A Skewed Reality Fanfiction by Marc Tucci. (2005)
It was the eve of Christmas Eves’ eve. And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Well. Maybe Marc and Andy were getting hot and sweaty, and there was defiantly an off chance of Alex being on the computer. And Zack and Jon weren’t in the house. They were at the airport, standing at the bit where you waved off international jet-setters. Zack was close to tears and Jon looked like he’d just declared bankruptcy. Not really the best way to start off a Christmas Story (I know it’s late), but every tale has a beginning.
It was the lead up to Christmas. Not many folk are aware of the fact that Jon isn’t American. Like one of the other cast members. He is in fact, Scottish. (Kinda like another cast member. But only kinda.) This probably explains his rugged good looks, the brooding dark anti-social streak and the funny accent. He comes from a small seaside town called North Berwick which is near Edinburgh. (Scotland’s capital). This probably explains why he chose to live in Michigan rather than Florida.
Heat and sunshine killed Scots.
Obviously, Jon had parents. Who still live in Scotland and it was them he was jetting off to see over the festive period. They could only afford one ticket thought, so the albino had to be left behind. This, he was not happy about. But on the plus side, he was looking for to the wild crazy reunion monkey sex.
Zack’s hand caught Jon’s, taking a step up that ramp to stand on tiptoe so he could plant a lingering kiss on his lover’s lips. There was a mournful sigh when they parted.
"I know it’s only a week and a half, but I’m gonna miss you." Zack sighed, letting his head come to a rest on Jon’s shoulder.
"Aye. Me too." Jon had never used many words, and now was no exception. "I’ll call as soon as I get there. Love you ghost man."
"Love you too…"
Zack pushed open the door to the flat and padded through to the living room with an exhausted sigh. Flumping into the armchair, he let out an even bigger exhale of air, to which Alex piped up from the other arm chair, "Fancy a drink Zack?"
"Go on then."
Alex headed through to the kitchen, and Zack let his eyes fix on Andy and Marc.
Since Marc’s arrival, Andy had changed. He wore his hat a lot less, mainly because the French man stole it most of the time, and spent a lot less time on the computer too. Marc was a distraction. Sometimes he made it his business to be a big as a distraction as possible. A bored Marc was something the entire flat dreaded. He declared it. Loudly. And since Andy had invited the Frenchman into their lives, he was the one that was always delegated to "relieving" the boredom. Sometimes Andy really enjoyed it. Sometimes he didn’t. Right now, Marc was sprawled in that irritatingly languid way of his across the couch. Andy was sprawled on top of him. They were watching some horror film, which explained, at least to some, why Andy was attempting to hide in Marc’s shirt.
Marc lazily waved his beer in Zack’s direction. "You gonna be alright Zack?" He asked. "Or do I have to do a song and dance for ya?"
Alex handed Zack his rum and coke as Andy added, "We could always just go to the a gay bar."
Zack grinned. "I’ll be alright. Thanks guys."
Jon, however, wasn’t turning out to be all right. The flight had been hell. Six hours to London, with a complementary set of six in-flight screaming infants, shit food, no legroom and some fat bastard with incontrollable flatulence next to him.
Then there had been two hours of kicking around Heathrow (London), and a forty-five minute flight that wasn’t all that bad, and now he was in a car.
His super-happy, bouncy, over excitable blond sister. Whoop, dee, fucking, doo. Look, look how happy Jon was! Look! He was positively beaming.
Now if only we had some acid…
Curled up in the passenger seat of the car he glared out at the rainy, bleak Scottish landscape. Normally it was very pretty, pretty when it was sunny, and sort of warm, and not raining. Right now it was dark, very dark, and raining. So Jon couldn’t really see anything. Knees rested on the dashboard, and Jon turned his attention to the CD player.
One finger poked it experimentally, the song skipping from some daft pop tune to Hanson. So he reached out with a finger and flipped it off, because he knew for a sure fire fact there would not be anything of any sort of worth in it. Veronica liked to listen to old shitty crappy pop bands so she could pretend to be elite about it. This was one of the many reasons Jon hated visiting his family, and suddenly began to regret it. Not having Zack around to scream loudly at those songs that raped the ears. Zack did that a lot. He’d screamed when Andy had played Kid Rock. Marc had shoved a sock in his mouth. That had been an amusing day.
A grin curled over his lips at the thought, Veronica of course then piping up, "And what exactly are you grinning about?" Jon gave a little start and then sent a scowl in her direction, before shifting in the seat and staring out the front window. Damn it. She was always so cheerful, but not the stupid cheerful. Like, she was bright, optimistic, but irritatingly perceptive and intelligent. Although it was questionable why she bleached her hair, maybe she was trying to throw people off the scent. Jon had never bothered his arse trying to figure her out.
They pulled up to the house. Jon took a deep breath, and prepared to deal with his family for the next week and a half. Hopefully they would be out most of the time and he could skulk in the spare room.
Which is exactly what Jon did. It took two hours before he could call Zack and let him know he was safe. That depressed him more than anything, because the realisation that he missed Zack more than he ever thought he was capable of was sickening, and depressing. Oh, sure, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it sure as hell made it ill in the meantime.
Lying back on the single bed he stared at the white wash ceiling, the glow of the light bulb starting to burn his retinas. Eyes slipped shut and he let out a long sigh. Jon knew he’d never have admitted a thing to Zack if Alex hadn’t brought up the whole thing and sort of forced them together. Jon would be the first to admit he was socially inept, so the idea that Zack might even be thinking about feeling the same way had always been far, far out of his head.
People were another thing he wasn’t keen on. When you’d spent a certain amount of time making them ‘vanish’, you made yourself become un-attached. Friends, let alone lovers, were a difficult subject. Hell. You never knew who would turn up next, so to avoid disappointment or awkward moments you had to sort of remove yourself from society. Draw back. All Jon had ever needed was Jon.
Then, of course, Zack had turned up and ruined all that in that way only someone who had no pigmentation could do. It was like Zack was trying to make up for the lack of colour or something by having the biggest personality in all the world.
Something had twigged then he’d had to quick. Zack was going to leave Scotland, and suddenly the idea of being alone and friendless again had made him physically ill. It made his hands shake. Even now the only thing stopping the fierce nausea that came with abandonment was the fact that Jon knew that when he got back to America, Zack would be there waiting for him with open arms and a smile. (And probably lube too).
Watching Zack lurch from relationship disaster to a disastrous relationship had been hard, but it was the only thing he could’ve done. There was no freakin’ way in hell that Zack would want to be with a loser like him. All Jon had been destined to do was pick up the pieces and stick ‘em back together when something went wrong. But that would do. Even just sitting in a room with Zack while he cuddled into someone else was enough; even just being somewhere near him had been enough. Course, Jon hadn’t known what he would’ve done had Zack actually gone off with someone else, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Would’ve probably killed himself, but then his life would’ve been over had Zack left it.
Then Alex had stepped out a cupboard and solved all his problems in one fell swoop.
Zack was brooding. Oh, sure, he had nothing against Marc. In fact, he liked Marc because with him he brought all those British comedies he forgot how much he liked and knew what he was talking about when he mentioned places like Leeds and the Download festivals. He kept Andy occupied and out of the way, which meant he got some serious nookie time in. Marc insisted on dragging Alex out to the cinema with Andy too, so that got her out the house so now Zack had achieved his ambition of getting laid in every room of the flat. (He’d put a blindfold on Jon when they were in his room.)
But when he was lying in his bed at nighttime and heard the low keening cries from Andy in the living room and the occasional snicker, he missed Jon. Not just for the nookie, but for everything else. Watching Andy pounce on Marc when they’d been separated for something like half an hour was almost as irritating as watching them cuddle. It made him realise how much he just missed Jon’s presence. He never thought it would be this bad, but it was. Rolling over he shoved his head under the pillow, and then there was a cry.
"Oh FUCK! Jesus! Baise! Merde! Mon fuckin’ Dieu!" There was a thump, as of someone falling off a couch, some fevered clattering as of someone struggling into some trousers, the banging of the door and then the pattering or someone running through the flat. The sounds ended up in Andy’s room, and Zack couldn’t contain his curiosity and headed on out of his room to peer into Andy’s. Alex had reacted the same, and they were both flagged by a frowning Andy whose glasses were all steamed up, dressed only in a t-shirt that barely covered his essentials.
"That wasn’t fair!" He whined, unaware of Zack and Alex because he couldn’t see. "Couldn’t you have at least finished me off?"
Marc shook his head, and was clicking something and then dived off the computer chair rather energetically and across the bed to where his wallet rested on the bedside table. He pulled out a gold card. "Naw, you dinnae know me mam like I do. I’ll be a –dead- man if I don’t get home…"
Zack snickered. "Don’t ‘cha mean a dead Frenchman?"
Andy turned beetroot red, but no-one took any notice of him. They were more interested on what was going on at the computer. Alex stepped into the room raising a critical eyebrow as thumbs behind her indicated Andy was trying to find some clothes. "What, exactly, are you doing?" She asked.
"I need to get home for Crimbo. Mam will murder me if I ain’t there. Fancy coming with? I know you guys ain’t going anywhere and I hate flying by myself. Heathrow is so fucking boring!"
"How can you afford all this?"
Marc flashed the gold card. "Visa. In my name, o’ course, but the only way my father knows how to compensate for his terrible parenting is by giving me money. Technically, it’s only for emergencies. But this is one."
"And you remembered that you need to get home to Scotland for Christmas by using your dad’s visa, while having sex with Andy?"
"Naw, it was only a blow job. Ain’t gonna fuck on someone else’s couch."
"And you remembered this while having oral sex with Andy?"
"I’m….a different kinda guy."
"You’re telling me."
Zack blinked, and wriggled his way past Andy and Alex to peer at the computer screen. "Scotland, you say?"
Marc paused, and smirked. "Way ahead of you Zack, already got it booked for ya. Let’s say it’s a Christmas present from me to Jon, to say thanks for letting me crash here…"
It was Christmas Eve. Of course, it sucked. There was no snow, but there was frost everywhere. It was dark, it was gloomy, and the TV was shite and he was bored out of his skull. He’d called the flat to talk to someone, but no-one had picked up so they must all be out getting rat arsed.
All in all, Jon was miserable.
Are you feeling lonely this Christmas?
At current he was lounging in the front room, a glass of wine untouched in front of him on the table. The coal fire was burning. His parent’s were next door, probably drinking the free booze, and his sister was out somewhere, probably getting drunk. So he was stuck in the house, watching Ant and Dec’s Take Away Christmas Special and idly wondering exactly how old that duo were now. They’d been around when he was a kid, and either they had been really young then, or had aged amazingly well.
The door went. Probably someone looking for his sister, as they always were. So he ignored it. Two seconds later it went again, and eventually it started to ring continuously so he couldn’t ignore it. Frowning he got up, and eventually reached the front door.
"What?" He snapped, as he wrenched it back, pausing.
"Merry Christmas…" Said Zack.
Jon grinned, and scooped the albino up into his arms. Maybe Christmas this year wouldn’t be so lonely after all.