Village Fool

by Nathan Burgoine

  Confident Owen.

  But none of those Owens really existed. Not really. It wasn’t the kind of thing he could just be. Even for Toma. Especially for Toma.

  What the hell could he even say? He sighed, then turned his head as he thought he saw something shift on the mural painted on the outside of FunkArt. Wait. No. That wasn’t possible. He walked up to the mural. For a second, he could have sworn there’d been movement.

  He knew it had to be a trick of the eye, but he searched the painted wall, hunting for something. The mural itself was certainly bright and busy enough—the six colors of the rainbow pride flag, shattered into stripes that ricocheted all over the side of the building, and where they crossed, silhouetted figures from the Village’s past denoted key moments in local queer history. One of the largest showed a group of people marching, fists raised in challenge. There were symbols all around the silhouettes, too, some large, some smaller. A maple leaf. The peace symbol. Way more Owen didn’t recognize off the top of his head. But it was those two women with their fists raised in the air that struck him.

  Never mind confidence. Those women had courage.

  Owen took a shaky breath. Names lined the top of the mural, and although he’d noticed them before, he’d never really thought about them. The placard at the bottom of the mural called them “Important People in Local Queer History.” The names sounded so ordinary. Hans Köhler. Julian Mitchell. Chantal Roy.

  Near the raised fists of the two women at the front of the parade, Owen spotted a knotwork circle, a single line that wove under and over itself, repeating four times. It made him think of himself, Ru, Silas, and—yes—even Felix.

  He took a breath. What was he going to do?

  “Hey.”

  Owen flinched, then turned.

  Toma stood a few steps away, hands in the pockets of his khakis, offering a tentative, almost nervous smile. No one should look that good in khakis and a basic blue button-down. It ought to be a crime.

  “Hi,” Owen said. He swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Your friend explained what he did. April Fools’.”

  Owen’s face burned. “Yeah. He’s awful.”

  Toma took a deep breath. “He’s certainly not my favorite person at the moment.”

  “I really am sorry. I’d never have sent those texts to you. They were for Felix,” Owen said, then flinched. “Not that that makes it okay, I mean…” He raised both hands. “I don’t normally…I mean…Obviously we talk. Me and my friends. About guys. But I didn’t mean to…You’re not…”

  “Owen,” Toma said, taking a step forward. “I get it. It’s okay.”

  Owen blew out a breath. “It is? Because I feel like a complete asshole.”

  Toma frowned. “You do?”

  “You’re kidding, right? I totally treated you like…” Owen couldn’t find a better word than the truth. “An object. I objectified you. And I’m not like that. I swear. I didn’t mean it.”

  Toma tilted his head, a wry smile tilting his beard at the lips. “So I don’t have the world’s best chest?”

  Owen closed his eyes. “Oh my God. Don’t. Please.”

  “And my thighs? Were the thighs a lie, too?”

  Owen dared to open his eyes. Toma patted the thighs in question, and Owen died. He was dead, right there, right now. Dead.

  “This is fun. Do you want to discuss all my most humiliating high school moments, too? We can do chronological or alphabetical,” Owen said. It just leaped out of his mouth. He snapped his jaw shut, but it was too late.

  Toma laughed.

  He actually laughed.

  “I’m glad this amuses you,” Owen said, and on some level he realized it was the truth. He shook his head.

  “Hey, you’re not the one who thought he was being flirted with all morning,” Toma finally said. “Who then proceeded to ask you out. If we’re gonna talk humiliating.”

  “Fair,” Owen said, crossing his arms. “Does that mean you ask out every guy who tells you you’re hot?”

  Toma looked down, and some of the amusement faded. He glanced back up. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “Oh.” Owen wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  They stared at each other for a few moments.

  “I really am sorry,” Owen said, not sure what else to say.

  “I know,” Toma said. “You’ve said it enough. You don’t have to say it again. It wasn’t your fault. At all. Your friend made that pretty clear.”

  “I intend to bury Felix alive, if it helps.”

  Toma rubbed his beard. “Maybe don’t go that far. But definitely make him squirm.”

  “Okay.” Owen drew out the word, rolling his eyes. “But only because you asked for leniency.”

  Another moment of silence passed. Owen wished there was somewhere else to look. Or something else to say.

  “Did you mean it?” Toma said.

  Owen didn’t follow. “Pardon?”

  “It’s…” Toma said, then he shook his head. Now it seemed to be Toma’s turn to look anywhere but at Owen. “Never mind.”

  “No,” Owen said. “What?”

  Toma took a deep breath. “The stuff you said. The texts. Did you mean it?”

  Owen wanted to cringe. “I maybe wouldn’t have said it the way I did. Like, at all. Ever. But yes. You’re…” There was no way he could say any of it out loud. “All those things I said.”

  “Kind,” Toma said. “Funny?”

  “Yes,” Owen said, a little confused. “Of course you are.”

  “Thank you,” Toma said. His smile was back, and Owen loved the way it made his eyes crinkle. “It was really nice to hear that. That’s why I asked you out.”

  “Oh,” Owen said, and then it clicked. Not the chest stuff, or the thigh stuff, or the ass stuff. Funny. Nice. Kind.

  “So,” Toma said. “Before it starts raining again, maybe we could go back to Bittersweets? Have that coffee after all?”

  “Did Felix leave?” Owen said.

  “He did.”

  “In that case…” Owen said. His phone chirped, and he briefly considered tossing it into the sewer. Then he checked the screen. “No.”

  “You don’t want to do coffee?” Toma’s face fell.

  “No. Not no! I mean yes, but not…” Owen groaned. “Sorry. It’s just, it’s quarter to six, and it’s gaming night.” He scowled. “Then again, Felix will be there, so maybe skipping gaming night is a good idea. I’d rather have coffee with you. Sorry. I’m saying all the thinking bits out loud instead of thinking them. Coffee is yes.”

  Toma regarded him. “You guys get together every other week, right?”

  “Yes.” Owen must have mentioned it during their sessions. “We started after Christmas. Or, well, they’ve been doing it for a couple of years, but I joined them after Christmas.”

  “We can rain check,” Toma said.

  “Rain checking on you to hang out with Felix is not where my head is at right now.”

  Toma reached out and squeezed his hand, and Owen felt it all the way up to his neck. And down in lower places. “It’s fine. And if it wasn’t for Felix…” He shrugged, letting go.

  “Oh, I’m so not ready to give him credit. Still mad.”

  “But we do owe him.”

  “Oh, we owe him all right,” Owen said, then stopped. “Wait.” He smiled. “How do you feel about board games based on horror movie tropes?”

  “Arkham Horror is one of my favorite games.”

  “Right. I knew that. Okay. One sec.” Owen pulled out his phone and started tapping. “I’m letting Silas and Ru know to expect you.”

  “Expect me?”

  “I’m bringing you to gaming night.” Owen paused. “Uh. I mean, I’m asking you to gaming night. That came out wrong. Not a demand. A request.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great.” Owen had to force himself to turn away from those dark brown eyes and back to his phone to keep writing the message.

  “Are you
sure you’re texting the right people?”

  Owen grunted. “Oh, believe me, I’m going to be double-checking who I text for the foreseeable future…” He trailed off, and he looked back up at Toma and smiled. “But it occurred to me you are so very right. We do owe him.”

  “Felix?” Toma said.

  “Felix.” Owen grinned and started another text.

  Ten

  March

  Owen lowered the bar, the motion smooth and even, and couldn’t resist the grin fighting to surface. He gave in, glancing at Toma in the mirror.

  “Ta-da,” he said.

  Toma shifted his hand on Owen’s shoulder before letting go and stepping back. The weight and heat of Toma’s hand had been a constant companion these last couple of months.

  Owen already missed it.

  “That felt great,” Toma finally said, cracking a smile of his own.

  “Yes.” Owen’s face burned. “I mean, it’s great. Was great. That tight tension thing is barely there, and I finally feel like I’m using both my arms equally.”

  “They grow up so fast.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You don’t need me anymore,” Toma said.

  “I don’t? I…Oh,” Owen said. He didn’t have the slightest idea what else to say. Their original plan had included another two weeks of sessions.

  “You’re an overachiever,” Toma said. “I shouldn’t be surprised you actually did everything you were supposed to do.”

  “Wait,” Owen said. “Do people not do what you tell them to?”

  “Are you kidding?” Toma laughed, but it was such a genuine sound that Owen couldn’t be embarrassed. “Oh man, you have no idea. You’re the dream client, Owen. No. Most people do not follow the plan, which is why I add wiggle room. They either try to rush it, or they slack off. You didn’t do either, so here we are.”

  “Ah.” Possibly Toma intended that to be a compliment, but Owen couldn’t help but hear something closer to a characterization of…boringness? Blandness? Predictability? Something like that.

  “So, from here, I think we can safely say if you keep up your routine, stick to it and listen to your body, you’ll stay on track.” Toma clapped his hands. “But if anything ever feels off, you know to stop. Then let me know, and we’ll schedule something right away.”

  “Okay.” How was this happening so fast? He had plans for this moment, but he hadn’t finished planning them. Or rehearsing them.

  “I’ll still be around,” Toma said. “I’ll check in with you.”

  “Good,” Owen said, trying to rally some words together. “I…That’s good.”

  Toma frowned. “You okay?”

  “No,” Owen said, then winced. “I mean yes. I mean…” He hadn’t prepared the right way to ask Toma if he’d maybe like to do something. He hadn’t even picked the something. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just blurt out to a guy like Toma without specifics, was it?

  Be specific, he thought. Tell him you like him. Oh God, no. Tell him you have very detailed sex dreams about him. Absolutely not! Tell him when you’re talking with him, you don’t feel like a completely hopeless excuse of a human being. A world of no. Maybe offer a snuggle or something?

  Toma was still looking at him. Brown eyes. Warm smile. Soft beard. That incredible little curl of hair on his forehead that reminded him of Superman.

  “I—” Owen cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say thank you.” He leaned back on the bench, his whole body threatening to crumple and deflate.

  “You’re welcome,” Toma said. Was it Owen’s imagination, or was he staring at Owen oddly? He didn’t normally have that little line between his eyebrows.

  Oh, hell. Abort. Owen bobbed his head, forcing a smile. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Toma repeated.

  They stared a little longer, and then Toma took another step backward. “Like I said, if you need anything, you let me know. You have my number and email, right?”

  “I…Yes.”

  “Good.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  Owen took a few seconds to stare at himself in the mirror. He straightened his posture—slouching was one of the fastest ways to make his shoulder ache—and addressed himself.

  “I like you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Wanna do something?”

  His reflection didn’t look particularly impressed with the declaration or the request.

  Owen pulled out his phone and tapped on his text messages, finding the latest group chat for the Bittersweets Club.

  I’m officially done with physiotherapy, he sent. Two weeks early. Then he headed for the changing room, resolutely looking at the ground to avoid the mirrors and any chance of seeing Toma on the way.

  By the time he’d changed, they’d all replied.

  That’s awesome! Silas sent. Well done, mister.

  Congratulations! Ru followed it up with a trio of the fireworks emoji.

  That’s great! Does this mean you’ll finally ask your trainer to put his hands somewhere other than your shoulder? Felix. Of course. He never should have told them about his crush. Or that he was thinking of maybe acting on the crush.

  Owen took a breath before replying to them all.

  Thank you guys. And no, I didn’t ask him on a date, F.

  Who said a date? I’m talking a laying on of hands. Felix replied within seconds. Then he followed it up with the eggplant emoji.

  Owen smiled in spite of himself.

  Want to come over tonight? Silas offered. Movie night celebration?

  That sounds great, Owen sent.

  Or you could touch him. Or both! Why choose? Mutual touching, Felix sent. Two more eggplants.

  Want me to make a Sweet Temptations run? Ru asked.

  The last bits of self-recrimination fell away. In the last four months, he’d learned he could always count on these guys to make him feel less hopeless. You’re the best, yes please.

  Hello? Felix’s texts were coming faster and faster. Is this thing on?

  We’re ignoring you, F, Ru wrote. Read the room. Eyeroll emoji.

  Owen laughed out loud, then glanced up. He was alone on the street, thankfully.

  I’m just saying, Felix wrote, undeterred, now is the time. Strike while the iron is hot. And by “iron” I mean “sex dream physiotherapist.”

  I’ll see you all later, Owen wrote, and put away his phone.

  “You didn’t blow it,” Owen said. “You can still ask him out. Later. When you’ve figured out what to say. You’ll see him at the gym.”

  He didn’t have a mirror handy, but he was pretty sure his face was still unconvinced.

  Eleven

  April

  When Felix opened the door to Silas’s apartment, he didn’t do it with his usual verve, nor did he announce his arrival with an anecdote or joke about his day with any of his patients, which almost made Owen feel a shred of pity for the guy.

  Almost.

  “Hey,” Felix called, sounding genuinely contrite. Owen listened to the sound of Felix pulling off his shoes, and when Felix came into Silas’s apartment proper, they all turned to look at him. It took everything Owen had to keep his face blank.

  “Oh,” Felix said, spotting Toma. “Hi.”

  Toma nodded at Felix, once. “Hello.” Then he turned his attention back to the table with such complete dismissal that Owen nearly whistled in appreciation.

  “Toma’s going to fill in tonight,” Owen said. It didn’t have the same frostiness Toma had put into his single word, but no one would confuse it with warmth.

  Felix took a second with that, glancing at Silas and Ru and the starting tiles of the game already laid out on the table between them. They both looked at him but didn’t say anything. He took a shaky breath.

  “Okay,” he said. “I…” He swallowed, looking down. “Okay.” He glanced at them all. “I’ll…I’ll see you at Bittersweets, then.”

  They didn’t answer, and he stood there a few seconds more before
he turned and headed back the way he’d come.

  When he’d almost reached Silas’s apartment door, Owen spoke again.

  “Hey, Felix?”

  Felix turned.

  “April Fools’.”

  Felix stared. Then frowned. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he tried again. “What?”

  “If you want to play,” Toma said, holding up a small plastic figure, “you have to be the jock. None of us wanted to be the jock.”

  Felix looked back and forth between them all. “Really?”

  “Of course,” Ru said. “The jock is the worst character.”

  “Not that. You’re not mad?”

  Owen shrugged. He didn’t trust himself to reply without some sort of qualifier. Not yet.

  Felix let out a big breath. “You guys had me going there. I thought I’d really blown it.”

  “You did,” Silas said. “But we already knew you had impulse control issues. It’s a part of your so-called charm.”

  Felix took off his coat and came back to the table.

  “Here,” Toma said, pulling out the free chair.

  Felix sat. He put the little figure of the jock in the entrance hall and set up his character card in front of himself, all without saying a word. Another first.

  “Okay,” Silas said. “I’m up.”

  While Silas’s professor left the entrance hall to go exploring upstairs, Owen felt fingers brush his beneath the table. He smiled, looking at Toma and taking Toma’s hand. Toma squeezed, grinning right back at him.

  When it was his turn, the other three had taken their characters upstairs to explore. Toma, on the other hand, stayed with him on the ground floor. By the time they found a cursed mirror and a candle, Toma was obviously enjoying the game, laughing the loudest of all of them when Felix’s jock stumbled into a coal chute and fell all the way into the basement. As much as Owen was tired of Silas turning out to be the betrayer, he hoped neither he nor Toma would be the traitor. That way, surviving whatever horrors this mansion would throw at them could happen side by side.

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  Silas betrayed them all—he was a vampire—but this time the rest of them managed to stop him and survive the game. Though they usually kept going, Silas started packing the game away, and Ru dealt with the Bittersweets take-out cups.