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Grief can make people crazy. Carlos knows it personally.
Him and Oscar were never close before – just polite for Lando’s sake, and their not so traditional arrangement was working fine. Lando wanted so hard, with the full power of his too big heart, and neither of them had ever been good at saying no to him. He was diligent, carefully dividing his time between them, making sure both of them felt loved and included.
But then he died, the careless drunk driver changing three lives permanently.
Now Carlos has learned to live with his sadness, and the man who was never supposed to be his this way. They had been drifting together for a while, sharing nights, when lust meant a change to forget even for a while, but one morning he was asking Oscar to stay for breakfast.
”Are you sure?” he had only asked. Oscar sat at the table, grey and joyless while Carlos prepped the food. Eggs and fruit, muffins, and green smoothies. He made a good selection. Oscar had been getting a little too thin, and Carlos was satisfied watching him eating slowly but with a good appetite.
”Would you have me again if I stayed?”
He was willing to give Oscar anything if it only made him smile, but Carlos just nodded. ”I feel better when you are around.”
”Are you sure about what you are doing?” Charles had asked that in his beautiful top floor apartment, where they had the gentle waves of the sea in their ears, and Leo fussing around their legs. Carlos picked the dog up, petting his back.
”He gives me peace. I don’t know about the future, but today is today. I have Oscar and he has me, and it’s working.” Charles only hugged him. Carlos had no need to ask for permissions from anybody besides Oscar, but his support felt good.
They never needed to forget Lando. They have his framed pictures in the apartment, and some keepsakes, his bracelets and necklaces, and framed art he had liked. Carlos puts his book down, looking up at the grey sky. Maybe it comforts Lando, seeing that they are together, and they are okay. They can’t see or hear him, but he is surely there, in winter sunshine touching his skin on a January morning, or in the pretty pink stones Oscar had found on their trip to Brighton last June.
”I always feel better when it’s raining.” The Australian comes to the balcony, his calm eyes studying the heavy rain, and the empty street in front of the building. Only one woman with her small dog is standing at the doorway of the small grocery store, waiting for the current downpour to pass.
Carlos sees his point. Sunny days give pressure to go out and enjoy life, but rain just lets one be and feel. Oscar, the Australian used to love summer heat, but they have changed.
”Sit down?” he asks the man, and Oscar accepts. Their balcony sofa is big enough that he can lie down. He rests against Carlos, humming at the fingers in his hair.