In the Closet (boy x boy)

35. Polar Opposite of Dreams

Tuesday, May 2nd

Awkward. The walk back to Tavish's room is awkward. We pass by my room first so I can get my essential belongings; toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, pajamas, tracksuit and clothes for tomorrow. Tavish just silently watches me pace in my room. His eyes dull, a small smile on his lips. I can't read him anymore. The awkwardness persists as we take turns showering and brushing our teeth. I'm the last one to leave the bathroom. So as I come back towards the bed, Tavish is already lying on it, eyes wide at the ceiling. He isn't scowling as I usually am, he's calm and attentive. His mind is somewhere else, bathing in some thoughts I just cannot decipher.

I know I shouldn't but I allow my eyes to travel down his body. He sleeps in boxers and boxers only, it's not much of a surprise. The issue is, I'm burning with the desire to touch. His broad shoulders, his beefy chest, his toned stomach, his thick thighs. The desire is almost as loud as the voice at the back of my mind telling me to flee this hot mess. But this hot mess apologized, I remind myself. I silently check him out, cheeks warm. He shifts and I'm propelled back into reality. Our eyes meet. He cracks me a charming but tired smile.

"Hi," he says and scoots over so he only occupies half the space.

"Hello."

I sit on the bed, back towards him. He doesn't touch me, doesn't reach out to me as I grew to expect. My heart runs a marathon. What next? I can hear his breaths. Unknowingly, I time mine along with his. We lock into each other that way. Yet I still hate him.

"Er... I like to know about your boundaries. So I can be, uh... careful," he requests and I never thought I would hear any of that come out of his mouth when I first met him.

I can't help but laugh lightly. "Since when do you know what boundaries are?"

He copies my laugh, although his sounds weaker.

"I spoke with Seamus. He's wise when he wants to," he says with a sense of gratefulness in his voice, as well as appreciation.

I hum in agreement, then give his question a thorough consideration. Boundaries? I always had a ton of those. Touching people in general used to be beyond my boundaries. But now I hug people and I kiss them and I have sex with them. And speaking to strangers used to be beyond my boundaries. But now I learned to enjoy the company of others, little by little. So what boundaries could I have left when Tavish was the one to make them collapse to the ground? But then again, he sought to hurt me as much as he could. And he was physically violent towards me. His emotions run wild, they control him. Although he tries to better himself, I have had no real proof of that. And so I can't afford to be emotionally involved with him, not again. Plus, he must have found someone else to execute his desires on because he doesn't want me anymore.

All we are is strangers who require something from one another. Tavish needs some sort of comfort he happened to find in me. I need closure. So I'm back at the start with one question, what are my boundaries? My boundaries are shaped by whatever I need for proper closure, for a last taste of us. In that case, he can touch me. He can hold me. He can take whatever he needs to earn himself that comfort he seeks. I just need to verbalize all that to him in a way he can understand we're nothing, just strangers who'll be close for a night.

"I'm okay with you holding me if you need to. I'm okay with anything," I say and I don't recognize my voice there. I hear Tavish shift. I turn my head towards him. He has sat up, staring at me in disbelief. I feel the need to clarify. "Because this is the last time."

His face falls. Even in the darkness, I can make out how charming he looks.

"This is the last time," he parrots, more for himself than for me.

I don't say anything. I fling my legs onto the bed and look down. Tavish sighs. I expect him to lay down and sleep. But then his hand, that fucking nice hand of his, strokes my jaw. It trails its way past the sore spots at the corners of my mouth, up to my cheekbone. I wince as he touches the bruise, ever so softly. My whole body melts. How can he still have such an effect on me? The blue of his eyes has delightfully darkened when he brings his lips to my bruise and kisses it. His lips are heaven, I didn't realize how much I had missed them. He slowly pulls back, his breath against my cheek. We gaze at each other in the silence of the night. No one says anything but we understand one another either way. Outside, the world still spins but here, on this bed, time has stopped. Tavish treads a hand through my hair, his eyes follow. He's fully immersed in the gesture, although it has no real purpose. His touch soothes me, I allow my eyelids to fall closed. I feel a soft peck against my forehead and suddenly Tavish is grabbing my waist and lying me down. We face each other. Tavish drapes my body with the blanket, his hand returns on my waist. He pulls me close, all snug against his chest. My mind reels in all of him. His smell swallows me whole. I fall asleep in a matter of minutes.

I stir awake, mind all fuzzy. It's still dark in the room. Tavish's breathing is labored against my back. Alarmed, I flip around to look at him. He flinches and churns, mumbles unintelligible nonsense. At a moment, the nightmare must have gotten particularly scary because he yelps a small "no" and hugs himself, as if protecting his body. Immediately, I think of his father. I think of the hurt I saw in him after he was slapped. So although I hate him, I want to provide the comfort I'm here for. Gingerly, I slide my hand between his bare shoulder blades and rub in a circular motion. He instantly slackens. His hands find my waist, his head buries in my chest. With my other palm, I stroke his hair. Tavish hums against me. His skin burns against mine. I love the burn, that's what I'm thinking about when I tip back into sleep.

When I awaken for the second time, sun peeks through the curtains. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and yawning. The space that Tavish occupied taunts me in all its emptiness. I pretend it doesn't affect me in any way. My watch on the nightstand indicates it's time for breakfast. By now, Tavish and the other athletes have probably gotten a whole workout in. I'm left to contemplate how useless I am to this competition. Then I tell myself it doesn't matter because nobody will hold it against me. Stretching over the bed, I take my phone. There's a text from Seamus in my notification center. It's been there for a bit over an hour. I consult it. 

"What did you do to Tavish?" I read. A frown knits my eyebrows together.

Nothing much, I answer.

His answer pings on my phone almost immediately. Did you make up? it asks.

You could say that. It's complicated, I answer again.

Whatever you intended to do or not to do with him, you need to be made aware of something, he says.

Ok, is my reply.

We spoke him and I. It's not all his fault. It's hard not to replicate the climate you grew up to, especially when you're the most affected, he explains.

I sit there, staring at the message for some time. My still sleepy brain takes some time to process what Seamus is trying to communicate through such vague explanations.

"Oh," I say once I get it.

Violence is a learned behavior for Tavish and it stems from his homophobic father. As Seamus said, it doesn't excuse him for everything but it does act as a relevant point when judging of the situation.

Thank you for this, I text Seamus before getting ready for breakfast.

---

I sit in front of the stage again to watch the seniors perform. Except this time, it's not an opportunity to discuss with Aqua and take pointless notes. This time, there's a pretty major issue. The team before us in the order is about to go and Tavish is nowhere to be found. Despite acting strange, he was there for morning training, breakfast and final warmup. He simply seems to have vanished ten minutes before I arrived. Now the whole team is in a bewildered mess and nobody can concentrate on anything. The star athlete is missing, we might be disqualified from the competition and, worse, no one knows if Tavish is even safe. He's not answering calls or messages, Seamus can't track his phone. It's like he vanished. But I think I might know where he is. So when I tell Seamus so, he practically begs me to go and try to find his brother. I bolt out of the room towards the only place I could imagine Tavish would hide; the rooftop.