totally sun-blind. Retina burn has set in, and I'm seeing little black spots; beyond the spots I hazily notice Boy coming out of the portajohns. I'm still drunk from Friday night, but I'm *sure* that I want him for a tent-warmer. Oddly, he shows up at our camp during breakfast with one of our campmates. The conversation turns bawdy and I bust out with: "Hey Damien, speaking of naked women, who's your friend?" Boy and Tamil were the only ones who got the joke. Damien introduced us, and we knew what was happening before it happened. We made a conscious effort not to appear too interested, but by nightfall, we were too trashed to care what anyone thought, so we wandered off into the woods. The camp assumed the raunchiest, but we sat and talked about life and bad relationships for hours and hours before we got around to anything like what my campmates envisioned. We swore it would just be the weekend, and then we'd walk away. Sunday, we drank ourselves stupid again and went shopping with Tamil and the girls. Boy helped me pick out a beautiful dress, and I put it on when we got back. We ate dinner together, me sitting in his lap, feeding him from my bowl. But Monday was the hardest. We packed up our gear, and Boy drove me back to the city. We took a shower and went out for Vietnamese food. We sat on the floor of the living room, still half drunk from the night before, and read comics. We traded phone numbers amidst some sniffling, but I think we both thought it was really over. I didn't want to let go…
Then, one Monday night, some two weeks later, Boy called me up in something of a distressed state. He drove down to see me, and when I opened the door, I knew: we were not simply more attractive in the darkness of retina burn, nor were we merely drunk — the spark of Saturday morning had grown into a flame. I closed the door behind him, and we melted into each other's arms…
