Everybody's Wounded: Part 2 How the Light Gets In
Chapter 9
Matt was just leaving the condo when his cell rang. Brandon.
"Hey," he said. "I'm just on my way."
"Can you give us another half hour?" Bran asked. "Laura's practice is running a little late. There's a Russian coach here who's been working with her on a new dismount. They're just about finished, but she still needs to shower."
"Sure. Scott said not to expect them until six. That still gives us lots of time to pick up what we need for dinner. Um..."
"What?"
"Laura's still going to help with that, right?"
Bran laughed. "Oh, yeah. And you're going to need it. Whatever made you offer to make dinner for six people? You can hardly pop pop tarts!"
It had been Scott's idea that they all have dinner together at the condo, though he'd been thinking pizza and beer for four of them -- Scott, Josh, Luc and Matt. It was Matt who wanted to invite Bran and Laura. He had no doubt that Scott had understood why -- Matt needed Bran there for moral support, and Laura because Bran would want her there, and because she was friends with Luc. At least Scott had had the grace to say it was a good idea.
As for his idiotic offer to make dinner -- Matt wasn't really sure where that had come from. He could hardly admit to Brandon that he wanted to impress Joshua -- or rather that he hadn't wanted to seem incompetent to him in any way. He could still do pizza and beer, of course. But that just didn't seem right. He couldn't picture Joshua drinking beer. He'd met Josh over wine --
No! He was not going there.
"I guess it's just time for me to get inspired," he said to his brother. Bran snorted. "Well, with a little help from my friends, of course."
"With a lotta help from your friends, you mean."
And with his brother's laughter in his ears, Matt shoved his cell back into his pocket and took a final walk around the condo.
He liked it here, he admitted to himself. He liked the warm, ordinary comfort of the place, the friendly clutter of family stuff, the complete lack of pretension. It made him think of the cheery warmth of his parents' house when he was a child -- without the constant reminders of how his own bad behavior had threatened it all, hurt them all. He hadn't thought he would ever find himself in such a place again -- certainly he knew that he didn't deserve to be -- but having found it, he wanted it, even if it was only for a few months of calm.
Even knowing that Joshua was just a few floors up, he found himself more relaxed in the Bedard condo than he'd been in a long, long time. He wanted to make it work with Luc -- even if it meant taking the stairs to avoid the possibility of being stuck in the elevator with Joshua.
He made his way to the window, drinking in the stretch of deserted snowy beach and then the cold Atlantic, silvered by the pale afternoon light. As he watched, he found himself thinking about Joshua and Scott, trying to picture them to together, walking this beach perhaps.
Somehow he just couldn't do it, couldn't imagine the Joshua he remembered with his brother's friend. They just seemed so... unlikely somehow.
It wasn't that Scott wasn't a good guy -- he seemed genuinely nice, serious, soft spoken, sensitive even. But he was what -- nineteen? Twenty at most? How could he possibly interest Joshua for any length of time? And even more -- how could he possibly understand what Joshua had been through?
For God's sake, you only had to look at the boy. He was such a total... jock. Hot, hot body, for sure. He thought of Scott the day he'd watched him on the phone, the private smiles, the sudden flush. It wasn't hard to believe that when Scott fucked you, you were well and truly fucked.
But... surely Joshua wanted more than that?
Surely it couldn't really be serious?
It was a cramped and quiet trip from the airport to the condo, Luc in the back seat of Josh's small car, his long legs jammed in behind the passenger seat. Scott had offered to sit in the back, but that made no sense all. Josh just shook his head.
"You won't even fit back here if you tried," said Luc, and the thought of Scott's heavy- boned frame folded into the back of Josh's sporty two-door Golf actually made him laugh.
As they made their way out of the airport parking lot, the two men in the front seat did their best to keep a conversation going. After school news and a few desultory comments about music, Scott broached his new living arrangements.
"Matt moved in a couple of days ago," he said, turning sideways in his seat. "He seems to really like it. And I know he's grateful. The noise on his floor was driving him crazy."
Luc didn't feel much curiosity about his new roommate, but he felt obliged to make the effort. "So, I'll meet Matthew right away?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Scott. "He'll be waiting for us at the condo. Actually, he offered to make dinner tonight for all of us. Bran and Laura will be there, too. I hope that's ok."
Damn, thought Luc. Not only a new roommate but company. He'd been hoping for some quite time, alone with Scott. But alone with Scott seemed to include Josh, so perhaps company was best.
"Fine," he said.
"I think you'll like him," Scott offered, when Luc said nothing more.
Luc sighed softly. Then, more to be polite than because he had any interest in Matt, "Tell me about him."
"Well, I don't know him all that well," Scott admitted. "But I've spent a fair amount of time with him over the last week. Seems like a good guy, and he's Bran's brother, so I'm sure he is."
"He's 23," said Josh, who hadn't said much since they left the airport. Luc startled at the sound of the soft tenor voice. "Economics major."
"He's got a year to finish," Scott added. "Maybe a few credits more. He took a couple of years off."
"Why?" asked Luc. He remembered vaguely that Scott had said something about Matt having had problems. He might as well know about them now.
But to his surprise, Scott avoided the question.
"I don't know, really. I think he was kind of... burned out. Bran hasn't told me much about it, and Matt hasn't said anything to me at all. All I know is that he went out west. Banff, and then Whistler. He's a skier -- Bran said he was a pretty good racer in high school -- and he taught skiing out there, and waited tables. You know, the basic ski bum stuff."
Luc didn't know. The son of a banker and a university academic, the idea of doing "ski bum stuff" for an extended period of time was completely foreign to him. He decided to push a little harder.
"You said something about his having had a hard time, his own problems..."
Scott was silent a moment. Then he said, "Maybe he'll tell you about it."
Luc wasn't sure how to read that and, to his own surprise as much as anyone else's, he turned to Josh. He had no idea why, really. Just to have something to say to him, to bring him into the conversation perhaps. He didn't know Josh very well, had hardly talked to him in fact, not since Josh had helped him move into the condo last fall.
And kissed him, a friendly enough kiss that Luc himself had turned into --
Oh God, he didn't want to remember that.
What he did need to remember was that he owed his life to this man who was silently driving him home from the airport. He owed his life to both of them. It was a powerful thought.
So he asked Josh, "What's your impression of him?"
At first, Josh didn't answer, and Luc wondered if he'd heard him. From where he was sitting directly behind the driver's seat, all he could see of Josh were his eyes in the rearview mirror, and from time to time, his right hand as it rested on the stick shift. He could see Scott, though, and when he asked what he thought was an innocent question, he saw the worried look Scott gave Josh.
"I knew him before he left," Josh said slowly. "I remember he was... friendly. Charming. Kind, I think. And I'm told he was very smart, which rather surprised people because he had a bit of a party boy reputation. I haven't seen him since he came back."
As Josh was speaking, Luc was watching his eyes in the rearview mirror. To that point, they had remained firmly fixed on the road. Now, Luc watched as he shot a quick, sideways glance at Scott. Luc winced as he saw Scott reach over and rub the back of Josh's hand, where it rested on the stick shift. Josh's hand was rather small, with fine- boned, slender fingers. Scott's massive hand seemed to swallow it.
"I asked around the department a bit," Josh continued finally. "There are people who remember him, which speaks to his intelligence, really. My thesis supervisor said the department was sad and sorry, and very surprised when he dropped out. They'd always expected him to go on to grad school or maybe into law, and when he announced he was leaving, there was a bit of an effort to get him to stay. They're glad to have him back."
"You didn't tell me that," said Scott.
Again Luc saw Josh's eyes slide swiftly from the road to Scott, and back again. "I just found out on Friday," he said softly. "And I've had a few other things on my mind since then."
Luc closed his eyes, tried to pretend that he had not seen that swift, comforting touch. Scott is with Joshua, he told himself firmly. But with his eyes closed, he was suddenly assailed with other images of them together.
That morning in the elevator, with a physical space between them that meant nothing...
Standing together beside Luc's hospital bed, Josh's hand resting on Scott's shoulder...
It hadn't been real to him, not then.
But now, now, in the back of the small car, with Scott's fingers grazing the back of Josh's hand, it was very, very real. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the caress, almost feel it against his own skin. . ***
"Oh, for God sake!" said Laura in frustration. "It's just not that hard."
She grabbed the shopping cart from Bran and set off down the aisle at breakneck speed. Matt and Bran grinned at each other and followed. She led them to the frozen food section.
"Lasagna," she said, pointing at a large one. "You put it in the oven according to instructions. You can follow instructions, right? Then you make a salad. And if salad's beyond your feeble skills, you can even buy the lettuce in bags. And the salad dressing in bottles. Then you cut up some baguettes. Dinner."
"I think I can do that!" said Matt, trying to keep his face serious as he shot a sidelong glance at his brother...
"I think a potato could do that," said Laura pointing into the freezer. "Get one of those."
"One!" said Bran in dismay. "One won't be enough!"
Laura studied the package. "Sure it is," she said. "It's two and half kilos. It says eight people. There are only going to be six of us."
"Six. Do I have to point out that five of us are guys, and only one of us is a teeny tiny munchkin gymnast?"
Laura tried to restrain it, but a giggle burst out. "All right, then. Get two."
Matt took two from the freezer and put them into the grocery cart. He was only half paying attention as the other two bickered playfully. All he could think of was that there would be six of them at dinner, and there was no more avoiding it. One of the six would be Joshua.
Joshua whose tears he had tasted.
Joshua who had permitted a blow job, but not a kiss.
Joshua whose last look at him had held such disgust.
He closed his eyes for a second, tried to picture the new Joshua. The Joshua,with short, tousled hair and sparkling eyes. The Joshua who laughed in photographs with his head tossed back against the pure northern blue of a winter sky.
Scott's Joshua.
But somehow the image refused to come.
"Matt. Matt? Anyone home?"
He shook his head, realizing that Laura was waving a hand in front of his face.
"Sorry." He forced a laugh. "What did you say?"
Laura shook her head and groaned. "I said, whatever made you offer to cook? I thought it was because all you gay guys were born with the cooking and entertaining gene, but apparently that's not it."
Bran burst out laughing. "Matt? Cooking and entertaining gene? The only food related gene Matt was born with was the one that demands lots."
Matt, wanting a bit of the playfulness that came so naturally to his brother, shoved him with his elbow. Hard. "I think you've got us confused, little brother," he said. "You're the one who got exclusive rights to the quantity gene. And the sweet tooth." He winked at Laura. "There is a reason that the family nickname for him is--"
"Don't you dare!" said Bran.
"What? What?" Laura demanded.
"Cookie Monster" said Matt, laughing over Brandon's groan.
"No family secrets," said Bran, in mock disgust. "You promised."
"Never did," said Matt indignantly.
But Laura had started to giggle, and then Bran, too, was smiling.
"Cookie Monster?" she asked Matt, poking at Brandon's chest with a forefinger.
He nodded, and to Matt's amusement, Brandon actually blushed.
"Oh, that is just too good," Laura said. "I love it."
She turned from Matt to Bran, and pressed gently against him with her shoulder, beaming and laughing up into his face. "You are soooo a Cookie Monster," she said.
And as the two of them stood there, laughing and happy and suddenly totally oblivious to the frozen food section of the grocery store, Matt knew that... there was he was again.
The outsider.
Always the outsider.
Watching.
Forgotten.
He found himself strangely torn between delight for what his brother seemed to be finding with this girl, and... something that felt uncomfortably like jealously.
Not over Laura, not that (though god knows he'd often thought life would be so much easier if he could just find a way to like a girl). It was just that... just that... over the last week, he's spent a lot of time watching what was between his brother and this little blonde girl. He'd paid attention.
It wasn't just the couple vibes between them that Matt felt kick at him. He was fine with couples vibes. He'd known that himself, kind of, at least for an evening, a weekend. And he was even fine with the stray threads of sexual tension which he couldn't help but notice from time to time, especially from Brandon. God knows, if there was one thing Matt knew about, it was sexual tension.
But he had picked up a lot more than that between Bran and Laura: more than that fresh couples stuff, more than sexual tension. He knew they had problems, knew it wasn't all easy sailing between them. But he also had this very strong feeling that somehow they would find a way to make it all work.
He'd never felt that. He knew he never would, never could.
There was just something... different between his brother and this girl. Something he he knew in his heart that there could be between men. A... tenderness, a concern, a mix of humour and playfulness and... and real caring...
Feeling invisible, he watched them watch each other and felt a sadness so intense it verged on physical pain. He'd had lots of guys look at him in lots of ways. Hot. Hungry. Desperate. Even scared. But no guy had ever looked at him the way Bran and Laura were looking at each other, with humour and hope and caring shining out from beneath the laughter that had them both silly and shaking.
Jesus God he wanted someone to look at him like that. He knew no one ever would. He could never deserve that, and besides, guys didn't do that. It couldn't be part of his world.
So why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to want?
One of the great things about the Bedard place was that it was full of the things that families did together. Matt knew from Scott that this was because it was not just the place where the Bedard boys lived while they went to university; it was also the family's summer place, and was furnished accordingly. The furniture tended to overstuffed and comfortable, and the wall of bookshelves in the living room was stacked with books and music and dvds and old VHS tapes and even older video games, and best of all a treasure trove of board games.
The frozen lasagnas were in the oven and Matt, Bran and Laura deeply into a highly competitive game of scrabble when they heard the key in the lock.
Laura was on her feet instantly.
"They're here!" she said, making her way across the large living room to the entranceway.
Bran rose more slowly. Matt stared at the scrabble board, his hands fisted on the table, and couldn't seem to move at all.
He felt Bran's hand on his shoulder.
"Come on," said Bran softly. "It's time to meet your new roommate."
Matt nodded and forced a smile. If only that was all it was.
He followed Bran slowly across the room, watching the entrance with fast glances. First in was a tall, thin boy with an unruly mop of too long black hair. Luc. His dark blue wool jacket was buttoned shut, and the left sleeve was empty; he'd a canvas computer bag slung over his right shoulder. He came a few steps into the condo and then stopped, his eyes darting around the room as if he were trying to take it in all at once.
Scott followed, the sheer size of him taking on even more power when contrasted with the slender boy in black. He was dragging a huge black suitcase, which he maneuvered around Luc and up against the wall.
Matt shot a quick anxious glance at the door, bracing himself for the third arrival. But to his surprise, Scott let the door close behind him.
"Hey guys!" he said cheerfully. "Smells good in here."
"Yeah, well, it's got another half hour, so don't get any ideas," said Laura, who had reached the front door.
"Hey, Munchkin!" Scott scooped her up in a hug and she planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Hey Luc," she said softly, when Scott put her down again.
Matt saw the black-haired boy smile, quick and fleeting. He was gorgeous when he smiled, though somehow Matt had a feeling that didn't happen often.
Bran greeted them both, then grabbed the suitcase. "You want me to take this to your room?" he asked Luc. "Scott, you can do the introductions."
Though he was trying hard to be polite and focus on the new arrivals, Matt was still looking uncertainly at the closed door.
"Where's Josh?" he asked finally.
"He just took our bags upstairs," said Scott. "He'll be down in a few minutes. With wine."
With wine.
Fuck.
How was he supposed to sit across a table from Joshua drinking wine?
Scott had been propelling the thin boy gently into the room with one hand on his shoulder. "This is Luc" he said. "Luc, this is Matt."
Matt offered his hand, and for a second found himself looking into wide blue eyes so pale they were almost silver. He pulled himself together and smiled.
Luc's fingers were long and slender and cold to the touch. "Thank you for this," he said, his voice quiet and surprisingly deep. "I am very grateful."
Matt smiled. "Hey, you're the one who's doing me the favour."
He was not delaying the inevitable, Josh told himself ten minutes later, as he stood outside the Bedard place, a wine bottle in each hand. He was just preparing. He had just taken the bags upstairs. Selected the wine. Turned up the heat so the rooms would be warm when he and Scott finally returned home.
He could handle seeing Matt again. He could handle the memories. Not of pleasure -- for God knew that had been fleeting and unsatisfactory and meaningless. No, he could handle the memories of pain. Of his own desperation.
It was funny, really, that of all the guys he had had, all the guys who had had him, in that sad, painful time, that Matt had to be the one who to turn up again. Because Matt was the only one he remembered at all. The others had become shadows, clouds of touch, a blur of fingers, mouths, skin. Matt alone had a face, a voice, a memory.
And not a good memory -- though that was hardly Matt's fault.
Josh hadn't been lying was he told Luc that Matt had struck him as being fundamentally kind. That, oddly enough, was his strongest memory of their strange, sad encounters. That Matt had actually somehow been trying to be kind. Even in that wounded haze, Josh had recognized, somehow, that Matt had actually wanted to reach out to him, to touch him in a way that did not involve the shadows, the blur of fingers, mouths, skin.
But Josh had been beyond touch.
So -- no. He was not delaying the inevitable. He was preparing. And he was ready.
It was Scott who answered his knock, his eyes smoke grey and serious as he took the bottles from Josh's hands and set them down on the table inside the front door. He looked worried.
"You ok?" he asked softly. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to go up there after you."
Josh looked up into the anxious grey eyes.
"I'm still just fine," he murmured, and found himself smiling slowly.
To his delight, Scott's mouth softened in recognition. Then, to his surprise, Scott bent, and grazed his mouth quickly with his own.
"Good," he said, as their eyes met and held again.
The slow, slow smile they exchanged recognized that it was the first time they had touched at all in the presence of others.
Matt noticed.
He noticed Scott's constant glances at the door.
He noticed his immediate response to the knock.
He noticed the whispered words, the touching of lips.
And he noticed the sweet, sweet, slow motion smiles.
Matt noticed it all.
He sat almost spellbound as Joshua made his way into the room, Scott's hand resting lightly in the small of his back. It was all Matt could do to force himself to his feet.
Josh took a step towards him, and Matt found himself looking once again into those green, green eyes. He was afraid of drowning in them.
Swim, you idiot, he told himself. Swim..
Somehow, he managed to speak.
"Hey Joshua," he said. His voice even sounded human.
Somehow, he expected Joshua to disapprove, expected his mouth to curve into the expression of disgust he remembered so clearly. It wasn't like that at all. Joshua was simply studying him, calmly, almost sadly.
Still caught in that green gaze, Matt felt --.
Matt didn't know what he felt.
Open.
Just -- open.
Like there was a way into himself he didn't know about, but that Joshua did and had found at a glance.
Then Joshua took his proffered hand, and Matt felt heat of his touch.
Still their eyes held. Just held.
Then Joshua said, "This is stupid," and to Matt's surprise, gave a little tug. He pulled Matt close in a quick hug, then released him almost immediately.
"Hi Matt," he said. "It's good to see you. It's been a long time."
Matt couldn't speak.
"How've you been?" Josh continued, and he actually sounded interested.
"Good," Matt managed finally. "I've been good."
Josh continued to study him. "I'm glad," he said finally, and his mouth softened into a slight smile. "These are better days."
Better days?
Matt had no idea what that meant.
All he knew was that suddenly, after the few fragile seconds of that hug (so sweet, so painful), he was hard, and hurting, and wanting, and he didn't know if he was dying or coming back to life.
I know I've been posting more slowly lately...but I am continuing to work on the story. Do take the time to let me know what you think. And if you'd like to be on the update list, just drop me a note at duncanryder@hotmail.com.