Maxxie: picture thisMature

I don't sleep much. When I wake up again, Cay's on the phone to someone - probably his mum, like he said before. I'm looking forward to seeing pictures of him when he was younger and getting to know him better. I just feel bad that I can't really do the same for him. I mean I don't mind answering questions, but it's not the same as seeing snapshots of it all.  

Though it gets me wondering... Obviously my mum was disappointed blah blah blah, but I don't think she ever wanted to destroy stuff. That one was entirely down to my dad. Maybe she might have gone behind his back and kept some stuff...? It's a long shot, but it might actually be worth it. She's had seven years to get used to the fact I'm gay. I'd go over now and ask to see her, but I don't want to risk ruining this holiday over a couple of photos.

And Alex might even have a few from when I was in school, right up til two years ago. If Cay can cope with seeing me and Alex in pictures together. I smile to myself. The more I think about it, I realise there probably are a few photos of me around. Just not very many.

As I lay there, trying to think of all the places that might still have photos of me, I can hear Cay's voice nearby, probably in the spare room across the landing, and find myself remembering what he'd said before I'd fallen asleep. About some day being carried bridal style in a suit by someone.

"Well then, if we stay together long enough I guess I'll just have to do."  I can't help but smile, a small laugh forcing its way out of my lips. This is the same guy that had told me "I pick up drunk people, it's what I do. No commitment needed" before leaping up and trying to get away with me. What happened to the whole "I'm a shit boyfriend, I'll only cheat on you" thing he was determined to get into me before?

Either way, I'm not complaining. He's been nothing short of amazing, even with Alex randomly turning up and trying to get back with me. Which I still need to sort out.

My thinking about how I can go about getting rid of Alex, or at least persuade him to stop pestering me is interrupted by Cay walking into the room, apparently about to wake me up.

"Didn't think you'd be up," he says as I pull my gaze from the ceiling, feeling a slight frown leave my face to be replaced by a half smile.

"I was thinking," I say, not bothering to mention that I'm still thinking, "that if you really want to see some photos of me, I think I know where I can get some." He tilts his head to one side a little, a curious expression on his face.


"Yeah. One place involves potentially destroying this holiday, and the other involves Alex. So it depends how much effort you're willing to go to, to get them."

"What place would that be? And I can deal with Alex."

"That place would be my parents'. My dad was the one that wanted to destroy my stuff, not my mum. She maybe, possibly, might have gone behind his back and kept some stuff secretly. Or I could be totally wrong and just get screamed at or something," I shrug slightly. I mean, it wouldn't ruin the holiday, but I wouldn't be a very happy person to be with for a while after.

"It's up to you, dollface. I'd literally kill to see some photos but if you don't want to see them it's fine."

"I want to show you them - at least, not the bad ones - but my dad's an asshole. You're welcome to kick his ass for me, though," I sit up and kiss him warmly with a smile. "But if I can get Alex to give me some pictures, they'll probably be mostly of me and him. I dunno how you feel about that one."

"Same way I imagine you'd feel at the ones of me and John," he says and I lift my shoulders in another shrug.

"I'm not sure I'll be too bothered by it, but hey, it's up to you if you wanna see those. I'm sure he'll have a couple of school photos of me or something," I smile. He made a point of buying them in the last few years I was at school, just to point out that he was older than me and had dropped out of school half way through the first year of sixth form. It had been a kind of running joke that I'd get an education and he wouldn't get anything beyond his GCSEs.

"Anyway," I say, clearing my head of Alex, "what about that dinner? I'm thinking Italian."


The End

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