by Audra Red
“Sometimes I can’t even write,” Alexander said. “I mean, I’m not stupid, I know how. I physically can’t. Not without hurting myself.”
“But it--”
“I can’t open a bottle of milk,” he whispered. “The slightest friction irritates my skin. I get blisters. I can’t run or even walk all the way to work on a nice day. I spend hours everyday wrapping my hands and feet, and it hurts. It hurts so much but I have to do it. I have to or I’ll have more blisters to deal with.”
Daniel remained silent for a moment, listening to Alexander’s ragged breathing, before he slid closer. “I’m sorry,” he said, unsure of what else he could offer.
Alexander sighed. “No, I am.” He stood awkwardly, wincing as he braced himself against the mattress. “I don’t think I have anything for you, Daniel.”
Daniel watched Alexander take two steps toward the door before he was standing as well. “I don’t want anything from you that you can’t give me,” Daniel said. He was surprised to find his own voice filled with emotion. “You can talk to me, right? I want that. I want anything, no matter how small.”
Alexander turned, tears in his eyes again. “Why?”
“Because on the subway you were the only one wearing red,” Daniel said simply. Alexander’s eyebrow quirked up. “And because you hid your friends in the bathroom, and your cat hates me, and because, because I bet you’re the worst public speaker in the history of public speaking.”
“I’m a story teller,” Alexander said quietly.
“A what?”
“I work at a library. I read stories to the children.”
Daniel took a few moments to digest the information and then said, “Because you’re the worst public speaker in the history of public speaking, yet by occupation that is what you do. That makes your brave.”
“No,” Alexander said softly. “I’m not brave.”
“I’ve known you for a grand total of three days and I can see that you are,” Daniel replied. “You’re here and you’re telling me all of this, and it seems difficult for you, but you’re still telling me. Are you in pain? I think you are, and you’re apologizing to me. Alexander.”
“I’m very weak.” Alexander’s voice cracked. “You think I’m strong for… for coping with EB? I have to, it has nothing to do with wanting, it’s a need. I’m in pain, yes, but not near as much as others. EB is deadly for some. I have the mildest form of the disease, and I should be thankful. I’m no hero. I’ve had friends die, people who have the disease inside them. I’ve been to camps, seen people with it in their mouths and throats, and they can’t eat. I’m lucky, so lucky… but I can’t see that. I feel sorry for myself and… and, at least I can wake up every morning and know I only have to wrap my hands, or my feet. And if I’m careful I won’t even have to wrap anymore.”
Alexander paused and found Daniel’s serious eyes on him.
“At least I don’t have to wake up and wrap my entire body. I can have my own life. I don’t need that much help, but when I do… it crushes me. I’ve lived in New York for four years and I’ve never needed as much help as I do now.” Alexander’s body shook, his hands cradling his elbows. “People in the subway know, they know enough to stay away from me. Maybe they think they’re helping, maybe they’re afraid. You sat down right next to me and I felt afraid.”
“That isn’t weakness,” Daniel said resolutely. “None of that.”
“You don’t understand,” Alexander replied slowly. “This is my life, this grief.” Immense sadness filled Alexander’s eyes and he held up his hands once again. “My skin is as delicate as butterfly wings. They call us butterfly children, how easily we are rendered flightless.”
Something desperate tugged at Daniel’s heart. “I can be very careful,” Daniel said, stepping just an inch closer. Alexander eased back on his heel but didn’t flee. Daniel’s hands fell to Alexander’s wrists, just holding. “With everything.”
A strange thrill trilled up Alexander’s spine and he leaned forward into the shiver. He was angry and excited, a very strange mixture of emotions.
“I don’t need another mum, Daniel,” Alexander whispered.
Daniel’s face lit up with a toothy smile. “It wouldn’t be that way.”
There was that shiver again.
“I have everything I need in my life right now,” Alexander lied, his voice even and his eyes dry but still wide.
“What about the things you want?”
“I want to wake up one morning and not see my hands red and blistered,” Alexander replied somewhat icily. “Then I will think of luxuries.”
Daniel frowned, his grasp on Alexander’s wrist tightening. “I want to help,” was all he could say in reply.
Alexander sighed heavily, finally pulling his hands back from Daniel. “You don’t even know me…”
“I feel like I do,” Daniel said. “I want to know more.”
“Why?” Alexander asked, refusing to meet Daniel’s gaze.
Daniel smiled, certain the Alexander was completely unaware of himself, of how darling he could be. “I am so endeared to you.”
“That isn’t a good reason,” Alexander said.
“You never asked for a good one,” Daniel shot back, smiling a bit. “But if you had, I would have told you this; you know those paintings in the living room?”
Alexander nodded. He could remember the rough feel of them on his hands.
“They’re mine, I painted them,” Daniel said. “Years and years ago. I went to art school, always thought I’d be a painter. It’s interesting where we end up, and how unhappily successful we can be.”
Alexander’s eyes met Daniel’s.
“I don’t want to paint again, but I think I want to look at them now.”
Confused, Alexander bit at his lip. “I don’t understand…”
“Would you like to see them?”
“I… suppose,” Alexander replied uneasily. Daniel smiled and nodded toward the door. Alexander left his sweater on the bed, berating himself inwardly as he did so. He’d have to go back in there again, spend more time debating his decisions.
He needed to leave. But first he’d have just a quick look.
Alexander was led into the spacious living room, and Daniel quickly flicked a few lamps on. The area was clean with an underlying clutter. On a shelf, books and movies were mixed, turned upside down and in a messy order. Alexander paid close attention to the dust atop the items, though the shelves were spotless. Under Daniel’s couch a piece of paper stuck out, and Alexander could easily imagine a whole mess hiding beneath it.
Outside, Daniel was contained, smooth and professional.
Inside…
Alexander shivered and turned his eyes to the paintings. They were not ugly, he couldn’t say that now. The composition was anything but composed; there was nothing he could hold in the paintings, nothing real.
Alexander liked that, his hands clasping together.
And the colors, the colors are what saved the paintings from their ugliness. They were bright, and dark and somewhere in the middle.
“What do you think?” Daniel asked, the corner of his thumb between his teeth.
Alexander shrugged, but murmured, “They’re a mess.”
“Good,” Daniel replied. “Are you still hungry?”
“Daniel, I think--”
“Because I could make something. Well, we could order out, I don’t really have any food in the house, well, anything edible.”
Alexander eyes dropped and he shifted his feet. “Daniel--”
“I think I know that tone well enough that I really don’t need to actually hear what you say next,” Daniel said.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s late. It’s been a rough night, and… can I see you again?”
“I’m not sure,” Alexander replied truthfully. He did want to see Daniel again, but he wasn’t sure if his heart could handle it.
“It wouldn’t have to be anything serious,” Daniel
said quickly. “We could have coffee again, or meet up for lunch. I don’t know why I thought I’d take you to dinner, but I guess I wasn’t thinking…”
“It’s all right,” Alexander said. “Maybe coffee.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel smiled and Alexander quirked his lips up in return.
“I suppose I should take you home.”
To Alexander, that sounded like a wonderful and terrible idea at the same time.
“Yeah.”
“If you want you can borrow the shirt,” Daniel said, watching Alexander’s hands curl up under the shirt cuff.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Alexander’s cheeks were flushed again. “I can change quick.”
“Will you be okay?”
“Sure.” Alexander found himself lying once more. Just the thought of facing the shirt buttons again made sweat break out across his back.
Daniel seemed to catch on quickly.
“Here,” Daniel said lowly, stepping up as close as he dared. Heat rose all over Alexander’s body as Daniel’s fingers found his chest, the hands smoothing out. “Even I have trouble with these.” Daniel cracked a smile but found his own breathing ragged. Alexander had a unique scent, light and clean, and he knew his shirt would smell of it when the younger man took it off.
How foolish he felt, to be thinking of such things like a teenager.
Daniel worked the first button open, his thumb finding the smooth bare skin. Alexander couldn’t help the delicious shudder that took hold of him. He pulled back, but Daniel’s hand found his shoulder. “Hold still,” he said.
Alexander did.
One by one Daniel undid the buttons, unable to resist watching Alexander’s skin come into view. Alexander was slender and pale, though not at all in an unhealthy way. He looked delicate and well kept.
Daniel slipped the last button through the catch, his knuckles grazing Alexander’s smooth belly.
“There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Daniel asked, finding Alexander’s eyes.
“Daniel,” Alexander rasped, his eyes heavy. Alexander’s arms crossed in front of himself, his long, bandaged fingers curling beautifully.
Daniel had never been very skilled at painting images of people (he drew them dis-proportioned and dark), but right then he wished for a warm palette of color.
Alexander’s pale skin was rosy all over, his eyes brown and gold.
“I’ll go get my sweater,” Alexander mumbled, finding himself near quivering at Daniel’s gaze. He had never been so exposed before, so closely watched. He was uneasy with the feelings.
Daniel watched Alexander retreat to the bedroom and sighed.
Yes, this was all going to be about control and patience.
***
“Do you want me to walk you up?” Daniel asked as he pulled the car up in front of Alexander’s building. The drive had been a quiet one, much like the ride to Daniel’s apartment, but the tension was different this time.
“That’s all right,” Alexander said, pulling his mittens on. “I can manage.”
“I want to say it’s been a lovely evening, but… Shit, it’s been a lovely evening.”
“I think my definition of a lovely evening doesn’t involve me making a complete fool of myself,” Alexander replied, looking out the window. It had begun to snow; the flecks looked grey and dirty.
“Alexander.”
Alexander turned to look at Daniel, felt the heat there again and lowered his gaze to his knees.
“I’m glad you told me,” Daniel said. “It doesn’t change anything, I really…”
“Please don’t say you understand.”
Daniel was surprised at the harsh words, but undeterred. “I hope you feel better.” Alexander looked at him again. ‘God, he is beautiful,’ flashed across Daniel’s mind. It almost hurt to look at him, especially when his eyes held such sadness.
“Thank you for being sweet about this,” Alexander said in reply. “I don’t want to be rude, but it’s been a very different few days.”
“Is different good?”
Alexander cocked his head to the side, biting his lip. Was it? He felt a whole range of emotions on the subject. Daniel made him nervous, exasperated, confused, excited and… aroused.
That last feeling was so scarily intimate that Alexander couldn’t even think about it without flushing all over.
Not that he wasn’t anyway.
His eyes met Daniel’s and he said, carefully, “I’m not sure. Drive safe.”
Alexander popped the door open and Daniel watched him slide out. He didn’t say a word as Alexander walked around the car, but lowered his window as Alexander passed by.
“Hey!” he called, and Alexander stopped in his tracks.
What could the man want now?
“Yeah?” Alexander shouted above the wind, snowflakes caught up in his eyelashes.
“I still have your pen!”
“Bastard!” Alexander found himself yelling back.
“Some other time, then,” Daniel said.
Alexander shook his head against the wind. “What?”
“Good night!” Daniel called, rolling his window up and shifting into drive.
Definitely some other time.
Chapter Eight
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He watched the water.
Steam rose from the deep tub, fogging the windows and the small mirror on the far wall. The bathroom was small, but the tub was divine.
After such a stressing night, Alexander just wanted to soak out everything inside him.
The water neared the brim of the tub, and Alexander let it reach the top drain before he carefully twisted the faucet off. He knew when he slipped in that some water would spill over the edge and onto the floor, but he didn’t mind. The water would dry.
It neared ten o’clock at night and he looked forward to dozing in the warm water. With his back to the mirror, he gently removed his sweater, setting it atop the sink. His pants were next, the charcoal trousers slipping easily to the floor. His hands worked on autopilot, not registering the stabs of pain that worked their way from the tips of his long fingers down to his palms and wrists.
When his boxers hit the floor, he began unwinding the gauze.
He enjoyed allowing his hands a good soak without the protection of the bandages, though his skin would sting a bit at first. It wasn’t the best way to clean the wounds, and Alexander’s doctor had actually warned against such action. The blisters, when open, were easily prone to infection, something Alexander had been reminded of in the past months.
But this was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself.
He had never liked baths much before. Of course he had been young, and never enjoyed sitting in one place for too long. Showers always worked for him, quick and simple. Things had changed, of course. When Alexander had reached eleven years of age he began having skin problems.