Fragile Ground

by Louisa Keller

  Olivier changes tactics, and Auriel can tell from Olivier’s posture and facial expression and demeanor that he is about to say what he really wants to say.

  The words, when they come, are full of barely-contained fury. But there is something else under there, and Auriel knows Olivier well enough to hazard a guess that it’s fear, tinted with a bit of shame. “Why didn’t you tell me that we were together?”

  Auriel lets the question sit between them for a moment before he replies. He tries not to sound patronizing when he says, “I didn’t think it would be fair.”

  “Um, yeah, no, I would say fair is out the window with this whole situation. There’s got to be more to it than that.”

  Anyone other than Auriel, and maybe Hattie, would be unable to see it, but Olivier’s frostiness if definitely starting to thaw. He may not be thrilled with Auriel’s response, but it’s probably the best he could have expected.

  For the first time since Auriel and Hattie made the decision to keep the relationship a secret, Auriel wonders if it was the right thing for Olivier. The evidence before him is starting to point to the contrary. And wouldn’t it be a horribly tragic thing if Auriel had spent these past few days tormenting himself with a lie that didn’t even benefit Olivier?

  Auriel, deep in thought, doesn’t realize that he is cracking his knuckles until he hears Olivier say, “gross.” There’s not much heat behind the words, so Auriel chances a small smile.

  “You’ve always given me shit for doing that,” he says. Just the memory of Olivier ribbing him on countless occasions makes Auriel light up inside.

  “Well,” says Olivier, clearly trying to find a leg to stand on, “I’m assuming you didn’t get together with me because of my sparkling personality.”

  It’s not exactly untrue, but Auriel doesn’t think he will win himself any points with Olivier by agreeing. So instead he starts waxing poetic about Olivier’s accomplishments.

  “You’ve gone through a lot in the last couple of years. I mean, like you said, you moved three thousand miles away and got two full sleeves. But you also came out to your family. You’re in the process of applying for a PhD program in Continental Philosophy. You write for an independent queer website and you love Pride weekend. I’m pretty sure you actually adore the rainbow boxers Hattie got you as a gag gift for your birthday last year.”

  Their eyes meet and Auriel sees something shift in Olivier’s expression. Auriel takes another deep breath and decides to go for it, consequences be damned. “And you fell in love with me,” he says, “so there’s that.”

  “Wait, back up, I did what now?” The words spill out of Olivier, unfiltered and raw. He looks flabbergasted.

  Auriel tries desperately to figure out how to explain it. “We aren’t…we weren’t casual, Olivier.”

  “How, um, how serious were we?” Olivier asks, looking completely overwhelmed.

  “I guess I can’t speak for you,” says Auriel. He’s not sure what Olivier needs to hear right now, what will make this okay for him. He tries to put things back on Olivier’s terms. “You wrote a lot about our relationship for work, I can pull up those articles if you want. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re it for me.”

  Now that he has laid himself bare before his lover, Auriel feels as though he has been hollowed out. The words are out there in the world, and there’s no taking them back. Worse still—or perhaps better, depending on Olivier’s reaction—Auriel gave those words, that sentiment, to Olivier directly, eyes locked and heart on display.

  It feels like an eternity, although it’s probably less than thirty seconds that they’re staring at each other. Olivier’s features are breathtaking as he mulls over this new information, and they curl into an expression of determination as he comes to a decision. Auriel feels like a man sentenced to hang, standing before the judge at his last appeal.

  “Fuck it. Get over here and kiss me.” Olivier no longer looks overwhelmed. Something has changed, and he is utterly composed, looking eager even. It’s giving Auriel emotional whiplash.

  “Excuse me?” Auriel asks, taken aback.

  Olivier rolls his eyes, but there’s less steel behind it. He is walking the very fine line between the harsh emotions he was feeling a moment ago, and something almost playful. It’s like Auriel’s confession has altered the trajectory of the conversation entirely.

  “Jesus, cool it on the incredulity,” says Olivier. “Your hot amnesiac boyfriend wants to make out.”

  For a moment, Auriel allows himself to imagine taking Olivier up on the offer. It seems like it has been an eternity since they kissed, and every cell in Auriel’s body quivers in anticipation of a reunion. But then the logical part of his brain kicks into gear and he realizes how colossally unfair it would be to take what he wants when there’s no way Olivier knows what he is actually offering.

  “I can’t take advantage of the situation,” Auriel says slowly, enunciating each word carefully.

  Olivier scoffs at that. “You’re not taking advantage.” At Auriel’s raised eyebrow Olivier continues, “I may be missing a good chunk of my memory, but I’m fully capable of making decisions for myself. I am one hundred and ten percent able to consent, okay?”

  Auriel turns that argument over in his head. Olivier has bypassed any bullshit and gone straight for the heart of the issue. It’s almost as if he knows Auriel the way he used to. And it’s true that Olivier hasn’t shown any sign of inability to make logical decisions.

  “I…are you sure?” asks Auriel.

  Olivier lets out a bark of laughter and says, “Dude, the doctor literally told us that my brain function isn’t impaired. I’m sure.”

  And Auriel knows that he could spend all evening talking himself out of this. But Olivier makes a good point, and the belligerent gleam in his eyes reminds Auriel so much of the days before the car crash. It’s almost, just for a second, like Olivier is back, unharmed by his brush with mortality, whole and intact. Auriel feels as though he is looking at two images of the same person, superimposed upon one another, and for that moment they are seamless. And then the images blur apart, and Auriel finds himself standing before a man he both knows and does not know; a man he loves and a man he needs to learn to love. And that is when he makes the decision. Fuck the infinite what ifs. Olivier is offering himself to Auriel, and there is nothing in the world that sounds better to Auriel than gathering Olivier in his arms and never letting him go.

  Auriel steps forward and wraps his arms around Olivier, looking right into his eyes. Olivier swallows, and the moment feels thick and golden, like they’re suspended in amber. I love you, Auriel thinks as he kisses Olivier.

  They are both passionate, demonstrative people in their own ways, and their kisses have always reflected that. Auriel wonders, in that brief instant before their lips meet, if this kiss will be like the innumerable others they have shared over the past two years. He is not disappointed. Olivier licks across the seam of Auriel’s lips and Auriel opens to him, basking in the feeling of their bodies pressed tightly together. Auriel bites at Olivier’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and then releasing it, a grin on his face. Olivier responds by kissing along Auriel’s throat, his hands knotted in Auriel’s hair, pulling just enough to make Auriel desperate for more.

  “Fuuuck,” groans Auriel, thrusting his hips instinctively against Olivier’s. Olivier responds by sucking a hickey over the spot where Auriel’s pulse thrums in his neck. Neither of them own any scarves, and the thought that he won’t be able to hide the mark sends a pulse of arousal through Auriel’s body. His cock, already interested in the proceedings, stiffens considerably.

  Olivier must feel it, because he grins and asks, “you like that?”

  Obviously, Auriel thinks. But he is already succumbing to the feel of Olivier’s body against his. Auriel has always lost his coherence as soon as things start to heat up, and this time is no exception. Just the hint that things might progress eradicates his ability to string words together. S
o he mutters, “uh huh,” against Olivier’s lips, leaning down to kiss the smirk off Olivier’s face, and smiles when he feels Olivier reach for the hem of Auriel’s shirt.

  Just then, the oven timer goes off. Olivier pulls back reluctantly, and Auriel goes to the stove, carefully removing the shortbread with a floral oven mitt. “To be continued?” Auriel asks, reaching to turn off the shrilly beeping timer. He’s almost relieved by the reprieve, because it gives him an excuse to clear his head. He is so intoxicated by Olivier.

  But Olivier is shaking his head, the smirk solidly back on his face. “You know, I’m not particularly hungry. Thank we can put dinner off for a bit?”

  Maybe Auriel should stop things here, slow them down and take a couple of minutes by himself. But he’s like an addict, yearning for a fix, and Olivier is here presenting himself. It is impossible to resist.

  Auriel doesn’t even try to contain his smile as he grabs Olivier by the waist and pulls him into another kiss, considerably rougher than the last.

  They kiss in the kitchen for a good long time. It isn’t until Olivier is full on humping Auriel’s leg, his hard-on hot and sliding deliciously against Auriel through their two pairs of jeans, that Auriel start to herd Olivier toward the bedroom.

  “Is Hattie at the library?” Auriel mutters between kisses.

  Olivier shrugs. “Probably. Is this the first time we’ve made out in the hallway?”

  By this time they’re rutting wildly against each other just outside the guest room. Auriel snorts, amused. “She’s definitely found us in some compromising positions.”

  “We’re terrible roommates,” Olivier says, his voice playful. He punctuates the sentiment by squeezing Auriel’s ass firmly, and the words tumble out of Auriel’s mouth.

  “You’re a stellar roommate.”

  That makes Olivier smirk. “Oh yeah?” His fingers are skimming the skin just above the waistband of Auriel’s jeans. “Tell me more.”

  Auriel rolls his eyes, pretending that he doesn’t find Olivier utterly charming when he’s fishing for compliments. But there is a smile on Auriel’s face that’s not going anywhere, and there’s warmth spreading through his chest that has everything to do with the fact that Olivier is acting like himself, playful and bratty and incandescent.

  “Well,” begins Auriel, contemplating, “you always do the laundry because you know I hate doing it.”

  “How benevolent of me,” Olivier says, his fingers creeping down until they’re under Auriel’s jeans and boxer briefs, edging toward his cock.

  “And you pay your portion of utilities on time every month,” Auriel continues, shifting his hips.

  “I’ve always been punctual with bills,” Olivier agrees. His hand slips down further, fingers curling around Auriel’s hot erection.

  “Shit,” breathes Auriel.

  “Shit indeed,” murmurs Olivier. He leans forward to speak right into Auriel’s ear. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, there are the blowjobs,” Auriel says, throwing caution to the wind.

  Olivier’s laugh is quick and delighted. “Obviously. What else?”

  “You, uh, always hang up your towels after you shower.” It’s getting hard for Auriel to concentrate, what with Olivier squeezing him firmly.

  Olivier quirks an eyebrow. “Really?”

  That startles a laugh out of Auriel. “Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “I guess not,” Olivier says with a shrug. “I mean, my roommate in college gave me a lot of shit about leaving towels on the floor. I probably just didn’t want you to think I was a slob so I got my shit together.”

  Auriel thinks about that, and Olivier gives him one final squeeze before pulling his hand out of Auriel’s pants. For a brief second Auriel thinks that they’re done with this bizarre interaction, but then Olivier asks, “your room or mine?”

  “I mean, you’ve been sleeping in our room,” says Auriel. He bites his lip as he watches the comprehension dawn on Olivier.

  “God, of course. Shit, you’ve been sleeping in the spare room?” Olivier doesn’t look mad, but Auriel still treads carefully.

  “I wanted to give you space. It didn’t seem fair to ask you to share a bed with a guy you can’t remember.”

  “There you go again with fair.” There’s a wry smile on Olivier’s face.

  “At least I’m consistent?” Auriel tries.

  Olivier snorts. “Good to know.”

  They make their way into the master bedroom and Olivier hops up on the bed, pulling Auriel with him by the shirt. They end up tangled together, Olivier sprawled across the mattress and leaning back against the numerous pillows with Auriel lying between his legs. They kiss languidly for a while, hands tangled in hair, smiling into each other’s mouths. It’s fun, Auriel realizes, to be pressed up against the love of his life in the bed they’ve shared for years. The moment should probably feel heavier, but somehow there’s a levity to the whole interaction.

  After several minutes, Olivier pulls back, his hands cupping Auriel’s jawline, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “God, you’re hot,” he murmurs. He places a sweet kiss on Auriel’s lips and then asks, “want to fuck me?”

  Auriel feels dizzy with the affection, with the juxtaposition of this gentle moment against the fevered kisses in the kitchen. For a moment he lets himself forget that this is all new for Olivier, that he’s probably just playing with the notion of a relationship. In that moment, Auriel almost says yes. But then he looks into Olivier’s eyes and sees the expression there, and it’s not quite right.

  “Is it cool if we slow things down for a minute?” Auriel asks. He can hear how wrecked his voice sounds, and his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

  Olivier looks abashed. “Oh, God, yeah. Sorry. I thought—”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” says Auriel. “I just need to…I don’t know, talk this out a bit maybe. If that’s okay with you.”

  “Um, yeah. That makes sense.” Olivier’s eyes are darting around the room, looking for anything other than Auriel to concentrate on. There’s a flush rising high on his cheeks. Auriel can’t remember a time when they were like this together, stuttering and blushing and out of sync. It feels profoundly wrong.

  “What do you want to know? About us?” Auriel asks.

  Olivier contemplates that, still looking at the ceiling. Finally he asks, “how did we get together?”

  The memory is vivid in Auriel’s mind. “You’d been here like a month and we had unbelievable chemistry. I was into you right from the start, as soon as you moved in here with your obscene collection of philosophical books and started going off about compatibilists and epistemology and God knows what else. I’m pretty sure you gave me a whole lecture about The Ethics of Ambiguity the first night we ate dinner together.”

  Olivier makes an amused noise. “That sounds like me.”

  “And then we started going out around the city. I showed you and Hattie around, and then you and I started going out just the two of us. And one night we were at the top of this hill, looking out over the city all lit up and twilight-gorgeous, and you just planted one on me.”

  “That’s surprisingly romantic,” Olivier says.

  Auriel shrugs. “It had been building for a while. I don’t think you were waiting for the moonlit hilltop moment, it just kind of all came together then.”

  “Maybe we should go there,” Olivier suggests.

  “What, to the place where we first kissed?” Auriel is surprised, but pleased by the suggestion.

  “Yeah, I mean, if it’s not too far.”

  Auriel laughs out loud at that. “It’s not, but I wouldn’t care if it was far away. I’d take you there regardless.”

  “Thanks,” says Olivier. “It might jog my memory, you know?”

  And that thought hasn’t occurred to Auriel at any point. “I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he says carefully.

  “What do you mean?” asks Olivier.

  “I don’t think you’re g
oing to start remembering things just by hanging out in places you used to go to.”

  Olivier shrugs. “Worth a try, right?” Now he is looking at Auriel, his expression intense and excited. “It’s not like it will hurt anything.”

  That’s not necessarily true, Auriel realizes. Because going back to the landmarks that studded the beginning of his relationship with Olivier and seeing the man he loves not recognizing them will likely be quite painful for Auriel. Then again, he owes this to Olivier. If there’s something the man wants, Auriel should give it to him.

  “Okay,” says Auriel. “We can give it a shot.”

  Olivier smiles at that. “Thanks,” he says.

  “You’re welcome,” Auriel replies.

  Olivier leans up for a kiss, and then says, “tell me more.”

  So Auriel details their courtship. He talks about the things they’ve always loved about each other, and the activities they came to love together.

  “I went to farmers markets?” Olivier asks, incredulous.

  “You once dragged me on a four hour road trip so that we wouldn’t miss the first ripe berries of the season at a big market near the California border.”

  “Bullshit,” says Olivier, but there’s no heat behind it.

  “I kid you not. We used to go to the local farmer’s market every other Saturday. It was one of my favorite things to do with you.”

  “God, you’re a nerd,” Olivier says softly.

  “Not going to argue with that,” replies Auriel. “Although I’m pretty sure the whole ‘glass houses’ parable applies here.”

  They continue in this vein for a while, Auriel detailing their life together and Olivier expressing good-natured surprise. At some point they end up changing positions, moving so that they’re spooning, with Olivier a firm line pressed up against Auriel’s front, one of Auriel’s arms slung loosely across Olivier’s waist. They’re both drowsy, speaking softly and clearly well on their way toward a nap. It feels good.