Sometimes you just need to get a story out of your system.
When writing somewhat autobiographically, it's often the case that writers (myself included) will write about the dark times in our lives and how we overcame them through grit, determination, and other 'main character energy' moments.
This year, in a slight break from that tradition, when writing a short film for Pride Month, I decided not to write about a moment in my life where I struggled to accept my sexuality. Instead, I decided to write about the moment where I stopped struggling.
Dragging Down is loosely based on a real night from years ago where I realised, perhaps for the first time, that sexuality was about more than just kissing boys.
So, to celebrate the end of Pride Month 2023, here's the opening scenes of the first draft of a short film that fell out of my subconscious. Enjoy! Or don't, I'm not your mother I can't tell you what to do:
INT. GABRIEL’S STUDENT BEDROOM - NIGHT
GABRIEL (19, podgy, sullen, introverted) is curled up on the bed of his small, dark room, watching BBC’s: I Kissed A Boy on a grubby laptop perched on his desk.
Strobe lights flash under his bedroom door, the sound of a party in the communal kitchen bleeding in with it.
There’s a knock at the door. GABRIEL ignores it. The knock comes again, louder.
FLATMATE (O.S.)
(slurred)
Gaaaaaabriiiiieeeeel!
Knock. Knock. Bang. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.
GABRIEL groans, rolls off of his bed, pauses the show, and moves to the door.
He spots the reflection of the show, two men kissing, in the reflection of his wall-mounted mirror. He jumps to close the laptop, plunging the room into darkness.
GABRIEL clicks the door unlocked and opens it to find FLATMATE (18, fuckboy, 80% Adidas, 20% mis-used hair product) leaning on the door frame, inches from his face. GABRIEL flinches back.
FLATMATE
Come onnnn, Gabby. Come party.
GABRIEL
I’m alright.
FLATMATE
You having another solo wank? Or you got a friend in there? Do you?
FLATMATE starts jovially jabbing GABRIEL in the chest.
FLATMATE
Ay? Ay? Why you always on your own for? Come on...
FLATMATE tries to pull GABRIEL out of his room. Gabriel easily slips out of his grasp.
GABRIEL
Mind your business.
GABRIEL slips back into his room and closes the door before FLATMATE can make another grab.
GABRIEL locks the bedroom door. He goes back to his laptop and opens it, the image of the kissing men lighting his face up.
His phone pings.
GABRIEL checks his phone, a message from ‘Kane x’. He opens the text chain, which is mostly Kane asking Gabriel to do things for him and Gabriel being more than happy to do them. The latest text reads:
Fancy coming to a show in Bristol tomorrow night?
GABRIEL reads it a couple of times and grins, still illuminated by the laptop screen.
INT. GABRIEL'S STUDENT BEDROOM - DAY
GABRIEL opens his wardrobe to a sea of brown, blue, and occasional burgundy. He pulls items out and throws them on the bed. Jumpers, straight-cut jeans, long-sleeved t-shirts. It’s bland dad-chic.
He looks at the bed and lets out an exasperated sigh.
He models outfits in front of the mirror:
- Grey jumper with blue jeans
- Blue jumper with grey jeans
- Burgundy t-shirt with grey jeans
- A cute pink shirt with grey jeans
GABRIEL smiles at his reflection in the pink shirt.
FLATMATE (O.S.)
(in kitchen)
This place is a SHIT HOLE!
GABRIEL jumps at the voice, then quickly removes the shirt.
He comes back to the mirror in a dark green polo shirt, straight-cut grey jeans, and a bland pair of brown boots. He fiddles with the fit, trying to make it look better, before giving up. It’ll do.
EXT. SOPHIA GARDEN’S BRIDGE (CARDIFF) - AFTERNOON
GABRIEL plods over the bridge away from the park, headphones in, head down, a brown jacket over his muted outfit. He takes a headphone out as he reaches the stairs at the end of the bridge.
He looks down at the bus station below and beams.
KANE (20, Google ‘twink’ and there’s Kane) leans against the bus shelter, wearing a mixed-mesh shirt under a garish faux snakeskin trench coat, a packed floral tote bag at his feet. He drums his fingers musically against the shelter wall.
GABRIEL scuttles down the stairs towards Kane.
EXT. SOPHIA GARDEN’S COACH STATION (CARDIFF) - CONTINUOUS
KANE ignores GABRIEL as he approaches, continuing to drum against the bus shelter wall, swaying his hips. GABRIEL lingers just at the edge of KANE’S vision.
GABRIEL
What’re you listening to?
KANE
I’m not.
GABRIEL notices KANE isn’t wearing headphones.
GABRIEL
Kane, this show... What is it? Do I need a ticket?
KANE
I got your ticket sorted, don’t worry.
GABRIEL
Oh... I’ll pay you back.
The CONDUCTOR steps away from the bus set for ‘BRISTOL’.
CONDUCTOR
Bristol! Last call, Bristol!
KANE
The tickets were free. I know the performer.
KANE minces towards the bus and pulls himself up onto the first step.
Without thinking, GABRIEL picks up the heavy tote bag and lumbers after Kane.
GABRIEL
Performer? What kind of performer?
INT. BUS TO BRISTOL - AFTERNOON
GABRIEL sits in the window seat next to KANE. He has his headphones in, his head juddering as it leans against the window of the moving bus. KANE busies himself with a pocket mirror and some eye shadow. Occasionally, he fires glances at GABRIEL, who continues to ignore him.
KANE snaps the mirror shut.
KANE
You said you wanted to come.
GABRIEL removes a headphone.
GABRIEL
Sorry?
KANE
You’ve been having this little strop since we got on the bus.
GABRIEL
I’m just listening to a podcast.
KANE grabs his bag from between GABRIEL’s legs and begins rifling through it. He pulls his wallet out, tutting at the inconvenience, and flicks through it until he finds a sparkling business card.
KANE hands the card to GABRIEL. It reads:
William Husque. Performer. Artist. PrEPared for anything.
GABRIEL takes in the card.
GABRIEL
I don’t like drag.
KANE
Does it say ‘drag’ anywhere on there?
GABRIEL
So it isn’t a drag show.
KANE takes the card back.
KANE
Well, yes, this is a drag show. Don’t you worry your closeted head about it, though. They don’t bite.
GABRIEL
I’m not closeted. They’re just a lot.
KANE
(smirking)
And I’m not?
GABRIEL
To be fair you’re the only gay that didn’t send me a dick pic during freshers.
KANE gawps, backhands GABRIEL in the chest and flings the tote bag at him.
KANE
Cow! Check in there, should be some sweets.
KANE returns to his eyeshadow. GABRIEL looks through the bag and pulls out a zip bag with a mixture of sweets in it.
KANE
The show’s an hour and a half. Short interval. Quick chat at the end. We’ll be back before anyone successfully tempts you into a life of sin. Cheer up.
GABRIEL
(scared)
A quick chat? Is there audience participation?
KANE laughs.
Outside, they pass over the Severn Bridge and into England.
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