A Breath of Innocence

by K. A. Merikan

  “Ah, you know… Shit happens. I was just happy when you fell asleep and I knew you were safe.”

  Griffith couldn’t look away. His fingers itched to touch Mark, but the sense of how such gestures could be interpreted kept his hands down, his body at a distance from Mark’s. Leon’s betrayal was a thorn lodged deep in the back of his head, and all the sincere things he wanted to say in this moment, felt like promises he wasn’t sure he’d want to keep.

  “I can’t thank you enough. You must let me make it all up to you.”

  Mark shrugged and nudged the plate toward Griff. “You can start by eating breakfast before it gets cold. And accepting my gift. I meant to give it to you yesterday.” He put a large flat envelope on the counter.

  Griffith felt his cheeks tingle and grabbed the package, completely forgetting about breakfast. “What is it?” he asked, weighing the envelope in his hands. Stationery? A mousepad?

  Mark laughed and nudged Griff with his bare foot. “See for yourself, silly.”

  Griff didn’t need any more encouragement, and as soon as he ripped the paper open, heat flushed his face. Photos. From that day when he’d skipped classes in favor of lunch with Mark.

  Was this how he looked through Mark’s eyes? The photos were black and white, full of stark contrasts of darkness battling light. Did Griff’s skin really look that flawless, or had Mark photoshopped the images? The way Mark had caught a casual gesture of Griffith pushing away his hair as he spoke made Griff wonder if Mark noticed other small things about him. Did he see the way Griffith tried not to stare at Mark in awe? Or the way his fingers trembled when they were close? There were so many details captured, as if they hadn’t been posed for but a still frame from Griffith’s life.

  He swallowed, somewhat overwhelmed by the sincerity behind the images. He saw not only a handsome young man but someone whose personality leapt at him from the paper. He could barely recognize himself in the lively representation, even though, without a doubt, he was looking at his own face. Was this what Mark had meant when he said that he wanted to capture not people but their stories? There was one in the set of photos, but Griffith didn’t dare to ask what exactly Mark saw, too self-conscious that it might reveal things he wanted to keep hidden.

  “They are so beautiful. You’re talented.”

  “It would have been hard to take bad photos of you.” Mark nudged Griff’s chin with his fingers.

  Griffith glanced at Mark, feeling oddly shy, as if Mark somehow accessed his intimate secrets. He needed to change the topic fast, before he could express too much, so he grabbed the fork and offered Mark a wide smile. “And thank you for this as well. How do you feel about having lunch later?”

  The way Mark’s gaze slid over Griff’s bare legs and all the way to his feet gave Griff goose bumps as if he’d been physically stroked.

  Mark poked Griff’s arm with his fork, and the stab sent shudders all the way to the tips of Griffith’s toes. “Are you asking me out?”

  Griff froze with a piece of buttery potato in his mouth. He’d intended to compliment Mark on his cooking, but this frank question was like a red alert setting off inside his head. If anyone who knew of his interest in men—namely no one in the whole world—asked him if he wanted to date Mark, he would have said yes, even if his imagination regarding what their ‘dating’ would have entailed was rather vague. But this? This was almost too real. He didn’t want to overcommit. He had zero experience and didn’t know where he wanted things to go yet. “I- I want to thank you for saving me.”

  Mark raised his eyebrows, and the way he leisurely spread his legs on the stool made Griff cross his own. “So we’re going on a non-date? Just two grown men sharing waffles at a fancy restaurant?”

  Griffith pushed more food into his mouth, hoping to give himself more time. He even gave it a very enthusiastic thumbs-up, though keeping his gaze on Mark’s face was startlingly difficult now that Griffith knew Mark really was an option. Not just a guy who wasn’t grossed out by kissing another man but a self-confessed bisexual. Mark’s chest was a work of art—dusky skin over sculpted sandstone, and pronounced hip bones just above the gray pants. Could Griffith see the outline of Mark’s dick under the fabric, or was it just a trick of the light?

  Adult life was so complicated.

  “I can also buy you a coffee on that non-date, so that you know how much I appreciate a knight in shining armor.”

  Mark’s lips parted, and he feigned shock. “Coffee only? You’re inviting me to lunch and only buying coffee? That’s cheap even for a non-date. I don’t put out that easily.”

  Griffith almost choked on his food, heat overcoming even his ears. Mark wasn't even hiding that he believed Griffith was gay—it was as if he were taking it for granted. Griffith’s first instinct was to laugh it off, or even straight out deny it, but who was he kidding at this point? What watching porn in the privacy of his own room at his parents’ house hadn’t told him, that kiss with Mark certainly had. And no matter how scary it was to reveal something so private, maybe he needed to start living his life more honestly. Maybe this was a good place to start.

  “Good. I’m not a slut either,” he said and met Mark’s gaze, feeling as if he were jumping straight into its brown depths. It was sweet as chocolate, but so dense he couldn’t breathe.

  The toothy smile that erupted on Mark’s face made Griff’s heart pound faster. Even without words, they were now having a whole imaginary conversation where Mark hugged him, patted him on the back and said, ‘welcome to the fold’.

  “I would have never assumed you were,” Mark said, watching Griff as if it was him, not the hash, that he wanted to consume for breakfast. The gaze was so intense Griffith’s entire body sizzled in its fire.

  Something had changed between them since yesterday.

  Before, Mark had been pleasant, funny, and being around him had been a nice tickle in Griff’s heart, but now he kept eye contact for so long Griff was getting hot and cold all over. He was beginning to understand that Mark hadn’t even put one percent of effort into his charm offensive before. The pull to touch was getting stronger, but it also amplified the fear of actually doing something about the simmering lust.

  Griffith cleared his throat, and the delicious food could no longer pass in his throat, so he put down the fork and clasped his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I—you probably have many questions. I wasn’t... I wasn’t flirting with him or anything,” he said, really wanting to get that out of he way. Oh, God, what if he had gone out with someone like Leon? How would that have ended for him?

  Mark clicked with his tongue, and Griff once more glanced to his crotch in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fashion. Thinking about Mark’s dick hiding under that tiny layer of cotton wasn’t doing him any favors.

  “It doesn’t matter if you did. He had no right to spike your drink.”

  “But I didn’t,” Griffith said quickly and once again rubbed his thighs. “I never liked him that way.”

  “Okay. But if you do like someone, you should tell them,” Mark said with an infuriating little smirk blooming on his face. He knew. He had to know.

  Griffith swallowed and slowly met Mark’s gaze. His chest felt like a rattle, and his heart was the ball thrashing inside. “Are you trying to suggest I’m gay?”

  Mark cocked his head from one side to the other and ran his foot up the side of Griff’s calf. “I mean… I don’t really know.”

  His touch was like a swarm of bees—ticklish and alive, and could sting Griffith at any moment. He swallowed hard, blinking when his eyes started tingling. “I am,” he said, this time not trusting himself to look up. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m not sure what I’m doing yet.”

  Mark got up and before Griff knew what was happening, Mark hugged him in a way that felt completely different than the teasing touch of his foot had. There was no sexual charge in there, even though Griff was getting to feel just how sturdy Mark’s muscles were.

  “I won’t tell anyone. Take it a
t your own pace. But you can talk to me.”

  Griffith relaxed into the hug and turned his face toward Mark’s neck, breathing in his earthy, wonderful scent. It was barely there, but something about it struck right into his core and made him push deeper into the strong, warm embrace.

  Mark was wonderful.

  “Okay.”

  Mark pulled back with a wide grin and stroked Griff’s hair as if he were a puppy. He glanced at Griff’s lips like he was about to kiss him and that was both exciting and terrifying, but then the washing machine started violently beeping to announce it was done and the moment was gone.

  Mark leaned against the counter instead, watching Griff as if it were the most natural thing in the world to admire another man’s beauty.

  Or was it just Griff’s ego getting the best of him?

  He cleared his throat. “Oh... my clothes. Time to dress,” he said and slid off the stool, rushing to the washing machine. He needed some time to gather his thoughts.

  Mark snorted. “They’re wet. Wait, I’ll get you some pants—I mean, trousers.”

  Griffith, who’d already opened the machine, looked at him in surprise. “Oh... no dryer?”

  “You’re lucky I’ve got a washing machine!” Mark yelled, already on his way upstairs to the bedroom in the mezzanine.

  Griffith pulled out his clothes, suddenly stuck staring at his wrinkled jeans. If it hadn’t been for Mark, this morning could have gone very differently, and he felt so entrapped by that thought that he pulled the clothes to his chest, trying to remember more. But nothing was coming. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing.

  Mark came down with a pair of sweatpants and took the laundry out of Griff’s arms, shaking his head. “You’re getting wet.” He put it in a plastic basket instead.

  Griffith licked his lips. “So yesterday... he didn’t like... do anything? Right?”

  The smile dropped off Mark’s face in an instant, and he even looked away when Griff pulled on the sweatpants. “No. I caught him taking you out of the club. He was probably trying to get you into his car.” Mark clenched his fingers on the back of the high stool.

  Griffith exhaled. He still felt violated. Out of all the things he’d feared when he moved out to live on his own, getting his drink spiked wasn’t one of them. Was he now... prey?

  “So... I’ll pick you up at noon?”

  Mark snorted and handed Griff the bag full of wet clothes. “You don’t have a car, sweets.”

  Griffith slumped, not sure if he was mocked or teased. “I mean... I’m just going to come over and knock.”

  Mark wiggled his eyebrows. “Won’t say ‘no’ to that.”

  Griffith apologized for not eating all of his breakfast, since the nausea was still periodically plaguing him, and made short work of preparing to go out. But the moment he stepped out of Mark’s flat, the warm hand pulled on his shoulder, triggering an avalanche of shivers.

  “Yes?”

  Mark licked his lips, capturing his gaze. “Don’t tell anyone about the gun, okay? British people can be weird about this stuff.”

  Griffith nodded, even though his brain once again lit up with questions. The only airguns he’d had contact with were rifles, but was it his place to question Mark? The man who’d saved Griff from assault just last night deserved more than being suspected and snooped on.

  So Griffith promised not to and ran back to his own flat. By the time he walked in and locked the door behind him, the matter of the gun was already out of his mind.

  But the sound of a utensil loudly dropped to a marble surface made Griff turn around and face Nisha. She sat at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal, in her Juicy Couture tracksuit which she only wore at home, and only around Griffith.

  “What are you wearing?” She blinked again and again, her eyes still stained with yesterday’s makeup.

  Griffith was burning. He’d been caught red-handed in clothes that were so ill-fitting they couldn’t be his. “What are you wearing?” he asked without thinking, trying to deflect suspicion.

  Nisha wagged her finger at him. “I’m embracing my inner Kardashian. You? Is this a walk of shame? You’ve disappeared last night from your own birthday party! I had to take your presents home. Wait… whose clothes are those?”

  Griffith exhaled and eventually approached her with the little bag of laundry. “Mine got dirty. I needed to borrow some, okay?” he tried as he approached the drying rack attached to the radiator and started hanging his damp outfit.

  “I know that T-shirt!” She jumped up to her feet and pointed her finger at Griff as if she were a cartoon, but then stood in front of Griff and looked him in the eye. “I can’t take it anymore. Are you gay, Griff?”

  The sock he was holding dropped to the floor, but he couldn’t just pick it up and pretend this wasn’t happening, so he looked at her, trying to keep his breath steady. “Anymore? What do you mean by that?”

  Nisha whined and shifted her weight from one foot to the other repeatedly. “‘Cause I just feel it’s always somewhere on the edge of our friendship. I’ve known you for years. It’s okay if you are, it’s okay if you’re not. I just want you to talk to me. Is this a walk of shame in Mark’s clothes, because you spent the night at his place?”

  This was it. He would have to take a stand. “It’s not. I swear it, Nisha. I got drunk, puked, all over myself, and he took care of me. But...” He licked his lips, watching her frown. “You’re right about that other thing. Me being g-gay, I mean.” Even after confessing that same thing to Mark, being truthful following years of secrecy was excruciatingly hard.

  Saying it made it so much more real.

  Nisha smiled at him. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” She leaned in for a hug, and it was such a relief he embraced her right back. Nisha was loud and fun, loved to tell Griff all the fresh gossip, but she guarded their own secrets as if she were a lioness and they were her cubs.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I would have told you earlier, but it’s all still so fresh and unclear to me,” he whispered.

  “That’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek then fanned herself. “But for a minute there I thought ‘wow, so Mark’s off the market’.”

  Griffith went still. “Uh... Nisha?”

  She squinted. “Is he gay?”

  Griffith rested his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. He loved Nisha. Loved her. But if she flirted with Mark, they would have a problem. “We’re going on a date. For lunch.”

  “Nooo! Whyyy?” She whined and slumped back in the chair in front of her cereal. “I mean… I’m happy for you. I really am. At least one of us will get a piece of him. You’ve got to tell me everything. Did you actually kiss in the wardrobe on Halloween?”

  Griffith chuckled, suddenly elated that he did have something to tell her. That he no longer would only listen to her bragging and could do some sharing too. “Yes. And he’s a fantastic kisser.”

  They talked some more while Nisha ate her breakfast and Griffith brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink, but he left out Leon from the story of last night. Partly because he didn’t want to pull this apart too much, and partly because he knew she wouldn’t let it go, and drawing problems Mark’s way wasn’t something he wanted to do. It wasn’t like anything happened in the end, and Leon surely learned his lesson.

  As they chatted, Griffith looked at the clock once in a while, but time seemed to elongate.

  In three hours and forty minutes, he’d have his first date with a man.

  Chapter 11 - Mark

  The non-date with Griff was most definitely a date, so Mark dressed to impress while still keeping it casual. Black jeans, black shirt, woolen coat—since it was chilly, and he needed something with a high collar, and he didn’t own a single scarf.

  Despite last night’s dramatic events, today Mark felt upbeat, elated even. He would put his past behind and invest in his future. And that future was a pretty blond boy with a sweet
shy smile and the most perfect slender fingers. No matter how many cruel things happened in Mark’s past, when Griffith looked at him, when he flushed at compliments, it was so easy to forget himself in the present. He longed for this kind of innocence that made Griffith break down because he took Mark’s teasing in the morning seriously. Under the snotty exterior and eyes that hadn’t seen much of the world yet was a sweet inside, and Mark wanted to unwrap it, and then guard it like a dragon sleeping on his treasure.

  He hadn’t been this excited about another person in a while, so when Griffith knocked on his door at noon on the dot, Mark opened it without even looking through the visor.

  Griffith smiled at him. His expression was open, and lips so perfectly pink Mark wished he could get drunk on them. With the temperatures having lowered throughout the night, Griffith also wore a thicker coat—bright gray and paired with a blue scarf that complimented the color of his eyes. The blond hair must have been washed, because it was now perfectly fluffy and styled into a modern do with a side parting.

  “Ready for something sweet?” Griffith asked.

  Mark’s one-track mind instantly envisioned a kiss with snow falling around them as if they were in a traditional snow globe, but he quickly shook it off when he realized Griff had to be talking about the upcoming meal. Because Griffith was a sweet food kind of guy. How very fitting.

  “Always,” he said with a smile and left his apartment. “You’re looking fresh. I hope you’re okay now?”

  Griffith pushed his hands into the deep pockets of the oversized coat. He looked so cute Mark could just cuddle him to death. “Thank you. I had a shower and a lot of coffee. Now I’m ready to start my weekend properly.”

  So perky, so alive, Griff didn’t walk the streets watching out for threats. He likely wouldn’t recognize drug dealers or street prostitutes even if they approached him. None of that was a part of his life. He went to independent cafés without ever worrying about the bill, and his only trouble lay in choosing between soy and almond milk. Or, on a really bad day, there was always the option of regular milk and pumpkin spice.