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It was ridiculous honestly. Marvin stood outside the door to his own apartment with apprehension. He bought the goddamned place, why was he scared to enter? The answer to why was the very same as it was more than two years ago: Whizzer.
Back when the times were darker and when insults came cheap, Marvin stood outside, reluctant to open the door. He’d pick most of their arguments for reasons he himself was most uncertain of, but the bitter taste that remained afterward stayed. Bitter, from the spitting remarks which shot acid and rang like bells loud enough that the echoes of them could still be heard if the night was silent enough and Marvin’s conscience felt particularly cruel. He’d promised that he’d be better yet here he stood, just like he had before initiating the fateful chess match two years prior, wearing the same furrowed brows and tense shoulders. Coincidentally, the same tie too.
Marvin unlocked the door. He entered. It was dark.
Where the hell was Whizzer?
Marvin dropped his leather satchel on the wooden floor along with his blazer, which he could already feel Whizzer’s wrath bound around his neck. Flicking on the light switch in the living room, his heart plateaued at the sight before him. Slumped on the couch was Whizzer, who looked (no offense to him) absolutely horrible.
“Whizzer?” Marvin started gingerly. “Whizzer, baby, can you hear me?”
No response. Whizzer was hot under his touch and his face turned almost translucent. By the looks of it, he didn’t make it to their bedroom before he collapsed on the living-room sofa, still in his slacks and dress shirt. The room was cluttered with bits of tissue and cold medicine, empty mugs, and a thermometer.
“Whizzer honey, you’re burning up.” Marvin hated using pet names. They usually rolled off his tongue with a bitter aftertaste, and his nose would crinkle at the overt display of affection. Marvin took solace in the fact that Whizzer wouldn’t remember in his loopy state.
“Hmm?” Whizzer finally responded in his feverish state. “Marv?” His words were slurred and barely comprehensible but his somewhat conscious state was an improvement.
Marvin’s choked laugh of relief broke through the surface, quelling his bleary eyes. “Whizzer, you’re burning up.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Oh yeah? That’s all you’re going to say? You look like you’re on the brink of death.” Marvin said. “How long have you been like this?”
“Hmmm. Not sure.” Whizzers voice was raspy. “After you left for work.”
At once, Marvin’s heart clenched. How could he have been so foolish? He should have stayed. Looked after his lover? Partner? Boyfriend? It was times like these that Marvin was reminded of how devastating the aftermath of his petty quarrels could be.
“I could have come back, looked after you. Why didn’t you call?” Marvin knew why. Marvin knew exactly why Whizzer didn’t call. Despite how much Whizzer truly meant to him, he couldn’t bring himself to show it at all.
Whizzer seemed to have lulled back into unconsciousness, though Marvin was convinced it was a ploy to avoid his question. Sighing, he wrapped his arm around the other man, grasping under his legs, and tried to pick him up. Unfortunately, Marvin’s lack of exercise and Whizzer’s lack of cooperation sent them both toppling back on the leather couch.
Woken by the sudden disruption, Whizzer yelped. “You trying to carry me bridal style, lover boy?”
“Shut up.” Marvin joked, “Your ass is too heavy to lift.” He rested his head on Whizzer’s stomach, reluctant to rise.
“My ass is the only reason you’re here.”
Although he knew Whizzer was matching his playful tone, the weight of what he’d just said still hit Marvin like a ton of bricks. It wasn’t true of course, he’d spent nights imagining how much easier his life would be without his gayness screwing up his ultimate plan of becoming the American dream with his nuclear family, but sitting in the back of his mind was a dull ache, an emptiness, a longing for something Marvin couldn’t even describe in words. Nuclear family? Yeah. Well, it’s certainly nuclear.
“Hey, I’m trying to get you to a bed before you get scoliosis on this lumpy fucker.”
Whizzer laughed. “You really have a way with words, you know?”
Marvin slowly and reluctantly detangled himself from Whizzer. Where the hell could he get a forklift? Whizzer was by no means actually heavy, but Marvin would never admit it. “Can you walk in a straight line?”
“Mmhmm, Are you gonna arrest me, officer?” He winked. “What are you gonna do? Cuff me?”
Marvin scanned the room looking for anything that could possibly be of help. “I see we’re feeling better.”
“How could I not be?” Whizzer slurred, “you’re desperate to get me into bed, tried to pick me up, and now there’s handcuff talk. If I didn't know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get into my pants.”
“ You brought up the handcuffs.”
“Whatever, you know you want to.”
“There’s snot in your hair, Sexy.”
Whizzer’s eyes widened as he frantically grabbed at his disheveled hair, determined to find it, whilst Marvin fought back his laughter. Reality hit moments later in the form of Whizzer’s frantic shivering. glancing at the microwave clock, it told him it was well past dinner time, and Whizzer still hadn’t eaten anything. Marvin was no cook, neither of them was, so he set off scouring the kitchen for canned soup. After raiding the fridge for the sixth time, his eyes began to well up again. He just couldn’t do anything right could he?
Stowed away at the back of the pantry was a lonely can of chicken noodle, and as Marvin bent down for it, he collided with the stovetop, sending a pot clattering down onto the kitchen tiles. “God fucking damn it!”
“Marvin?” Whizzer sat up startled, swatting a few soiled tissues on the carpet.
“Yeah, I’ve got it, don't worry.” Marvin wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his expensive shirt. He quickly opened the can and tipped its contents into the previously dropped pot, following the instructions on the label meticulously and determined to milk every last drop of value from the year-old can of Campbell’s. By the time he was done, Whizzer’s eyes were shut once more.
Setting the soup down, Marvin sighed as he watched the other man sleep. He buried his face in his palms and wept.
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“It’s alright.” Whizzer began, a while after Marvin managed to strip and haul his body into bed. “I’ll get better in a day or two. Don’t you worry.” He smiled and gently wove his finger’s through Marvin’s.
“I know, but I should have been here. I don’t know… Looking after you or something.”
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When he looked at Whizzer, the dull ache went away. There wasn’t an ounce of emptiness that wasn’t filled with Whizzer’s golden smile, or his witty tongue. Soft fingers that swept through Marvin’s unruly hair, or annoyingly devilish looks.
Marvin was screwed. Because in the end, all he needed was snoring peacefully next to him, illuminated by strips of moonlight seeping through the cracks of the blinds. Marvin might as well have placed his beating heart in Whizzer’s hands, and he was scared shitless of what Whizzer might do if he found out.