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“Trevor? You aight in there?”
He tossed one of his boot covered feet to the side, drawing the other knee close to his chest, head resting against the cool surface of the large bathtub as he leaned back. “Mmyeah.”
Franklin spoke from the other side of the door again. “You been in there for more than 20 minutes, dog. You sure?”
“I’m fine, Frank. Go away.”
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
The ceiling was higher than any other he’d seen, Trevor noticed, maybe with the exception of Michael’s house. None of the homes he’d grown up in had high ceilings, or such strong lighting that made his eyes water when he looked up. Conveniently, there was a switch to turn them off in the panel near the bathtub. His fingers found it, and the cream-tile covered bathroom turned a gloomy gray. The shutters covering the massive windows were up and let the outdoor light in, but it was a cloudy day that promised rain.
He let his eyelids close. He had come over to Franklin’s with the intention of having some drinks, and he had tried Franklin’s weed against his better judgement. Now he was fucking melancholy and irritable. A piss break had turned into him locking the bathroom door and climbing into the giant bathtub for no good reason. He didn’t want to drive home, he didn’t want to go back inside. For a while, he just wanted to disappear.
Franklin was back in about ten minutes. “C’mon, man, I gotta use the bathroom, too.”
Trevor clicked his tongue in a tired manner. “Go do it in the bushes, you—”
Something stuck his words in his throat. What was he going to say — miserable turd? Could he really call Franklin miserable here when he was the one hiding out in the bathroom? Did he have any right to curse him out when it was him who was disrespecting Franklin in his own house?
He shakily breathed out, calloused fingers clutching the front of his soiled, white t-shirt. He was dizzy with self-hatred and loneliness. Franklin’s voice was blocked out while he swam in his misery, choking on it like he never had before. There was no meth nearby to curb it, not even cocaine.
He wondered what his last day before becoming so dependent on drugs had been like.
Half asleep and half awake, he lay there for how long, he didn’t know. At some point, he caught a glimpse of the raindrops trickling down the windows from the outside.
His eyes roamed over the bathtub until they reached the faucet. If he turned it on now, the water would be high enough for him to drown himself in about five minutes.
“Trevor?” A firm knock on the door. “What’s going on?”
It wasn’t Franklin this time. This voice, he recognized too well. He’d heard it on good and bad days, peaceful and sleepless nights. He loved the way his name rolled off that tongue.
The doorknob was forced a few times to no avail. All Trevor’s blurry vision held was the rain.
“Trevor. Open the door.”
He was on auto-pilot as he shakily grabbed the edges of the tub, slowly rising to his feet. Stepping out of it was harder than it should have been even though he was drunk and stoned, but so was walking. His fingers nimbly unlocked the door, then he returned, getting in and letting himself collapse backwards. His back hit the side of the tub with a loud thud and his eyes closed once again. He couldn’t see the rain anymore, and still no water was coming out of the tap. He heard Michael close the door behind himself.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Trevor gave a small shiver. “Nothing.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” He listened to Michael’s steps approach. “What’s going on?”
The impatience in his voice only served to pull Trevor’s mood down further. “Why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be with your wife?” he groaned.
“I was with her. Until Franklin called saying you locked yourself in here and wouldn’t get out. What are you, twelve?”
Trevor cracked his eyes open, drawing in a long, deep breath. He couldn’t even bring himself to get angry. “Go back to her.”
Michael frowned, glancing at Trevor’s clenched fist. “Are you okay?”
The way Michael was looking at him with genuine concern mixed with uncertainty kept him from lying. “…No.”
The other man took a moment to process the information, then cautiously walked over to him, taking a seat at the edge of the tub. “Feeling sick?” Without warning, he reached out a hand, pressing his warm palm against Trevor’s forehead. “You’re slightly feverish.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Trevor’s lips despite everything. His thoughts were jumbled, but they poured from his mouth anyway. “You used to do that to Tracey when she was little. She got sick all the time. Remember?”
“I do.” Michael seemed puzzled about why he’d recalled that now, but he didn’t question it. His hand slipped to his cheek, resting there for a second before retreating, but its heat lingered there for longer.
The way Michael looked at him was like he could see through him, eyes staring deep into his soul. After a long moment of deliberation, he stood up, then put a leg into the tub, getting in and sitting right next to Trevor. Their shoulders were pressed tightly together, but they fit.
“It’s not very comfortable in here without the water,” he mused, straightening his suit jacket.
Trevor could smell the expensive cologne radiating off him, letting himself get intoxicated by it. “Not designed to be.”
“Yeah.” A pregnant pause, and Michael angled his head, eyes perusing Trevor with interest. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
“What’s going on, Trev?” Michael asked again, this time voice soft and caring instead of exasperated. “Did something happen?”
He felt his breath hitch in his throat. “I smoked weed.”
“…And?” Michael didn’t appear to believe that was all, and he had a point.
“I’m tired,” he quietly said. His head lolled down until it met Michael’s shoulder, and he tilted his neck until his face was buried in it.
Michael tensed up under his touch, but his uneasiness wasn’t audible in his tone. “I’ll drive you home then. You can rest there.”
“I meant,” Trevor sighed shakily, feeling tears pool in his eyes. “I’m tired of being me.”
Silence took over. Trevor didn’t blame Michael for not responding — there was nothing to be said about it.
If he listened carefully, he could hear the raindrops. He needed something to hold onto, and to feel Michael’s skin. His hand snaked around Michael’s arm, pushing his sleeve higher, fingertips brushing against the fine hairs on his arm. He finally gave it a squeeze, and didn’t let go, holding onto it like a lifeline.
“Tell me what you need,” Michael pressed, too gently. Much more than ever when he talked to Trevor.
It tugged on Trevor’s heartstrings. A teardrop escaped his closed lids, trailed down his nose and met the fabric of Michael’s jacket. He felt like if he attempted to talk, a sob would come out instead, so he held his arm firmer and hoped that he would understand.
Michael leaned his head over his own, his breath fanning his ear. “T.”
He shook his head, trying to signal that he couldn’t speak. Another teardrop fell, and a shiver ran through his body.
At that moment, it seemed like the only thing in the world that could bring him any piece of comfort was Michael. Drugs would have eased the pain temporarily, but they’d never get him like Michael did.
And as if he knew that somehow, Michael pulled his arm out of Trevor’s hold and wound it around his shoulder instead, drawing him even closer. Trevor gladly accepted the half-hug, wrapping his own arm sloppily around Michael’s stomach, deeply breathing in his scent.
“It’s alright,” Michael whispered. He didn’t feel so taut under Trevor’s touch anymore. “I’m here for you.”
“She’s gonna be furious,” Trevor uttered, followed by a pained moan, but his hold on Michael didn’t loosen one bit.
He heard Michael sigh. “I’ll handle that. Right now, nothing matters but you.”
His fingers clenched on Michael’s button-down shirt tighter, and a strangled sob finally came out, no matter how he tried to stifle it. He felt guilty for making Michael come here, and the thought echoed in his head repeatedly, distressing him even further.
It was humiliating.
Suddenly, he pulled back as much as he could in the cramped space, violently wiping his eyes before Michael would have a chance to see the tears. “I’m better, you can go,” he croaked, sniffling and rubbing his nose.
“No, you’re not.” Michael’s tone left no room for argument, his gaze wandering on Trevor’s wet cheeks. “Jesus. You’re a horrible liar, T.”
Trevor wanted to fight him, tell him to teach him how since he was such a terrific liar himself. But he couldn’t, not when Michael was being like this. He only mumbled, “Fuck you,” and looked away towards the windows. It was still raining outside.
“Trevor.” Michael soothingly breathed out his name. “Do you want me to go?”
He looked back at him. Just the idea of it was too painful now. “No.”
A deep crease appeared between Michael’s brows. “Then shut up and come back here.”
He didn’t resist when Michael pulled him close again, and simply shut his eyes, pushing everything but Michael out of his senses. He felt Michael dry his cheeks, caress his arm comfortingly, then press a kiss to the top of his head. His head was spinning, but he was no longer trembling so much. It was so unusual for Michael to show him this much affection through touch, but then again, he rarely showed this much vulnerability himself.
“It’s getting late. I’ll stay with you today. We can watch a movie. Or talk. But no drinking.”
Trevor hummed nasally. “You don’t have to. I already ruined your dinner.”
“Our anniversary is coming up. I’ll make it up to her.” He began gently massaging the nape of Trevor’s neck.
His ear was against Michael’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He recalled the memories of twenty-something years ago, when they would snuggle up against each other to keep warm in motel rooms without a single care. It was the two of them against the rest of the world back then, and Trevor had always thought as long as he had Michael, he wouldn’t need anyone else ever again. Funnily enough, he still felt it when he had Michael near like this.
He was on the edge of dozing off, and jerked slightly when Franklin knocked on the door once again. “You guys doing okay in there?”
“Give us a few more minutes, kid,” answered Michael.
“Is Trevor alright?”
Michael stroked his cheek, his hold on him tightening. “Yeah. He’s alright.”
After he heard Franklin leave, Trevor snorted, speaking hoarsely. “Am I, really?”
“I don’t know. You seem relaxed.”
Well, he couldn’t deny that. “Mikey.”
“Hm?”
He reluctantly opened his eyes and straightened up. Michael was still looking at him with so much affection that he couldn’t help but question if he was worth all of this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so weak.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Michael smiled slightly.
“Yeah, I just bawled like a little baby,” he muttered, glancing at the wetness still present on the shoulder of Michael’s jacket.
“Did it help?”
He gnawed on his bottom lip. “I think so.”
Michael nodded, scowling a little. His shoulders dropped, and he stared at his hands for a while. “I think I know what you meant when you said you’re tired of being you. I’ve felt that way before. More times than I’d like to admit.”
Trevor’s voice croaked. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He looked uncharacteristically emotional now. “You didn’t give up on me, even after everything I put you through. So I won’t give up on you, no matter how bad it gets.”
“Michael…” he gulped, heart racing fast. He pressed his palm to Michael’s cheek and smoothed it with his thumb, then pulled it away, only to press a kiss with his chapped lips.
When he pulled back, Michael was looking at him inexplicably. “…What was that for?” he asked, cheeks slightly red.
“I don’t know,” Trevor replied. “A thank you, maybe.”
He expected Michael to say that he could’ve thanked in a different way, but it never came. Instead, Michael looked out the window. “Ready to go now?”
Trevor followed his gaze. The rain had stopped, and the grayness was slowly leaving its place to the bleeding orange of the sunset.
He grabbed onto the edges of the tub, pulling himself up. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Michael’s hand was on the small of his back as he guided him out the bathroom door. His steps were unstable, but he would make it.
They saw that Franklin was sitting on the floor a few feet away with Chop napping by his side. When he saw them, he jumped to his feet, looking uneasy. “Trevor, shit. You scared me, man.”
“He needs to rest, that’s all,” Michael started explaining, hand still supporting Trevor.
But Trevor interfered. “It’s okay.” He approached Franklin slowly, pulling him in for a short, tight hug, firmly patting him on the back before pulling away. “Sorry, Frank. We’ll do this again another time.”
“Uhh.” Franklin’s eyes went back and forth between them, but he ended up nodding. “Sure.”
Michael was looking at Franklin as he said, “No weed,” like Trevor was a kid who couldn’t be trusted with this. Trevor nearly smiled as he elbowed his side, which earned him a light push forward.
Franklin snorted, stepping to the side to let them pass. “Absolutely no weed.”