Chiaroscuro (16 page)

"But I haven't been. Because of you." He took a long breath. "Because I know how much infidelity hurts. You're not the first lover to sleep around on me. You're just the last one I ever would have believed would do it."

"I won't. I won't ever again. I'll request a new roommate. I'll do anything. Please don't look at me like that. Please."

How am I looking? Jamie thought. "Anything?"

"Anything. Anything."

"Then we get into the car, we drive to Walnut Creek and tell your parents about us. Tonight. Now."

Micah's face went pale. "Except that."

Jamie closed his eyes a moment, and then unknotted his tie and dropped it on the sofa. Micah got his feet, his expression hopeful, but when he tried to take Jamie's hands, Jamie moved away. "Go home, Micah," he said wearily.

"No--Jamie--anything else you ask, I'll do it, I promise--"

"You make a lot of promises. You just can't be bothered to keep them. Go home."

"Jamie!"

"Go home," Jamie repeated.

"But, Jamie--"

"I said, go home." He pinched the bridge of his nose and said calmly, "Get out of here before I throw you out."

"Jamie, I love you, please--"

"Get out!" Jamie shouted and shoved Micah towards the door. The boy stumbled across the threshold and down the hall to the elevator, and Jamie slammed the door shut.

He stood in his sitting room. Three weeks. Three weeks Micah had been sleeping with his roommate and he'd gone on as if nothing had changed, as if nothing was different, as if love didn't matter when faced with desire.

The pain engulfed him and he welcomed it. He dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands, sharp sobs in his throat.

Micah. His beautiful boy. Micah.

***

Ben was reading in bed when he heard a soft knock on his door. He threw aside his bedding and got up, pulling on a t-shirt to go with his Madras boxer shorts. He looked through the peephole: it was Jamie on the other side, his face red and tear-streaked, his hair disheveled as if he'd been shoving his hands through it.

Ben threw open the door and took Jamie in his arms at once. "What happened?" he said, drawing Jamie inside. "Did you and Micah have a fight?"

Jamie's face was hot against his chest and he clung to Ben like a drowning man. "Yes," he said in a low voice. "We fought."

"About what? What did he do?" He sat on the couch, bringing Jamie with him--taking him unabashedly onto his knee and holding him close, watching him with worried eyes.

"He's been sleeping with his roommate since school started," Jamie said as Ben stroked his back and shoulders.

Ben's hands stopped moving. "Wow," he said softly.

Jamie nodded and then laid his head on Ben's shoulder with a sigh. "I threw him out."

"Good! Good. That was the right thing to do."

"Was it? I don't feel like it was the right thing. I don't feel good at all."

"Well," Ben said, "you probably won't for a while. You're--you've been hurt and that always... hurts," he finished awkwardly.

"Fucking another bloke," Jamie whispered and buried his face in Ben's neck. "I didn't think he even liked his roommate. I should have known. Somebody closer to his own age. Somebody who wears black lipstick, for fuck's sake."

"You don't know that," Ben soothed.

"I found black lipstick on his shirt, Ben. On the shirt Micah put on to take me out for my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me." He inhaled, shuddering. "His roommate kissed him goodbye when he was leaving to take me out. Do you think they had sex before Micah left to spend the weekend with me?"

"Don't do this to yourself, Jamie."

"Why not, damn it? Why not? He said he loved me! He said he wanted to be with me! And how long was he lying to me, Ben?"

Ben shook his head, and then held onto Jamie's chin and kissed him. "Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop torturing yourself."

Jamie looked at him with the saddest eyes Ben had ever seen and whispered, "I don't know how to stop. It hurts so fucking much."

"I know it does, Sunshine." Ben pulled Jamie's head back to his shoulder again. "I know it does." He kissed the top of Jamie's head, and didn't say anything when Jamie began to weep onto his shoulder--he just wiped Jamie's face with his palm and rocked him and let him cry.

When Jamie had wept himself out Ben put him into his bed, carefully helping him undress and kissing him over and over, whispering it would be okay. Jamie was soon asleep like an exhausted child, wedged in the farthest corner of Ben's bed.

Ben did not sleep. He watched Jamie for a while, running his hand over the soft blond hair, and then went into his living room and made a few phone calls. While he was waiting he dressed. Dune rang his bell sooner than Ben expected, and they kissed each other briefly when he opened the door. "Is he okay?" Dune said as he took off his jacket.

"He will be. He's still asleep. Go ahead and lie down in my bed if you're tired. I'll be at the bakery most of the night."

Dune nodded. "You're a good friend, Benjie."

"I do my best," Ben said, shrugging on his denim jacket. "Don't wait up."

"Ben! You're not going to do anything to the kid, are you?"

Ben paused in the doorway. "Only if I see him." He let himself out.

***

Jamie drifted between asleep and awake. The bed was warm, the sheets were soft, and the body beside him was solid and comforting. Micah, he thought hazily and snuggled close.

And then he remembered.

Not Micah. Never Micah again.

He moaned and pulled the sheets over his head. A few hot tears fell from his eyes.

After a moment his companion pulled down the sheets, and Dune looked at him with concern. "Jamie, love?"

"Hey. Um. Good morning. Where's Ben?" He wiped his face with his hand.

"He had to go into the bakery for a bit so he asked me to come over and keep you company." He started stroking Jamie's hair. "So how are you doing, honey?"

"Having the best fucking birthday ever," Jamie said with forced cheer, and then laid his head on Dune's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Dune cooed and held him tight, and kissed the top of his head. "It's okay, baby-love. Things can only get better."

"Oh, you'd be surprised how bad things can get," Jamie muttered.

"Would I?" He kissed Jamie's head again. "You think I've never been hurt?"

He sniffled. "I think a bloke who'd cheat on you is a fool."

"So is any bloke who'd cheat on you," Dune said tenderly. "Micah's a fool. He's young and he's thoughtless and he doesn't know what he's got in you."

"Had," Jamie said softly. "Had."

Dune nodded and repeated, "Had." He combed his fingers through Jamie's hair.

Jamie sighed against his chest. "Ben was so worried about me he had you come over? Am I that pathetic?"

"You're not pathetic at all. We're your friends. We worry. We don't want you to be unhappy."

Jamie closed his eyes. When did you become a 'we'? "You can say 'I told you so' if you want to."

"I don't want to." He bent his head so his mouth was beside Jamie's ear and whispered, "But just remember: Dune is always right."

Jamie almost smiled. "Dune is always right. I'll remember."

"Damn straight." He held Jamie close for a few minutes more, then said, "You need breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast, or something fancier?"

"I'm not hungry." His stomach rumbled.

"Your tummy disagrees. I bet you didn't even have dinner last night. Why don't you stay here and I'll make you breakfast, and maybe by the time it's ready Ben will be back."

He didn't have the heart to tell Dune it would all taste like dust, no matter how well made it was. "If you must," he said and curled up under the blankets again.

***

"He won't get up," Dune said when Ben come home.

"What are you making?" Ben said as he put down the cake box.

"Omelets. He won't get out of bed. I've tried everything from bribery to dragging."

Ben leaned over the stove top and inhaled the scent of peppers and eggs. "Mm, nice. I'll talk to him." He took off his jacket and hung it over a kitchen chair.

"Be gentle," Dune added as he flipped an omelet closed.

"I'm always gentle." He grinned as Dune raised his eyebrows in disbelief, and went into his bedroom.

The room was dark--the shades closed, no lights on--and the bed looked more like someone had carelessly made it than that someone was sleeping on it. Ben lay down and propped his head on his elbow, and tugged back the blankets to reveal the back of Jamie's head. He leaned down and kissed Jamie's hair. "Hey," he said.

There was a rumble from under the sheets.

"Get up, birthday boy."

"No."

"Yes." He tugged on the blankets again. "There's breakfast waiting for you."

"I'm not hungry. I told Dune I wasn't."

"He made omelets anyway. With peppers and bacon and I think mushrooms, too. Doesn't that sound good? It sounds good to me--but then, I've been awake all night."

Jamie turned over, finally, to look at him. "Why were you awake all night? Did someone have a wedding emergency?"

"No," Ben said simply. He stroked Jamie's cheek. "I had something I had to do."

Jamie nodded, then sighed and pushed the blankets aside. "Sorry. Probably ought to sleep, then. I'll get out of your way."

Ben caught his hands and pulled until Jamie fell onto his chest with a yelp. "Get back here, you. I'm not sending you away. I want you to stay. I fully intend for you to stay."

"I suppose I have no say in the matter," Jamie said, pushing himself up from Ben's chest.

"Nope." He smiled at Jamie angelically. "For your birthday you're getting fed, coddled, looked after and fussed over. Does that sound good to you?"

Jamie was looking down at him, blue-gray eyes more unreadable than Ben had yet seen them, and then he smiled and kissed the tip of Ben's nose. "It does sound good. I'll try to appreciate it."

"You can start with appreciating Dune's omelets. Up." He kept his hands on Jamie's waist as he sat up and Jamie got to his feet. He slung his arms around Ben's neck.

"I'm upright. Now what?"

Ben tilted back his head and smiled at him. "Breakfast. Then shower, maybe? Not that you aren't delightfully pungent right now, Jamie-lad."

"I stink, is what you're saying."

"You smell like sleep." He pressed his cheek to Jamie's chest, inhaling deeply. Dressed, Jamie looked slim and small; undressed, he was compact and strong, solidly formed, his chest hair just thick enough, his skin palely tanned and his nipples the color of caramel. There was a small gold hoop in one nipple, and Ben thumbed it until Jamie shivered and pushed his hand away.

"Don't," he muttered. He moved out of Ben's arms and picked up his trousers from the bureau where Ben had folded them the night before.

"Why not?"

He pulled his trousers on. "It's too soon, Benjie."

Ben frowned. "Too soon for what?"

"For me to pretend it doesn't matter." He buttoned up his fly and picked up his shirt.

Ben counted ten. "That what doesn't matter? Sex in general, sex with me, or that you're not having sex with Micah anymore?"

Jamie gave him a dark look as he buttoned his shirt. "Yes. All of the above."

"Hm. Sex with me wouldn't matter. Thanks."

"No," Jamie said patiently, "sex with you would matter, and if I had sex with you today it would probably matter too much, particularly since you insist you don't have sex with your friends."

"Oh," Ben said, understanding, then added, "but if you have sex with me then the fact that you're not having sex with Micah anymore won't matter. Right?"

Jamie brushed his hands through his hair and gave Ben another dark look. "I think I preferred your other method of chatting me up: direct and unmistakable."

"I'm not chatting you up: I'm trying to figure out what's going on in that strange English head of yours."

"My head is not strange."

Ben pointed to his ceiling, where Jamie had painted a fantasy landscape of trees and rivers and hills, and two muscular lovers embraced each other in a garden where a snake was curled around the base of an apple tree. "Adam and Steve," he had said by way of explanation.

"Strange," Ben said. "Beautiful, but strange."

Jamie looked up at the ceiling and faintly smiled. "I don't think it's that strange at all."

"Well, you wouldn't. It's your head. And I like your head. I like the rest of you, both corporeal and non. But my point is, you having sex with someone else as soon as possible would be a good thing. And I am willing--no, not just willing, eager--to cure you. Think of me as penicillin. Antibiotics. Aspirin for the dreaded Micah fever."

The faint smile on Jamie's face disappeared. "I don't want to be cured."

"Then you are not going to be any fun to be around." He studied Jamie: something was off with him that he couldn't quite place. Normally Jamie made people stop and stare; not because he was stunning, like Dune, but because there was something--something golden and fine and warm--something that was now missing, like the fire inside had been doused.

Yes, he thought, that's what's wrong. He's not shining and he needs to be--he's not complete without it.

What would it take to bring that light back?

Practical things first: Jamie needed nourishment and friends. Healing his heart would wait.

"C'mon, Sunshine," Ben said and got to his feet. "Even if you're not hungry I am." He put his hands on Jamie's shoulders and directed him out the door.

"I'm not going to eat anything," Jamie said, and his stomach rumbled loudly.

"We'll see," Ben said, not believing him at all.

***

Jamie ate all of his omelet and half of Dune's, three pieces of toasted sourdough bread, and a bowl of sliced peaches and milk. "What?" he said as Ben leaned on his hand and watched him.

"Nothing," Ben said, grinning and shaking his head.

"So," said Dune as he buttered another slice of toast, "what can we do to make this birthday spectacular?"

Jamie sipped from his coffee cup and looked away. "This has been a very nice brunch," he said neutrally.