In the Closet (boy x boy)

36. Hide and Seek

Tuesday, May 2nd

I find Tavish sitting on the rooftop all balled up, a bit too close to a ledge for comfort. He doesn't hear me climb up. I only find out why that is as I inch closer and closer. There, I hear his muffled sobs. His shoulders shake with each cry, his forearms are drenched with tears, his breathing is unsteady and jerky. Figuring out what has gotten him in this state strikes me an unimportant. I just want to make him better. My heart tears to shreds with every cry that he emits. It hurts deep in my chest to see him like this. I slowly approach him.

"Hey," I whisper to announce my presence and trail a couple fingers over his shoulder.

He jolts, peeks his head out of the space between his knees. His face drops when he catches sight of me. He freezes there with his tear stained cheeks and reddened nose and chewed raw lower-lip. Even in this state, he's breathtaking. Our eyes meets and his protective walls have collapsed.

"Will," my nickname slips out of his mouth like a reflex. I don't have the heart to comment on it. Not right here, not right now. I have to comfort him as quick and well as I can to bring him back to the competition.

"Tav." I hope the interpellation can satisfy him, convince him to come back. But it does the opposite. He wears his armor back up and I have no idea how to get in again.

"Please, leave. I don't want you to see me like this." He stares down at the street in front of the building.

I join him, mesmerized by the motion of cars passing by. When a loud motorbike revs, I come back to my senses.

"You have to go back, everyone is counting on you," I say in hopes I sound convincing.

Tavish wipes his tears but they don't cease.

"I can't, Will. I can't. Please leave." The reiteration shatters me to pieces. I don't want to let him sink in his own pain.

So I crouch down and sit next to him. He doesn't acknowledge me but I know he noticed me. There's so much I could do, so many solutions I could try. However, all that feels natural to me is holding his clenched fist until it slackens and then sliding my hand in there. Tavish allows me, tightening his hand around my fingers. I drag his hand up to my lips and delicately kiss the back of it. He lets out a shaky sigh. The tears have stopped pouring from his eyes at once. He rips his gaze away from the busy street to look at me. I take in all of him. I don't know why he's crying, I don't know what scared him into hiding up here, I don't know what hurt him so much he's willing to ruin such an important event. But I have to be stingy about my time. So instead of talking through this whole issue, I decide to let actions speak louder than words. I bring my free hand to stroke his jaw softly, then push a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes remain plunged in mine, he allows me to do as I please. And right now, my lips itch with a craving for his. He seems to understand me because his eyes settle on my lips just as mine settle on his. Nobody needs to say anything for the tension to snap.

I lock my hand at the back of his head and tug him forward. Our lips meet in a slow waltz. He tastes like a mix of salty tears and sweetness. Carefully, he devours me. His hand squeezes around mine. His body shifts towards mine. His second hand drags its way from my waist to my shoulder to cupping my jaw. His tongue pokes past my lips. I allow him to deepen our kiss because he's just so good. But then I come to my senses and pull back. I stare at him in disbelief. How did I allow this to happen? Distress settles in my bones. On the opposite, it seems I kissed him back into serenity. His breathing is back to normal, his posture is more calm. For a quick fix, that definitely was a quick fix.

I push myself up to my feet. Then, I hold my hands out for Tavish to grab them. He does and I pull him up but he stands at the same time. We end up disbalanced, swaying on the rooftop like idiots. His face has lightened. Still, I perceive a returning shadow over it. So I hug him tight. He accepts the embrace almost immediately, arms circling my body and chin resting atop my head.

"You're okay," I tell him against his sweater.

"Yeah..." he mumbles.

Through comforting him, it seems I have comforted myself. My limbs feel lighter, my head less crowded, my heart abler. It's a strange feeling. I step back so I can get a proper look at his face. His cheeks still shine with fresh tears. With the sleeves of my tracksuit, I wipe his face. He gives me a giddy smile, eyes on me the whole time. Once I'm done and he seems a bit more presentable, I grab his hand.

"We have to go," I tell him and he's left without much choice but to listen and follow.

When we get in the competition room, our team has already started going. Tavish and I jog down the stairs. As we arrive to our area, Tavish is bombarded with comments and questions about his previous absence. Instead of talking to his brother straight-up, Seamus comes up to me, chucks me a thank and then snatches his brother away to get him all prepared. In a couple dozens of minutes, Tavish stands on a podium with a gold medal between his teeth and the proudest look plastered on his face. He searches the crowd and finds me. We gaze at each other for a moment and my whole body feels like I'm on a roller coaster. A tsunami of contradictory feelings crushes me. I can't bear it. So I leave after excusing myself to Seamus and the other members. Apparently, I'm going to miss the team picture of the event. But I could care less, honestly. As I finally make it to my room and lock the door behind me, I slide down the door onto the floor.

I stay down for a while. My feelings have been needing some sorting for a while now.

- Tavish is not good to me, that I'm supposed to know. Yes, he bears more emotional and physical scars than I do, but he's still not good to me.
- Tavish is like a poison, he's not something I should risk altogether.
- Tavish is an easy addiction, every time I pull away, I end up nose to nose and mouth to mouth with him. It can't keep happening that way.
- Tavish can't give me what I deserve. I deserve to be cherished and loved. He can't do either. All he does is want, want, want. And because I'm an idiot, I just give, give, give.
- Tavish and his hot hands are not worth the strain, the heartbreak.
- Tavish is the worst person I've ever met. I hate him. I do. Really.
- Tavish can't be left to assume from my actions. I can't allow him to believe he's getting anything back from me.
- Tavish needs to know we're nothing. He needs to be reminded we mean nothing to one another. He needs to know I only kissed him so we could win that competition. He needs to know I'm only doing my job, that's all. He needs to know I hate him anyway.

Therefore, I decide I need to inform him of all that. I pull my phone out of my tracksuit's pocket. Because he was the one to offer it to me, he had already tampered with the contacts and, as a result, I have his number. It has been left unused until now but today is the day. I type words into the message bar. A sharp pain stabs my gut. My head feels tight. My heart hammers against my ribcage. My eyes sting and, along with the last word I'm typing, a tear falls on the screen. It's followed by another and another and many others as I click on the "send" button.

A blue message appears. My message. The one I just sent Tavish because I mean it, yes. A gray seen appears under it and I see the thoroughness of my feelings for this man. I'm shaking. His text bubbles appears and then disappears. I read the message I sent, over and over again, as if it would make it any less real. As if I could come back to a time where I hadn't sent it and Tavish hadn't read it and we had just kissed for the first time in a while. This is the right decision so why does it hurt so much? I give the message a last read before closing the phone.

I can't help but hate you, it says.