by M. J. O'Shea
Fen chuckled. “So just stick to feelings? No rings tonight?”
“No. I think I’d pass out before I got there.” Part of Ben wished he’d just spit it out sometime without thinking. All the planning and waiting was enough to make him want to chicken out.
“Good luck, dude. But you don’t need it. Things are going to go fine.”
“Thanks, Fen. You’re a good friend.”
Ben hung up and tried to breathe slow and easy while he picked out the rest of the ingredients for his dinner.
“HEY, I’M making chicken enchiladas. It’s like the one decent recipe that I can do alone. What time did you want to do dinner?” Ben tried to juggle the phone and the sauce spoon. He was gonna do it. Make Rory dinner, take him to bed. Tell him that he loved him and he wanted to be with him for real. It was the right time. He could feel it. It had to be.
“Um,” Rory said. Ben tried to tell himself he didn’t hear a pile of weirdness in the pause. “I’m actually not going to be able to make it over. I have plans for dinner.”
“With your parents?” Ben could’ve kicked himself for asking. A sudden pit in his stomach told him he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Oh, uh, no.” At least Rory had the decency to sound a little awkward about it. “I have a date.”
“O-oh.”
“It’s this—”
Ben didn’t want to hear any more. He felt like the biggest idiot asshole on the face of the planet. “Oh, that’s great. Have fun!” His chipper act probably wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Rory. Rory knew him. He’d know it was bullshit. “I’ve gotta go. My sauce is about to burn.”
Ben hung up before he sobbed into the damn phone. It buzzed again, and he ignored it, then dropped it. The phone clattered on the counter. Who fucking cared if it broke?
I am such a fucking idiot. So stupid to think that just because they’d been acting more and more like a couple that they actually were one. Just some fun between friends, right? That’s what Rory had said back at Christmas. Clearly, he hadn’t changed his mind. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ben hurled his sauce spoon across the kitchen where it made a loud noise and a big, bloody, orange splotch when it smacked against the pale-yellow walls.
Everything had been so damn great. One phone call, one date, had changed it all. Ben wanted to scream.
He sank down his cabinets until he was in a pathetic pile on the floor. How had he fooled himself? He’d really, really thought things were different. He’d felt like he was wearing Rory down little by little. He thought Rory maybe might be falling just as hard as he’d already fallen, that he’d be ready to take the next step. No. Nothing had changed. They were just friends, Rory was on a damn date with some other guy, and Ben was the biggest fucking fool on the planet. He couldn’t move. Finishing dinner was too depressing, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to eat it, so what was the point? He just sat there slumped against the kitchen floor and watched the digital clock on his oven tick away, minute by minute by depressing minute. Only the smell of his enchilada sauce actually starting to burn pulled Ben off the floor. He didn’t have the energy to deal with a fire. He shut off the stove and left the sauce where it sat, left the spoon lying red orange on the floor, left the mess dripping down his wall. He limped into his room where he stripped to his briefs and crawled into bed.
Hours later, he hadn’t fallen asleep, hadn’t even dozed. His stomach was all cramped, and he was exhausted, but he couldn’t even pass out and forget the awful day. Probably because he was in bed by himself. Ben realized it had been nearly two months since he’d been in his bed alone. He pretty much hated it. It was late, probably after midnight, but he doubted sleep would come any time soon. Ben flopped over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow. He didn’t want to be a pathetic asshole and cry; it wouldn’t help anything anyway. He just had to find some way to get over the fact that he wasn’t ever going to have Rory. Not in any way that really counted.
Ben’s front door clicked open, and he nearly groaned out loud. No. I can’t do that tonight. I can’t talk to him. Ben wasn’t sure if he could even look at Rory without breaking down. Soft footsteps found their way into his room.
“Hey,” Rory said softly. Ben didn’t answer. He pretended he was asleep. It was the only way he could save what was left of his pride. Rory slid into bed next to him and slung his arm across Ben’s back. Ben tried to keep silent, but slowly the pillow under his face turned soggy and wet. It was no use. Rory stroked his back softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Ben had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep quiet. Even if he wanted to talk, he didn’t know what to say.
WHEN BEN woke up in the morning, Rory was gone. Ben dragged himself out of bed and wandered to the kitchen. He remembered when he got out there that he’d have to deal with the enchilada mess, but it was cleaned. No dishes, no splotch of sauce on the wall. All he saw was a plate of his favorite blueberry muffins from the shop down the road with a note that said Rory had gone to the gym and he’d be back in a little bit.
He cleaned it all up.
Ben felt like he might die of embarrassment. Rory had to know. What other explanation could there be for a spoon thrown against the wall and a pot of burnt sauce? Ben didn’t know how he’d face him, so he brushed his teeth and dressed for yard work. If he spent the day at his mom’s house, hopefully Rory would get the picture. Even if he didn’t, it would give Ben a few hours to live down his humiliation.
A WEEK later, Ben found out he was in the final judging round for the Garten-Bosch. It felt a bit surreal, honestly. At least it would’ve if he had the energy to care. In just two months, five people were going to be chosen, and it was all that more likely that he was going to be one of them. He didn’t tell anyone, not the guys, definitely not Rory, whom he’d had a hard time even looking at. Ben didn’t know how to feel about it himself, so he for sure didn’t know how to act in front of his friends. Maybe it didn’t matter anyway. Just because he was a finalist didn’t mean the fellowship was his. He figured he’d keep his mouth shut until there was something to say.
IT WAS hard to be around Rory after that night. At the same time, Ben couldn’t help but be drawn into his orbit like he always had been. He didn’t know how to act, how to be. One part of him still wanted to cling to Rory, touch him, feel him, smell him. Another part, the sad, hurt part of him that had completely given up, could barely stand it. Touching Rory made him realize that other people still had the right; looking at him made him think of how other guys could look, and maybe one other guy might get to do it every morning someday. It wasn’t gonna be him. It fucking hurt.
Ben still met Rory for coffee and movies, still cooked dinner with him. He still let Rory fuck him and fall asleep in his bed. At first. He couldn’t find the strength to say no, not with so much temptation staring him in the face, but it was harder and harder to curl up in Rory’s arms and pretend that he was okay with how things were. The past couple of weeks had been the worst of the whole year, worse even than when Rory wasn’t talking to him at all. It was as if everything he’d wanted, everything that he knew would make him happy, had just gotten dangled in front of his face and then ripped away. It hurt more than anything Ben had ever felt before. Sleeping in his arms became impossible. Eventually, he couldn’t even stand the sex, not if it didn’t mean as much to Rory. Ben would go to Rory’s instead of having him over; he’d make excuses and leave early to sleep in his own bed alone, unable to spend yet another night in arms that didn’t belong to him when he wanted them so much.
Something had to change before Ben lost his mind.
“ARE WE on for movies tonight?” Rory asked. He’d just waltzed into Ben’s classroom like nothing was awkward between them. He had to have noticed. The astronauts on the space station had to have noticed by then, it was so damn obvious that something was wrong. Ben wanted to say no. Sort of. The idea of another painful night with Rory made him want to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut.
At the same time, the idea of not seeing him was just as bad.
“Yeah, I’ll be over to your place around eight? Sound okay?” He thought maybe it would be better if he didn’t have Rory in his loft anymore at all. Ever. How was Ben supposed to just deal with it if everything smelled like him, if his stuff was scattered on every surface?
“Of course. I’ll see you then.” Rory reached out and touched Ben’s forearm. The touch was sweet and tentative. Deadly. Ben pulled away.
“Hey, I have some papers to correct. I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”
Rory’s soft mouth crumpled, all hurt and adorable. Ben wanted to pass out dead on the floor just so he could get a one-way ticket away from that moment. He didn’t know what to do.
“Um, okay. I’ll see you tonight,” Rory muttered. He looked at the ground.
“Hey, I’ll bring queso.” Queso wasn’t much in the line of “sorry I’m emotionally avoiding you” peace offerings, but it was something.
“From Banditos?” Rory’s face perked up.
Ben couldn’t help smiling, even if his chest was tight and uncomfortable and he didn’t know how to act. “Yeah, of course. Where else?”
Rory grinned and bounced out of the room like the sixteen-year-old he used to be. Ben wanted to take his pallet knife and plunge it repeatedly into his chest so it might stop aching so damn much.
“BEN, YOU’VE gotta talk to me. What’s going on?” Ben had been curled into his corner of Rory’s couch for the past half hour. His mostly uneaten burrito sat, sad and unloved, on the coffee table. He’d refused to scoot closer when Rory tugged on his feet, even when Rory himself tried to move closer, tried to nuzzle into Ben’s neck. He couldn’t do it. It hurt too badly. He’d pushed Rory away physically for the first time.
“Nothing’s going on,” Ben answered. He thought of a conversation, one they’d had so, so long ago when Rory had asked him why he was acting weird and he had ended up having the best night of his damn life. Pretty sure that conversation and this one weren’t going to end up the same way. His belly twisted painfully.
“Don’t give me that nothing shit. I know you. There’s something up.” Same face, same disbelieving tone. It was so different.
Ben’s eyes felt tight and watery. He refused to give in. “Can we please not? It’s been a long week.”
“Did I do something?” There it was, that little soft lip crumple that Ben was totally unable to defend himself from.
If that’s not a loaded question, I don’t know what is. “No.” Yes. You broke my damn heart. I probably deserved it.
“Then what’s wrong?” Rory asked.
“You’re really not going to let it go, are you?”
“No, I’m not. You’ve been acting distant for weeks, pulling further and further away when I feel like I just got you back. I can’t do this again, Ben. It nearly killed me the first time.”
Jesus. Stab me in the heart.
“What the hell do you think’s going on?” Ben bit out. How could Rory be so oblivious?
“I don’t know.”
“How could you not?” Ben was incredulous. “What’s going on is I can’t pretend I’m happy being your substitute boyfriend anymore, friend with lots of convenient benefits ready to cuddle and kiss and fuck when you don’t have anything better to do. When you don’t have anyone better to do. What’s going on is I’m really fucking in love with you and I honestly thought that’s where you were headed too. But you’re not, are you?”
Rory stared at Ben in stunned silence. Ben felt like a fool, like a lovesick stupid gullible idiotic fool. He stood.
“I need to go.”
Ben grabbed his keys and his phone from the coffee table and left without a backward glance. A sad, hopeful little corner of his heart thought that maybe Rory would chase after him. He didn’t. Of course. Ben didn’t know why he’d expected something different.
He let himself into his cold, empty apartment and put his phone on silent. He even put the chain across the door, which he hadn’t done in months. He didn’t want Rory to come in even if he tried, not with the way things were, not if he couldn’t actually have him. Ben just… couldn’t anymore.
Chapter Twelve
IT WAS kinda strange how not surprised he was when he got the fellowship. Felt anticlimactic, to be honest, and somehow expected. Kind of like, yeah, of course I’m gonna get it when nothing else is okay and nothing could make me feel good. It was a relief in a way, though, the fact that he could get out, get the hell away from his problems and from Rory and his past and just be someone else for a change. Or at least be himself somewhere else. It could only help, so he really tried to be excited about it. He did. But all he felt was sad and, yes, relieved to a point but mostly just empty. He wanted the school year to be over. Every time Ben even thought about Rory on the other side of his wall, in the chem lab teaching, he cringed and his gut twisted. It had been days since Rory attempted to come over to his house. Neither one of them called. Most of Ben thought it was probably for the best.
So when the letter came informing him that he’d been chosen to be part of the fellowship team, he knew it was the right thing. He had to leave. Even if it were temporary, the time would be good for him. Get his head back on, hopefully. He told his principal first. They’d worked out a deal since it was only a year; Ben had warned him back when he found out he was a finalist. His art classroom was still his; they’d just hire a long-term substitute for one school year. If it turned out he wanted to stay away longer, his job would be lost. Ben highly doubted he’d not want to come home. He honestly didn’t know if he could handle it if he’d just been flat-out gone. Temporarily gone was better.
Telling the guys was harder. Fen and Jeremy were happy for him, but their faces still fell before they schooled them into proud smiles.
“Congrats, dude. You really deserve this.” Fen gave him a long, squeezing hug.
“I’m proud of you,” Jeremy said quietly before passing out his own hug.
Pinky cried and told him to kick butt and make sure everyone in LA remembered him by the end. He just smiled and hugged her. It was hard to look at his friends’ faces. He was going to miss them. A lot.
“It’s just a year, guys,” Ben assured them, and maybe himself a little too. “Schroeder’s holding my job. I’m coming back.”
All three of them looked quite a bit more relieved after that. Rory, who’d been silent for the whole thing, just stared at the table. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even glance up. Ben realized he could hardly expect him to. They’d had a few great months before everything went to shit, but they weren’t in the position to be hugging and congratulating each other anymore. All the awkward silences were his fault, of course. Again. Rory was probably happy to see him go.
THE LAST day of school was sad. Weird. Yeah, he was going to be back in a year, but somehow Ben felt like a part of his life was ending for good. He packed up his personal supplies and put them in the locked cabinet at the back of the room that the long-term sub wasn’t going to use. It was still his room, he told himself. Waiting there for him when he returned. He wondered what else would still be there when he got back. And what wouldn’t.
“Ben?”
Ben shivered. It had been days since he’d heard Rory’s voice. Ben had been avoiding the staff room at lunch, slipping out as soon as he could or locking himself in his room to finish end-of-the-year grading. “What is it, Rory?” he asked. There wasn’t anything to talk about. Rory had made it clear by his actions where they stood. Ben had said how he felt, and it hadn’t changed a damn thing.
“I just wanted to talk for a minute, if that’s okay.”
Ben shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry I made things awkward. I should’ve left it alone. If you’re still here when I get back, maybe we can try the friend thing again. I won’t be a fool next time and fall for you.” The words felt like knives even though it was him saying them. The situation sucked. Ben wanted out of it, as far and a
s fast as he could go. Rory opened his mouth to talk, but Ben held up his hand. “Don’t. Really. I know it’s my fault, I read into things that weren’t there. Just, well, yeah. Maybe when I get back we’ll try again.”
Ben took one more look around his room, slung his bag of odds and ends from his desk over his shoulder, and started weaving his way around tables for the door. Rory followed behind him.
“I’m going to miss you,” Rory said quietly. “I already miss you, and you’re not even gone yet.”
“Please don’t say stuff like that.” Ben closed his eyes for a second, then turned to look at Rory. “I think it’ll be easier for both of us if I’m not here for a while. Have a great summer, Ro, and good luck next school year. I’ll see you around.”
Ben locked his classroom door and turned without another word for the door to the annex. He willed Rory not to follow him, not to make it worse. He just wanted to turn his keys in and go.
THE NIGHT of Ben’s going-away dinner came quickly. He’d only had two short weeks to pack and get his place all closed down. His mom was going to check on it, but he hadn’t wanted to rent it out. He didn’t want some random person there, sleeping in his bed, showering in the bathroom he’d spent three long weeks remodeling by himself. That loft was home. Even with his clothes packed and his bathroom empty, it still felt like home.
He pulled his keys from the dish by the door and locked up. The dinner was at Jeremy’s place since Delia could actually cook more than just enchiladas, which he’d probably never want to eat again anyway. Ben wished he was more excited, wished he could feel more than just a big yawning hole in his belly any time he thought about his friends and home and everything he was leaving behind.
