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Charles’ smile is of a kind that make Billy’s knees go weak. Though right now they’re weak anyway. He’s not had a proper workout in a week and a half and his whole body feels numb, stiff and slow. He’s to be discharged today, at least that’s what they said yesterday and hadn’t he been so high on meds, he would have cried yesterday when he called and told Charles. His boyfriends arms are tight around him, pressing him as close as possible.
”I’ve missed you…”
”And I you.”
He loves the way Charles doesn’t make a big deal about him talking or not. Billy had no idea that could make so much difference. Not having to do all the work by himself. Being seen, but not watched or picked apart. Charles give him a gentle kiss on the hair.
”Fucking fags…”
An older woman, most certainly a visitor and if this was a normal day, Billy wouldn’t give two shits about the comment. But he’s vulnerable. Defences effectively shut down by meds and he wants to tell Charles that he really doesn’t give a fuck, that he’s not that sensitive but his words are all gone again. Again.
He tries to say it, but his boyfriend doesn’t hear his mute words. Charles holds him tightly pressed to his chest in a protective embrace, one hand softly stroking his nape. Billy can hear his calm heartbeats. Everything with Charles is calm, like nothing can stir his mind. And the rude visitor is gone. Charles kisses his hair once again, nuzzling into it.
”How do you want to do when you’re discharged?”
”Do?”
”It’s just…”
”Yeah?”
”I’m not letting you stay by yourself, Billy. Not right after… this.”
”What?”
”What I mean is: I want us to stay together for some days. Would you be alright with that?”
”Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t allow me to live alone…?”
”Um… yeah, I might have put it like that.”
”So, do I actually have a choice?”
Billy smiles through the tears. Charles can feel it the way his lips are moving against his chest. He smiles in response.
”Not if you don’t want me to lay awake worrying and longing for you all night, you don’t. You don’t have to talk, you can cry all you want and if you’re uncomfortable sleeping next to me, I’ll just take the couch.”
”And letting me steal your bed?”
”It’s not stealing if I’m offering it, right?”
”True. But I’m fucking sick of crying. And I never want to see another juice package with straw again! You don’t have any of those disgusting things at home, do you?”
”No… Definately not.”
”Good. Think I might throw up if I see another one again.”
All Charles wants is to lift him, take him to the car, drive home and then carry him all the way up to the apartment. Only thing is, when the doctor finally comes to talk to Billy, she doesn’t want to discharge him. Charles isn’t present at the meeting, but waiting outside. Until the nurse finally lets him in, to a once again crying Billy and Charles can’t help but getting upset.
”What did you say to him?”
He’s acting stupid, maybe, but the sight of his Billy being devestated again is simply too much and he throws a hostile gaze at the doctor as he holds his boyfriend. The doc has an expression in her face saying I’m sorry, but… and Charles just sighs.
”Are you saying he can’t go home?”
”No, but I don’t recommend it.”
”How’s being cooped up here alone gonna make him better, huh?”
The doc turns to Billy.
”I understand you want to be discharged, Billy, but as your doctor, I strongly recommend you stay for a few more days. I have a suggestion, thou. Charles can’t stay with you here, as you know, but you can leave for a couple of hours every day, as long as you’re back in time for your medication, sessions and meals. How does that sound?”
”And still stay the night?”
”For now, yes. It could be better for you to take it in steps, Billy. You’re improving, but it’s very important to take it slow in the beginning. You said you didn’t have any family near-by?”
”No.”
”Your parents?”
”Dead.”
”I thought you said earlier they knew you had problems? I got the impression they were alive.”
”You said parents or teachers. I answered about the teachers. My parents died when I was a baby. Don’t remember them at all. I grew up with my uncle and he lives in Boston.”
Charles is a little taken aback. They’ve never discussed families. Not his, not Billy’s. Charles’ family is his friends, end of story, and to be honest it’s been a relief that Billy hasn’t asked him about parents or relatives at all. Charles has no idea what Billy’s family, if he has any, looks like. Families and roots aren’t interesting. All Charles cares about is what he and Billy are to each other. The doc is taking notes.
”Do you want to call him? Or for us to call?”
Billy shrugs.
”Don’t see the point.”
”You don’t get along with your uncle?”
”Well enough. We’re just not very close.”
”But he knows about your problems?”
”They were pretty hard to conceal.”
Billy sounds bitter.
”The meds… They make me feel weird. I don’t want to take them anymore.”
”Usually it takes some time before they work properly. And antidepressives are very effective with both social anxiety and selective mutism.”
”No shit? Where are the little golden stars to stick in my diary? If I continue like this, I might even get a diploma for good behavior. How good of me to swallow little magic pills…”
”Billy…”
Charles takes Billy’s hand. It hurts to hear him talk about himself like this. Like he’s nothing to no one, when nothing could be more wrong. When is it too early to say I love you? Or too late. Is there ever a perfect time? The doc has a concearned look on her face.
”Thing is, Billy, you’ve put yourself through a lot of stress for a very long time. To go this long without professional help in your condition is very serious. What kind of therapist are you seeing?”
”She’s a… I don’t know. She’s a therapist. Alice Gordon.”
The doc frowns.
”Alice Gordon? From ’Natural Speech Movement’?”
”Maybe. It’s a red flower on the sign.”
”And how long have you been seeing her?”
”Six months.”
”Is it working?”
”Not yet. She said it would take time.”
Charles doesn’t like where this is going. Has Billy been seeing a sham all this time? And paid good money for it? The doc just nods.
”Theses sessions, they aren’t covered by the health care system, right?”
”No, she’s a private therapist.”
”I see. Could you tell me a little about her methods?”
”Um… exposing. To uncomfortable things.”
”You mean like force yourself into situations that triggers your anxiety?”
”Uh-huh.”
”Can you give any examples?”
”Go out. Pubs, group activities.”
”Pubs?”
The doc now looks positively horrified and Billy bites his lip.
”She also gave me these herbal pills and teas. St. John’s wart and um… green tea of some sort. To clense the body.”
”All this, it wasn’t exactly cheap, I guess?”
”No. But I could afford it. And she said it would take some time before it had any effect.”
Charles wants to kill. When Billy told him he was seeing a therapist, Charles had assumed it was someone who actually knew a shit about Billy’s problem. Instead, she’s fucking defraud him. Billy notices how Charles and the doc looks at him.
”What?”
The doc sighs.
”I’m afraid this so called therapist hasn’t been entirely honest with you, Billy. St. John’s wart is a herb you use if you have very mild problems with worry or sleep for a short time. It has no effect at all with social anxiety or selective mutism. And this green tea… There’s nothing wrong or unhealthy with green tea, Billy. In fact it could be good for you, since it contains a high level of antioxidants, but there are no evidences what so ever, that green tea has any effect on your conditions. You’ve paid good money for a, in best case useless treatment.”
Billy looks stunned and the doc smiles very friendly, as to a hurt kid.
”These last days, Billy, I know you have complained about feeling weird, as you put it. Do you think you could describe that feeling to me?”
”It doesn’t work. Your meds. I just feel tired. They have no better effect than the herbs.”
”But you’re talking.”
Charles can’t stop himself. If Billy is too confused to even notice this big fucking change, then someone has to. Charles nods at the doctor.
”You’re talking to her, Billy. You’re talking to me. You talk about yourself and you haven’t used that herbal shit since you came here. What does that tell you?”
When is it too early to tell you how much I care? Or too late. Is there ever a perfect time? It hurts so bad to know I made you cry.
***
No discharge. Surprisingly, Charles is almost relieved. Now, as he has a chance to really look at Billy, listen to him an be with him, the difference between their first meetings and now is kind of scary. Charles has been used to the way Billy’s tall, broud body is kind of closed. He doesn’t make big moves, but tries to make himself look smaller. Head down, shoulders a little slumped and steps small, always close to the wall if possible.
Sure, Billy doesn’t like the meds and he absolutely hates having to stay here. They can’t force him, but the recommendation speaks highly to Billy’s sense for logic and the prospect of handling all these new information alone in his home frightens him. He will stay for now, take his meds and learn how it feels to not be in more or less constant pain.
That’s the numb feeling Billy’s been complaining about. Abscense of pain. At first, Charles can hardly believe what he’s hearing. Billy’s so used to be in pain, the abscense of it scares him. Makes him think something’s wrong. You stupid fuck! Charles wants to scream. You fucking self-hating, ignorant idiot! What kind of life have you had? Are you seriously saying it fucking hurt from our short, rare handjobs on your bed?! That THIS is the first time you’re not in pain in fucking forever?
”Charles?”
Billy is looking at him, exhausted and worried. Confused. Too much information. Definately too many fucking emotions. And too little time left before Charles is forced to leave again. Too early to say I love you. Charles squeezes Billy’ hand too hard. They session with the doc is over, but they still haven’t moved.
”Have you been in pain all this time?”
”Apparently. I didn’t hide anything, Charles. I just… didn’t know anything else. Don’t be mad at me.”
”Fuck! I’m not mad at you, you bloody idiot! I’m… fucking horrified over the fact that you’ve had such a shitty life and somehow never thought it could be better! Was there anyone who actually asked how you felt?”
”There was, but I couldn’t answer so I guess they gave up. Not that I blame them.”
”Yeah well, I do! You were a kid and they just fucking gave up on you? I’ve done som reading on this selective mutism shit and it’s not as if it was unknown when you were a kid. Fucking idiots!”
”Charles, please…”
Right. Calm. Keep fucking calm, Charles. No discharge is bad enough, don’t give them an excuse to stop you from visit too. He keeps stroking Billy’s hand, looking at his tired, worried face and the doc could just as well be elsewhere, ’cause non of them are seeing anything or anyone but each other. My eyes, my ears, my hands all or yours. It’s too early to say I love you, you fucking idiot.
”Billy?”
Knock, knock. Who’s there? A nurse. Because apparently the best thing for Billy, is for Charles to leave. And the small sense of relief from earlier is gone.
It’s idiotic. If Billy has to be here, at least Charles should be allowed to keep him company as much as possible. What’s good with Billy feeling alone? The nurse who’s come into the room looks as if she’s sorry, but not as sorry as Billy, Charles’ can’t help but thinking. He wraps his arms around Billy, nuzzling his neck, ’cause nevermind that someone’s seeing. He’s not ashamed of how much he care for Billy, not one bit. Billy’s difficulties, or the fact that he’s in a psychiatric ward only some weeks in on their relationship, makes no difference.
The hug before he leaves almost breaks him. Billy’s clinging on to him, as if he was a life-belt. Silent, but desperate. How is it possible for a man with Billy’s lenght and strenght to feel so small and vulnerable? And it’s only until tomorrow, but they’re in love, it’s all so new and Charles certainly has no problem to give his boyfriend space, they don’t need to be chained to each other, but it should be their choice. Not fucking anxiety’s, selective mutism’s or doc’s. Charles gives Billy a long kiss and strokes his hair.
”I’ll call you later, babe. Alright?”
”Yeah.”
”I love you.”
Fuck. Too early, Charles. Too fucking early. Blue, incredulous eyes. Lower lip dropped and just like that, the speech is gone. And, for the first time, so is Charles’. He gives Billy another kiss, this time on the cheek, and leaves.
***
How did he get this caught up? Charles is standing outside his car, puking. Last time he was in a serious relationship it didn’t end well and that was entirely his own fault. Well, maybe not entirely, but he certainly wasn’t boyfriend of the year either. Eleanor and he spent their time together either fighting or fucking which was exciting the first three months or so, but Charles isn’t exactly proud of how he acted. Unforgiving, cold and insensitive. Not that Eleanor was an angel, but she was absolutely right when she accused Charles for being a dickhead with bad temper and more below his shoulders than between them.
After their breakup and a month or so of self-pitying, Anne and Jack got tired of it and had a little talk with Charles, telling him he maybe wasn’t a dickhead, but he certainly behaved like one. Punching your girlfriends ex boyfriend wasn’t really an intelligent move, when all he’d done was talking to her, even if it looked as if he’d threatened her. And even if your girlfriend’s dad was an asshole, calling him that on a family dinner seriously wasn’t the best way to rise spirits.
Yes, Charles can admit being unpolite, impatient, insensitive and irrational, but the one thing he never is, is dishonest. And with Billy, he’s certainly become more patient and sensitive. Too sensitive. I love you. If Billy’s having another panic attack right now, it’s all Charles’ fault. He’s scared him off.
A family of four is passing by, the parents frowning as they see Charles puke. Because of course he’s drunk and now, as he steps inside the car, he’s gonna drive drunk. He can see what they’re thinking, but the man is way much smaller than him, so they’re content with glaring.
Driving with shaky hands. Not to his own place. Not now. Just around in circles all over town for long hours. When he finally stays to knock on Jack’s and Anne’s door, Anne’s letting him in without a word and Jack, being the fucking mind reader he is, pours Charles a drink.
”Have you eaten?”
Charles’ hopeless gaze says it better than words and Jack’s batting an eyelid.
”Of course not… We saved some pizza just in case.”
And left a pillow and a blanket on the couch. Charles really should get home, he has to work tomorrow, but he’s not going home to an empty flat. No fucking way. It’s comforting to eat some leftovers, have a scotch with lots of ice and watch Penny Dreadful without having to explain anything.
Anne and Jack are excellent company. They don’t expect anything from Charles right now and it’s a huge relief not having to talk.
He almost chokes on the pizza. Not having to talk. Oh, the irony. Anne refills his glass and he swallows it in one gulp. He’s not been drinking much since he met Billy. Seriously, what has he been doing these weeks? Oh yes, pining, fluttering and acting like a lovesick puppy. No wonder Billy had a breakdown. Charles has been too pushy, of course. Intruded and made Billy uncomfortable to a level that had him locked inside a fucking asylum. Because Charles is all blunt and impatient, while Billy’s skittish like a deer. Jack takes a small sip on his drink.
”You wanna talk about it?”
”What’s there to talk about?”
”I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re crying over someone…?”
”I… I told him I love him… Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid!”
Sobbing out the story somehow helps. It makes it less strange, telling Jack and Anne all – mostly all – about these last weeks. The drink certainly helps.
”I know I shouldn’t have said it, I regret it immediately and his face when I said it… It was like I’d punched him or something! Like ’are you fucking serious, you idiot’ and you know, we haven’t even fucked yet!”
”You’ve not fucked?”
Jack looks like he can’t beileve what he’s hearing and Anne snorts.
”Jesus, Chaz… You’re serious with him.”
”Of course I’m fucking serious! I’m always serious when I enter shit.”
”Yeah, but you’ve been with him for two months now and not to be an ass, but you’ve never been with anyone without having sex within the first week. I mean, you and Eleanor, it barely went half an hour before from you being introduced until you were fucking. You being chaste is like me not telling Jack to fuck himself. Highly unnatural.”
”And I love you too, darling.”
Jack plants a kiss on Anne’s red hair and Charles sighs.
”I’m not actually abstinent by choise.”
”No, but you could just as well stick to people who’re both talking and fucking, like you’ve always done before. This Billy… I mean, considering you’re not to most smoothe guy we know, he must be really fucking special if he’s managed to have you giving up fucking, partying, drinking and flirting.”
”The fuck are you talking about, Jack? I drink and I go to parties.”
”Yeah, like once every second weekend.”
”And when you’re showing up, you spend more time texting than talking.”
Anne actually smiles. A small, friendly smile. Charles frowns.
”No, I don’t.”
Jack rolls his eyes.
”Yes, you are, Chaz. It’s very clear to anyone who knows you even a little, that you’re in love. And we know you quite well I’d say, so to us it’s been fucking obvious for weeks that this is far more than a little fling. You jump like you’ve heard a gun shot everytime your phone beeps, you’re constantly tapping your fingers on every available surface, right now your knees, and you’re crying in front of us.”
”Tell us about him, Charles.”
Anne squeezes his hand.
”I have told you.”
”No, you haven’t. All we know is that his name’s Billy and he has social anxiety and selective mutism and that he’s currently in hospital.”
”Which seems like a very strange reason to fall in love with someone.”
Jack being his usual dry, ironic self, makes Charles smile a little.
”He’s smart and funny. Don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much with someone I’ve dated before. And he has self-distance. At least when he’s not caught up in a fit. He’s so sweet and kind and you can call me shallow, but he has a body to fucking die for.”
”Big cock?”
Anne, always ready to be blunt, but Charles just laughs and blushes. Jack snickers.
”That’s a ’yes’, for sure. He’s into soccer, cars and horror movies as well?”
”Yes.”
”Cats? Have you told him about your owner, the almighty miss Morrigan yet?”
”I have. He’s not much of a cat person, but I think she could charm him, if they ever meet.”
Morrigan isn’t really Charles’ cat, it’s his neighbours, but he’s owned by her. As long as she keeps coming by to snuggle on regular basis, Charles considers her his owner. Humans can’t own cats, they own you.
Talking about Billy helps. There are so many little details about him, that are important to Charles. To give a picture of his boyfriend that makes him justice. His smile, his dry humour and the almost mute twitch Charles’ has learned to reckognize as a silent laughter. The British accent, the way his eyes are shifting and most of all, the way he listens.
As Charles talks, the worst pain is eased a little. The company, the booze, talking about Billy with friends he trust is like putting aloe on a scorch. Before he get to sleep on the couch, when Anne and Jack have said good night and went to bed, he calls Billy.
”Charles?”
”Hey, babe… I didn’t wake you, did I?”
”No.”
”I’m sorry I…”
”Charles…”
”Yeah?”
”Don’t apologies, alright?”
”But…”
”Please don’t.”
Billy’s breathing speeds up and Charles forces himself to calm.
”Alright, I wont.”
”Good.”
Just hearing his voice is torment. So close.
”I don’t… feel bad about it. I’m not exactly comfortable, but…”
Charles can hear how much effort it takes to talk. He can picture Billy before him right now, crouching, sweating and so tense it will take hours to make him relax. But he has meds now, of course… Thank God.
”Charles?”
”I’m here, babe.”
”I’m not comfortable, but I hardly ever is.”
Breathing. Gulps. Whisper.
”And I love you too.”
***
”Do you think you can sleep now, Billy?”
”Yes.”
”You do look tired.”
He is. Exhausted. After they’d hung up, he felt like his body was made of lead. Maybe it’s partly the meds, but he has a warm feeling in his belly that wasn’t there before. Surprisingly, it’s neither good or bad.
It’s been years since he was in love. There was a time, many years ago, when he was and he’s not been with anyone since. Until he met Charles. Charles has been curled up next to him in his bed, talked, smiled, listened, caressed and kissed his way into his silence. Mostly, the feeling connected with it is a mix of horror and happiness, but now, for once, Billy’s calm.
He’s laying in his bed at the ward and one of the keepers working the night is, for lack of better description, putting him to sleep. Asking if he wants another blanket, filling another cup of water for the pill Billy’s swallowing without question. A kind hand stroking his head, a friendly voice saying good night.
”The Zolpidem will get full effect soon. If you need anything, you know you just press the red button, right?”
”Yeah.”
He doesn’t like the meds, except from the Zolpidem. To actually get to sleep without twitching and turning for hours, waking up too early or having nightmares is like winning the national lottery. Before he has the time to dwell in stupid thoughts, the sweet, heavenly sleep takes him and allows his usually so angsty mind to rest.
***
He said it. And Billy answered with the same. Charles is sitting on the floor, his back leaning on the couch and staring on the phone. I’m not comfortable, but I rarely never is. And I love you too.
I like you. I’m in love with you. I love you. Charles chest is barely moving. Breaths so small he hardly gets enough air. What made him say that? They’ve only known seen other for three months and they don’t know each other. But Charles really has no idea what else to call it. The way he feels for Billy has made him waive things he wouldn’t have for any other person. Sex, hanging out on games, parties, seeing friends, being spontanous… And it’s been easy to do it.
He needs this man like air. How did that happened? In the beginning, it was curiosity in combination with the challenge. How to figure that incredibly hot, shy man out. Fantasizing about how it would be to fuck him, to be fucked by him. Images that faded, got replaced by thoughts about how it would feel to kiss, to hug… just touch him. Replaced again with thoughts about his voice, his thoughts. It didn’t make the physical attraction less in no way, but silent hotness on two muscular legs got a name, a mind, feelings Charles imagination couldn’t turn a blind eye to.
Now that man is a part of his life he can’t be without. They love each other, at least they think they do and what that makes them, Charles can’t tell yet. And Billy is probably far more confused and at the same time struggling with his other problems.
”Chaz?”
Anne is standing in the doorway. Sleepy eyes and big gasps.
”You never went to bed?”
”No… What time is it?”
”Half past six.”
”Shit. No idea to go to bed. I’ll just oversleep.”
”Want some breakfast?”
”Thanks, but I think I should take a hike. Have to get home and have a shower anyway.”
”Alright. I’ll stop by for lunch later. Are you seeing Billy today?”
”If I’m allowed. If he wants to see me.”
”Why the fuck wouldn’t he?”
”Because of what I said yesterday, of course.”
”Don’t guess. That never ends with anything good. Just call him and ask.”
She’s right. Charles wont get anything done today, if he’s gonna think about this. And he will, if he doesn’t sort it out. Before he remembers what time it is, he calls Billy. A thick, sleepy voice answers.
”Morning, sweetheart…”
”Did I wake you?”
”Uh-huh. What time is it?”
”Half past six.”
”Fuck… what are you doing up this early?”
”Couldn’t sleep.”
”Maybe I sleep enough for both of us. What’s eating you, Charles?”
”Um… what I said yesterday…”
”Yeah?”
”Maybe I shouldn’t have said it.”
”What?”
”I mean… fuck… I don’t want to press you and…”
”Did you mean it?”
”What?”
”Do you love me, Charles? Or did you just say it?”
”No! No, I meant it. I wouldn’t lie about that, Billy.”
”Then why are you calling me at half past six in the morning and tell me you shouldn’t have said it? I know I’m the one locked in and on meds, but this is a little crazy, Charles.”
”I’m… Look, I’m just terrified of scaring you off, Billy.”
The tired laughter in the other end of the line is practically a groan.
”You? You are terrified for scaring me off? I’m the lunatic here!”
”You’re not a lunatic. Social anxiety isn’t lunacy. It’s a common disorder and nothing to be ashamed of. Don’t talk down on yourself, Billy. I want you to get well, I want to be with you, you got that? I long for you all the time… Can barely focus on anything else…”
All I think about is you. How you’re feeling, what you’re thinking, if you’re in pain. What I wish we were doing instead of this shit.
His breaths, his voice, his naked body pressed hard against Charles’ on the bed. Charles is getting desperate with longing, to have Billy in every way possible.
”Charles?”
”Uh-huh…”
”Can you… um… Do you work today?”
”No.”
He hasn’t thought about anything but going to work, but the same second Billy’s asking, Charles knows he wont be able to work today.
”I’m coming over during visiting hours. If you’re not too tired.”
”Will you come even if I am too tired?”
”If you want me to, I’ll be with you even if you’re asleep, baby.”
***
This time, he doesn’t care about any comments. If there are any, he doesn’t hear them. He’s just letting himself go in Charles’ arms. In any fair wrestling game, Billy would probably win over him. Not easily, but even if he doesn’t understand it yet, his body is a ripped dream in Charles’ eyes and no one has come near it in this way in years… Charles’ kiss is possessive, caressing and deep and it lasts for long minutes. For a moment, the two of them are all that exist.