2011: Part 1 -- The Shack Forums

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Date Posted: 18:00:38 04/09/22 Sat
Author: Cirrus
Subject: 2011: Part 1
In reply to: Cirrus 's message, ""Dear Ronan" (Complete Story)" on 18:14:44 04/07/22 Thu

Dear Ronan
by Cirrus

Part One: 2011

Dear Ronan....

I just saw your performance on “Britain’s Got Talent” and it was just brill! You were so shy and nervous when you walked on stage, and I almost couldn’t bear to watch, then you opened your mouth and... well it blew them away, didn’t it? I bet you were well shocked at that!

It really made me giddy inside. I wanted to shout out when you got the four yes votes, but me whole family was there, and it would have looked right odd. You’ve got to understand them, see? They’re decent folks and all, but me parents aren’t exactly... with it, if ya know what I mean. There’s me ma, bless her soul, saying “ooh, what a lovely scarf” and then my dad’s wondering what kind of fairy boy wears a scarf. Right progressive when it comes to fashion me dad is.

I know the boys at school tomorrow are going to say exactly the same thing, but just between you and me? I thought you looked well fit in it.

See I kind of hope you are... you know, and it’s okay if you’re not, and even if you are, it’s cool if you don’t say. No one’s business but your own I say.

But I am. You know?

I can’t believe I just said that. You’re the first person to know. A bloke could get killed around here for admitting something like that. Everyone at school likes to think they’re well hard. A boy gives even a hint he’s queer, and its feeding time at the shark tank. It’s vicious.

But a secret that big? It eats away you, all insidious like. And sometimes it just swells up till it feels like it’s too big for you to hold. I’ve thought about telling me mate Jamie once or twice, but I never quite get the courage to go through with it.

It’s something, innit? How something that’s so hard to say to your best mate is so easy to say to a total stranger.

I’m gay. Queer. Bent. A homo. A fairy. A queen. A faggot. Fudge-packer. Nancy boy.

I know all the names. Use some of them meself sometimes when I don’t want to stand out. But I get the feeling I could tell you... you know, face to face like, and you’d understand. Again, not that I’m saying you’re gay or anything. You just seem like you’d be... sympathetic.

I may be queer, but I’m no mincing nancy boy. Wait, that sounds harsh don’t it? Like I think I’m better than those other queers, the girly ones. I don’t really. I’m dead envious that they can be so comfortable being themselves. But I’m a boy, and I like being a boy, and I like boys-who-are-boys, not boys-who-are-girls.

Fuck it, this is just not coming out right at all.

Anyway I can’t wait to see your next performance!

Now this is the point where I would normally hit “send” and this email would disappear into wherever emails go before they turn up at the other end of the internet. But I’m not sending it just yet. One, because I don’t actually have an email address to send it too. And two, because I don’t know whether I’ll send this email ever. It’s got some heavy stuff, innit? I need to write it down, but I dunno whether I’m ready for anyone to read it yet... even a total stranger like you. Deffo something for me to think about!

Your fan,
Alex

Dear Ronan,

I thought about whether I should start a completely new email to you, or just add this one to the end of the first email. I decided to add it to the first one. That way you’ll read them in order right, and it won’t get confusing. If I ever send them. Still dunno about that!

I was dead right about the comments the next day. I was hanging out with Jamie, Gazza and Dean, and of course everyone is talking about “Britain’s Got Talent” Jamie reckons he’d be a shoo in, and Gazza was “Doing what? Wanking?” and Jamie’s all “Eff you Gazza”. Jamie thinks he was born to be a star, but he ain’t got no talent I can see. I reckon he wants to be one of them Geordie Shore boys, hitting the lager, larging it with the ladies, and getting paid to do piss all.

Well Jamie ain’t gonna let his manhood be threatened like that. “Well did you see that kid then... whatssisname... Roger... rory... something like that. The one with the naff scarf?”

“Yeah, we saw him,” said Dean. “Best singer there wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s gotta be a poofter right?”

“Nah, that’s probably just Norfolk. They’re dead posh there,” I interjected. Look I’ve never been to Norfolk, okay, so I’ve got no effing clue whether it’s posh or not. But I felt I should say something to protect your reputation.

“You know something we don’t choirboy? You know what they say about the fairies.. takes one to know one.”

I smashed him in the face for that.

There’s something you got to understand about our school. It’s a jungle. First sign of weakness and you’re lunch. Jamie’s generally awright, but even hint he’s queer and he gets as homophobic as.

That line about being a choirboy? That wasn’t a lie. I am in the choir, and believe you me I’ve got to work twice as hard as a result to deflect the... what’s the word... Mr Oliver made us learn it in English (we’ve been studying Merchant of Venice).... “insinuations”. That’s the one. Just a fancy way of saying gossip if you ask me.

But anyway I’ve found if you swear a lot, spit at the right times, and use a fist when the situation demands it, you can go in-cog-nito pretty easily. “Incognito” is another Mr Oliver word.

Honestly though, I’m getting a bit tired of it all. There’s an ongoing war at our school between the footy players and the rugbys, all supposedly because the rugby boys are too posh for the rest of us. Seems balmy to me, but that’s all the footy boys can go on about. I played footy last year cause Jamie did, but I’m right rubbish at it. Two left feet as my dad would say. Dunno what I want to do this year.

Anyway, cause it was a Wednesday, I got last period off. It’s held at a big cathedral, and there are a bunch of boys from several different schools singing. Me mum got me into into it when I was a kid, and apparently I’ve got just enough talent to make escape impossible. I’m not much for solos - George does those - but I can hold a note in a group. That’s how I know just how good you were last night.

I haven’t mentioned George yet, have I? He’s not really a mate, but he’s in the same year as me at school, and he’s the only other boy from our school in the choir. We’re the two youngest boys in the choir, so even though we don’t hang out much outside the choir, we kind of stick together innit, if you know what I mean? George moved to our school last year. He’d been at some dead pricey public school beforehand. He’s short, shorter than me, blond hair, and all the old ladies call him an angel when he sings. He got in more than a few scraps to stamp that out at school.

We talked a bit about you at choir practice. He was well impressed. Deffo thought you were in with a shot to win it all. Don’t want to say what I think... don’t want to jinx you or nothing. He’s awright George is. He’s not a mate, but I can talk to him about stuff I wouldn’t dare talk about with Jamie. We were trying to decide what song you sing in the semi-finals. I said Adele, but George was dead against it. “Too obvious,” he said. “Gotta catch em by surprise.” He thought you should do another old song, or something from a musical, something that really shows off your voice.

I watched more of the “Britain’s Got Talent” auditions tonight, but none of them were as good as you were.

Your fan,
Alex

Dear Ronan,

Oh wow, your semi-final song was amaaaaazing. I so hope you get through to the grand final. There’s probably gonna be a bunch of people who say it wasn’t as good as the first song, but I think that’s just because they’d never heard you before the first audition, so there was nowt to judge it against was there?

It must be dead weird you know... one minute no one on earth knows who you are. Next minute every newspaper, magazine, television chat show and radio programme is talking about you. They say you’re the favourite now, but I don’t want to think about it too much, even though I think you’re waaay better than anyone else in the competition.

Jamie’s been acting well strange since the last letter. Ever since I punched him in the face, things have been different. It’s like he always looking to make some smart alec comment about me. He’s been hanging around a lot more with the second eleven football boys. Most of them are awright, don’t get me wrong. They know they ain’t got that the talent for the first eleven and they’re fine with it. It’s the three or four that aren’t fine you gotta watch for, thems that take their footy dead serious. They’ve suddenly realised they ain’t ever going to make the premier league, and they ain’t going to be going out clubbing in a fancy car with a babe on each arm, so they take it out on everyone else instead. Right violent lot they are.

I knew Jamie had been hanging out with them when I smelt the cigarette smoke on his breath. I’ve no idea why anyone would want to smoke. It don’t make you look that cool, it makes your breath foul, and the dropped cigarette butts everywhere are deeee-sgusting. Gazza and Dean are as confused as I am. They’re decent enough, but they’ve always been more Jamie’s friends than mine. Without Jamie around, it suddenly feels like we’ve got nothing to talk about. Well okay, they were stumped for a while and then started talking about girls... which ones would show you their tits, which ones would let you cop a feel when they were drunk, who went all the way at the last party. Got old pretty fast.

After a while I told them I had some homework to do, and scarpered for the library. It’s a good place to hang out when you don’t want to be bothered. None of the football lads ever go there, just the odd chess geeks, and the school’s two Asians who are always, always studying.

Anyway, I was going to curl on the bean bags with a bunch of comics when George spotted me. I’d never really thought about where he went during his lunch times, but apparently the library was home away from home for him. He called me over, and I didn’t have any better plans so I went over to talk to him.

He was drawing something in an exercise book so I asked him “wozzat you got there then?”. George got all shy, and tried to hide the book, but I asked real nicely and slowly pried it away from his hands.

“Don’t laugh,” he made me promise.

Well you could have knocked me down with a feather.

“These are brill mate.”

The book was full of superheroes... some he copied like Batman and Wolverine and the Hulk, and others which looked like he’d made up all on his own.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, you’ve got the proportions and the faces and everything. Didn’t know you could draw.”

I swear he actually blushed there, like a scene outta the movies or something. Face got all pink, and he kind of dipped his hair over his eyes. He completely reminded me of you Ronan when he got all shy like that. He nearly punched me in the shoulder when I told him that.

“Hey Alex,” he asked. “You got any plans to watch the ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ final?”

I told him I didn’t and he asked really hesitantly “Do you wanna come over mine and watch it then?”

I was a bit flustered at that. George was a mate and all, but he’d always been a choir mate rather than a school mate. George look really scared the longer I took to answer him, but I was thinking hard. I liked hanging out with George... more than Jamie at the moment. And I sure wasn’t going to watch you do your thing with Jamie hanging around. And watching it away from my family was starting to sound better by the minute.

“Awright then.”

Your fan,
Alex

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Part 2 -- Cirrus, 18:01:32 04/09/22 Sat

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