by J. P. Oliver
“Hassan?” I licked my lips, staring into my cup as he took a seat beside me.
“Hm?”
“...Can I ask you something?”
He slowed his sipping, setting the mug down gingerly. “Yeah?”
I nodded. Part of me thought it best to keep it buried in the past. The other part of me needed that closure; needed to know. “I want you to tell me the full story about Henry… and you. He said a few things and….” I sighed, turning to him on my stool. “I don’t want a polished version. I don’t want a version that’s going to make me feel better. I want the truth. I want it to be from you.”
I don’t think Hassan expected it.
He stared at me in surprise, before his brow furrowed and he frowned. He didn’t look at me while he spoke, finally, eyes pointed out the window. It had been a long day. The sun was setting again.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“You deserve to know.” He nodded slowly, fingers coming around the handle of his mug. “I should have been up front about it in the first place. Maybe it would have made it easier to not feel… conflicted about believing it was Henry.
“I met him in a bar. Years ago, it was back when I was first home from a tour overseas. We had shit in common. We were both into… guns and hiking. We were both into men. It was just hooking up at first and fishing trips. It was easy.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he remembered things I guessed he’d rather not. “And, then it wasn’t easy.”
I swallowed. “The… destructive relationship that you were talking about…. That was Henry, wasn’t it?”
Hassan looked at me for the first time, and regret was reflected in those cold eyes. “Yeah. It became… unhealthy. He was getting violent, obsessive. He had all these little ticks and quirks, which most people do, but… ours just didn’t match well. Still, I didn’t want to admit it was time to end things. I wanted to help him. Thought I could protect him.” To my surprise, he laughed a little. “Then he tried to come at me in the middle of the night. Woke up from some night terrors and was… completely out of it. I couldn’t even calm him down. That was the last night I ever spent with him.”
I couldn’t imagine Hassan in a situation like that or how he might have hurt afterwards. I tried to think of how I would feel in a position that helpless.
My hand rested carefully over his. “I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say to make it feel better.
His hand turned under mine and our fingers interlocked slowly.
24
Fred
I fell asleep remembering the phantom feeling of Hassan’s hand tangled into mine.
The next morning, he was gone.
I went to the office to look for him, but when I got there, it was cleared out. All of the monitors and the maps, the little things that belonged to each man were gone and there was a hollow feeling in my chest at the sight of it.
I didn’t like relying on having them here, but in the time that they’d spent, I got to know them. I liked them.
Still, I thought Hassan would maybe stay.
Or, at least say goodbye.
He wasn’t anywhere. His room was vacant. His car was gone.
He was gone.
It took less than an hour to figure out where he had gone. A simple phone call to Jackson had done the trick and he gave me Hassan’s official address.
It was weird. It had never occurred to me that Hassan had a place of his own. What would it be like? I tried to imagine it as I drove there, shirking another day of work—though Hank was, for once, very understanding after I’d told him about what had happened at the cabin. The movie and the money was important, yes, but this took precedence.
I wouldn’t let him go without saying goodbye.
I parked across the street; it was a plain apartment building in an inexpensive part of town. Residential. The building was just a whitewashed building, not fancy but not dumpy. Inconspicuous.
When I got there, Hassan seemed to be waiting for me. I hit the button to be buzzed in, expecting to have to let him know I was here. I’d spent the whole ride trying to think of what I would say, rehearsing it and editing it—but all of it went away the moment the door unlocked.
He was on the second floor, and as I stepped out of the stairwell, I saw him waiting in his doorway for me, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame.
All those words, forgotten.
I held up a hand. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
I stopped in front of his door, feeling atypically nervous. I held my hands behind my back. “You seem like you were… expecting me.”
Hassan hummed. He looked good: freshly showered, dressed in casual, loose clothing. “Jackson called me.”
I groaned. “Jackson’s a gossip.”
“Yeah,” and he sounded at least a little amused. Stepping side, he made a gesture with his hand before rubbing at the back of his neck. “You can come in. It isn’t… anything like your place, but.”
“Hassan.” I went to set a hand on his chest, before deciding it was too familiar. He had left without saying goodbye—shouldn’t I have been mad? I decided against it, letting myself into the small space.
It was pretty spartan, like his bedroom in the mansion had been, but more lived in. A cheap couch and television, a few photos of people I assumed were family hung on the walls, though there were more pictures of Hassan in military attire, overseas with people from his company. The place smelled like him: like something woodsy and coffee, and the soap he’d just used in the shower.
He shut the door behind us. “Make yourself at home.”
I sat carefully on the sofa. He knew why I was here. He knew me by now.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“You left without saying anything.”
It shut him up. When he sat on the couch, he left space between us. “I did.”
Indignantly, I asked, “Why?”
“It felt like… the best thing.” He shook his head. “That part of your life—the part that involved Henry and involved me, that’s over for you, you should be moving on.”
“Hassan, that doesn’t make sense—”
“I don’t want to be a reminder of him.” The words came out quickly. “I don’t want you to resent me, after you’ve had time to think about all this.”
“I won’t—”
“You don’t know that.” I could sense the panic in his voice, well-hidden but there. Is that what he was really afraid of? That I would hate him? Resent him?
“Hassan.” My voice was low as I turned into his space more. “We’re not going to end up like… how you and Henry were. That was unhealthy. You said it yourself.”
“Like we haven’t been?” Hassan shook his head. “We weren’t even together and we’ve had… trust issues. I’ve lied to you.” As he remembered something ridiculous, he grinned a little. “You made me help you kidnap kids.”
I scoffed, smiling myself. I looked down at my hands. “For a good cause….”
“Still.”
We were silent a minute. I could hear the cars driving by. When I looked up at him again, I took his hand in mine. “Every couple has problems.” I moved closer, and he didn’t back away. “Did you want to stay with Henry? When things were getting bad?”
Hassan’s fingers curled around mine. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. I didn’t.”
“But, you stayed together.”
“...Yeah. I couldn’t let him go.”
Tentatively, afraid of the answer, I asked, “Do you still feel that now?”
His eyes met mine. The ice in them had melted, leaving only the color. Something fresh and new. “No.”
I brought our tangled hands up to my lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. I could feel the emotions in my chest tangling, but one thought among them was clear.
“Hassan, I love you.”
It came out clear. I didn’t feel nervous like I had expected to.
H
e said nothing, like he was frozen.
“I knew it when I saw you in the cabin. When we, uh….” I felt a little sting in the back of my throat, like I might even cry at the memory. “When I hugged you before we left. I don’t know. I felt your arms around me and I realized I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Want to be with anyone else. And when I woke up and you were gone, I just—I couldn’t—”
I wasn’t sure what I would have said next. I was rambling, trying to sort out my feelings in real time, but love was impossible to make sense of.
Luckily, I didn’t have to speak anymore.
Hassan’s hand was firm on my cheek and I leaned into the touch instantly, our lips slotting together in a passionate kiss. The taste of him was welcome as I flicked my tongue into his mouth. His hands lowered to my hips, and I slung my arms around his neck to bring him closer, closer, closer, as if I could somehow show him how much I loved him by closing the space between us.
When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his body so close to mine. “I love you,” I repeated. “I don’t know if you’ve… decided. If you don’t love me, or if you’re not sure anymore, but—”
“Stop.” His voice was somehow both soft and firm. His lips brushed against my ear and I shivered at the contact. A kiss was pressed to my temple. “I love you.”
I took a shuddering breath, my smile unsure. “I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.”
“You won’t have to.”
Drawing back far enough to look at his face, it was warmer than I had ever seen it. His smile seemed peaceful, like his face when he was sleeping. I couldn’t believe that I would be able to continue to see it.
“Say it again,” I hummed.
Hassan’s lips brushed over mine as he spoke, “I love you,” and our lips met again in a heated kiss.
“You know, I have off of work today….”
Hassan raised his brows, fingers tracing up under the hem of my shirt. Those hands had saved me countless times. They were capable of protecting me, rough and large, but instead they were soft against my back. “Is that right?”
“Yes.” I hooked a finger playfully into the front of his shirt. “You’re not busy today, are you?”
“Hmm, it’s funny that you ask. I’ve got the next few days off—don’t know if you’ve heard, but I got blown up—” he kissed my cheek “—hit with a car—” another kiss to my jaw, and I laughed at the insanity of it “—held hostage and got into a fist fight in the woods. All within the past week. I’m taking a few days off.”
I smiled, eyes fluttering shut as I felt his breath ghost over my lips. My body was responding to the hands that were beginning to travel over my body. “I’m sure I could help you relax….”
“Hmm.”
“I could be your bedside nurse.”
He laughed, rare and warm and rumbling in his chest, as I pulled him down on top of me, our lips colliding, ignorant of the world around us.
25
Fred
“Just one more question, Mr. Reyes?”
I held up a hand in apology. “Sorry, sorry—” I laughed stepping away from the gathering of photographers and reporters. “I’ve got to make sure my bodyguard doesn’t get lost.”
Another round of questions erupted from the group as I stepped away, scanning the many faces that crowded the red carpet, until I caught the sight of his face: he looked uncomfortable around so many people, stoic and putting up his don’t look at me front. Smiling to myself, I weaved in and out of the other finely-dressed celebrities, waving to people here and there.
I was sneaking up behind him. My hand slid slyly up his back and he jumped at the touch, turning quickly on his heel.
As I chuckled, the surprise faded from his eyes. He sighed. “Jesus, Fred. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Hmm, sorry,” I hummed, though I wasn’t. “How’s your first red carpet?”
“A little stuffy,” he mumbled, before grinning that lopsided grin I swooned over so easily. My arm linked easily though his elbow. “I’m not usually around this many people, and my tux is a little, uh… tight.”
“You look sexy,” I told him as we turned out to face the crowd filtering into the theater. “And, don’t worry. You’re not here as my bodyguard, you’re here as my date.”
He took a deep breath, adjusting his tie. “Right, right,” shooting me a wry look, before leaning in, fingers careful on my jaw as he leaned in for a kiss. “I was watching you give your interviews.”
I felt a little dazed. It was crazy to think I was lucky enough to experience this every day. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I’m proud of you.”
My smile was too big to drown. My chest felt like it was swelling. “Thanks.” I exhaled, shaking my head. “I thought most of them would be asking about the film, but they all seem much more interested in who you are.”
Hassan huffed and we began walking towards the theater, stopping here and there to pose for a picture (I’d promised him I’d do him a favor once we were back home and in private if he behaved for the photos) for the tabloids.
One reporter I recognized as being from a film magazine flagged me down. We took a little detour over to him. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Reyes,” he shouted over the din, adjusting his cute glasses.
“Nice to see you, too, Tom.” I gestured to Hassan. “This is my date for the evening, Hassan.”
The two shook hands. Hassan checked his watch, reminding me we had five minutes left.
“Just a few questions, Mr. Reyes?” he asked and it was hard to say no to Tom. He’d always been a fun interviewer, less after gossip and more after tidbits about the film and the process.
I smiled warmly. “Shoot.”
“It’s been said, around the rumor mill, that tonight’s documentary was based on an experience you had in the recent years. Is there any truth to that?”
I felt Hassan’s hand rest supportively on the small of my back. Tom had his pen ready on his notepad. “It is true. It happened years ago. I had an encounter with a fan of mine who had been in the military; it was….” I looked to Hassan and he nodded, always a quiet sort of support. “He was someone very much in need of help, but was both unwilling and unable to get it and it almost resulted in both of us being injured, or hurt. Possibly even dead.”
Tom paused to meet my eye before nodding, writing quickly.
“He was in the military,” I continued. “As was Hassan and many of the friends I’ve made through him. It’s a film about veterans and the lack of healthcare available to them when they come back home.”
Tom turned his attention to Hassan, then adjusting his specs. “Is that something you experienced?”
Hassan seemed surprised to be questioned, but he answered slowly. He wasn’t used to being interviewed; I smiled and squeezed his arm. “Y-yeah, uh… not me, personally, but a lot of friends. People I’ve come to call family.”
“Hassan was great in helping me find people to interview,” I added.
Someone on the carpet, an attendant or volunteer, called for everyone to filter into the theater now.
“Sorry, Tom,” I said waving, but he leaned over the rail before I could go.
“Just one more question, Mr. Reyes—it’s also been rumored the proceeds of the film will be entirely going to an alleged foundation. Are those true?”
“Yes.” I glanced up at Hassan and we shared a small smile. “It’s a foundation the two of us started within the past months for this purpose exactly. It’d be meaningless if we made money off of this cause without doing anything to fix it.”
Tom laughed, scribbling quickly. “It’s very unusual.”
“So I’ve been told. But I’ve made enough money for myself and while I try to aid people as much as I can within my own means, I know we can do better.”
“Final call!”
I looked up at Hassan and felt his hand slipping into mine. Our fingers tangled betwe
en us. “Ready?” he asked. Looking up at him, I felt a surge of affection.
In my pocket, I could feel the ring in its box, heavy in my pocket. It had taken a long time to pick out and it required the help of Jackson and Doc and Mikhail to pick it out.
“Ready.”
I tipped my head up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before turning to lead him inside.