✹✹✹

It was large, but not as large or grand as the manor, a modern structure, of two floors, blocked on top of one another, like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit, morphing from an older grayer house that looked centuries old, made of wood, brick and plaster. There were no one lights in that part of the building, making it look sinister in the moons glare. The part of the house that was in use was brimming with light, the glass walls reminding Chris of a little doll house, being able to see every room and corner in the glass box. There was a small gathering of people smoking outside the front door, laughing in groups, some tripping, swaying out of motion.

Grace parked the car, along the road, after a long line of cars of all hues. She climbed out slamming the door behind her, Chris followed behind with quick steps. Once they were inside the busy house crowd with people Chris had either talked to once or seen on occasion. His sister spun around to face him, she looked down at him, taller in her platform boots, “i’m gonna go find my friend, I'll find you when I want to go home,” She then wandered into the crowd, Chris losing sight of her in seconds.

Chris wandered off in the opposite direction, a few seconds of walking through the crowd, Chris heard his name being called.

“Chris!” someone shouted, “Chris!”

He turned round seeing John and a boy Chris recognized to be Davie. He was a short boy, he had been the shortest in Chris's year, coming up to Chris's chin in height, his black hair had been shaved off making him look like an angry small skinhead. Chris waved to them sternly.

“Hey,” he said as they approached closer.

John smiled brightly, “so you did decide to come.”

“I came with my sister.”

“Shit, mental case Grace is here?” Davie panicked slightly, looking around him as if she were hiding somewhere.

“Yeah,” Chris answered, “so i guess her friend's brother is Roger.” Chris looked around, “I've never been here before, it’s nice.”

“Yeah their garden is huge, but they aren’t letting anyone back there, doing some replanting or something.” John said. “You had a drink yet?”

Before Chris could answer, John walked away saying he’d bring him one, leaving him with Davie.

“How's college going?” he asked Chris after a moment,

“It’s fine.”

“Did you hear that I'm,” he gave an overly obvious look to Chris.

“Yeah,” Chris said with little feeling.

“So you wanna-”

“I’m good,” he said quickly, “but, maybe later, yeah?”

“Sure,” they both turned away one another losing any resemblance of a convention.

“Here we go.” John sang happily, making Chris realize just how tipsy John was. Chris took the tin can, pushing the lid open. “So, did you end up figuring out if you were a lizard person or not?”

“Oh, I'm getting there,” Chris gritted, taking a good long gulp from his can. Chris began to listen to the music playing, he furrowed his brows. “God, is ABBA playing?”

“I like ABBA,” Davie said, bobbing his head along to Waterloo.

“Now I understand why I've never talked to you for longer than two minuets.” Chris said as if it was a big revelation, pulling the can away from his lips mid drink.

John chuckled, “shit he has a point, i mean who the actually fuck listens to ABBA on purpose?”

“Fuck off,” Davie muttered.

“I’m gonna go look for-” Chris took a moment to think, “other people.” he nodded to his own words, “bye, thanks for the drink.” then moved away. Leaving behind a dimed smiling john.

✹✹✹

Chris found himself in the huge and eccentric lounge, the walls draped in colourful canvas, painted shapes and circles filling the spaces. Most of the furniture was made of plastic with bright vivid colours, and oddly fashionedly made shapes, Chris spotted a theme, after seeing one two many plastic animal chairs. It had Chris feel as if he were in the sixties, the colours seeming to be psychedelic. He ran into a few people he hadn’t seen in a while, catching up, soon it grew too hot for Chris and stepped outside on the terrace looking over the garden. Chris leaned over the ledge, breathing in the cool air, his elbows resting on the metal as his hands played with the back of his hair.

“Hi,” a voice spoke in a dispassionate tone. Chris jumped, his heart pounded against his chest, he turned around to the far corner of the terrace, seeing Dalmir.

“Oh,” he started in a bored tone, “it’s you.”

Dalmir twisted his head to look out to the garden, “you weren’t in computin’ today.”

“My asthma started acting up,”

Chris saw Dalmirs brows rise. “Asthma?” confusion was mixed in with his normal stone like voice.

“Yeah, ever since I can remember.”

“But you smoke,”

“So?”

“If you ‘ave asthma you shouldn’t smoke, it makes it worse or somethin’.”

“Heard as much,” Chris mumbled.

Dalmir pulled out a rolled cigarette from his pocket, “got it from some guy in there,” he pointed backwards with his thumb, placing the cigarette in his mouth, bringing up his lighter.

“It wasn’t a guy named Davie was it? Short guy, looks like a skinhead?”

Dalmir lit his rolled weed taking a breath, then exhaling it out. “Nah, someone else.” He turned to Chris, “Want some?” handing the rolled white paper over,

Chris shuffled a bit to the side, taking it from Dalmirs hands. Placing it between his teeth, “a bit hypocritical of you to offer this to me,” Dalmir shrugged as Chris took a puff in and held it for a few moments.

“Who invited you?” he said, finally letting out the smoke.

“Some people were talkin’ about it in my R.E. class, the idiot posted about it, doubt ‘e knows half the people ‘ere.”

“Opposite for me, I keep running into people I know,” Chris grumbled, passing back the roll of weed to Dalmir.

Dalmir scoffed, “you don’t seem like someone who knows people.”

“They went to my primary and secondary school with me,”

Dalmir nodded, “you got home alright last night?” he asked all of sudden.

“You could say that, but I'm not entirely sure.”

“You didn’t ‘ave that much to drink,”

Chris sniggered, “maybe i’m a lightweight.”

“Nah,” Dalmir dismissed, passing over Chris’s snigger. “I wouldn’t ‘ave left you if you were, that’d be pretty fuckin’ shitty of me.” he sounded offend, but then took another puff, and seemed as if he didn’t care.

“It’s fine, I got home, that's what matters.”

Dalmir didn’t speak for a while and neither did Chris, it was a peaceful silence, that you could only achieve with someone you know and get along with, no need for words and conversation. They passed back and forth the weed, till it was burnt out and nothing but a stub.

“I’m gonna head inside,” Chris said, “nice seeing you,” he waved. Dalmir said nothing, only looking out to the garden that he had been for the time Chris had been there.