by Jude Sierra
He’s got a million questions on the topic and a clearly shut door from Reid.
Worst of all, he can’t talk to anyone about this. There’s worry about the edgy and unreadable boy he shared with his sister, and then there are private secrets he’s been trusted with.
Once he’s back at the desk, Joaquim is buzzing with anxiety. Is researching cutting a betrayal of confidence?
He does it anyway. Well, he starts. With so much information available, he can’t give reading the focus he needs while he’s in the shop.
In his room that night, he reads until his eyes are tired and still has a list of questions only Reid could answer. He said it’s like an addiction: Several websites have told him that self-harm can become this. Does Reid only do it because he’s addicted to it? What are his triggers? Why does he do it? From what Joaquim reads, there are a variety of feelings or reasons ranging from expression of pain, numbness, and disconnectedness to a kind of self-soothing—and this seems so contradictory to Joaquim he can’t begin to process it.
The most common advice he reads for people who have been told a friend self-harms is to ask if they can help, and to listen at the other’s pace. That’s pretty much what he would do anyway, and it doesn’t help him feel less lost, especially because the advice he reads is for people who are currently cutting. He’s not sure if what’s going on with Reid counts as “current.”
Joaquim shuts down his laptop with a frustrated snap and lies down. He stares up at the ceiling and misses his sister viscerally. Her voice alone would be a balm. However, her intuition and connection with him mean she would recognize instantly that something is wrong, and he’d have to fend off a lot of insistent inquiries into what’s going on.
“J, it seems like all you have are boy problems,” Bobby observes from across the room. Joaquim huffs and tries to ignore him. “Are you sure this is worth it?”
“What do you know?” Joaquim rarely gets angry enough to use this tone. “Seriously, Bobby, all you know or see are the hard parts. But the good ones outweigh those. He’s amazing.”
Bobby holds up his hands, “Sorry, man. Really. It’s not my place to say anything.”
Joaquim takes a breath and rolls over. “No, it is. You’re my friend. But this is private stuff. And trust me, he’s worth it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Joaquim’s anger is flash and burn.
“No worries, man. I don’t know what’s up, but what if you focus on something good right now. So what’s good?”
Joaquim stares at the ceiling. Bobby has a point. Yes, Reid has exposed something private and painful. And Joaquim is lost as hell, but he can focus on loving Reid, on time they spend together, how Reid brings out a freer version of himself. He can connect with Reid from a different angle. When they’ve done that, Reid’s opened up to him. Although the ceiling above him is unchanged, as always, Joaquim reads the flat surface as a plan forms.
* * *
“So, where to, Captain?” Reid asks. The car is on, and the air conditioning has been running long enough that it’s cool inside.
“Okay, bear with me. I’m going to ask you to do something weird.” Joaquim slings the heavy bag he’s carrying into the back seat.
“I didn’t realize you were a kink guy,” Reid says, playful and teasing.
“It’s not a kink thing,” Joaquim says and then pauses to think. “Although maybe that’s a thing to revisit sometime.”
Reid leans over the console and kisses him, dirty, biting and licking into his mouth, while his hand grips the inside of Joaquim’s thigh.
“Why not now?” he whines against Joaquim’s lips.
“Later, I promise.”
Reid pulls back, pouting. He pulls out of Joaquim’s dorm parking lot. “So what is the thing you need me to do?”
“Drop me off at the condo and then leave for a bit.”
“Really?” Reid starts the car despite the skepticism in his voice. “Could I maybe go down to the water or something?”
“Only if you promise not to peek.” Joaquim shoots a sideways glance at Reid and catches his slightly guilty look.
“All right, I promise.” Reid opens the window to punch in the code for the gate. “So, what’s in the bag?” He’s trying for offhand, but clearly fishing.
“A surprise. Stop trying to figure it out. Let me surprise you.”
Reid sighs. “I just like knowing what’s going to happen.”
“You totally read the end of books first, don’t you?”
“Guilty,” Reid says. He smiles. “I also watch the end of movies and look up spoilers for TV shows.”
Joaquim shakes his head. He follows Reid into the condo when he opens the door, leaving the bag in the car for the time being. Before Reid can get too far from him, Joaquim snags his wrist, draws him back, and melts into a kiss.
“If you want me to leave,” Reid says, husky, low and tempting, “you can’t kiss me like that.”
“Raincheck?”
“Of course.”
Joaquim follows him onto the porch, pushing him lightly toward the door. “I’ll call you when I’m done, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Reid says, “I’ll explore jellyfish town.”
“Remember not to touch!”
“Yes sir!” Reid salutes, eyes saucy and bright.
“Reid!” Joaquim stands a few steps down, not wanting to have to go all the way to the beach only to climb back up.
“Coming!”
By the time Reid’s all the way up, he’s slightly out of breath but smiling. “I am ready for my surprise. You didn’t install a sex swing in my grandma’s condo, did you? I’d have a hard time explaining that away.”
“No, you pervert.” Joaquim takes Reid’s hand. The sun is setting, leaving a lovely glow at their backs and a slightly dimmed living room. It lends the perfect ambiance. He covers Reid’s eyes.
“Really?”
Joaquim glances behind himself as he walks backward while leading Reid in.
“Okay, we’re going to die like this,” he mutters. “Close your eyes.” He comes around Reid, covers his eyes with his palms, and then leads him forward. “Sit,” he whispers once they’re in the middle of the living room.
“On a chair?” Reid waves a hand around blindly.
“No, on the floor.”
Joaquim kneels and helps Reid onto the floor. Once they’re down, he presses himself against Reid’s back and whispers into his ear, “Now.”
“J…” Reid says. All around them are small white candles in glass jars. Joaquim bought out the store with his measly savings. More than a hundred candles are on the table to their right, on the shelves by the TV, and surrounding the carefully laid, soft plaid blanket beneath them. Their light butters the hush of sunset through the glass doors at their backs. Strewn everywhere are rose petals and shells. Joaquim painstakingly removed the petals from the flowers, trying not to bruise or tear them; his fingers bear pinpricks from their thorns. At Shell World, he endured Delia’s teasing after exacting a promise not to say anything to Reid about what he was planning. The stillness of Reid’s body, though, speaks of the worth of the time spent.
“I’ve never…” Joaquim starts.
“No one has ever—” Reid breaks off, his voice is thick and unsteady. He turns his face to tuck it into Joaquim’s neck. “How did you know?”
“That you’re a hopeless romantic even though you try to hide it?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re terrible at hiding it,” Joaquim says. He holds Reid’s hand in tender counterpoint to the light amusement in his voice.
“Fuck. I guess my cover is blown.” His eyes, bright with tears, don’t shy from Joaquim’s.
“I hope,” Joaquim says, and touches Reid’s cheek, “that you know you don’t need a c
over with me.”
Reid smiles, but looks away. Too much? Joaquim isn’t pressuring. He’s offering. He’s laying something bare.
“I do.” Reid kisses him.
Joaquim presses in, mindful of the candles around them; he breaks the kiss when he senses the changing tone. “I have food.”
“It took you so long to set this up, surely you didn’t have time to cook?” Reid glances around. Joaquim stands, steps over candles, and retrieves food from the fridge and the oven.
“Not here. I made the pão de queijo at the dorm. The fruit salad and dessert only required putting things together in the kitchen. It’s not a full meal or anything, but…”
Reid examines the food Joaquim sets down. “What’s pão de queijo?”
“It’s a kind of cheese bread made with tapioca flour that we eat in Brazil. It’s one of the things I crave the most.”
“And you can bake!” Reid’s eyes brighten adorably.
“Sure, some, I guess.” Joaquim tucks Reid’s excitement away for later.
“And fruit salad, too!”
Joaquim looks down as he hands Reid a small plate. “It reminded me of our first date.”
“Joaquim,” Reid says softly, “are you embarrassed?”
“Is this cheesy?”
“Other than the bread?” Reid jokes. Joaquim cracks a small smile. “No. This is perfect.”
“Here.” Joaquim holds out a piece of bread. “It’s best warm. I had it in the oven.”
Reid takes a cautious bite and then another. “Oh my god, this is so good! I was not expecting…”
“Right?”
“You said cheese bread, but this isn’t quite. But it also kind of is.”
“It’s hard to describe.”
“I can see why you miss it.” Reid brushes his fingers off on a napkin Joaquim has handed him. Joaquim holds out a strawberry. Reid eats it from his fingers.
“One day, I want to take you somewhere where you can taste real Brazilian food.”
“I would love that.”
They eat in silence, feeding each other and feasting on small touches and matching glances. Once they are finished with their food, Reid lies down with his head pillowed on his folded arm, facing Joaquim. Joaquim puts the plates away. He moves some candles onto the table and lies across from Reid. Reid’s picked up some shells and is toying with them, putting them on the blanket, scooping them up, and letting them plink onto one another. They make a beautiful tableau, their pinks and blues, their ivory complementing the dusky variegated pinks and reds of the rose petals.
“I’ve always wanted something like this,” he says after a bit.
“But no one’s ever—?”
“Felix wasn’t one for romance. He thought it was…”
Joaquim waits it out.
“Dumb. He always said stuff like this was for girls and softies.”
“Last I checked, you’re definitely not a girl. Besides, who cares? Why does needing something have to be about stupid gender stereotypes?”
“Well, I don’t know that I need it. It’s a stupid thing I—”
“Reid. Do you know why I did this?”
“To get laid?” Reid jokes, a poor attempt to diffuse the seriousness of Joaquim’s tone.
“Because you deserve the things that make you happy. That make you feel loved. To have someone want to meet your needs.”
Reid closes his eyes. “How did I get here? This is so unreal.”
Joaquim reaches for his hand. “I wasn’t expecting it either.”
Reid’s laugh is hollow. “You know, when I chose to fight for myself, I didn’t think I’d get this too. I chose to work recovery for the promise of happiness. And I’ve been happier. There’s more happiness for me if I keep working and trusting. But I never imagined…”
“Reid,” Joaquim whispers. He’s sure Reid can hear the thudding of his heart. “Will you tell me more? You don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t. And yeah. If you want. Should we move?” Reid shifts to get up, but Joaquim shakes his head.
“No,” he moves closer to Reid. “Can we stay like this?” They’re so close, face-to-face, hands together.
Reid takes a deep breath. “So, obviously, I have a history of, you know, um, cutting.”
“Yes.” Joaquim restrains himself from asking questions.
“And you’ve probably witnessed my mood changes. Or the effects of them.”
“Oh,” Joaquim isn’t sure what to say. He has, but he doesn’t want agreement to seem like judgment.
“Don’t worry, I know it’s there.” Reid is playing with his fingers, as if to distract himself. “I’m cyclothymic. It’s a mental illness.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Joaquim admits.
“Most people haven’t. A lot of people describe it as a ‘milder’ version of bipolar. Which…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know. The thing is, I can see what’s meant by that. It’s a mood disorder, like bipolar. Only instead of experiencing some of the more visibly disruptive aspects of bipolar, such as mania, my moods are subtler; or, they were.”
“So… no mania?”
“No,” Reid says. “I get depressed or hypomanic. Which is like a stage below mania. Really energetic. Productive. Lots of people experience increased creativity. With me, I feel really outgoing. Like I can get so much done. My mind goes and goes and goes. But it’s not… it’s not bad. I don’t mind that part. I actually like it.”
“Really?” Joaquim says.
“Not the impulsive part, no. But I like feeling productive. The thing is, they say this is milder than being bipolar, right? Only with cyclothymia, your moods switch. It’s different for different people. For me, my moods can cycle quickly, even as much as a few times in one day. I’ll go from depressed to hypomanic. And the in-between…”
“You can feel it?” Joaquim guesses.
“Yeah. When I’m cycling, the feeling before or when it’s happening is awful. Sometimes, too, I am both.”
“Both what?”
“Depressed and hypomanic.”
“Um.” Joaquim squints; clearly his brain is trying to filter this information. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know. They call it mixed states. Those are better with the meds I am on now.”
Joaquim really wants to ask more about that, but bites his tongue.
“Anyway,” Reid says. His smile is faint. “The mixed states and the cycling, that’s where the cutting came in for me at first.”
“You said…” Joaquim swallows the rest of his words.
“It’s okay to ask questions,” Reid says.
“You talked about the cutting like recovery. Does that mean it’s, like, an addictive thing for you?”
“Yeah. For me at least. I guess. It’s all tied together. The reasons why I used to do it, when it started. What it became. Why I couldn’t stop. I mean, they’ve explained this to me a hundred times, and I’ve been working on this stuff in therapy. But honestly, sometimes I think it’ll never be possible to explain it, to understand it. How it feels, not just the cutting, but everything else.”
“It would be pretty presumptuous of me to ever think I could understand.” Joaquim says. “I mean, not empathy or sympathy, but really get it, since I’ll never experience it.”
Reid’s face is radiant. His kiss is tentative for one heartbeat, worshipful the next. He rolls Joaquim onto his back. “I know I said you could ask questions…”
“I can ask another time.”
“If you want to still… I mean. If you still want this.”
“By this do you mean you?” Joaquim runs a finger over Reid’s ear, bumps the pad of his thumb over the piercings.
“Yeah.”
“Of course. Of course I still want thi
s, Reid.” Fingers now on Reid’s neck, Joaquim reads the rabbit-quick pounding of his pulse. “Kiss me, and maybe you’ll know.”
“That you want me?”
“And how much you can trust me.”
Twenty-two
The last time Joaquim shared a bed with him, Reid allowed him to touch every inch of his skin, including where his scars were—not that Joaquim asked, or that it was openly acknowledged. That touch had been transitional, a test of Joaquim’s reactions and of Reid’s willingness to share.
“Can we sleep in the bigger bed?” Reid asks, paused in the hall between the rooms.
“It’s your condo; you get to choose,” Joaquim says. The smile in his voice leaves Reid almost weak with gratitude. Despite the heaviness of the night and the weight of trusting Joaquim with parts of his story, Joaquim manages to make everything blessedly normal.
“Well, it’s my grandma’s bed, which has felt awkward. But the other one is too small.”
“Lead, and I’ll follow.”
Reid supposes Joaquim intended for tonight to end with sex; he’s pretty sure Joaquim would understand that Reid’s not quite in the mood, though. Tonight, Reid craves closeness, reassurance. “Her bed it is, then.”
In bed, in the dark, Reid takes off his shirt, strips to his boxers, and slips under the covers with Joaquim. “I wish I could open the window. Listen to the water and the night. But it’s so hot here, even at night.”
“I know what you mean.”
Their silence is underscored by the whoosh of air through the vents and their breathing. Reid puts Joaquim’s hand on his collarbone. Joaquim’s body is so warm under the covers; Reid doesn’t know what he wants, just that under his skin he’s trembling, loosening, and that maybe Joaquim’s touch will ground him.
Joaquim traces his collarbone lightly, then down his chest. It’s not sexual; it’s comfort and learning. When he begins to trace the older scars on his ribcage, the ones that didn’t heal well, Reid goes completely still. But Joaquim’s fingers don’t linger. They continue to touch Reid: his stomach and hipbones, his navel and where his tattoo is. In the dark it’s not visible, but Joaquim seems to know exactly where it is.
