The Colors Between Us

by Kate Hawthorne

  Roland opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out his clippers. He combed his fingers through his burgeoning beard before methodically trimming it, taking the hairs down low so they were barely more than a five o’clock shadow across the lines of his jaw. He dropped the clippers in the sink, and they clattered around the porcelain bowl. He debated using his actual razor and shaving himself clean, but decided against it.

  Roland dropped his towel and combed his fingers through his hair, tugging at the tangles. He dared another glance at his reflection and couldn’t ignore the fact he could count his ribs when he inhaled. Roland worried his lower lip between his teeth as he assessed his physical appearance. He’d never been particularly muscled, more naturally broad than anything, but now it almost looked as though his limbs just hung there. He straightened his shoulders and found no confidence in the posture, so he returned to his slump.

  He leaned in close to the mirror and raised his hands to his cheeks, dragging his fingertips across the dark circles below his eyes. He pulled his fingers down, with the grain of his scruff, then traced the line of his jaw to his chin. He lowered his arms and stepped away from the mirror.

  Roland dug a pair of briefs out of the dresser and was getting dressed when a flash of black caught his eye. He looked down toward the bedside table and saw the top drawer on what had been Donny’s side of the bed was half open. Donny’s sketchbook was tucked inside, half of it sticking out. Roland pulled on his pants and sat on the edge of the mattress, taking the sketchbook in his hands.

  He moved it from hand to hand for a few passes before deciding to open it. He skimmed through to the back until he reached the sketches Donny had done most recently. Many of them were of Roland, some he’d known about, and some that looked like Donny had drawn them from memory. Roland must have been a far greater man in Donny’s mind, because he was still unable to see the truth of himself behind the lines of Donny’s pencil, and he hated that.

  All Roland wanted was to be the painter everyone thought he was, be the man everybody thought he was, be the man Donny deserved. But he just couldn’t find it in himself. He hated how weak he was, how suggestible he was to the misgivings of his own mind. He’d sold paintings for tens of thousands of dollars, he was living off money he made a decade ago— that wouldn’t be happening if he was as useless as he was in his own head.

  But that couldn’t be true because, after all, Cody and Donny wouldn’t have left him if he was a better man.

  Roland tucked the sketchbook under his arm and went into the kitchen. He placed the book on the counter, then opened the freezer and dug around for a frozen pizza. Donny loved them and it was easy to reach with the vodka being gone. He slid it into the oven, even though it wasn’t pre-heated, and then paced the house, waiting for it to be done. He picked up Pete’s toys from the living room and with every one he found, it was like a vise tightening around his heart.

  He collected all the toys and set them on the edge of the kitchen counter, and dumped out Pete’s food and water bowls, stacking them alongside the toys. He poured himself a glass of water and finished it in one gulp, so he poured himself another. Three glasses later, his vision started to clear.

  Roland pulled the pizza out of the oven and placed it on a cutting board. He opened the sketchbook again and flipped through it. There was a drawing of Pete, asleep on the couch in what Roland knew was the curve of the backs of his knees. He remembered the night Donny had drawn that. They’d just eaten Indian food from a place in Little Armenia, and Pete had jumped up onto the couch, meowing like mad until Roland had moved to accommodate his tiny little body. Donny had laughed at the dance and pulled his sketchbook out of the couch cushions to draw the moment. The memory of Donny’s laugh echoed through his head and stung as sharply as Roland’s own loneliness.

  He ate half the pizza with a frown on his face, then carefully closed Donny’s sketchbook and returned to his studio. Roland had just filled a palette with paint when there was a knock at his door.

  Donny. His heart hoped again. There was no one else it could be. Roland’s hands shook as he set the paint down and returned to the front of the penthouse. He wiped his palms down the front of his jeans and pulled the door open. His jaw fell when he saw who was standing in his hallway. It wasn’t Donny as he'd hoped.

  “Gabriel,” Roland choked out.

  “Roland.” Gabriel offered him a curt nod of his head. “May I come in?”

  Chapter 26

  All He Could See Was Roland

  The day before, Athena held Donny until he stopped crying, then wrapped him up in a blanket like a burrito on the couch and promptly left the house. She returned quickly with a bag of items from the grocery store, which she put away in the fridge except for a giant package of bacon. She cooked the entire thing, brought it to Donny, and sat at his feet.

  “Who do I need to kill?” she asked, motioning wildly with a strip of cooked pork.

  “It’s not like that,” Donny mumbled through the blankets.

  “Is it Roland? I’ll go over there right now, Donny, I swear.” Athena held a piece of bacon out for him and he snaked his arm out of the blankets and grabbed it, taking a small bite. It tasted like nothing to him.

  “Athena, just stop, okay? I don’t want the fucking Athena the whole world gets. I just want my fucking sister.”

  Her mouth opened slightly then closed. She reached out and took the bacon from Donny’s hand and dropped it back on the plate. She stood up and carried it into the kitchen. Donny heard it clatter in the sink and listened to her footsteps return to the living room. She stood above him and looked down, her hands on her hips.

  In a move he hadn’t seen in years, her face turned sympathetic and she folded herself down into the couch between Donny and the cushions, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. Like she used to… when they were kids.

  Donny had always been bullied growing up. He was too weird, or too small, or worse— that tall freak’s little brother. And maybe Donny was weird, but wasn’t everyone a little weird in some way?

  “Donatello,” Athena started, but was cut off by his groan.

  “What? You said to do it like when we were kids.” She settled herself behind him and squeezed. Donny sighed.

  “Tell me what happened yesterday.”

  “I don’t even know. Roland got jealous, I think, when he saw me with Chris.”

  “Chris?” Athena snorted, then did her best to tamp down her amusement.

  “I know. But it could have been anyone. It wasn’t that it was Chris. It’s more like… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just Roland’s issues with Roland. And he got drunk and projected them onto me.”

  Donny had, at first, been utterly confused when he showed up at Roland’s after he’d taken off from the birthday party, but when Roland had tossed Chris’s name out, everything snapped together. It wasn’t about Donny, and it wasn’t about Chris. It was Roland. And Roland was having a really bad day.

  It had been a considerable amount of time, at least as far as their relationship was concerned, since Roland had spiraled that splendidly. Donny had stood beside Roland and battled through it in the past. He’d let Roland spit out his self-loathing and his despair, then pulled him into bed and held him until he calmed down and fell asleep. Donny didn’t mind. Being there for Roland like that made a small part of him feel important, and he liked that. Donny was needed, and before Roland, he’d never understood how much he needed that feeling in his life.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Athena’s voice broke through his thoughts.

  “No,” he whispered. “Well, not physically.”

  Donny had been clear with Roland from the beginning. The next time Roland wanted to have a dramatic pity party and throw Donny out would be the last time. And Donny didn’t have much, but he did have his word. So he'd let Roland cast him out. But Donny hadn’t prepared himself— he wasn’t ready.

  “Are you going to go talk to him when he settles?”


  Donny shook his head against her chest.

  “I told him if he threw me out again, that was it.”

  “Again?” Athena’s voice rose.

  “Please don’t.”

  “Sorry.” She tightened her hold on him. “Do you remember the last time we did this?” she asked him, the hint of a smile in her voice. Donny couldn’t help but grin at the memory.

  “God, yes.”

  Athena snorted, “You’d asked out that kid from school, what was his name?”

  “Brent.”

  “Brent,” she confirmed. “You asked Brent out, and he embarrassed you and called you names and then I kicked his ass.”

  “You did. Do you realize how many times I got my ass kicked because you did my ass kicking for me?”

  “Anyway,” she continued, as if he hadn’t even spoken. “You were so upset when we got home from school, and you threw a huge temper tantrum on your bed, so I crawled in behind you and let you cry about it and curse me about it, then mom and dad walked in.”

  Donny’s cheeks heated at the memory.

  “They were so furious,” she went on. “Screaming and yelling about incest and shit.”

  Donny couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Athena laughed behind him, then quieted down.

  “Maybe fifteen and sixteen was too old for sibling snuggles,” Donny said soberly.

  “Then what is twenty-two and twenty-three?” She asked him with more humor in her voice.

  “Illegal, probably.”

  They laughed again briefly and fell back into silence.

  “Thank you, Athena.”

  “For what?” She laid her head on top of his.

  “Trying to distract me.”

  “Is that what you think I was doing?” She asked, pushing herself up to a sitting position.

  “Wasn’t it?” Donny sat as well, but curled himself into a ball at the other corner of the couch.

  “God, no. I was just reminiscing on that time mom and dad thought we were fucking.” She laughed and reached over the arm of the couch and fumbled around.

  “What are you doing, weirdo?”

  “I’m looking for my phone. I need to tell Joel he’s on his own for lunch today.” She pulled her phone out of her purse and scrolled through her contacts.

  “You don’t need to do that.” Athena looked at him sharply and he offered her a weak smile. “I’d feel bad if Joel wasted away because no one was there to feed him lunch.”

  She laughed, “As if Gabriel would let that happen.”'

  “Seriously, Athena. I’ll be fine. You can go. Will you just make sure the cats have food on your way out?” Donny wanted to be alone. He appreciated his sister trying to make him laugh and distract him, but he didn’t want to be distracted. The pain he felt over the fight with Roland threatened to consume him, and he was inclined to allow it.

  “Are you sure?” She stood and stretched, then reached for her purse and threw it over her shoulder. Donny nodded and reached for the blanket and tightened it around himself.

  “Will you let me know if you need anything?” she asked him, and he nodded again.

  When her hand was on the door, she turned back to face him, her face drawn taut. “I love you, Donny.”

  “I love you, too.”

  When Athena closed the door behind her, Donny pulled the blanket over his head and allowed himself to well and truly break down.

  In the midst of the— what was it even, a fight? A breakup? Roland told Donny he loved him. And Donny had tried so fervently to cling to that. Any other night, the revelation would have lit his heart up like the fourth of July, but all it had done then was make it feel like his ribs had collapsed.

  Donny thought it was possible he loved Roland too, and if the way he felt right now was any indication, he did. But if this was the end result of loving someone, what was the point? Was any measure of happiness worth it if you knew in the end you’d feel as though you’d been dismembered? Donny wasn’t sure.

  He knew he was young— that his whole life was ahead of him—but what was the point of trying to find someone to have a relationship with if there was a fifty percent chance it would end like this? Donny didn’t want to feel this way ever again. He entertained the idea of a future made up solely of bathroom blowjobs and shower jerkoffs, and that left him feeling nearly as empty as the present situation.

  He didn’t see a way forward from here.

  One of the cats jumped onto Donny, and he pulled the blanket off his head to see which one it was. It was, of course, Pete, who meowed dramatically at Donny then looked at the door and meowed again, as if to say where is my other dad? Donny untangled a hand from the mess of blanket and stroked it over Pete’s head.

  “I don’t know if we’re gonna see him again,” he told Pete with a shaking voice.

  The reality of never seeing Roland again slammed into his chest like a sack of bricks. He gasped and the inhalation hurt him. It felt as though his lungs were on fire. Every breath strained and hurt.

  Donny closed his eyes and saw Roland, covered in black paint and kicking his birthday painting across the room, so he opened his eyes, but then all he saw was his empty living room. There was no fucking escape. Eyes closed, all he saw was Roland. Eyes open, all he saw was the absence of Roland.

  Donny groaned and unfolded himself from the couch and went to the kitchen. Athena had dropped the plate of bacon in the sink, and he grabbed a slice and bit into it. He could taste the fat and his mouth watered as he chewed, so he took another bite, then another and before he realized it, he’d eaten half the strips.

  He picked up a glass from the dish strainer and filled it from the faucet. He drank the whole thing, then refilled and had another. The water only worked to clear his head slightly. He still felt muddled and wrong.

  Donny wanted so badly to go to Roland, to answer a call or text, but even though his heart was broken, he knew he couldn’t be in a relationship where every bad day ended with a breakup. It wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t want to feel this way again.

  As if on cue, his phone pinged with a text alert. It was sitting on the dining table and Donny glanced at it from the corner of his eye, then ate another piece of bacon. It pinged again, so he picked it up and unlocked the screen.

  Five missed calls from Roland, and three texts— and that was just this morning. Yesterday, it had been eight calls and seven texts, not to mention the visit when Roland banged on his door for nearly twenty minutes.

  Roland: I’m sorry, please come back.

  Roland: I miss you.

  Roland: Adonis, please.

  Donny turned his phone off and dropped it back onto the table. He ate another piece of bacon, then went into the bathroom and drew himself a bath. He stripped down and submerged himself in the water that was probably only a few degrees below boiling and closed his eyes.

  As expected, all he could see was Roland.

  Chapter 27

  A Jumbled Mess Of Pieces

  Roland stepped aside and Gabriel walked inside the penthouse. Roland noticed him casually taking in his surroundings without trying to look entirely obvious about it, and Roland appreciated that.

  “Would you like a drink?” Roland asked.

  “What do you have?” Gabriel questioned in return, pulling out a chair at the dining room table and sitting down.

  Roland opened the fridge and peered inside. “Water and orange juice.”

  “No vodka?” Gabriel questioned with a raised eyebrow, and it made Roland wince. The only reason he didn’t have vodka was because he’d spent the past three days feeling sorry for himself and drinking it all. Gabriel shook his head and made a tutting sound with his tongue. “Don’t look so surprised. Donny’s sister is a talker.”

  Roland wrung his hands together.

  “I’ve always favored whiskey,” Gabriel shared, his tone recognizing the absurdity of drinking away a heartbreak. “But I’ll have some water.”

  Roland pulled out a glass and fi
lled it with water then passed it to Gabriel. He picked up the other half of his pizza and carried it to the table, sitting down.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was trying to eat some lunch,” Roland said, pointing toward the pizza. Gabriel dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  “Not at all.”

  Roland shoved a piece of pizza into his mouth and widened his eyes at Gabriel, waiting for an explanation regarding his unprecedented visit.

  “Donny doesn’t know I’m here,” Gabriel started.

  Roland chewed and swallowed. The pizza lodged itself in the middle of his throat. He slapped his hand against his chest and willed it the rest of the way down.

  “He’s pretty done with me,” Roland said quietly, stuffing another bite of pizza into his mouth before he said something regrettable to a practical stranger.

  Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

  “He’s not answering my calls or my texts. I went by the house and he wouldn’t answer the door. He doesn’t want to see me.” Roland placed his palms flat on the table and intently studied the shape of his fingers so he could avoid eye contact.

  “Debatable,” Gabriel said. “But that’s neither here nor there.”

  “Then what is the point of this visit?” Roland was getting agitated. He would have welcomed Gabriel’s visit if it brought news of Donny, but as far as he could tell, Gabriel had no intention of divulging anything about him and Roland felt a flicker of resentment curl up inside him.

  “I just wanted to see how you were holding up. I know being apart from the person you love can be hard.”

  “What do you know about it?” Roland asked, skeptical.