Kraken (19 page)

Unwanted tears were coming from his eyes now, and in moments Aiden was across the room, enveloping him in his arms. He pressed his forehead against Will’s, pulling him close against his own body.

“Hey. Hey, shhh. It’s all right.”

Will snuffled against Aiden’s crisp shirt, as Aiden made comforting non-words against his hair. His big hands moved in calming strokes against his back.

“I’m serious, you know,” Will mumbled into Aiden’s shoulder. “This has been a very strange couple of days. I don’t understand why I haven’t got on the ferry and left. I miss coffee.”

Aiden pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it up to Will’s hands, clutched in fists between their bodies.

“I’m really sorry, Will. I wanted you to remember this place because you were so happy here. Your grandma used to make cake batter and we’d lick the bowl. No one worried about salmonella back then. She only had wooden spoons, so we couldn’t get all of it out, and we’d end up using our fingers, and get all sticky, and she’d swat out butts and send us down to swim. We’d jump right in off the jetty and see who could stay down the longest.” Will could feel Aiden smile. “You always won. And books, so many books. Your mom would post them to you, a parcel every week.”

Will pushed back from Aiden so he could look into his face.

“You remember her?”

“Sure, although I only met her a couple of times. She would come up every summer. She worked as a bookkeeper while she was going through community college, and sometimes she’d have armloads of ledgers and sit on the beach doing them so she could watch you swim. She wore sunglasses, but she used to push them way down on the tip of her nose so she could see the columns.

“She called you her Goon. She could play the guitar. She would never let you kill a spider.”

“I miss her. It’s been six years. I should be over this.” Will pushed himself away from Aiden. “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m crying on you.” Will wiped his face with the handkerchief, and dashed a last tear from his eye.

Aiden stepped close again. He cupped Will’s face in his hands, rubbing his cheekbones tenderly with his thumbs. “Please don’t. You can cry on me any time. I cried all over you once, because I stole a swig of my dad’s booze and he told me it would make my dick get smaller and vanish. I completely believed him. I was terrified.”

Will laughed wanly. “Oh, I actually remember that! That was you?”

“Yep. So any crying you do only makes us even.”

Aiden leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss over Will’s right eyelid, the lashes salty with tears. He moved back briefly, checking Will’s face, then leaned in and kissed the other eyelid. Again he retreated, imperceptibly, looking into Will’s eyes.

“Aiden,” said Will.

Anything more that might have been said, Aiden stopped with a kiss. His lips were cool against Will’s. His hands crept tenderly around Will’s waist. His tongue licked gently against the seam of Will’s lips, testing, touching, a request for entry. Will opened his mouth with a murmur.

“Aiden. Yes.”

His cock was awake now, feeling needy for the touch of Aiden’s hands, his tongue. Will brought his hands down to slide around Aiden’s hips, grasp his arse and knead it softly through the soft twill. Oh, how Will wished there was still a kitchen table; that he could press Aiden against its worn close-grained surface and frot against him, rub his cock on Aiden’s leg and feel his hard bulge in return.

They kissed for long minutes, exploring each other, nipping and tasting. Will’s lips felt swollen and tender and his hands ached to touch Aiden’s skin unencumbered. He wanted summer sun and a quilt and lube and swiftly discarded clothes.

At last with a groan their lips broke apart, their hands grasping at each other as if they feared they would be torn asunder.

“I’m glad you haven’t got on that ferry,” Aiden said. “And I have coffee. Single serve pods.”

Will laughed shakily, his forehead pressed to Aiden’s temple. He could smell sweat and yes, coffee, and something deep and loamy and amazing.

“Are you wearing scent?” he asked.

He felt Aiden’s shoulders move in a chuckle. “Um, yes. Comme de Garcon.”

Will pulled away, his hand trailing lingeringly across Aiden’s chest. “You know I’m a chemist, right? I own one good shirt. Total. I barely have aftershave. Thank the gods you live here, and not the city.”

“Well, I visit the city. Every week, in fact. And I could forget to put any scent on. Or, you know, buy you some.” Aiden ran a finger down Will’s arm. “I’d like to see you. A lot. All of you. And listen, I can’t apologize enough about . . . um . . . ”

“About ransacking my childhood memories for your venal profit?”

“Um, yeah. That.”

Will pulled out of touching distance of Aiden’s careful fingers, unable to think while he stayed within reach. He wanted to see a lot of Aiden too. He needed to get out of here. He needed to tell Cyrus this had all been some kind of mistake, brought on by shock, probably, and he needed to leave. He walked to the back wall, pushing at the fallen plaster with his shoe.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Aiden made the beginnings of a protest.

“No, really, I’m serious. Everything would have been ruined by now. What would the point of that have been? Look at this place. It’s falling down around our ears.”

Will tugged at a fragment of dangling plaster, and it fell away from the wall and hit the floor with a soft splat, then fell through the hole in the floor. A dull clunk echoed under their feet.

Will tugged again, this time at a fragment of ash-gray fabric that edged out around the plaster. The fabric kept coming, a handful of it now, gray basketweave knit wrapped around a stick. And with it a glossy nylon, shiny and vivid even under the plaster dust, the cerulean of a deep summer’s day, printed with a navy and white trellis, and soaring azure swallows. The fabric caught, held up by an interior beam somewhere behind the remaining wall. Will pulled hard, yanking the stick. The gray partially gave way in a muffled ripping sound. The stick fell to the floor with a clatter and a quiet unraveling, unmaking careful handwork behind it.

Will and Aiden gazed at a human radius lying entangled in a cats cradle on the ground. Looking up, Will could see the ulna hanging limply, still wrapped in the tattered remains of a soft gray cardigan.

“Holy fuck,” said Aiden. “Is that— ?“

Will put his left hand up to brace himself on the edge of the wall, and tugged sharply at a fresh segment of plasterboard. It ripped lose with barely a mumble of complaint. On the other side a skeleton was propped inside the wall cavity. A cheerful blue shirtwaister dress hung on a collarbone hanger, below a skull topped with a thatch of stringy gray hair. Patches of dried skin clung to the roots. A miasma of old parchment and decay drifted outward, making Will and Aiden cough.

Aiden pulled the top of his t-shirt up over his nose and mouth, as Will frenetically ripped away more wall. The damp plaster was eager to divulge its secrets, crumbling under Will’s fingertips. The next skeleton had fallen down inside the cavity, a pile of bones and tan-checked cotton. Will ripped the last of the plasterboard off, and it came away from the joists in a sheet. A skull fell, bounced, rolled out onto the kitchen floor, scattering chocolate-brown fly puparia onto the floorboards like macabre confetti.

Will staggered back to the other side of the room and slumped onto the floor, leaning against the cool stove.

Aiden joined him, flopping down, close enough for their legs to touch. Will stared at the ruins of the kitchen wall. Any moment now, he felt, a thought would come to him, some inkling of what he was supposed to do next. He reached out blindly for Aiden, finding Aiden’s hand reaching out for him. They gripped each other.

“Wha— “

His throat was dry, and suddenly he realized his mouth was full of dust. His gorge rose, and he leapt up, sprinting to the back door, into the quiet spring morning, to vomit yellow bile on the sage plants by the old clothesline.

Upside down, he saw Aiden’s shoes between his legs, and felt Aiden’s hand on his back, rubbing gently.

Will stood up straight and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s them, right?” He turned to Aiden.

“I think so, yes.”

“Well . . . I guess we call the cops, right?”

Aiden help his phone up to the sky. “No service here. Too far from the tower.”

“Right, okay.” Will walked back and forth a few paces, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Right. We go down to the store, we tell Mr. Falconer, or Ella. We get the cops.”

They turned toward the shore and the boat and the outside world.

It seemed to take no time at all in Aiden’s boat to reach the store. By the time they got there Will had composed himself. With distance he could convince himself the sight wasn’t as horrible as he remembered.

It was late afternoon and the crowds had moved on for the day. Will wondered vaguely if the last ferry for the weekend had gone.

When they walked up the long wharf to the building, Aiden pressed him into a low bench to one side of the front door, looking out over the peaceful ocean.

“Sit. I’ll go get Mr. Falconer. We don’t want to discuss this inside. There’s still a few people around.”

Will was grateful for the chance to collect his scattered thoughts. Still, it seemed like only seconds before Mr. Falconer’s warm hand was on his shoulder, Aiden sitting down beside Will.

“My dear boy. I am so sorry.”

“Can we call the police from here?”

“I’ll take care of everything. Listen, William, I hope you realize you can come and talk to me any time. Any time at all. You don’t know when you might need a sympathetic ear. Everything is easier when it’s shared. Please remember that.”

Suddenly the hand on his shoulder hand gripped more tightly, bony fingertips digging into his aching muscles. Will glanced up at Mr. Falconer ‘s face then turned to follow his gaze. A small launch was pulling into the wharf, the unmistakable red-haired figure of Cyrus at the helm.

Aiden looked at Will. “What do you want to do? Do you want to come and stay with me tonight?”

Yes. Yes, he did. But it seemed utterly, impossibly rude to slide from one man’s bed to another’s. But he was definitely going to tell Cyrus this was a mistake. Cyrus was not his future.

“Oh, I think that’s a bad idea,” said Mr. Falconer. “You should probably leave now, Mr. Hayden. Will’s in good hands.”

“No. I’ll do what Will wants. Whatever he needs from me, I’m there.”

Will looked at him blankly, then shook his head. “Oh. No. You should go. Let me talk to Cyrus alone.”

Aiden shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Yep. It’s okay. Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I guess the police will be here. They’ll want to talk to both of us, I suppose.”

Aiden looked as if he would say more, but Cyrus was walking up the wharf now, long arms swinging as he headed toward them. Will could already see the expression on his face, and it wasn’t happy. Will didn’t feel able to deal with direct confrontation right now.

“No, please go. For me?”

“You know where to find me, yeah?”

Will half-raised his hand in goodbye, then let it fall into his lap, as Cy watched with narrowed eyes as he passed Aiden half way down the wharf.

“Hello lovely. What are you doing here? You were going to have an easy day at home. And how did you happen to bump into Aiden today?”

“Cy.” Will swallowed. Saying the words was going to make it real. “I went to my old house today. I found my grandparents.
They never left
. They’re still there. They’re dead.” He was proud of how level his voice sounded.

Cy reached out and gently touched Will’s cheek. “You sit out here, lovely. I’ll go in and sort things out with Bill.”

Will looked at him, wide eyed. “Who?”

“Mr. Falconer. Just wait.”

Cy ducked into the store, and Will waited on the seat. His right leg started shaking, and Will watched it curiously. It was jerking up and down like it was on a string. In a little while Cy came out, holding a glass, and a large duffel bag.