Friends and Memories

by Alexi Wakefield

  “What?”

  Edward winced: Francis sounded cranky, even by Francis standards. “Look what I’ve got.”

  Francis didn’t look. “What?”

  “It’s for you. For us.” At this Francis raised his head.

  Edward pointed proudly to the wheelchair. “We can go walkies huh? Even go outside.”

  Francis didn’t look impressed. “Is that it?” he said very quietly.

  “Well there was a red one, I could go and get that?”

  “Is that all I have to look forward to now? ‘Walkies’ maybe once or twice a week in a wheelchair?”

  “Hey you’ll be walking again soon, they said so. With the physio you’ll soon be strong enough to-”

  “I’m not doing any more physio. I’ve fallen out with Steve and I don’t want another one.”

  “Why not?”

  “I hate it. Hate it OK? And I hate eating and I hate breathing and I… I hate you.”

  “What?”

  “If you can’t be here when you say you will then don’t come at all.”

  “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t have any choice.”

  “I know you didn’t. But I don’t have any choice either, I’m stuck here on my own. Last night I wished it had killed me, the bullet.”

  “Oh no, Francis.” Edward reached out to him but Francis knocked the hand away.

  “Get out.”

  “Francis?” Edward felt tears in his eyes.

  Francis blinked and looked like he was about to cry as well, he turned his head away quickly and snarled, “Get out!”

  Defeated, Edward left the hospital and sat on his bench in the woodland outside to cry. He needed to go home and sleep, he was run down after a week of doubles but knew he wouldn’t be able to rest knowing Francis was like this. So he got all the tears out of his system, wiped his eyes and went back in.

  ***

  Francis curled up with his head underneath the covers, half hoping to accidentally suffocate. He was empty, the last few drops of life left in him had just evaporated. He’d thought he was being courageous and doing the right thing by pushing Edward away but Edward would be crying now and Francis couldn’t stand the thought of that happy person being miserable because of him. But Edward would be OK, he had George who probably wouldn’t visit anymore now, but at least Francis had no one left to hurt; just the four walls, the ceiling and the stupid out of reach floor. He was in a cage but it was all his own doing; he couldn't use the coma as an excuse anymore. This was him.

  This must be why he had no other friends or any contact with his family; he was a horrible, toxic person who poisoned everything he came into contact with. He’d meant what he said about the bullet. Two degrees more on its angle to his skull and he wouldn't be here they’d told him. He’d been just two degrees away from being released.

  At this point in his misery he felt a hand on his shoulder through his bedcovers and heard a soft voice say, “Hey.”

  He whipped his head out from under the covers. “Edward?”

  “Yep.” Edward was smiling but his face looked strained.

  “I thought… I thought you’d gone.”

  “Nope.” Edward squeezed his shoulder, then looked concerned. “Is that OK?”

  “Yes,” Francis breathed. The contact was a lifeline and his mind clung to it. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” But Edward’s eyes said that he did.

  “Why did you come back? You shouldn’t have done. I’ll hurt you again and again. There’s something wrong with me and I can’t help it.”

  “Francis, I know you’re just pushing me away because you're hurting so much inside, and every time you do that I’m going to push right back.”

  “Why do you bother? I’ve never done anything for you, have I?”

  “Oh you do things for me.” Edward winked. “And I care about you. And when you smile at me it’s all worth it.”

  Francis flushed with embarrassment at Edward’s words and his own behaviour. Not knowing what else to say he muttered, “Thank you.”

  “You can thank me by coming for a walk with me.”

  Francis looked at the wheelchair with a sense of dread again. If it was temporary it was fine but what if that’s as far as he’d ever get? “OK,” he sighed, it seemed to mean a lot to Edward so he’d do it. He sat up and shuffled himself so his feet dangled over the edge of the bed. “How am I going to get in?” There was an abyss between himself and the chair.

  “Is it alright to give you a lift?” Edward asked.

  “I hope so.”

  Edward stood in front of Francis, their legs touching. “Put your arms around me.” Edward leaned forwards so that Francis could reach up and wrap his arms around his neck, sensing the strength in the muscles of Edward’s shoulders as he did so. He locked his hands around Edward’s neck and felt the fine hairs there, he knew, just knew then that he’d never felt the back of any man’s neck before. So why not? Was he a virgin? He didn’t think he was, so why…?

  Edward gave him an odd look, “Are you OK?”

  “I’m good.”

  “I’m going to need to lift you?”

  Francis lifted his elbows and nodded his approval. Edward hooked his arms under Francis’s arm pits and round his back. Francis was terrified his body would react to this but the contact made him feel safe and secure, not anxious.

  “No problems?” Edward’s breath caressed his ear.

  “None.” Francis wished there was an excuse to stay like this for a while.

  “On three then: One.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.” Edward lifted and Francis clung on and before he knew it he was in the wheelchair. It was odd looking at his room from this lower vantage point. Edward knelt down to adjust the footrests, his ear brushing Francis’s pyjamas. Edward then tucked a blanket over him which made him feel like a proper invalid and said, “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Let’s roll.” Edward pushed Francis out of the room and into the corridor. It was busier than he’d imagined and filled with hospital staff engaged with computers and clipboards. They went past Doctor Ellis, she looked up and gave a nod of approval.

  “In the good books now eh?” Edward asked once they were out of earshot.

  “Maybe she’s hoping you’ll tip me out into a ditch and she’ll be rid of me,” Francis said darkly but Edward just giggled in response. “So, where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They went down a lift and through a lobby, past a kaleidoscope of vending machines, a coffee shop and a gift shop full of inflatable balloons and cards. Francis closed his eyes, it was all too much. He opened them again when he heard the swish of automatic doors and felt cool air on his face.

  He was outside.

  It was much brighter than he remembered; too bright. He squinted against the light and could see they were crossing a road with parked ambulances and then they were going up a path into an area of woodland. Edward slowed and the shade from the trees allowed Francis to open his eyes fully.

  This was completely different from being in the hospital: The air was sharper and tickled his nostrils, the light was greener, or bluer, he wasn't sure which but colours look more vivid out here. Edward steered them off the main path and down another one until they came to a bench in a secluded spot. He parked Francis next to it, sat down and said, “This is great huh? It’s my favourite place; I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

  “While I was in the coma?”

  “Yeah, sometimes it got a bit much, you know? So I’d come out here for a break. I had a dream once that you’d be sitting on here right next to me one day.”

  “Well, nearly.”

  Edward reached over and touched the back of Francis’s chair. “Minor detail.” He grinned, the tree filtered daylight making his eyes glow bright. His grin stayed put as he took Francis's hand and held it. “Exposure, eh?”

  Francis smiled shyly. They
held hands for a while and Francis found his ears were next to adjust to the outside world. Even though they weren't far from a road, the traffic noise was muted by the woodland and he could now make out the rustling of the trees and a bird singing not far away. It was September and the leaves were just beginning to change colour at the edges. He remembered he’d always enjoyed this time of year, the soft warmth and the colours. “Amazing,” he whispered, referring to both the memory and the woodland; the fresh air had breathed a little more life into him. “I’d forgotten what being outside felt like.”

  “I thought you might have done.” Edward released his hand and slowly made to put his arm around Francis’s back. Francis leaned forwards in his chair to let Edward’s arm past, then the arm encircled him and squeezed gently. Francis gasped and bit his lip hard. Edward removed the arm quickly, “Reaction huh?”

  “Yes,” Francis said, his heart pounding with fear. He met Edward’s eyes, they looked so tired; tired of all this probably. “I’m so sorry. I wanted you to… I didn’t know that I’d-”

  “Hey, it’s OK. I was ready for it this time.” Edward smiled and the tiredness melted.

  “You don’t mind?”

  “No. To be honest it is a tiny bit exciting, not knowing what will happen when I make a move.”

  “It’s terrifying for me.”

  “Then we’ll try different things, see what triggers and what doesn't. Then we can work out what the problem is.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Hey, don’t thank me. It makes me all warm and toasty, being allowed to touch you. And I’m a very tactile person anyway. See, I do know big words.”

  “Tactile? That’s not a big word.”

  Edward stuck his tongue out and Francis giggled.

  Over the next two weeks Francis got stronger, they found him another physiotherapist, Andy, who he got on with much better than he had ever done with Steve. Francis did all the stupid exercises four times a day like he was supposed to, knowing that in the evening he could reward himself with Edward’s dance. He sat on the edge of the bed for this now, moving his feet and wriggling his hips at the appropriate moments. He was still very self-conscious and made sure to never get caught.

  His bandages were off now and he was growing his hair back into the floppy style it had been in before so it would cover the bare patch where the metal plate sat underneath his skull. Also, Edward said it was cute like that. He wondered if that’s why he’d grown it long in the first place.

  George visited three or four times a week, but Edward came every day. If the weather was good they went outside, if not they went down to the coffee shop. Francis found their coffee tasted of coffee. It was a revelation as his taste buds still didn’t recognize much else.

  The high point, and often the low point of each day for Francis came afterwards, when back in his room Edward helped with his ‘exposure to human contact’ as Sandra called it or ‘cookie’ as Edward called it as it was sweeter than nookie. They found that contact with sexual connotations was more likely to trigger a reaction and skin on skin contact was problematic.

  “Why do you think that is?” Sandra asked the next day.

  “I don’t know. I only know that it hurts him when I react. He says it doesn't but I can see in his eyes that it does.”

  “How does it affect you when you react?”

  “I hate myself. I really do. Edward wants me and I want him but there’s this barrier between us, we just can't get close, well not in the way I know he needs us to be.”

  Sandra regarded him thoughtfully. “What about you? Do you want a sexual relationship?”

  “No. Well yes… Well… I fantasise about us being together, living together including that, but I don’t think I’m ever actually going to be able to do it.”

  “Have you discussed it with him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m scared he’s going to reject me when I do. Because at the moment he’s got this hope that things will get better, that I’ll suddenly be all over him.”

  “You need to be honest if the relationship is to have any chance of success.”

  “I know.” Just not yet, he told himself. I need to get stronger before I let him go.

  Chapter Eight

  Edward sat on the bench in the woods alone. It was visiting time already but he hadn’t gone in yet. He rubbed his hair in frustration, trying to prepare himself for his act. His act of pretending that it didn't hurt when Francis winced or whipped away from his touch. It did. It hurt big time and he felt bad about that fact because he knew Francis couldn't help it.

  But other times Francis liked Edward touching him, he even became aroused sometimes, as he had done yesterday when Edward rubbed his back through his pyjamas. He’d even gotten hard once when Edward rubbed his bare wrist with his thumb. Well, it was the closest they’d come to having sex. And the closest Edward had been to having sex since Francis had been in the coma. Not that it had been deliberate abstinence, at least not at first when Edward had been far too worried about Francis to even think about going out. Now, he could really use the stress relief of drinking and dancing followed by hot, passionate, meaningless sex with a stranger, but between work and Francis he was physically and emotionally exhausted.

  Edward forced himself to his feet and walked toward the entrance. He didn't really want sex with a stranger anyway. He wanted sex with Francis, or at least a proper, unrestrained, cuddling session without fear or worry. But it was like the carrot on the stick, always out of reach and not getting any closer at all.

  They did their usual walkies, as Edward called it because he knew it annoyed Francis just a little, enough to make him give that sexy little pout. Then Edward pushed him back towards the ward for cookie, a term Francis seemed to like as he always smiled when Edward mentioned it. Edward could have lived off of those smiles once, could he help it if he wanted a little more in the way of sustenance now?

  ***

  Francis pushed with his feet as Edward lifted him out of the wheel chair and onto his bed. There was strength in his legs now, not enough to support his weight but enough to be useful. He was finally winning his limbs back; they felt like they belonged to him now, at least most of the time. He settled back down onto the edge of the bed and looked up at Edward, guilty about the little lines around his friend’s eyes that he knew hadn't been there a month ago.

  “So what flavour of cookie would you like today?” Edward smiled and the stress lines dissolved.

  Francis smiled back but said, “Can we give it a miss today?”

  “Oh. OK. Why?”

  “I’d just like to sit with you for a while, without having to worry about a reaction. Is that OK?”

  “Sure.” Edward winked. “I’m just a bit pervy where pretty men are concerned.”

  “You can let your hands wander again tomorrow.”

  “Promise?”

  “I Promise.”

  “So where do you want me today?”

  “Here.” Francis patted the bed beside him. Edward hopped up and sat next to him, swinging his feet back and forth. Francis started swinging his feet to match.

  Edward giggled. “Hey this could be a dance.” He started wriggling his hips and moving his arms in the air and accidentally brushed Francis’s bare neck. He stopped and jerked his hand away as if he’d touched scalding water.

  “It’s OK,” Francis said. That had triggered a reaction a few days ago but today it felt… good, very good. He reached a hand out and took Edward’s, placing it on his neck. Then he reached around to touch Edward’s neck, thumbing the soft hairs there. Edward closed his eyes and leaned into the contact, the response encouraged Francis who pulled his friend closer. “Kiss me.”

  “What?” Edward opened his eyes.

  “Please kiss me before I change my mind.”

  Edward was hesitant but Francis knew he needed this now; he was suddenly hungry for Edward’s mouth. He leaned in to meet it, Edw
ard’s lips responded cautiously, moving slowly across his until Edward’s tongue found its way into his mouth. Francis’s heart pounded, terrified he was going to react but the rest of his body relaxed, arousal was coursing through him, replacing fear as it went. He pulled away from Edward’s mouth and met his eyes. “I want you,” he breathed. “Now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he grunted. “I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.” That rang true inside him and he pulled Edward down onto the bed on top of him feeling powerful and in control. He didn’t know what had triggered the change in him but wasn’t going to stop and analyse it because he was finally feeling what he wanted to feel. Even though he was underneath another person he was liberated, free of his weakened body and neuroses, at least for the moment and the moment was all he cared about.

  Edward kissed him hard, there was pent up tension in the kiss that Francis absorbed willingly, exhilarated and drunk on the new sensations both on the inside and outside of his body. He gasped as Edward's soft hands reached up under his pyjamas and Edward frowned, concern showing through his lust. But Francis gave a nod of approval and pulled his pyjama top up to expose his chest. Edward’s face lit up and he kissed Francis's nipples, which tickled in a very nice way. Then Edward’s hands moved across his chest and stomach, it felt strange, but good strange.

  Francis began to unbutton Edward’s shirt which seemed like the thing to do but was certainly fiddley, especially with Edward distracting him. Francis was awkward now, out of his depth in unfamiliar waters but Edward was moving fluently, adapting to the awkwardness so well it was like it wasn’t there, like Francis had always done this, always had men on top of him, breathing on him, whispering to him like Edward was doing now and tucking their hands under the band of his pyjamas...

  Francis was screaming.

  He heard it before he realised the sound was coming from him. What gave it away was when the man on top of him jumped off, a wounded look in his eyes. And Francis was glad, glad he was off, glad he’d get to be left alone just for one night. He deserved that, didn’t he? Adults got days off didn’t they… His father got…