Swift as a Coursing River | Ongoing

20. Cloudburst

After the movie night, the anxiety Edwin has been harbouring all these months whenever he interacted with Vincent hides away to bide its time and Edwin hadn't realised how fun it would be to be near Vincent without that looming presence. It turns up the simmering desire and he simultaneously hates and loves how he replaced one kind of tension with more of another kind. It demands too much space in his mind, but he wants to bask in it, too. Let yourself be attracted to men, Ellen said. Vincent suggests a shopping trip in January, after the holidays, and 2018 is still too distant to fire up his nerves.

So he and Vincent keep meeting up, for running once a week, and sometimes for LGBT movies, like today. Edwin presses the buzzer again, but there's still no reaction. It was today, wasn't it? He checks the calendar on his phone. Definitely today, and definitely 8 pm. He glances at the shop, but it's dark and both the shutters and the grate are down. Should he call?

He unlocks his phone before he can second-guess. It rings, and rings. Edwin steps back to see if there's light in the windows of Vincent's apartment. His right hand worries the inside of his coat pocket. Finally, Vincent picks up.

"Is it urgent? I don't have time for queer panic right now." Edwin almost takes a literal step back. Vincent's voice is tense, angry. Where is the joke, the flirtatious tone, the petname? Edwin had thought Vincent understood how he hurt him, but he is mocking Edwin's newness, his uncertainty, all over again.

It's not right. If Vincent wanted to make fun of him, he would provoke Edwin. He'd drawl "sweetheart" or "girl". It'd be like a caress, but all wrong. Is Vincent ... stressed?

"Are you alright?"

"Peachy, pumpkin. Is there a reason why you're calling? Like I said, I'm a little busy right now." Edwin hears stumbling and Vincent curses. "Make it short, please."

"We were going to watch a movie today. I'm downstairs at your door, but you didn't open."

"Fuck. I had forgotten that. Sorry, darling. It's not a good time. Rain check."

"Is something going on?"

"I —" There is a splashing noise. "I've got a leaky pipe in my bathroom and I'm trying to save what I can. And I really need both my hands for that, so I'll call you back tomorrow, okay?"

Edwin looks up again at the façade. If Vincent is in the bathroom, that explains why he can't see a light. "Can I help?" he asks on a whim. Vincent inhales sharply. "Have you closed off the water?"

"I'll let you in," Vincent says. "You can do that." He hangs up and a minute later, Edwin can enter. He jogs up the stairs to a closed door, but it isn't locked. As soon as he steps inside, his shoes squeak on the wet tiles of the hallway. The door to the bathroom is open and Vincent is draining a bucket in the shower. There is another bucket awkwardly blocked in the cabinets under the sink, where water is gushing from the seam between two parts of the pipes.

"Is the main valve in the kitchen?"

"How should I know?" Vincent bites out. He doesn't look up, changing the bucket under the sink for the one he just emptied.

"I'll check."

Edwin opens the cabinets under the sink and takes out the trashcan and the cardboard box with dish soap and rags. The main valve is indeed in the back and he twists it closed. When he moves to get up, he hits his head against the kitchen counter. "Shit." His hand flies to the back of his head and then his neck.

"The water stopped!" Vincent calls. He appears in the door frame of the living room. "Everything okay, darling?"

"Fine. Just hit my head. Got a stitch in my neck." He grabs the edge of the sink and pulls himself up. His knees hurt, too, from the tiles. "Are you alright? You sounded stressed."