Endless, Forever (7 page)

Swallowing thickly, Oliver picked at a loose thread on the side of his blanket.  “It’s…it wasn’t that.  It had nothing to do with that.  The fucking was bloody great.”

“Then you might want to explain, because I’m about four seconds from punching you in the face,” Leo warned.

Oliver gave him a withering look.  “He saw my scars.”

“And?” Leo pressed, his brows still dipped into a low frown.

“And…he kept asking what they were from?”

“So?”  When Oliver didn’t answer, Leo let out a frustrated groan.  “You kicked him out because he wanted to know why the boyfriend he fucked and said he was falling for, has scars on his body.  You fucking with me, mate?”

“No,” Oliver said sullenly, feeling like somehow he and Leo had reversed roles, and the younger was now more mature and understanding than he could ever be.  “I didn’t…I can’t…”  He sighed, scrubbing his face.  “I don’t want him to know, alright?”

“Why the fuck not?  It’s going to come up at some point,” Leo said, leveling a finger at his brother.  “And do you honestly think he won’t understand?  He, of the fucking trans identity, won’t understand what it’s like to not super love the body you’re in?  And what you’ve had to endure getting to where you are today?”

“I don’t want pity,” Oliver retorted.

“Too fucking bad.”  Leo leaned over his knees, glaring at his brother.  “People are going to pity you,
especially
people who care about you.  It’s a bloody natural human reaction.  Now if you want to be a fucking twat about this whole thing, fine.  That’s your choice.  But you will go over to Gabe’s house and explain to him why you left the way you did, or I will.  And I swear to you, I will not spare any details.”

Oliver’s face went white-hot with rage.  “You wouldn’t
dare
.”

“You made him think you panicked because he has breasts and a vagina, Oliver.  He’s been dysphoric all fucking weekend.  So yes, I would dare.”

Feeling like he’d been kicked in the stomach, Oliver got to his feet.  Leo was right, and it was the least he could do.  Gabe deserved some explanation
and
the knowledge it had nothing to do with his body.  Oliver was just broken, and there was no fixing him.

“For the record,” Leo called as Oliver shuffled toward the stairs for a shower, “he’d understand.  So maybe think about that before you go making any ridiculous decisions.”

Chapter Eight

“He’s the assistant manager over at the Fourth Street bookshop,” Leo had called as Oliver was heading for the door.

He hadn’t known that, and had intended on first checking Gabe’s apartment, then posting outside the café until the other man arrived.  But the information was helpful, and the little used bookshop wasn’t far from their house.

The late afternoon was nice, the slight breeze promising colder temperatures as autumn waited right around the corner, and it helped clear his head as he moved through the upscale neighborhood.  His eyes wandered as he strolled, hands in his pockets, gaze flickering between the people he passed.  All of them looked content, some even happy, and he wondered if he was destined to feel this aching pit in his stomach for the rest of his life.

Somewhere deep in the back of his head, he knew it was his own fault.  No one else was doing this to him.  But he couldn’t seem to stop himself, and he didn’t know why.  He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could be saved by some prince charming swooping in—hell he had no desire for that at all.  But he didn’t know where to begin.

Though apologizing to Gabe was a good start.

He had never ever, in his life, ever intended on making someone he cared about feel rejected over their body.  In fact, the guilt was so pressing, his throat kept going tight and he was a hair’s breadth away from bursting into tears.

Taking a breath to control himself, Oliver turned the corner onto the main street where the bookshop waited.  It had been there for just about ever, a small stone building which was surrounded now by a brewery, and a string of bars the university students frequented.  But the bookshop thrived, drawing in tourists and locals alike.

Oliver had been in there a handful of times himself, loving the smell of old parchment from ancient books the owner kept stocked on tall shelves.  He’d never been a big reader before, but there was something about that shop he loved.

He’d never seen Gabriel there before—he would have remembered someone so good looking.  But it was no surprise the barista had a second job at a place like that.  It seemed just his style, and in spite of his raging guilt, the thought of Gabe amongst all those old books brought a smile to his face.

With a breath, he approached the shop and peered in.  He couldn’t see anyone behind the counter, but the shop looked bare, so he took the chance and walked in.  The heavy, familiar scent hit him, and he paused to breathe it in before he went on his search.

The shop itself was small, two story with the stairs directly in the center for customers to go up and down.  There were only a few main stacks, and shelves against the walls, so there wouldn’t be many places for Gabe to hide.

Consequently, he found the other man re-shelving from a small push cart at the back of the shop.  Oliver froze, then took a breath and knocked on the side of the shelf.  Gabe turned, his eyes going wide, and his cheeks paled.

“What the hell do you want?”

Oliver winced, but he knew he deserved it.  “I erm…had a chat with my brother who told me you might have got the wrong idea the other morning.”

“Oh?  Wrong idea?” Gabe said, his voice low and furious.  He shoved the book he was holding back onto the cart and turned to face Oliver.  “About what?  You fucking me then kicking me out?  You swearing you wanted all of me, then panicking?  Please, Oliver,
enlighten
me.”

Licking his lips, Oliver looked around to make sure no one else was listening before taking a few steps closer.  “It wasn’t you.”

“Right.  It wasn’t you, it was me.  You know, that line doesn’t
actually
work on people.”

Shaking his head, Oliver stepped even closer, but froze when he saw Gabe tense.  “No I…it
is
me.  It…”  He threw up his hands and growled.  “I didn’t want you to see the scars.  I didn’t want you to ask about them, okay?”

“Why the fuck not?” Gabe challenged.  “Although if that’s true, you might have just said something instead of telling me to fuck off and running out like that.  What the
hell
was I supposed to think?”

“That I’m a twat?” Oliver said.  “A colossal fuck-up, and there’s no hope for me?”

“Well…yeah.”  Gabe swallowed, and for just a second, a smile flickered across his mouth.  “That wasn’t new, you know.  I figured that one out all on my own the night you brought Leo to my house.”

Oliver deflated, leaning against the nearest shelf.  “Can we talk later?  Please?  At the very least I owe you an explanation and…a better apology than this one.  I’m really shit at all this.  I told you before I’d never had a boyfriend and I just…”

Gabe let out a long-suffering sigh, interrupting him.  “You can come over to mine later.  I’m off at four.   But whatever you have to say, it had better be either really good, or really fast, because I’m not interested in wasting any more time with you.”

Oliver nodded, feeling something stirring in his gut.  The desire to reach over and kiss Gabe until it was better.  The desire to have those arms around him again because it had been no more than a full day and
fuck
, he missed him.  “I promise.  And I really am sorry.”

“Save it,” Gabe said.  “I’ll see you later.”

Dismissed without ceremony, Oliver turned on his heel and hurried out of the shop.  It was something, at least, and though he was confused about what he really wanted, the least he could do was make it up to Gabe.  He set his sights on the string of shops up the road and headed out to try and find the best apology present he could afford.

***

Oliver turned up at Gabe’s door at half past four, with nothing in his hands.  Not a thing.  He had scoured the shops for hours but nothing screamed, “I’m sorry for making you feel dysphoric, and being an unintentional transphobic asshat.”

He half considered buying a blank card and writing something along those lines inside of it, but he wasn’t poetic enough, and he had a feeling Gabe wouldn’t entirely appreciate the sentiment.

By the time he gave up, four o’clock had come and gone, and he knew if he didn’t head over to Gabe’s straight away, he’d be late and then there would be no chance of forgiveness.  Abandoning the shops and hoping his words would be enough, Oliver broke into a run.

He arrived at Gabe’s door right as the time ticked by four-thirty, and he knocked softly, pressing his head against the door jamb and hoping desperately Gabe hadn’t blown him off.  He held his breath and tapped his foot.  The seconds ticked by, and there was nothing.

Just as he was about to give up, the knob turned and the door slowly creaked open.  Gabe’s face appeared in the crack, and after some hesitation, he swung it open.  “Well?”

Oliver swallowed.  “I’m still very sorry.  And if it means anything to you at all, I’m willing to explain myself.  A little.”

Gabe’s brow furrowed, then he carefully stepped aside, motioning Oliver in.

He felt like leaping into the air, but it wasn’t a triumph yet.  His only hope was to give Gabriel details he hadn’t shared with anyone.  Even his brother only knew because he’d been present for part of it, and assumed the rest.  But the words describing what Oliver had gone through had never slipped past his lips before, and he wasn’t sure if this was worth it.

If Gabriel was worth it.

Only turning to look at him, Oliver was starting to believe it might be.  The curious, cautious look in Gabe’s eyes, the way he was wringing his hands, the desperation only half-hidden in his face because Gabriel wanted to know.  He wanted to know if it was worth it, too.

Taking a breath, Oliver strolled to the couch and took a seat against the far side armrest.  He kept his legs spread apart, hands hanging between his knees, and he twisted the single, silver band he wore on his left middle finger.

“First of all, Leo told me you thought I was put off by your body, and that wasn’t it at all.”  Oliver glanced up at Gabriel who was hovering by the cushion farthest away from him.  After a second, he lowered himself down, and Oliver went on.  “I realize now why it looked like that, but I swear it…I… I meant what I said when I told you I wanted all of you.  That it didn’t matter.  Because it still doesn’t.  I just wasn’t prepared for you to see me like that.”

“Clearly,” Gabe said dryly.

“You just…you wouldn’t let it go and it…”  He didn’t have the words, and he let out a frustrated growl.

“It triggered you,” Gabe offered.

Oliver blinked, then nodded.  “Yeah I…suppose that’s it.  I’ve never talked about them before.  The scars.  The…incident.  Ever.  To anyone.  Not even Leo.”

Gabe’s eyes widened a fraction.  “You know if you’d just said something before…”

“I know, but then you’d have wondered.  And I just didn’t think, because I never think.  And I don’t let people get close enough to see them so they can wonder,” Oliver said, reaching up to tug at the bottom of his braid.  “But Leo said maybe I should tell you, because maybe you’d get it.”

“Oliver, no,” Gabe said, putting up a hand.  “I’m not going to give you an ultimatum, or force you to relive something you clearly don’t want to relive.  So fuck what your brother says.  You don’t owe anyone anything.”

Oliver laughed, the sound a little choked, and all he wanted right now was for Gabe to hug him.  But he wasn’t ready to ask for it yet, or accept one.  “If I did tell you though, if I thought maybe it would help, would you be alright with it?”

Gabe, bit down on his bottom lip for a second, and let a breath out through his nose.  “I don’t know.  I
want
to say yes, to say I’d be there for you, for anything.  And I think I can, but I can’t promise.”

“I suppose that’s the best I’ll ever get,” Oliver said with a wry grin.  He leaned back against the side of the couch and put one arm behind his head, resting down on it.  “My dad left for good just after Leo was born.  I don’t think he ever quite understood my mum, you know?  She was…she came from this really strict family, very posh, very proper.  Extremely religious.  We don’t have a lot of that there in the UK, the way it’s here in the States—but there are some fanatics.  And my mum happened to be one of those.  She was convinced that any untoward behavior was caused by the devil and his minions.”  Oliver let out a choked laugh, shaking his head.

“I know those people,” Gabe said darkly.  “
Believe
me.”

“I expect you do,” Oliver replied.  “I told you about sucking off the footie captain and everything, but that was just the start.  And honestly, I didn’t even really
like
him, but Leo kept getting bolder and bolder with defying her.  I was afraid of what she was going to do if she caught him, so I started getting more reckless, getting caught so she’d be paying attention to me and not to my brother who was nicking her skirts and fucking twinks in clubs he was too young to go to.”

Oliver licked his lips and carefully studied Gabe’s face.  For the moment, the other man sat passive, eyes wide, expression open.  Oliver cleared his throat and went on.  “When I was seventeen, just before I was going to take my A-levels, she decided she’d had enough of my behavior.  The Headmaster had sent another letter home because I’d got caught in someone else’s dorm.  So over the Christmas holiday, she informed the Headmaster I’d be delayed a few weeks.  Then she sent me…”  Oliver’s voice broke and he stopped, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The motion seemed to break Gabe’s concentration and desire to sit so far because in a second, he had shifted over to the middle cushion, and put one hand on Oliver’s thigh.  “Look, you can…”

“No,” Oliver said, shaking his head.  “I just…just need to get through it.”  He cleared his throat again and took a breath.  “She had these friends at her church who said they could exorcise the demon out of me.  So she turned me over to them, and I was there for a month.”

When Gabe took his hand, Oliver did nothing more than turn his palm so they were pressed together.  He didn’t say anything, just held him tight as Oliver took another shaking breath.  He was tired now, from reliving it, but felt stronger saying it aloud.

“I’m not entirely sure where they got their exorcism standards from, if I’m being honest.  Films, maybe, or shit from the internet.  Either way, they burnt me with sage, carved on me with silver knives, held my head under holy water until I passed out.  Sleep and food depravation, after.”  He used his free hand to lift the hem of his shirt and didn’t watch Gabe’s face as his would-be boyfriend looked at the scars.

“Leo was there at some point.  I don’t remember when, or for how long.  I just know she’d sent him, to remind him what could happen if he let the devil inside him as well.  I tried to hold out as long as I could, but eventually I cracked.  I wailed and professed that I was clean and
begged
to be let go.  They sent me back to her eventually, and I told Leo he had to stop.  We both had to stop.  We had to lie low and get through our exams.  I promised him I would do everything in my power to get him away from her, so he’d never have to experience what I did.  And eventually I got my father to pull some strings, and we got into the University here.”

Gabe squeezed his hand again.  “How long since you’ve seen her?”