510 Gap Filler
*************
We drive back to the loft in silence. He holds my right hand in both of his. The tangle of dirty fingers sits softly in his lap. He stares down at the connection, maybe trying to ground himself.
We pull into the garage behind my building. “Are you going back to the hospital?” He gets out, the moment he rounds the back of the car he clutches at my waist and buries his face in my neck. I wish I could protect him, make him feel safe. Don’t suppose I ever did, come to think of it.
“Eventually,” it’s all the answer I give. Michael will be in surgery all night. The doctors won’t even know anything until dawn, they said. I can’t give my fucking gay, cancer-ridden blood to Michael and I sure as fuck can’t comfort Ben or Deb. I might as well be here, with him, until then.
**
The loft is dark save for the street lamps outside casting a soft glow through the sheer curtains.
I turn on a lamp and hear Justin whisper, “Don’t.”
I turn it off, I don’t understand…but I don’t need to.
He stands frozen, just inside the door. I walk behind him to throw the lock and set the alarm. It’s strange to have him here after spending weeks convincing myself he never would be again. But, now that I think about it, I am a pretty fucking decent liar. I knew I wouldn’t be happy until he was here again. This time, I’m locking the fucking door.
**
I stand in front of him and try to focus on his face, dark from the ash still caking his skin. I want to wipe him clean, but I’m afraid of what I might find underneath the mess.
I finger the blood crusted in his hair up on the right side of his head. I trace my finger over a scar I know is there but can barely feel.
He takes my hand from his head, “I’m alright.” He kisses my palm. I want to believe him.
I lean down and press our lips together. I kiss him slow and gentle. Everything is different now. The world is different now. We are different now.
Everything feels new. I’ve never been nervous with him. Hell, I’ve never been nervous with anyone.
Our kissing becomes more urgent, it starts to feel like something familiar but stronger and deeper and more frightening. He pulls away, his forehead rests against my chest. I feel his legs shake a little. I press my fingers to his jaw and raise his face until he’s looking at me.
“I just…I’m sorry…I need to sleep…I haven’t slept since…” his eyes shift down, his feet shuffle under him.
I hear the breath catch in my chest, “Okay.” My voice is soft and it cracks. He gives me a sad smile.
I pull him into the bathroom, put him under hot water and clean him like a mother would a child (or how I imagined a mother would a child when I was young enough to wonder about such things).
I towel him dry and inspect his wounds. I put antiseptic and bandages on a few cuts on his forehead. He leans lazy against the sink and sighs when I touch him in places that feel good. I want to touch him every place that feels good.
**
I pull back the sheets and tuck him in, naked and still a little wet. I slide close, but resist the urge to build a cocoon around him. I touch his stomach and his hip and his elbow and his ear and just watch him. His breathing finally evens out and his eyes slip closed.
“Stop,” he murmurs suddenly.
“What?” my brows furrow and I search his face.
“Stop looking at me like I’m broken.”
“You’re not…I’m not…,” I shake my head, not sure what to say. I’ve done about all the talking I can handle for one night.
He reaches out and touches me, I make an audible noise, “I’m not broken, I’m fine. We’ll I’m not fine, but I will be. And you can’t take the blame for this one – no matter how bad you want to.”
I let my face fall into his open hand and I brush my lips against his palm, “Justin…I wish I’d…”
He cuts me off, “Wish you’d what? Been there? Fuck that. What if you had been there?” His breath whooshes out of his lungs, “What if you were in the hospital too?”
“I’m not, I’m here. We’re here.”
He nods, “We are, remember that.”
I nod back.
**
He turns over and backs himself into me; he pulls my arm around his chest and starts snoring inside of five minutes. I feel his chest rise and fall, some confirmation of the long life he still has left to live despite multiple attempts by the universe to cut it short. I take a little of his hair at the base of his neck between my teeth. It’s soft and a little wet and it tastes like him.
An hour goes by, maybe two, he doesn’t move an inch. I think about him in his shitty little apartment that I’ve never seen, a mattress thrown on the middle of a dirty floor and him lying awake thinking about how the fuck he ended up there. I can relate.
But, he’s here now. And I can fix this, or I will sure as fuck try.
**
He stirs and slides out from under my arm. I hear him go into the bathroom and shut the door. I can’t tell if he knew I was awake or not.
He’s in there a long time. I finally get up and open the door without knocking. He’s sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, crying silently.
I kneel beside him, he’s not even startled. “Hey,” I put a hand on top of his head and kiss his temple.
He looks up at me, he sniffs and wipes the tears from his cheeks, “Sorry, I’ll be ok.”
“So will Michael, so will everyone.” God, I wish I believed that. “It’s ok. Come back to bed.”
“It’s not okay, I just…the hate…what it takes for someone to do that. I just…I don’t understand the world, or how we can go on living in it. Things are getting worse, not better. How do you wake up in the morning and deal with that?”
I bite my lower lip; I have no idea what to say to him. I search his face, try to think fast. Finally the words start coming, “You keep moving forward, you keep fighting, you keep telling them to fuck off until they listen. You live your life and you become the biggest fucking success you possibly can. You love who you want to love and you have your little queer marriage and your fucking 2.5 kids and your retriever and all of it.”
His looks at me with something close to awe and a smile breaks through his tears, “You’re going to let me have a dog?”
I let out a small laugh. This is why I love him.
**
We huddle together back under the sheets. He turns to face me and starts to kiss my neck. For the first time tonight I think about how long it’s been since he left…since we’ve been together.
Before I have time to even proposition him he pushes me onto my back and straddles my waist.
“I need you to fuck me,” he’s quiet and his actions are pointed. He gets a condom and puts lube in his right hand. He moves up onto his knees and prepares himself quickly.
When he’s ready he looks down at me. “Okay?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Not arguing,” I smile a little and guide his hips down.
He’s tight, we both moan.
“Fuck, Justin,” I hold his hips, trying to control him. I don’t want him to hurt himself. Or rather, I don’t want to hurt him. Not anymore.
“Let me,” he pushes my hands away and forces himself down on me. His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. I watch, a dose of horror coursing through my veins, until he starts to move.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he leans forward a little and then back, finding the perfect angle.
“Just…” I start to say his name but the syllables dissipate on my dry lips. I stick my tongue out to wet them and he leans down to capture it, forcing me deeper inside. He yelps and I react, pulling away, but he stops me. He pushes down harder, tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
“I need you, all of you,” he grunts. For the first time I’ll admit I feel the same.
**
I imagined the first sex after…well…after what I said, I imagined it would be slow and lazy and littered with nonsensical nauseating declarations. I should have known better.
Justin’s thighs quiver from the effort. He lifts up and sinks down at an unbelievable pace. His palms are splayed open on my chest and he uses his arms for leverage and assistance. I want to lean up, stick my tongue in his mouth, touch him anywhere, but he has me trapped.
I try to paw at his dick but he pushes my hands away, “Don’t need it,” he forces out through clenched teeth.
I watch his eyes, wet with something, open and close as he attempts to watch me but continues to throw his head back when he hits the places inside that make him crazy.
“Brian, I, I…” I don’t know what he wants to say, but watching his face is all that I need. Even after I said it, after I told him, all I needed was the look on his face. And it killed me, the confirmation that what I’d kept from him was all he’d ever needed, but I deserved at least that.
I stroke his inner thighs lightly, my fingers playing dangerously close to his cock. The head is purple and glistening. I’d love to taste it, if only I were so limber.
“God, I’m gonna come,” he announces it loudly and starts hissing and shaking two seconds later. He pushes himself down on me and takes in a gulp of air before the orgasm takes him. His back arches and his hips jerk and his face goes pale from the lack of oxygen. I come somewhere in the middle of his orgasm and it somehow seems irrelevant.
He slides off me and sinks into the bed beside me. His eyes close immediately. I get up to grab a washcloth and toss the condom. I kneel beside him on the platform and clean him carefully. Just as I’m about to stand and walk away he reaches up and grabs my wrist. He turns toward me and opens his eyes; they’re wet with new tears.
“Justin,” I lean down and touch a hand to his face. I gather tears on my fingertips and plead with him silently.
He shakes his head vigorously like I don’t understand. Finally he takes a deep breath and speaks, “I love you. I just…I fucking love you. And I need you. Ok?”
I nod and smile a little. He takes my hand and kisses my wrist a few times. I lean down and press my lips to his. We share a breath or two and then I head to the bathroom.
I toss the washcloth in the bin and flip the toilet seat up. As I’m peeing I stare down at the water swirling in the bowl and think about some big, dumb dog drinking from it. I shudder at the thought, but I’m smiling the whole time
End
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