Love Is Proud

by JMS Books Authors

  “What inspired you?”

  “Radio on the drive down,” Darren says absently. Jayden kisses the back of his head, and starts massaging his shoulders. He’s tense, little knots either side of his spine.

  “You okay?”

  “Mm.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  Darren sits back, taking his glasses off and rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looks worn and tired. His face is very thin now, the cheekbones sharp, and although Jayden loves that almost dangerous look on him, it does make Darren look vaguely ill when he’s tired and hasn’t shaved.

  “Darren?”

  “Scott’s fucking me off.”

  “Has he said anything?”

  “Way he’s staring at you says enough.”

  Jayden shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  Darren snorts. “I’m not thick, Jayden.”

  “Alright, fine, it does, but you getting along with your brother and sister is more important than whether or not your brother is especially fond of me.”

  Darren tips his head back, banging it against Jayden’s breastbone, and Jayden kisses his forehead.

  “Maybe we can all talk about it after the wedding, if it’s upsetting you?”

  “Tried that at Christmas. He froze me out and said it’s a matter of time.”

  “Until what?”

  “Until it happens again.”

  Jayden pauses. Something, bitter and dark in the back of his head, agrees. It is a matter of time until Darren’s illness puts him in danger again. Jayden simply cannot be there every moment of every day—and even if he could, that would rip them apart without the illness having to play its part at all.

  “You still wake up if I’m gone from the bed too long,” Darren says quietly, and Jayden nudges his nose against Darren’s, the angle almost upside-down.

  “Of course I do,” he says. “You work shifts.”

  Darren’s smile is very faint, and his fingers come up to brush through Jayden’s hair.

  “He needs to know how you keep me sane,” Darren murmurs, “but I don’t know how to show him that.”

  Jayden bites his lip, and shakes his head. “I don’t think you can,” he says softly. “You haven’t…hurt yourself, in years, and he still doesn’t trust me. Maybe it’s just one of those things we have to accept.”

  Darren sighs and starts to shuffle the papers back into order. “There’s a way to get through to him,” he says, “but I just…can’t see it right now.”

  * * * *

  Jayden’s late to breakfast.

  He doesn’t really mind. Darren went down early to see if either of his parents had shown up, and Jayden had decided to stay firmly out of that potential shit-show. But when he does go down, to a quiet breakfast room and three dark heads bent together over a table plan, he feels so out of place that it actually hurts a little.

  Then Darren looks up, and smiles.

  “Beginning to think you’d gone back to sleep,” he said.

  “We’re discussing seating plans,” Michelle interrupts, looking harried. “I originally put you with Harry’s aunt, but he’s just said this morning that she’s massively homophobic and will have kittens if she figures out you’re married, and—”

  Jayden stops listening. Scott has distracted him—unlike Michelle’s easy chatter, Scott’s face is closed and distant, and Jayden has to push down a sudden spike of anger. For fuck’s sake, Darren’s thirty years old. That he’s even lived this long with an illness this bad is a miracle. And Jayden’s been there for literally half of Darren’s life, so what is Scott’s—

  “Problem?”

  The word escapes before he can stop it, and the three of them go still in front of him. Michelle glances uneasily between them, then shoves the plan at Darren and gets up, saying something about dresses and ready and needing at least an hour with the hairdresser.

  “What?” Scott says, and Jayden folds his arms over his chest.

  “You’ve got a problem. You’ve had a problem with me for years, and I’m sick of it.”

  Scott purses his lips, but shakes his head. “I’ve not got a—”

  “Alright, shut it.” Darren’s voice is easy, and he pushes his glasses up his nose with one finger. “Not today, yeah?” The diplomatic approach—from Darren—is an unwelcome shock, and Jayden narrows his eyes.

  “Then when? In another ten years?”

  “Tonight. Just not today. Father’s not shown, so Scott’s giving her away, which means I’m playing usher, and we have this homophobic cow to wind up later. Enough’s on. Get me another glass?”

  Jayden frowns once more for good measure, then stoops to kiss the top of Darren’s wild hair, and takes the offered glass. Orange juice, as usual. Darren could probably drown himself in the amount of orange juice he gets through in the morning before work, and it seems that little sisters’ weddings are no different.

  Only when he comes back, Darren’s pills are on the table.

  Jayden stops dead.

  Darren does not take his pills in public. Not even close. He won’t even leave them out on view in hotel rooms, and Jayden knows that if he does an early shift and has to take them at work, he sneaks off to the toilets to do it. He loathes people seeing them, so for it to just be sat out on the table in full view of—

  Darren pops out the morning dose, with Scott openly staring, and looks like he does it that way every day.

  “Jayden?”

  Jayden takes a breath, and puts the filled glass down by Darren’s wrist.

  “Thanks,” Darren says, distracted, and knocks back the pill like a pro. “Notice anything, Scott?”

  Scott pauses.

  And then—because he’s not stupid, none of the Peace family are stupid—he says, “I’ve never seen you take them.”

  “And we’ve never discussed it,” Darren says calmly. He’s looking at Jayden, not Scott, but it’s obvious where his voice is being directed. “I don’t talk to you about it. I never have. I don’t take my drugs in front of you, and if not for Jayden, you’d probably not know I took any in the first place.”

  “Daz—”

  “If not for Jayden,” Darren interrupts, “you’d not have a brother anymore, Scott.”

  Silence.

  It stretches out across the table like a friendly cat, rubbing itself over their skin and hands, and then Darren sits back in his chair, and finally looks his brother in the eye.

  “I’m not ashamed to be sick anymore.”

  Scott’s face is—torn. He looks annoyed. He looks confused. He looks upset. And somewhere in the lines that have been developing as he gets older, there’s something Jayden recognises from Darren’s own face as relief.

  “I can do this,” Darren says, tapping the blister pack, “because of him.” And he jabs a finger at Jayden, who is still standing uselessly by the table like a discarded waiter. “I’m not ashamed, because of him. I’m not hiding it, because of him. I can admit I’m struggling, because of him. And the longer you have a problem with him, because of one mistake we both committed nearly a decade ago, the more you’re telling me that I ought to be ashamed in front of you.”

  “That’s not what—!”

  “That’s exactly what you’re saying. If I want to keep the peace between the pair of you, we need to ignore my illness. I can’t leave my drugs out on the side. Jayden can’t be obvious that he’s monitoring my alcohol intake. So get over it. We both fucked up. But it was a long time ago, and by some miracle, my illness hasn’t killed me yet. And it’s tried. So I think we can agree Jayden’s doing a pretty good job of keeping it under control.”

  Jayden swallows, and drops his hand to the back of Darren’s neck. He wants to kiss him. He wants to tell Scott to shove off so he can reward Darren for the pills properly. Because Darren’s being all smooth and casual, like he’s done it a thousand times before, but his shoulders are tense, and Jayden gives in to the temptation, and bends to kiss his hair again, saying nothing and everything at the sa
me time.

  “If I’m proud to show to some homophobic old bitch at dinner tonight that I’m married to the gayest man who ever gayed,” Darren says quietly, “then I’m also proud I’m still alive to do it. And Jayden’s responsible for both of those things.”

  Jayden doesn’t care what Scott says in reply. He just doesn’t care—instead, he tugs Darren’s head back by an errant curl, and kisses him, hard and proud and defiant. Because he’s here. His pills are on the table. He’s plotting to mess with some aunt even though Michelle’s told him not to. He’s calling out his brother instead of bawling him out and smacking him one.

  He’s Darren.

  And he’s here.

  And he’s wrong, too. It’s not because of Jayden that Darren’s proud to be alive, and proud to be his. It’s nothing to do with Jayden.

  It’s Darren, and his superiority complex, and his drive to survive even when everything in his own brain chemistry strives to destroy him. So it’s not Jayden who’s responsible for this, for any of this.

  It’s always been Darren.

  * * * *

  ABOUT MATTHEW J. METZGER

  Matthew J. Metzger is an asexual, transgender author dragged up in the British Isles. He has been writing both adult and young adult queer fiction since 2013.

  The characters in “Music at Midnight” also appear in Vivaldi in the Dark, The Devil’s Trill Sonata, and Rhapsody on a Theme.

  Wonderful You by Ruby Moone

  The day that rain broke the long hot spell was the day that Ryan realised two things. Firstly, he was in love. He loved Jamie Holt with all of his heart. Secondly, he was afraid that he was losing him. He leaned his head against the bedroom window and traced the tracks of the raindrops with a fingertip.

  It was nothing obvious, nothing huge, just a feeling that there was something a little bit wrong when usually things were so incredibly right. That was the wonderful thing about Jamie, they had clicked immediately despite being polar opposites. Jamie was shy, reserved, handsome; Ryan was…not. Jamie wasn’t exactly in the closet, his family and close friends knew he was gay, but he didn’t give anything away to strangers. Ryan was…out there. He gave a huge sigh and wondered if the electric blue streaks in his fake blonde hair had been a step too far. Jamie had looked at them and shook his head with a smile. Jamie had beautiful hair. Dark, sleek, and soft. His chest was the same. There was something incredibly safe about Jamie, something stable, secure, all the things Ryan needed and all the things he had never had. He didn’t have to be anyone but himself with Jamie and he loved him for that. It was only the last couple of weeks that things had felt odd, and it was that feeling that he was somehow slipping away that had forced Ryan to face up to how he felt. Little things like phone calls where he just answered yes and no as though he couldn’t talk. Nipping out for an hour with no real explanation and then he had changed the pass code on his phone. Not that he would ever really look, but…Ryan closed his eyes. It was probably his fault. They had been together a year and he was only just realising that he loved him. He had searched his soul, his heart, and there he always was. Jamie. He’d loved him from the start but he had never been able to put a name to it and as for saying it out loud…well.

  He just needed a plan to show him how loved he was. How much he adored him, needed him…He peered through the window at the sound of a car outside, rubbed a little at the condensation, and smiled. Just the man.

  He bounded down the stairs a few at a time and open the door. “Aiden!” He laughed and pulled the man into a huge hug and got one in return.

  “Let me in before I drown,” Aiden said pushing past him to get out of the rain. “It’s vile out there.” He shook his head and sprayed drops.

  Ryan ducked the wet and took his coat. “Glad you could come.”

  Aiden shuddered. “So, what’s the emergency?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

  “Let me make you a coffee first. Then I’ll bore you with my tales of woe.” He headed for the kitchen with Aiden following behind. He and Aiden had been friends since school, and had stayed close.

  “Where’s Jamie?” Aiden asked as he took the coffee in his hands and sipped.

  “I don’t know.”

  Aiden raised his eyebrows over his mug as he took another swallow and grimaced. “Is that the problem?”

  Ryan hesitated, feeling awkward. “Yes.”

  “Ah.”

  “What does that mean?” Ryan shooed him in the direction of the lounge and they sank into the massive sofa that Jamie had insisted on buying.

  Aiden put his mug on the floor and swivelled to face him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Well.” Ryan rubbed his forehead. “Well, I just think that he might be going off me, you know.”

  “Going off you? Last time I saw him he was plastered all over you trying to get to your tonsils.”

  Ryan grinned as he remembered. Jamie didn’t often go for public displays of affection, but when he did he really went for it then blushed like a virgin afterwards.

  “He’s hedging about things. Vague, you know?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well anyway, I am not taking this lying down. I intend to win him over again. He fell for me once; he can do it again.”

  “I do so love your enthusiasm,” Aiden said with a laugh. “Go on then, what are we planning?”

  “I’m going to take him away for the weekend so I need a killer wardrobe. I need you to shop with me tomorrow.”

  “Okay, where are you taking him?”

  “I’ve found this fab boutique hotel on the east coast. It’s luxury all over so I need proper clothes.”

  “Proper?”

  Ryan rubbed his head again. “I wonder if I might be a bit much sometimes, you know, a bit…” He flapped his hands. “My first thought was a massive party to celebrate how wonderful we are but that’s not really his cup of tea. I thought a quiet weekend somewhere posh would be better.”

  “You are a bit much.” Aiden finished his coffee. “But I don’t think he cares about that. I think he likes you as you are. Early start?”

  “Yeah, I’ll pick you up at half eight and I might even buy breakfast.”

  They talked about nonsense stuff for a little while, and Ryan appreciated him not pushing for any more detail.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then,” Ryan said as Aiden put down his mug and made to leave.

  Aiden paused and smiled. “I wouldn’t worry too much. He adores you.”

  When Aiden had gone the house felt quiet and Aiden prowled around. He picked up the novel Jamie was reading. A big fat thriller. He liked books. Real books. Ryan had a kindle full of trashy stuff. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and tilted his head to look at the blue and blonde hair. It looked good, the blue brought out his eyes, eyes with eyeliner to make them pop. Jamie never wore eyeliner. Perhaps he should stop. The thought of real clothes, no eyeliner, and boring hair made him feel miserable.

  The door slammed and there was Jamie. He looked tired. Grey pants, white shirt, and a dark red tie. Silky dark hair a bit damp, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Those shoulders that were so wide, so strong, and arms that when wrapped around him shut out the world. All the craziness melted away when Jamie held him.

  Jamie spotted him and grinned, the tiredness melting away from his face. “Hey, you.” He held out his arms and Ryan was in them instantly. They held each other tight.

  “I’ve planned dinner,” Ryan said kissing his chin. Jamie was a fair bit taller than him.

  Jamie nuzzled his neck and made a made a soft humming sound. “Lovely. What’s for dessert?”

  Ryan melted a bit. He always did. He pulled away and winked. “Wait and see.” He set off in the direction of the kitchen with a swish and pulled open the fridge and glanced back to see Jamie sliding his phone into his pocket. He was doing that a lot lately.

  “Who was that?”

  “No one.”

  Another lie. Ryan’s chest hurt. “I
was thinking. I’d like to take you away this weekend. I’ve found this fantastic little hotel, really cute and romantic.” He started gathering things out of the fridge rather than look at him.

  “Ah, it’s Mum’s barbeque this weekend.”

  Ryan paused and then pulled out a lettuce and closed the fridge, carefully trying to find the right words. “Do we have to go? The weather is going to be awful.” He put the lettuce on the chopping board and started hacking it up and dropping it in the salad bowl.

  “Can you put that down, I need to say something.”

  Ryan’s heart squeezed so tight in his chest it hurt. He closed his eyes for a moment and then put the lettuce and the knife down. He rubbed his forehead and then looked at him.

  Jamie was a little flushed. “I’ve been thinking about us, about our situation and it’s good but…”

  “Do you want me to change? I’ve been thinking about it, you know, thinking that maybe I’m a little loud; a bit obvious, maybe. I couldn’t change much I don’t think…” He was rambling and looking at the floor.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that I love you so much I’d do anything for you, I don’t want…”

  “You love me?”

  Ryan looked up. Jamie was standing stock still, eyes wide, and he looked to be holding his breath. He realised he’d never said that before. Realised that he’d only just worked it out today.

  “Well, yes. Sorry.”

  “You love me.” This time it wasn’t a question and Ryan dared to hope.

  Jamie was grinning. “What on earth makes you think I want you to change?”

  “I thought you were working up to dumping me.” He felt silly saying it now. “Thought I might be a bit much.”

  “Dumping you?” The smile vanished. “Oh, God, sweetheart.” He reached out and pulled Ryan into his arms and spoke into his neck. “You are a bit much. That’s what I love about you. What I’ve loved about you from the start. You were so…so confident so full of joy and happy with who you are you just swept me away from the moment I saw you. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”