Queermance Anthology, Volume 2

by Queermance Anthology- Volume 2 [MM-FF] (retail) (epub)

  Xavier bounded up the stairs ahead of Paul that evening. They’d met at the pub when Xavier finished work, and had a meal. Xavier had chattered the whole time about his job and his friends and family. Paul had listened as much as he could, but as the noise level in the pub increased he contented himself with watching Xavier’s exuberance. His hands danced as he gushed about a new idea he’d had for a computer game and he bounced in his seat when he told Paul how his niece and nephew loved the last game he’d written. Paul could have been forgiven for thinking Xavier led a charmed life full of children and fun if it wasn’t for the shadows that flitted across his features whenever Xavier stumbled across a link to Warren.

  Those were the times Paul spoke, distracting Xavier from the fact the man he’d been living with had cheated on him.

  Xavier stopped outside Paul’s door and waited. ‘I might not be able to see you tomorrow night. I have to find somewhere else to live.’

  ‘You’re not on the lease at your place?’

  ‘The lease ran out a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t signed a new one yet. I was going to sort that out this week but���’ he swallowed and stared at the floor for a second. His sudden stillness was disconcerting and Paul found himself taking Xavier’s hand before he’d thought about how the other man would respond. Xavier shifted his fingers to curl between Paul’s and squeezed gently. Paul put the key in the lock and unlocked the door.

  ‘So I told Warren I’m going to move out and he can sign the lease on his own if he wants.’ Xavier continued, then looked up suddenly. ‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing? Warren keeps crying. He swears it won’t happen again. And then he tells me I’m overreacting.’ His tone of voice was derisive.

  ‘I think you’ve answered your own question,’ said Paul as he pushed open the door and led them through.

  ‘Yeah. He still doesn’t think he did anything wrong. Just because we hadn’t said we were exclusive, we were living together. He knew I wasn’t seeing anyone else and he knew from the beginning I believe living with someone means you don’t fuck around.’

  Paul didn’t know what to say to that. He tugged his hand free and went to make coffee. Xavier followed.

  ‘Have I totally ruined the mood?’ Xavier asked as he pressed against Paul’s back. His arms slid around Paul’s waist then slid up over his chest. ‘I don’t mind if we skip the coffee.’ His lips rested against Paul’s neck, making his voice rumble through his body.

  Paul shivered, then flicked the power off before turning and clasping Xavier to him. ‘Warren was a fucking idiot,’ he said as he nuzzled the soft skin beneath Xavier’s ear.

  The next evening, Paul and Xavier met at a franchise coffee shop. Paul sank into the plastic chair and placed his cardboard cup of coffee on the table. His day had been a repeat of the day before, and the one before that. Sometimes he thought Cord would never be able to live independently again. Every grey day looked the same. Light flickered at the edge of his vision and he looked up to see Xavier step over the threshold and look around for him. The setting sun, winking between the buildings, set Xavier’s hair on fire, a golden glow that barely dimmed as he moved into the shadows. It was the first real colour Paul had seen all day.

  He found himself smiling.

  ‘Warren’s moved out,’ said Xavier in greeting. ‘He said if we weren’t going to be together - I think he meant if we weren’t going to be fucking - then there was no reason for him to be there.’

  ‘So if you broke your leg and couldn’t fuck him, he’d leave you?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s what I thought.’ Xavier slouched into his seat, dejection wafting from him in almost visible violet waves. ‘And I can’t find anywhere to live that I can afford and isn’t riddled with cockroaches.’

  ‘If Warren’s gone, why not stay where you are?’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt a fool. He’d put every photo he had of Tristan away so he wouldn’t be constantly reminded what he was missing. ‘Never mind.’

  Xavier cleared his throat. ‘I can’t afford it on my own anyway.’

  Paul had a nightmare that night. He woke, tangled in the sheets, the echo of his yelling fading in the stillness of pre-dawn. He turned towards the sound of terrified panting to find Xavier’s wide eyes peeping at him over the edge of the mattress. Turning away to flip on the bedside light gave him time to steady the shaking in his fingers and banish the lingering memory-stench of exploded bodies in the desert. When he turned back, Xavier was still in the same spot, but his breathing eased as his large eyes blinked in the sudden light.

  ‘Sorry,’ Paul croaked out.

  Xavier slid onto the mattress beside him, all liquid limbs and uncertain bravery. A red mark showed on his cheek.

  ‘Christ, did I do that?’ Paul lunged for Xavier but stopped when he shied away. ‘Fuck. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You’re army or something, aren’t you?’

  ‘Used to be. Not much use to them now.’

  ‘Because of the nightmares?’

  A cynical laugh escaped. ‘It would probably be all right if they only happened at night when I was asleep but they don’t.’ He leaned back against the headboard and glared at the ceiling. It wasn’t enough that the break in his leg had been so bad that he’d never get back to optimum fitness. His head had to get in on the act and confirm how weak he was now.

  ‘Flashbacks?’

  Paul swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. ‘You should get as far from me as you can.’ He turned to gesture toward the mark on Xavier’s face, already fading. ‘Next time it might be worse.’

  Xavier stood too. ‘It’s not as if you meant to hit me.’

  Paul rounded on him, suddenly furious. ‘Never. Never blindly accept violence from someone, whether it’s meant for you or not.’

  Xavier stumbled back a step, then straightened his shoulders and stepped forward again. ‘If you ever hit me in anger, I’m gone, don’t worry about that. But this dream thing isn’t you wanting to hurt me. If I hadn’t been asleep at the time, you wouldn’t have got close enough to hit me this time either.’

  This time. This fucking time - like he knew there’d be others. Fuck. Paul knew there’d be more times for him, but no way was he going to put someone else in danger. ‘I’m going to spend the rest of the night on the sofa,’ he said as he left the room. If Xavier had any sense, he’d be long gone by the time the sun was up.

  He opened his eyes to the smell of bacon. Xavier stood before him, holding a steaming plate. God that smells good.

  ‘Gran always said everything looks better in the morning. She also said bacon for breakfast and strong coffee could fix most bad nights.’ He smiled, hope and desire to please radiating from him.

  Paul sat up and reached for the plate. ‘Thanks.’ He closed his eyes and inhaled the salty steam. Maybe Xavier’s Gran knew a thing or two. He smiled at the slim man still standing in front of him and winced when his whole body relaxed, as if he’d been expecting Paul to throw the plate on the floor.

  Once Xavier had left to go back to his place then to work, Paul showered and headed to the hospital. He still wasn’t allowed to jog, the pressure on his knee too great, but the brisk walk at least kept him limber.

  Cord had been moved to a twin room on another level because his rehab had progressed to the next stage. Paul supposed he must be getting close to becoming an outpatient. He just needed to be able to pick up cutlery first. With the severity of his head injury, that could be a while. His speech had improved faster than Paul had anticipated but Cord’s fingers still didn’t work properly. The first bed in the new room had the curtains drawn around it so Paul couldn’t see the occupant. A low rumble of voices emanated from the area. He frowned at Cord’s welcoming smile and grunted when his friend said, ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Bad night?’ Cord asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and struggled to pull the soft sock over his stump.

  Paul grunted again as he handed Cord the prosthesis. ‘The kid made b
acon and eggs for breakfast.’

  ‘Okay.’ Once Cord had his artificial leg strapped on, he reached a hand out to Paul. Paul helped him onto his feet and supported him in his jerky steps around the room. ‘Does making bacon and eggs for breakfast mean something for you guys that us straights don’t know about?’ After two more steps, he continued. ‘Should I make Mai bacon and eggs if I want our relationship to move forward?’

  Paul released his hold on Cord and stepped away. ‘Shit, is that what he wants?’ Cord tottered and Paul hurriedly moved back into place to steady him. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I think we’ll just go to the door and back today,’ Cord said as he frowned at his recalcitrant leg, as if that would make it move faster and more fluidly. ‘I’m not certain you wouldn’t dump me on my arse if you think of something else he’s done that supposedly means he wants to chain you to your bed.’ Another two steps. ‘Although, sometimes that might be fun.’

  ‘Shut up. You’re straight, remember,’ grumbled Paul. ‘And hearing you say things like that creeps me out.’

  Cord laughed. ‘Good. At least it’s brought your attention back here and you won’t drop me.’

  Paul laughed. Cord’s always upbeat personality was just what he needed right now.

  Paul opened the door that evening to find Xavier holding several plastic shopping bags.

  ‘I started getting things ready to cook and realised I didn’t want to eat alone,’ he said as he sidled past Paul and into the kitchen. ‘Do you like pasta? It’s quick and easy, and even when I’m upset or angry, it always works.’

  ‘Are you upset or angry?’

  Xavier glared at him. ‘The bastard destroyed all my photos. Every photograph I had of us together is torn in two and dumped into the rubbish.’ He turned back to taking food out of bags and putting it out on the kitchen bench. ‘Not that I wanted to keep all of them anyway but they were mine, not his. He had no right to destroy my things.’

  ‘Do you still love him?’ Paul almost scoffed. Listen to me being all caring and supportive. He didn’t need to hear Xavier’s response anyway. The younger man still called out Warren’s name every time they had sex.

  Xavier put the onion he’d begun to peel down and turned to look at Paul. ‘He’s the only man I’ve ever been with - besides you. I fell in love with him in O week, my first year at uni. I think there’ll always be a part of me that loves a part of him, but I can’t be with him. I don’t want to be.’ He looked at his feet. ‘I suppose you want me to go now.’

  Paul stepped close and tipped Xavier’s head up so he could look into his eyes. ‘So we know how you feel about him. Why are you here with me?’

  Xavier’s breath left him in a whoosh. ‘I don’t know if I can explain it very well. When I’m with you I’m not thinking about him. I mean, I do think about him sometimes, but I’m not angry when you’re here. I can see the good things. You help me see the good things in life. You’re calm - except when you have nightmares - and you make me calm too. I always feel ready to laugh when I’m with you.’

  Paul shifted back a bit, embarrassed, but Xavier draped his hands over Paul’s shoulders to stop him moving too far away.

  ‘You need me, too. I can see the sadness in your eyes. I want to know who Alex and Tristan are and what happened to them.’ His grip on Paul’s shoulders tightened when Paul jerked away. ‘You called out for them last night just after you dumped my arse off the bed. I know you’re not ready to talk about them yet, but I want to be here when you are.’ Xavier smiled shyly. ‘It’s nice to feel needed.’

  Paul kissed him then. It was the only way he could think of to stop him talking, to stop the overflowing of emotion. He couldn’t tell Xavier to shut the fuck up, like he used to with Alex. She understood he didn’t do emotion. Tristan hadn’t even tried. They’d both known where they stood with each other. Xavier would just be hurt, so he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him until they were both hard and breathless and straining for more.

  ‘Dinner can wait,’ he whispered as he manoeuvred Xavier out of the kitchen and allowed the burning need to overtake them both.

  That night, the dream was different. He and Tristan were in bed together. Paul knew it was a dream because that had happened only once in the time they’d been together and it certainly hadn’t been in the five star hotel Paul was dreaming about that night. Paul lay back on the silky sheets, his head propped on pillows so he could see Tristan. He shivered as Tristan lowered his head and the ends of his silky black hair tickled the insides of Paul’s thighs.

  He could smell his shampoo, sweet and citrusy, even here in the desert that smelled of little except destitution and death.

  He closed his eyes as Tristan’s hair waved over his skin and Tristan’s mouth enveloped Paul’s dick. Then the ground beneath him shifted. Noise filled his head, a great cracking boom that stopped as suddenly as the blood filled his ears. Heat seared his back and his knee smashed into the ground, scant seconds before the rest of him hit.

  In the smoking silence he saw, once again, the pieces of Alex scattered over the grey ground. Cord’s boot poked out from under the twisted truck. And Tristan. Tristan ran for him before the ground heaved again and he was gone, disappeared in a flash of light.

  Paul woke, gasping for breath. Beside him, Xavier slept peacefully, completely unaware of the ending of the world. Paul’s world.

  And under the sheets, Paul’s legs twitched from the memory of Tristan’s soft black hair caressing him.

  Another week passed, and Paul found himself grasping moments with Xavier. Xavier was of this world, the new world Paul was trying to build for himself. A quiet world without Alex and Tristan, where Cord battled each day to speak and to feed himself; to walk again. It was a world Paul barely recognised, but that Xavier made more real with each smile, and with each touch.

  ‘If I lived here, I wouldn’t have to leave so early in the morning to go back to my place for clothes,’ said Xavier one morning.

  Paul nearly shit himself in panic. His mouth gaped and he snapped it closed, but still no words came. Xavier kissed him on the cheek and left.

  Xavier brushed his teeth with Paul’s spare toothbrush for the sixth night running. Paul watched him rinse the brush and put it in its place beside Paul’s toothbrush and blurted the words that had formed without thought. ‘Why don’t you bring some of your clothes over tomorrow night? That way you won’t have to leave so early in the morning.’

  He didn’t wait for a response. He turned away and rushed into the kitchen, hoping the familiar action of making coffee would calm the frantic beating of his heart and the tremble in his fingers. Paul was still disconcerted, daily, with the way Xavier’s curly hair clung to his fingers, totally different to the way Tristan’s straight black hair slipped right through, ephemeral, nebulous.

  Living with Xavier would mean that Tristan really was gone.

  That night, they made love again and although Xavier still called Warren’s name, he wanted to do it again. Paul relished the scent of Xavier’s body smeared over him. His sheets smelled of them, their shampoo and soap smells combining with earthier scents and becoming something different. Lasting. He dreamed of the explosion again that night, and woke up crying. Xavier held him until he calmed and faked going back to sleep. Paul didn’t tell him this one was more horrific than the others because it wasn’t only Tristan who died this time.

  Xavier had been there too.

  ‘I could move in here. We’re practically living together anyway.’

  Paul stared at Xavier over the rim of his beer, horrified. I’m the transitional guy, not the happy-ever-after one.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that. I know we’ve only been going out a couple of weeks but it’s really good, isn’t it? Why waste our lives when we know we’re going to end up there anyway?’

  Were we? Paul wasn’t so sure but he caved in the face of Xavier’s growing disappointment. Xavier put up with Paul’s moods, and had dealt with the few nightmares he’d witne
ssed calmly. It might be a good thing for Paul to do this with him. It would give them an opportunity to find out if it could last. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ Xavier leaned back in his seat suddenly, his eyebrows so high they disappeared under his carefully styled hair.

  ‘You don’t have to look so surprised. This isn’t the first time you’ve suggested something like this.’

  ‘I know, but I didn’t think you’d agree.’

  Why the hell mention it then?

  By the end of the next day, Xavier had moved in. Paul’s closets were now full of colourful, well-made clothing that didn’t fit him. His own clothes had been relegated to a makeshift rail in the broom closet. Jewel coloured cushions were scattered around the living room and over the bed and his books had been jammed into a layered jumble on one shelf on his bookcase.

  Paul walked into the kitchen, just as bare and grey as his life. Nothing of Xavier’s had ended up here. He stared at the bleakness in front of him, his stomach churning at the thought of ending up in a life of drab emptiness. Deliberately, he turned his back to the kitchen and listed all the colours he could see now gracing his plain black sofa. There were three different shades of pink - who knew what they were called - a bright plain orange and a softer orange with little twisted tear-drop shapes all over it. There were reds and yellows, and a vibrant bluey-green he thought might be called teal.

  He took a deep breath, imagined himself waving goodbye to Tristan, and left the kitchen and everything that came before it.

  ‘This is going to be so great, Paul,’ Xavier exclaimed as he flopped down amongst the cushions. A ghostly image of Tristan grinning up at him overlayed Xavier’s artfully arranged limbs. Paul pushed the thoughts aside and allowed Xavier’s long legs to draw Paul’s gaze to his groin.

  ‘I’m shattered,’ Xavier said with an exaggerated sigh. ‘What’s for dinner?’

  ‘I’m thinking it might be you,’ Paul said as he stalked toward the grinning Xavier. As he leaned over Xavier, seeking his lips in a deep kiss, he thought, this could work. This could be good.