It was loud. Noisy. People jostled against him.

And, as parades like these would inevitably do, it had drawn a group of religious types handing out flyers with the headline, ‘Pray the Gay away.’

Christian was regretting the whole idea.

Eventually Laurel suggested they get out of the actual parade itself and get something to warm them up. It was clear that none of them were enjoying this as much as they thought they would, making Christian feel guilty. It was still bitterly cold, but by three am the alcohol was flowing freely. Every kind of person was there, some wearing layers, some ignoring the temperatures and wearing a lot less, booze making sure they either forgot the bite in the air or not care about it. Christian even spotted a dark-haired guy, his body gym-fit, wearing a gold speedo and a cut off shirt with some phrase on it, and a pair of sandals. He was one of the loudest there. The fact that there was free flowing alcohol made it easier for the parade to fill up with drunk people, and the crowds were getting rowdy instead of fun.

Eventually they found a stall owner who was wisely selling hot chocolate from behind a fold out table. Christian agreed to stand in line while Laurel and Brendan went to find somewhere for them to sit. Christian wondered if they would even stay much longer, and was already thinking of texting an apology to Jazz, then curling up on the couch with a hot water bottle. He had a paper due on seventeenth century pre-Raphaelite art, and it was interesting enough for him to finish in one night, if he wanted. He stamped his feet to keep them warm, breathing into the collar of his jacket which he had zipped all the way up to his chin, so that his breath could warm his neck.

Then he was shoved forward by something behind him, knocking into the woman in front of him.

“Sorry,” he said to her annoyed expression, “Someone pushed me.”

He turned round to see what had happened. On the ground behind him, was the dark haired man he had seen before, turning himself over onto his hands and knees from where he had landed. Christian saw his knees has been scratched, likely from the landing. He was glaring at something behind him, not seeing Christian at all.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

The man whipped his face around to look at Christian, and his bad mood evaporated, replacing his grumpy face with a wide, white-toothed smile. Closer now, Christian could see his dark skin, and his head of dark, woolly curls.

“Hello, gorgeous. Thank you, I’m fine.” he replied, as if he hadn’t just careened into him and then landed on the hard ground. His long legs were dark too, and covered in coarse black hair, ending in large feet. He held out his arm to Christian, a wordless request to help him up.

Once Christian had hauled him up, discovering he was a lot heavier than he had seemed when he was dancing in the crowd earlier, he saw that the man was tall, slightly taller than Brendan. Christian barely came up to his shoulders.

“Um, so you’re fine then?” Christian said, awkward now that the man was standing in front of him, in a tight, gold speedo and a shirt that read ‘Say hey if you’re gay.’ He had his hands on his hips, and was looking at him like he had just found a cute stray.

“I’m wonderful, sweetie. Some idiot just got over-enthusiastic.”

Christian nodded and stepped back a bit, but couldn’t leave, since he was still waiting in the queue.

“Um ok, well...”

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

Christian felt cautious but the guy was leaning towards him, looking slightly manic, and crowding into his space. “Christian.”

The man reared back suddenly, practically squealing. “Oh my lord, that is the perfect name.”

“The perfect name?” Christian said, feeling more and more adrift in this encounter.

“Yes! For a snow-child like you? Its poetry! It’s sublime!” he held out a hand tentatively, looking at Christian in awe. “If I touch you, will you melt?”

“What’s going on?”

Christian almost collapsed in relief when he heard Laurel’s voice. He turned to her, trying to pull her into the bizarre conversation by will alone.

“Nothing. This is...” Christian gestured to the man, who was now observing Laurel keenly. He held out his hand.

“You can call me Eddie.”

Laurel took his hand very briefly before letting it go, her expression suspicious. “Laurel.”

Eddie clapped his hands together with glee. “Laurel! Are you two purposefully Christmas themed? Or it is just my poetic dreams come true?”

Laurel folded her arms. She was even shorter than Christian, so her small size measured against Eddie’s height was pronounced, but it didn’t seem to register with Laurel. Things like that never did. She would take on a wrestler without batting an eye.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

Eddie tilted his head to the side and held up a hand with the forefingers meeting the thumb. “Perhaps a little.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and looked at Christian. “Let’s go.”

“No please don’t go! We just met!” Eddie cried dramatically.

“Go drink some more and pretend we didn’t.” Laurel replied, already pulling Christian with her, forgetting the reason he had been standing there in the first place.

But Eddie was determined. He rushed around to stop them from walking away, giggling breathlessly. He held his hands open. “I’m sorry, but introductions are not my strong point. I am not a creep. But I simply cannot let you go without knowing you both further. You want hot chocolate?” he said. And with that he pushed past the two people who had been ahead of Christian in the queue, ignoring their outraged faces and banged on the little counter.

“Garcon! I need beverages!” he proclaimed loudly. The woman serving there first looked surprised, then amused, and then smiled fondly at him.

“Hey Eddie. How many?”

Eddie looked back at them questioningly. Laurel and Christian shared a look. Christian, still feeling adrift, could only shrug. Laurel was still suspicious but sighed. This guy wasn’t going to leave them alone. So she held up three fingers.

Eddie nodded. “I’m going to assume you didn’t include me in your count so I’ll make that four, Anna darling.” The last words he said the woman behind the counter, who didn’t even look at her neglected customers before going to fill his order.

“Why are we letting him buy us hot chocolate?” Christian murmured to her, still eyeing the near naked man. He was tall and lean, but gym-fit. Christian saw he had smeared bronze body glitter onto his arms.

“Cos it’s free.” Laurel said.

When Eddie had returned, holding their drinks out to them. Laurel took them coolly, and said.

“Thank you. Nice knowing you.” Before trying to turn away.

“No no. Please, you must let me come and sit with you, if only for a few minutes.” Eddie waved his hand in front of her face, which caused her to jerk back and glare it him sourly.

“I don’t have to do anything. And if you don’t get out of my face, you will regret it.”

Eddie held his free hand up in surrender. “Alright, my apologies. But I simply must. I am writing a poem, and when you two appeared before me with your lovely, song-filled names, I knew you must have been sent from the universe.”

This guy is nuts, thought Christian. But it wasn’t the dangerous kind of crazy, the kind where any moment could snap and twist into something terrible. It was funny, and Christian suspected he was hamming it up a bit.

Laurel rolled her eyes at his act. “That is such bullshit. That doesn’t happen in real life.”

Eddie looked around him then at himself with exaggerated movements. “This is real life. This is happening.”

“I still do not have to do anything.”

Eddie extended a hand to Christian, as if he were asking for a death row pardon. “And you Christian? Do you agree?”

Christian stared at him. Eddie waited patiently, hand still outstretched and dramatic. He didn’t seem like a danger, and eventually he turned to Laurel.

“Poetry is important.” Eddie threw his arms above his head in a movement of triumph and joy. Laurel looked at him incredulously.

“You’re serious.” She said flatly.

Christian shrugged. “He bought us hot chocolate. He just wants to talk to us.”

Laurel folded her arms and Christian wondered if he had gone too far. Everything about this encounter really was very strange. But something about Eddie made him want to grin, like he was permanently on the verge of telling a joke. And life had been about pushing the limits lately.

Eventually she turned away. “Fine, whatever. We’re leaving in a few minutes anyway.”

Eddie bowed low to her. “Of course, Madam Laurel.”

Christian stifled a chuckle by sipping his hot chocolate, but watched Eddie warily. Even though he was certain Eddie was benign under it all, new things still had to be processed.

Brendan was understandably aghast when Laurel and Christian came back, bringing along a tall, giggling man wearing a gold speedo to the little picnic bench. But Eddie didn’t understand what awkwardness was. Or if he did, he simply ploughed through it. He proclaimed that Brendan was beautiful, but his name was boring. Then he launched into a long, entertaining explanation of his poem. It was to be an epic story, thirty stanzas long, about two lovers who followed each other down the river of the damned. He was constantly moving; his arms, his hands, his eyebrows. He jumped on the table when he became enthusiastic about his topic and shouted at the clouds. All the while Laurel, Brendan and Christian exchanged glances that were a mutual mix of amusement, terror and embarrassment.

The interaction had gone from being a conversation to being a one-man play when suddenly Eddie sat down beside Brendan with an inelegant huff. They all stared at Eddie, who suddenly looked deflated and pale.

“Shit. Coming down.” He said before he slumped slowly sideways into Brendan’s shoulder. Brendan caught him before he slid backwards and onto the ground. Then he was left holding an unconscious, extremely limp Eddie and looking at them both with clueless eyes.

“What just happened?” Laurel demanded, staring at the limp form in Brendan’s arms.

Christian pressed his lips together. “I think he took something.”

“How do you know?” Laurel said.

“What do we do about him now?” Brendan said.

Christian just shook his head, still looking at Eddie. Laurel stood, looking pissed off.

“There are first aid tents here, there must be. It’s a college event. Let’s just dump him at one and leave. Jeez.” Laurel was obviously disgusted.

But Eddie apparently wasn’t completely unconscious. His head lolled from side to side in drunken denial. “No, no’ the tent…jail…too pretty…”

“I cannot fucking believe this.” Laurel said, voice low and angry.

Brendan was looking at Eddie thoughtfully, and frowning. “We’re gonna have to take him home.”

“What! No!”

Brendan looked at Laurel accusingly. “He’s coming off something hard. He asked us not to leave him at a tent. We can’t.”

“I don’t see why not. We literally don’t know him from a bar of soap.”

“It’s cold, Laurel!”

“I don’t care! I don’t want a druggie in my apartment!”

While Brendan and Laurel had a face off, Christian stared at Eddie’s now slack face.

“I think I agree with Brendan.” He said quietly. Laurel turned her eyes on him, as if she could melt him and his opinion. He had witnessed people reduced to single word sentences with that look.

“What?” Laurel was not happy.

Christian couldn’t explain why, not even to her. But the thought of leaving Eddie stranded and alone while coming down from a high just didn’t sit well with him.

“I’m sorry, Laurel. I know we don’t know him, and don’t owe him anything.”

“Not a damn thing.”

“I know. But we’re here and we can help. Let’s just take him back until he cleans out ok?”

“Like overnight?!”

Christian shrugged. “I don’t know, depends what he took I guess.”

Eddie murmured a word that sounded like “…ashes...”

Christian looked at Laurel, knowing it was her apartment too, but asking anyway.

Laurel looked at him with narrowed, angry eyes. Then she raised a finger and pointed at him, pinning him down.

“Fine.” But her eyes said, we’re not done here, boyo.