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”Thanks for helping Abby yesterday.”
”No problem.”
”Was a damn luck it was you she tried to hit on. Those kids…”
Anne sighed and Charles smiled a little.
”You mean, those kids who’re like we were?”
”Yeah… God, I’m starving. Jack, you promised waffles.”
”In a minute, darling.”
”You clearly don’t care if I starve to death.”
Jack shared a look with Charles, who was wise enough not to say anything. When it came to mornings, Anne was to be treated gentle. You didn’t say good morning until she’d had her first cigarette. You didn’t ask any questions until she’d had her morning coffee and you didn’t expect any smiles before she was through half of her big breakfast. Charles was always a little stunned by how much that tiny body needed to function.
This morning, Anne Bonny worked herself through three large waffles with blueberry cream, six slices of bacon and four slices of fried tomatos, along with two cups of coffee and a small glass with orange juice. Jack, who barely could manage one waffle and tea, rose his eyebrows and twined his moustache while Charles ate his waffle, two slices of bacon and coffee with soy milk in silence.
”Feeling better today, Chaz?”
”Huh?”
Jack nodded at him.
”It seems to me as if you’re feeling a little better. Am I right?”
”Yeah.”
Charles gave a half smile.
”He texted me yesterday.”
”I thought so. And it was good news?”
”Yeah… At least he wants to try again. Don’t know where it will take us, but it’s something.”
Anne took a big gulp of juice.
”Why exactly was he mad at you in the first place?”
”I contacted an old neighbour of his. A guy who used to… I don’t know… support him in some ways when he was a kid. Billy told me about him and it sounded as if he’d been supportive so I took a chance. Don’t know if I shouldn’t have done it.”
Jack sipped on his tea.
”I remember when Eleanor tried to help you by contacting us when you felt like shit. You weren’t exactly grateful.”
”That was different.”
”It really wasn’t. You were angry all the time and you scared her.”
”I never threatened her or anything like that!”
Anne snorted.
”No, you didn’t and she never said you did, Chaz. You scared her because you shut her out and got yourself into shitty situations.”
”And you were jealous…”
Jack’s comment elicited a glare from Charles.
”Yeah, I was an asshole more than once and just because I didn’t realise it then, it doesn’t mean I don’t admit it now. What’s this got to do with Billy?”
”Only that it may get a little easier to have patience with him, if you remember how Eleanor felt when you didn’t take care of yourself.”
”Don’t you think I understand that?”
”Hey!”
Anne slammed her fist in the table.
”This is very simple, you morons. We’ve all had more than our fair share of bullshit and this is actually not that complicated. Chaz, you have to understand that this is about more than your relationship. From what you’ve told us, I can only imagine how scared Billy is. Whenever Eleanor came too close, you always snapped and I had to comfort her and assure her you were a good guy. And then you broke up and you were a fucking wreck for months because the coin dropped too late. Don’t make that mistake again. All this with Billy, can’t you see how new it is to him? You like challenges, that’s why it worked with Eleanor for so long, but Billy’s not her and you have to slow down.”
Charles was dumbstruck, so was Jack. Anne stopped her rant and scraped up the last blueberry cream from her plate. She refilled her coffee cup a third time and sighed.
”Point is, if people get too close to you when you’re not prepared, Chaz, I know you’ll snap in one way or another. Doesn’t mean you don’t care anymore. Jesus, how many times didn’t I or Jack go too far and had you storm out, slamming the door and not talking to us for a week? And you always came back, as soon as you’d had some distance to be able to think about it.”
She grabbed her cigarettes and went to the doorway.
”Stop trying to fix things, Chaz. You love each other. Aint that good enough for now?”
***
”He’s my first real boyfriend. Or, at least the closest to a boyfriend I’ve had.”
”It’s a new situation to you, then.”
”Yeah, I guess it is.”
”Have you been in love before?”
Strangely, it’s a difficult question. It’s his fourth session with the psychologist and Billy has to admit, it’s relatively easy to open up to John Silver. But the man has a very annoying habit of asking questions that are hard to answer and that makes Billy nervous. He’s not even aware of how he is moving his left knee up to rest his chin on it, wrapping his arms around the leg.
”Suppose I have. Have slept with a couple of guys, but that’s another thing.”
”Sex and love doesn’t always come together.”
”We’ve not fucked, really. Not… properly.”
”You don’t have to go into details, Billy. But I take it as you’ve not had actual intercourse.”
”We haven’t. He’s… he’s been very patient. With everything.”
”Why do you think that?”
”Maybe…”
He bites his lip. This is something that has bothered him ever since the beginning, but he refuses to think about it. It ’s a thought belonging to a very hidden place and realising how close he suddenly is to give air to it, makes him cover his mouth with the hand, as if he needed something physical to hold it back.
”Billy. You are perfectly safe in here. You can speak freely and no one will get angry or disappointed at you. Feelings and words are not dangerous and whatever you say, will stay between us.”
He nods. Knows it’s true, but it doesn’t help. He listens to John Silver’s calm, safe voice, assuring him it’s safe to speak and after almost fifteen minutes, Billy manages to talk again.
”Maybe it’s the challenge…”
The world isn’t collapsing, the psychologist isn’t even flinching. Does nothing surprise that curlyheaded psycho guard?!
Billy’s suddenly dripping from sweat. His clothes are soaked and he feels nausious.
”I have to…”
A strange kind of plastic bag is quickly given to him and he throws up. John Silver moves to sit next to him, offering water from the plastic cup and a wet paper towel to his face. That’s what’s pushing him over the edge. Kindness. Any small sign of kindness or care. The very abscence of spite or scorn is big as it is, but Billy fears gentleness. He’s learned to manage it with Charles, but recieving it from strangers, from people who has no reason to give a shit, is too much. He can’t give the psychologist anything back for this, he has nothing to pay him with for this unnecessairy kindness.
All this focus on his person makes Billy want to hide. Lock himself in somewhere dark and safe, far away from eyes, ears and mouths. His mouth tastes from vomits and he reeks from sweat. He’s disgusting.
”Why do you think that?”
Did he say something? Terrified, he presses his palms against his mouth, shutting the door for the words. A bad idea, since he can taste the vomit and after some seconds he has to throw up again. John Silver is unaffected by this gross behavior and before Billy can press the hands to his mouth again, the man makes him hold the plastic bag in one hand, and himself in the other.
Almost every person Billy’s met has smaller hands than him, so has John Silver, but he’s strong. Very strong. Just like Charles.
***
”Mandy, a word?”
”Sure.”
Miranda follows him into the office and shuts the door. John sits down and logs into the medical record program. He sighs.
”I believe we have to increase Billy Manderly’s dose with sedatives.”
”If you think it’s for the best. How was the session?”
John shakes his head.
”He threw up. Again. That man is just terrified, Mandy. And this time, he covered his mouth with his hands, as if he was trying to physically hold his voice back.”
”Damn… Did he talk at all?”
”Yes. He was doing really well, clearly making an effort, but this is the second time we had to finish earlier because of nausea. Could you increase the sedatives temporarily? He wont get anything good out of therapy sessions if he’s too exhausted to sit through.”
”I’ll increase the Stesolid to five milligrams an hour before the sessions.”
”Good. How’s he eating?”
”He finishes his meals but doesn’t snack in between.”
”Three meals, standard portions?”
”Yes.”
”No problems with digestion or allergy?”
”None as we know of. He eats what you put in front of him, but he says he’s not hungry so he’s not snacking and he never eats seconds or desert. Last time he had a snack was when his boyfriend visited.”
”Well, he’s a big man. Those portions aren’t really enough to keep him going, especially not if he’s throwing up and he’s already very tired. We should ask the staff to give him something in between. Bananas, yoghourt, sandwiches. And while I’m on it, Ned Low… Put him on extra snacks as well. He looks like he’s withering, sitting there staring at that chocolate…”
”Ursula said she saw them talking earlier.”
”Billy and Ned? One who’s afraid of talking and one who doesn’t stop… Who would’ve thought. Well, maybe if we’re lucky, Ned would be less hostile to the thought of medication if he ate more. A longshot, but it’s worth a try. Morley can ask them both what they’d like to have.”
***
”I want to fuck. No. I wish I wanted to fuck…”
Billy can’t help but laugh a little. He’s on the balcony, keeping Ned company while he’s smoking. It’s cold outside and the one-eyed guy shivers a little, while inhaling the kick. Sex is the last thing Billy’s thinking about now and to be honest, Ned isn’t really a turn-on. But Billy can imagine him with more meat on the bones, more colour to his cheeks and brighter eyes. Maybe not his type, but definately not completely off-putting.
”How long was it since you got laid?”
He’s not exactly shy, either. Not that Billy thinks it’s anything to hide.
”Haven’t really fucked for like seven years.”
”Seven years?! Holy shite… But that guy you’re seeing…?”
”Wasn’t really a good time, you know.”
”True, I guess. But really… seven fucking years? I mean, I’m not into dudes at all, but a guy looking like you that’s not getting laid is a fucking mystery. At least people must’ve been hitting on you?”
”I guess some have, but if you’re not talking, can’t make eye contact and avoid people in general, it doesn’t really matter how much time you spend at the gym.”
”Guess not.”
Ned blows out a cloud of smoke.
”You and this guy, Charles. You’re exclusive?”
”Yeah.”
”Jesus…”
Billy narrows his eyebrows.
”What?”
”I just have to say it again: you’ve got a real keeper there, mate.”
”I know. I’m just not sure he has. He’s too fucking good for me.”
”Please, don’t say that.”
”I just…”
”Please! Just… don’t.”
Ned’s restless body has gone rigid, his hand squeezing the cigarette hard, his one seeing eye flickering. Billy isn’t sure what he’s triggered, but for once he doesn’t crouch from the insecurity.
”I’m sorry, Ned. Whatever I triggered, I’m sorry.”
It’s an impuls. Ned looks so terribly lonely and the memory of how the man took his hand in the couch has already wiped out some of the distance. Billy puts an arm around Ned’s scrawny shoulders and the man leans his head against him, allowing the closeness.
”She used to say that.”
”Your wife?”
”Yeah.”
Billy swallows, stroking Ned’s shoulder a little, showing he gets the message.
”Can I ask you something about her?”
”Sure.”
”How long were you together?”
”Sixteen years. Met when we were seventeen. I turned thirtythree three months before she… She was thirtytwo.”
”When… when did she… they die?”
”Fourteen months ago. And today. Every fucking day…”
He lights out the cigarette, still leaning his head against Billy.
”I was her first and she was mine. My only… She wasn’t just my wife. She was my best friend, my fuckin’ soulmate and the mother of my child. Everything went on just fine, and then… fucking preeclampsia. First Ella and then, an hour later, Annie was gone too. One moment, I was a husband and a father, and then I wasn’t.”
The composure, the firm voice is almost more heartbreaking to listen to, than the actual words. A loved one that was there, and suddenly isn’t. A life, a future ripped to pieces fourteen months ago and every day the wound is re-opened and the man caring it, is contagious. A wound too deep to be comprehensible for anyone who hasn’t been through the same hell. The bad smell from it keeps people away. People who would like to help, but can’t deal with their own sense of inadequacy. Not because they don’t care, but because of fear. Billy swallows.
”People… people are afraid.”
”I know. I understand it. But it doesn’t make it any easier…”
The simple statement loosen something within Billy. Sympathy, but also a deeper sense of belonging. Of understanding just how little you understand about what’s going on inside another human being. His lack of connection to other people, the distance that has followed him his whole life, the sense of standing within reach, but never belong. The fear, the suspicion people show when they see you’re not really one of them is understandable, but when you’re the one carrying almost all of the understanding, the pain, the fear and the gut-wrenching loneliness on your own, handling others fear as well, just isn’t possible. Or fair.
Their pain, their sufferings aren’t comparable in any sense, but something in the way people are looking at them, is. Death scares people. So does silence or words too hard to hear. Billy can’t help himself. The loneliness in Ned’s voice, his eye, his whole appearence is simply too much to bare. So Billy wraps his arms around the scrawny man and holds him tight. And as Ned, after a second of suprise, sighs and allows himself to lean against him, Billy begin to think that maybe one doesn’t have to understand to help.
”I texted him yesterday. Said I was sorry, that I wanted to… try again if he…”
”Then you’re not a complete idiot.”
Ned’s voice is strained, Billy can tell he’s crying, but he doesn’t mind. It feels… not exactly good, but right, to hold him. Being the one who can help a little, even if he’s a wreck himself. A wreck comforting another wreck. Two tastes of emptiness.
***
”Charles Vane?”
For some irrational reason, Charles has pictured Harold Gates as someone who should remind about Billy. Which doesn’t make any sense, since they’re not even related. A bald husky with a brushy mustach and quite big beer belly, casually dressed in jeans and a grey sweater, reaches out his hand for Charles to shake.
”Hal Gates.”
”Charles Vane, I’m sorry for all this… I don’t know…”
”Shall we go somewhere there’s coffee?”
”Yeah.”
They don’t have to go far. An almost empty café with passable coffee and ham sandwiches will do. They sit down, starting to eat without talking. Charles mostly picks in his sandwich.
”Do you have a picture of him?”
Hal nods at him and Charles hauls up his phone, clicking up a photo and hands it over. Hal peers over it and grunts.
”Well, look at that… Wouldn’t have recognized that scrawny kid in this pretty-boy if he so stumbled over me.”
”He’s very pretty.”
Charles doesn’t think, it just slips out. He blushes when Hal hands the phone back.
”You’re quite taken with him, it seems.”
”I am.”
”I’m surprised to hear he’s dating at all. Often wondered what happened to him.”
”What was he like, when you were neighbours?”
Hal scratches his head.
”Quiet, of course. He was in his early teens, thirteen or fourteen, when he started to come over. Our gardens were next to each other, no bushes or fences or anything, so you could see all over the gardens. I remember when the Philips moved in. They had four redhaired kids, all of them as kids are most. And then there was Billy… Blonde, blue eyes and already taller than his dad. I had my suspicsions, of course, but I didn’t think I should ask questions like that.”
”Did he talk at all?”
”No. But I didn’t mind, actually. I just thought he was shy and I’ve never been much for chit-chat myself, so the silence didn’t bother me. He was a good kid and you could tell by looking at him, that he payed attention to everything around him. He wasn’t stupid or weird, just a bit different.”
A bit different. That’s an understatement if ever there was one. Charles taps nervously on his coffee mug.
”You’re gonna try and visit him?”
Hal sighs.
”Look, I’d really like to, but if he says no, then there’s nothing to do about it. Can’t force myself onto him.”
”But you can let him know you’re not letting go…”
Billy has changed his life so much. Anne said Charles needed to stop trying and change things, but he hasn’t really tried to change Billy. It’s Charles who’s changed. Who no longer wants what he wanted before. Billy is pushing on buttons he didn’t even know he had.
”What are you thinking about, kiddo?”
Kiddo? Well, Hal is old enough to be his father and Charles really don’t mind. He sighs.
”Hal, I’m so fucked. I can’t stop thinking about him, he’s in my head all the fucking time and all I can think of is how he’s feeling, if he’s lonely or afraid… It’s only him, Hal, and I can’t stand being the only one he has in this fucking world. I love him, but it’s not enough.”
***
”You’re married?”
”Yes.”
”Man or woman?”
”Why do you want to know that?”
”You know a lot about me.”
”Good point.”
John smiles. This man, Billy Manderly, is a kind of patient he prefers. Patients who, despite the fear and pain, still have their fighting spirit intact and can challenge.
”I’m married to a man.”
”What’s his name?”
”James.”
”How’s it like?”
”Being married to a man?”
”Living with someone. How did you met?”
”Ah. I wondered where you were heading.”
Billy still sits in a sort of crouched position, but it’s becoming slightly more relaxed. And he’s better at eye contact, even if his gaze is mostly quite defiant. He feels extremely exposed in this environment, John can sense it so clear it’s almost physical. If this is gonna go somewhere, Billy has to feel less vulnerable and the one thing he dreads more than anything, is the turmoil of emotions a serious relationship will stir up. John strokes a long curl from his face.
”Me and my husband, he’s name’s James by the way, have been married for about five years and he’s fifteen years older than me. We met when I was twentyfive and was dragged to a very boring engagement party at a friend, who’s bride to be invited James to this dull evening. For some reason, my friend and her fiancee thought it was a splendid idea to place me and James together at the dinner table. An awful decision, I can tell. He was the most boring and dull person I’d ever met, so I decided to light things up by getting drunk.”
He smiles. It’s clear to Billy, this is a sweet memory.
”Anyway, when I was drunk enough I started to annoy him on purpose until he got really pissed off and went outside. I followed him, only to very ungraciously throw up in a flower pot while he hold my hair and told me I looked like a drunk, limp poodle. Then he saw my prosthetic limb, felt bad for the joke and carried me to a garden chair before fetching me something I thought was a pink drink, but turned out to be strawberry soda. I was very disappointed and well… He wanted to make it up for me by taking me out for dinner when I was sober enough. And when we had that dinner, I guess I was lost.”
”And your husband?”
”Oh, James needed some more time, so I just had to wait for him to realise what he wanted. When he’d done that, the decision wasn’t hard.”
”So you’re living happily ever after…”
Billy’s aware he’s smirking, but John looks completely calm when he smiles.
”Of course not. Some days we want to kill each other and some days are just very boring. And then there are those few moments when it feels ridiculously wonderful, but mostly it’s just everyday life without any big ups and downs.”
”What if he gets bored…”
John looks steadily at him.
”I know you’re not talking about James now, Billy. Nor a hypothetical man. What do you think will happen, if you and Charles decides to get into a serious relationship?”
The very mention of Charles’ name makes Billy’s stomach flutter. His throat tightens as he realise he’s not been able to trick John into talking about a potential future by simply describing another relationship to mirror Billy’s.
”He went behind my back…”
”In which way?”
”He called Hal.”
”The neighbour who you used to visit?”
He nods.
”And what did you feel when he did that? How did you feel when Charles decided to talk to someone you used to know, without talking to you first?”
Knees thight to the chest again. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. And John’s calm voice doesn’t let him off the hook.
”Billy? Try to lower your shoulders.”
”They are… low…?”
”Lift your hand and feel the space between your shoulder and your ear.”
It’s nonexistant and the fact that he didn’t notice it, but John did, makes him sweat. He tries to lower the shoulders, but he can’t and now it’s sweat all over his cheeks. He can’t look. Seeing the psychologist, the room, his own arms and knees, only makes it worse.
”I can’t look!”
”You feel better if you close your eyes, Billy?”
”Yes…”
”Then have them closed. Just focus on my voice. Could you do that?”
”Yes…”
”Can you feel your left big toe?”
”Big toe?”
”Yes. Your left big toe. I want you to think about your left big toe, nothing else. Can you do that?”
”I… yeah.”
”Good. What we are going to do now, is to observe. Don’t try to move your body or judge what you feel or not feel. All we’re going to do, is observing. Is it alright to try that, Billy?”
”Don’t know. Maybe…”
”Well, let’s give it a try and if you want to stop at any moment, you just say so. Alright?”
”Alright.”
”Then, let’s move back the thoughts to your left big toe. Do you feel any needles in your left big toe?”
”Uhm… no.”
”Any tinglings?”
”No…”
”Vibrations?”
”Don’t think so.”
”How about numbness?”
”I… Not sure… Maybe?”
”Alright. Maybe numbness. Now, let’s move on to your left little toe. Can you feel it?”
Limb by limb, piece by piece, the psychlogist guides Billy through his body. Toes, soles of his feet, calves, knees and thighs. Left side and right side. Hips, stomach, buttocks, lower back… It’s awful at first, but after a while Billy can feel something that he think he actually recognize. He’s starting to feel… relaxed.
John asks if he could imagine himself breathing through his limbs.
”Breathe through your nose and picture the air going down to your lungs and then all the way down to your left foot and your left bigtoe. And when you exhale, imagine the air going back the same way and the out through your nose again. Do you want to try that?”
It’s strange, but so, so much easier to use the breathing, his body, something physical to work with instead of putting words on feelings. And it helps. The tension decreases enormously. When John has guided him through his body, all the way up to his neck and head, his face and even his hair, Billy shivers a little, but is otherwise relaxed. His position is changed, his knees have slid down and he’s leaning back against the chair.
”Billy?”
”Yes…”
”Are you freezing?”
”A little…”
”Would you like me to drape a blanket around you?”
”Yes… thank you…”
He can feel John’s hands covering him with a blanket, making sure it doesn’t slip down.
”Do you think you could try and guess, just guess, how you’re feeling right now?”
”Tired.”
”Tired in your head or your body?”
”Both.”
”Do you think it’s a good tiredness or a bad? Or neither?”
”It’s good. Or… I don’t feel much, but it’s not bad.”
”Do you feel relaxed?”
”Yes. But… mostly tired.”
”You’re feeling relaxed and tired.”
”Are you too warm or too cold or something in between?”
”Warm. Feels… good…”
”You’re feeling relaxed, tired and warm. It feels good.”
”Yes…”
”Do you remember what we were talking about, before we started this body observation?”
”Charles…”
He can say the name now. His throat doesn’t tighten.
”When you’re thinking about Charles, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”
”His eyes. They way he looks at me…”
”Do you like the way he looks at you?”
”I… it depends. Sometimes he sees too much and…”
”And?”
”Sometimes when he’s looking at me, it’s like he’s trying to figure me out, watching to see my next move.”
”Would you say it’s a good, bad or neutral look?”
Seeing Charles intense, yet soft blue eyes for his inner vision, stirs up so many weird feelings Billy yet doesn’t have any names for, but the strange body observation thing has somehow calmed his shattered mind enough to make it possible to feel something else than just fear.
”It’s kind, but… But it’s too much. He doesn’t mean to intrude, I think, but that’s what’s happening.”
”When we experience strong emotions we’re not ready to cope with, fear is a very common reaction, Billy. What would you like Charles to do, to make it more comfortable for you?”
That’s the problem. Billy has never been more comfortable with anyone in his whole life. He has no one to compare Charles to, in a way that makes Charles the bad example. He has already been so patient. How could someone like Billy ask for more?
”Only to… No, I don’t know, I…”
”Take a deep breath, Billy. You are not selfish or unkind for making demands. Every person must make demands, otherwise we can’t either communicate or live among other people. We need boarders in order to realise what we want for ourselves.”
”That’s the problem.”
He’s exhausted now, the image of Charles, the feelings he’s experiencing makes him cry silently. John’s voice sounds distant.
”What’s the problem with that, Billy?”
”I… I just don’t know what I want. Have never. This is like… the first time I’ve even been close to… have something I think I want…”
***
He got worried when Billy didn’t text. Had to call the ward, just had to. Billy’s asleep. Charles breathes out long when he’s hung up. He didn’t expect Billy to talk to him, he just needed to know he’s not feeling worse. If he’s asleep, then it’s alright. At least he doesn’t have a panic attack right now and under these circumstances, that’s really the most Charles is hoping for.
Two hours later he gets a text and after practically begging Max, the girl who works part time at the coffee shop, to swap shifts, waiting for her to show up and promising to buy lunch some day as a compensation, Charles is let inside the ward by a nurse.
The sight makes his heart jump. Billy is sitting with his back on him in the couch, holding his large arm around a guy. Charles’ face expression must be quite easy to read, because Liza, the nurse, quickly drags him into the small office and explains.
Billy’s got a friend. Or, perhaps, friend isn’t the right word. More of an acquaintance he can talk to. In other words: someone that shows enough vulnerability and weakness for Billy not to feel like he’s the only one with issues. Charles hasn’t really thought about it, but since he’s the only one Billy have actually seen since he’s got no friend or family, of course it must be one hell of relief to meet someone else who doesn’t hold up, whatever the reason. Liza can see how Charles is balancing between relief, hurt and guilt.
”It’s not easy when you’ve done all you can to make a loved one open up, and then there’s another person who’s getting the privilege.”
Charles shrugs.
”I screwed up.”
”There’s nothing going on between them, in case you’re wondering.”
He just laughs.
”You don’t have to tell me that.”
That thought hadn’t even occured to him. But then Charles remembers how straight people usually see physical contact between men and since there’s hardly a secret that Billy’s gay… So stupid. But he can’t deny it hurts a little, to see Billy letting someone else near, no matter if it’s a man or a woman.
”Does it make him feel better? Talking to that guy?”
”I should say he’s one of the reasons why Billy managed to contact you at all.”
Whatever fucked up feelings of being shut out the sight stirred up, they’re wiped out as quickly as they came. If that guy has made Billy make contact again, Charles wont mind if Billy’s holding him until his arm falls asleep.
”He knows I’m coming now, right?”
”Yes.”
Charles bites his lip.
”You think he’ll feel weird if I walk in on him while he’s sitting like that?”
”Maybe, but it’s important for Billy to learn how to deal with uncomfortable feelings without running away. You can help him with that, by not making a big deal about it.”
Of course. Charles just nods and follows Liza to the day room.
”Billy? Charles is here.”
Billy turns around, rising from the couch. The other guy, Ned, turns his head and gives Charles a polite nod before smiling encouraging at Billy. Charles doesn’t know if he should hug his boyfriend or whatever he is, but just seeing him again, rugged and pale and insecure, makes his heart beat insanely loud and fast. Billy nods in the direction of his room and they walk from the day room, through the corridor without touching or talking.
Charles can’t help but hold his breath, as if the air itself would hurt him on it’s way down to his lungs, when he’s holding his natural instinct to pull Billy close and hold him tight. Is this what Billy’s experiencing with him? All the time? The threat of feelings taking over, making you do something you’re not sure you can handle? If thats’s the case, then he’s even more brave than Charles thought, for letting someone as Charles in at all.
They’re entering the room, Charles’ closes the door behind them, but not fully. He leaves a chink, doesn’t want to give either Billy or the staff the impression of secrecy. Billy’s standing in the impersonal room with the narrow bed, some clothes on a chair and a few personal items on the night table. Charles thinks about Billy’s cozy bedroom with the blue, pink and brown patchwork cover, the lace curtains and pink wallpapers. The contrast couldn’t be bigger. There’s still space between them, Charles can’t tell which one of them being more insecure.
”Can I…?”
”Just hold me, Charles… Please…”
They begin to talk at the same time, Charle’s question is never finished and Billy’s please doesn’t require words for answer. Charles all but scoops him up in his arms and Billy catches his mouth in a kiss with more desperation than heat in it. The kiss goes on forever, neither is prepared to be first to let go and it’s not until Billy actually needs air, as they break contact a little.
Billy leans on Charles’ shoulder, catching his breath as their pulses are beating wildly from all the things they eventually have to talk about, but not now. Not now. Charles decides to wipe out any unnecessairy tension between them. They only have a couple of hours and he wants to make some things clear.
”We don’t have to talk about how we feel or shit that went wrong, Billy. I don’t care right now, okay? For me, it’s enough to just be here.”
”Thank you…”
The relief is so strong it’s physical. Billy goes lax against his shoulder, sighing deeply.
”Could we just… watch tv or something?”
”Of course.”
”The guy in the couch…”
”What about him?”
”He’s name’s Ned. Lost his wife and newborn hours after birth about a year ago.”
”Shit…”
Billy nods.
”Yeah… He doesn’t get any visits or so. Don’t want him to, you know, feel shut out.”
It’s things like this, that makes Charles not wanting to let go of this man. The genuine care that Charles so rarely has come across in his life. Billy bites his lip.
”I use to hold my arm around him sometimes. You’re alright with that?”
”Of course I am. As long as you’re alright with me crying my eyes out between Jack and Anne sometimes.”
Billy just squeezes his hand and entangles his fingers in Charles’ long hair. He’s the only one who’s allowed to touch it and feeling the long, sensitive fingers scrape against the scalp, is pushing Charles close to that overwhelming edge again, the feeling that finally has made him taste a small bite of the chaos this closeness is stirring up in Billy’s mind. Charles plants a chaste kiss on his cheek and takes his hand before they go back to the day room.
The rugged man, Ned, hasn’t left his spot in the couch and he looks a little uncomfortable when Billy and Charles sits down. He makes a move to give them more space and Billy just leans out his arm, stopping him.
So. There it is. Charles is spending an hour in the couch, holding Billy’s left hand while Billy has his right arm around this Ned guy’s shoulder. It’s strange, but strange is the new normal to Charles and right now he needs whatever closeness Billy’s ready to give him. Especially before Charles has to tell this skittish man that he didn’t only search for Hal Gates, but also met him and is planning to do it again.