Дописала я домашку вощем.
Сцена большая, в классе буду читать кусок из нее.

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Carter watches them like a movie, a weird déjà vu of his lapsing mind. He recognizes every next frame of this movie before it appears on the screen. Brian throws his left arm around Liam's neck and pulls himself upwards until their foreheads bump. Liam's taller, and Brian needs to stand on his toes to do it, so a second before he cocks his chin up, and pulls Liam even closer by the nape of his neck, Carter knows what kind of a show it's gonna be. And he doesn't like a single bloody bit of it. Brian's stoned lazy eyelids fall down, and Liam freezes for a second, but then, as Brian holds him tighter, Liam relaxes, and he chuckles and sneaks his arms around Brian's waist, grinding them closer against each other. Brian hums happily, as he unbends himself into the kiss.
The girls cheer and "woo-hoo", and the bastards lose themselves in it. Carter takes the last step off the stairs, and keeps watching. His stomach gives a freaky churn, as Brian's fingers tousle Liam's ginger curls, as the two of them keep swaying to the last rhythms of the song.
Carter wants to turn away. He doesn't need to see it all. He doesn't need to see Brian and Liam clinging to each other like that. He doesn't need to see Liam pressing Brian to the back of the couch. He doesn't need to see Brian's buttocks getting all comfy on that couch back, as he keeps snogging Liam, like he's just found his one true love. He doesn't need to see Brian shivering, as Liam's hands sneak under his t-shirt. He doesn't need to see Brian's knees spreading apart to encompass Liam in between. Carter doesn't need to see all of it. But he cannot make himself turn away.
He holds up his camera and catches the fuckers in the viewfinder. Clickclick! He's not freaking out. Click. What's to freak out about? Click. So, he was right all along. Clickclick. Brian does, indeed, bend that way. Clickclickclick. Just not for Carter, it turns out. Click. And that's alright. Click. No, really.
Carter drops the camera and flinches at the painful tug in his neck, the gravity of it, dangling on the strap. He turns around and storms into the hallway. He rips his coat off the hanger and rushes outside, his chest tight and cold, his heart, the shape of a 'Bloody Mary' slushie, thrumming at the back of his throat.
He stands on the front porch, starving for air. Like he's been punched in the gut. Like that time, during a football match, when he was keeping the goal, and Mike shot penalty. Carter saved it, but the ball hit him bad. It hit him right there. So much so that he couldn't breathe, and had a hell of a nosebleed too. He was sent to see the nurse even, that’s how bad it was back then. Now it feels like he could take on a couple more saves like that, if it can help getting that thing out of his mind. Not that it’s bad. . . . Brian and Liam. It’s not that bad, right?
He shoves his shaking hand down his back pocket and takes out the joint and the lighter. The wind’s crazy, so Carter comes down the porch steps and turns around the corner. He hunkers down between the house wall and the neatly trimmed rose bed. His hands are shaking. He chokes down a sob, whispering, "Oh, fuck that." He lights up the joint and fills his lungs with grass fumes. To hell with it, he thinks. To hell with Brian, to hell with the camp, and the stargazing. . . . Fuck. It. All. Carter's lungs ache, as he holds the smoke in, together with the sobs, and the tears, and the screams and the roars. He’s holding it all in for as long as he can, and the ache’s pleasant. It’s a sweet ache, it brings clarity and wisdom of not giving a fuck about stuff, and that’s exactly what Carter needs at the moment. He holds everything in, until it burns right through him and bursts out, like a big bang, and he coughs wildly for a whole minute or more, until he’s got tears running down his cheeks. Darn smoke, right?

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#инглиш
#StarpunkAlphaCentauri
#StarpunkWriting