A Tiny Piece of Something Greater

by Jude Sierra

  “I’m so grateful for you,” Reid says. He grips Joaquim’s hand.

  “And I you,” Joaquim says. The words come easily, a quick response offered with no strings.

  “I wouldn’t call it a trigger,” Reid says, after a while. “Trigger for me is a word that has to do with other things. The, um, anxiety and stuff.”

  “The self-harm?”

  “Yeah. Or a panic attack. Maybe eventually a mood cycle. What happened last night was me being mad.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Reid bristles, but keeps his lips shut until he can think through his reaction to Joaquim’s matter-of-fact tone.

  “I know. I mean, before you came over, I didn’t think my mood was changing. I couldn’t see it. It kills me to say this, but I don’t know that I was okay. And that’s the worst of all of this.”

  “Not being okay?”

  “No, people being right when I’m not okay.”

  Joaquim doesn’t say anything.

  “I don’t know,” Reid says and sighs. “I don’t have the right answer. Because I need people to trust me. I am the single most invested person in my recovery. It doesn’t matter what other people think about that. I mean, about me, yes. Maybe because I did… what I did,” Reid swallows, “they won’t ever trust me to be okay?”

  “Because they’re afraid?”

  “Maybe.” Reid plays with Joaquim’s fingers and thinks his questions over. “That and more.”

  “I don’t feel that way, though,” Joaquim says. “I understand, in a sense, what you’re talking about. But what happens if I’m worried, and you don’t seem to see what’s happening. Does that happen? Like, you haven’t had a mood swing yet, or whatever, but there are signs?”

  Reid closes his eyes. The intimacy of the rain and the pull of Joaquim’s body burn through him now. He’s too close; it’s too rough on thin skin.

  “Why can’t I have just one thing?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want something that’s not about this. I want to be a normal kid! I want to have regular issues and not have to figure this shit out, because I don’t have the answers!”

  Reid makes a frustrated noise into his pillow and lies with his face buried. Joaquim rubs his hand over Reid’s back. Thank god he doesn’t offer Reid any platitudes. He’s on the cusp of sleep when Joaquim whispers I love you. Reid peeks over to find Joaquim’s eyes steady on his, and shining.

  They wake from a long nap tangled under a sheet. The rain has stopped, and everything is soupy; their bodies are slicked with sweat where they touch.

  “I don’t know the answer,” Reid says before they’re fully awake.

  “All right,” Joaquim mumbles into his neck.

  “Do you need someone to talk to about this?” It occurred to Reid as he fell asleep that Joaquim’s only person to talk to is the problem—not that Joaquim would call him a problem.

  “Hmm?”

  “Like a friend or something? To work through things?”

  Joaquim pulls the sheet from his body to cool off. “Could I talk to my sister?”

  Relief rolls through Reid. He’d offered with the fear that Joaquim would want to talk to a friend at the dive center. He isn’t friends with them, but the fact that he might run into them or spend time with them wouldn’t be great.

  “Yeah.” Reid rolls over and pulls the sheet off. “Yeah, that sounds okay.”

  Twenty-six

  Despite having Reid’s permission, Joaquim doesn’t speak to his sister at first. There’s too much he doesn’t understand himself. Joaquim values honesty above most things, but he’s far from knowing how to navigate Reid’s moods. Reid is right, though: knowing about Reid’s issues, it’s hard not to think everything could be related to a mood swing.

  In the end, it’s not a mood swing that tips the scales. It’s not something he’d ever tell Sofia about in detail. It’s something he doesn’t understand.

  “So,” Reid says. It’s dusk, and so hot and muggy Reid needed convincing to go outside. The bay water and pool water are tepid; everything has slowed until Joaquim is sure the sound of the cicadas and water is molasses melting, one long, ponderous, thrumming hum that won’t end. “What to do now?” His eyes are bright, playful, and sure.

  Joaquim’s smile blooms; he needs no coaxing to unfurl. What Reid brings out in him is flash-bang response, as if an open, aching want has been there all along and Joaquim has forgotten to pay attention. He takes Reid by the waist and kisses him, a biting kiss that’s both joyful and rough. They can’t spend all day in bed, no matter how tempting it sounds. His muscles will get tight and achy; Joaquim isn’t one for restlessness.

  “We can go for a swim.”

  “The water’s too warm even for me,” Reid says. Reid’s phone buzzes.

  “What’s that?”

  “Delia,” Reid says. “She wants to go out.”

  “Oooh, let’s.”

  “I don’t know.” Reid’s scrunches his nose and tosses his phone on the bed. “She’s so intense; I don’t want her scaring you off.”

  “Pleeease?” Joaquim kisses next to Reid’s nose, one side and then the other, easing the frown. “I want to spend time with your friends.”

  “Friend,” Reid says, holding up one finger. “I have one friend here.”

  “Two, actually,” Joaquim says, capturing Reid’s chin and looking into his eyes. Reid’s eyes laugh back at him.

  “Touché.”

  “So?”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll ask her.”

  Despite the heat, they find themselves splashing around in tepid pool water half an hour later. Dinner at Salty John’s with Delia isn’t for a few hours, and Reid confessed to restlessness as well. The oppressive heat has kept Betty and crew inside today, so it’s just the two of them.

  “I wonder where the kids are,” Reid says.

  “Aren’t you uncomfortable with your head like that?” Joaquim stands next to him. Reid is floating with his head propped on the side of the pool.

  “Yes,” Reid says. He rolls into the water and comes up with a kiss that tastes of salt and chlorine. He leans back against the wall. “There’ve been kids here this last week. Either visiting or renting for a week. Young. Lots of fun.”

  “You’ve been playing with them?” That’s almost too cute to handle.

  “Well, I’ve got to do something while my guy is busy.” Reid’s arms snake around his waist.

  “Shell World?” Joaquim says, voice gone hoarse.

  Reid laughs. “No. I don’t want to do Shell World.”

  Joaquim retaliates, bites the side of Reid’s neck, and notes how boneless he goes.

  “Besides, I hardly work there enough hours to keep occupied. And kids are fun!”

  “Yeah, they are,” Joaquim says. Reid’s playfulness flickers in and out, as do most of his personality traits. Joaquim has seen him be quite good with kids when he’s in the mood. He always had fun with Erin during their class, and Joaquim could tell that his kindness and interest were never fake or forced.

  “You still have those kids in your class?” Reid lets himself float away, then starfishes out. Joaquim stands next to him, touches Reid’s now-pink cheek, and shakes his head. Fuck. We forgot sunscreen.

  “No, they moved on last week.”

  “Wow, time flies.” Reid closes his eyes and lets himself float for a bit longer. “I guess that means you’re almost done.”

  “Yeah, less than two months.” Joaquim puts a hand under Reid’s head and draws him up, gives him a quick kiss before pushing him under the water, and shouts laughter when Reid wraps his arms around Joaquim’s legs and pulls him under.

  Roughhousing isn’t Joaquim’s idea of foreplay, but when he finds himself bending Reid over the side of the bed, both still struggling out of clinging suits,
he has to concede that either it, or anything with Reid, is.

  “Ohmigod, fuck, who cares,” Reid grinds out when Joaquim insists on getting his swim shorts past his knees.

  “I do.” Joaquim bites the meaty globe of Reid’s ass, then licks it and closes his eyes when Reid moans, utterly shameless.

  “Do that again.”

  Joaquim struggles with the shorts and bites Reid again, high up on his leg, under the deep crescent where his thigh meets his ass. Reid vibrates and whimpers. Joaquim finally triumphs over his swim trunks. As desperate as Reid now, he pushes his legs apart roughly, puts a hand on Reid’s back and presses him face-first into the bedding in one quick move. Normally here he’d laugh, or fuck, or swear; he’d make any noise if he weren’t so on fire for Reid’s taste. His knees protest when he drops to them. Reid churns his hips; jerky movements grind against the mattress. Rough and careless, Joaquim uses his strength to pull him back.

  “Not yet.” He punctuates this with another bite to Reid’s inner thigh. He works Reid’s body until it is live-wire tight, crackling with the nearness of orgasm. He pushes his face against Reid while he catches his breath.

  “Bite me again,” Reid says. His voice is hardly recognizable. “Please, J, bite me.”

  So he does. He bites Reid’s ass and, when he demands it, his thigh, harder, then delivers a sucking, biting, bruising kiss to the other one. And when his fingers are as deep in Reid as they can go, when Joaquim’s lost in dazed pleasure from the moisture of Reid’s skin, Reid comes. He comes without noise, but with his body bowed gorgeously and Joaquim’s fingers massaging it out of him, caught by the almost-violent clench and release of his orgasm pulsing.

  “Fuck,” Reid whispers, then rolls onto his back. When he reaches for Joaquim, his smile is full of filth, and mischief, and dazed pleasure.

  “Wow.” Joaquim pauses in dressing when Reid bends over to put his boxer briefs on. On the inside of his thigh is an impressive bruise bestowed by Joaquim’s mouth. He’s never done that to a lover.

  “What?” Reid turns to him. Joaquim touches the mark.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “I really got you. Does that hurt?” he presses a little, surprised when Reid shivers.

  “A little, but that’s okay. I like it.” Joaquim takes Reid’s kiss, and then the shirt Reid hands him. They’re late for their meeting with Delia.

  “God, I can smell the sex on you guys.” Delia’s at a table with one full and one empty beer bottle in front of her. Joaquim smiles, and Reid laughs. “You guys are way too cute. I don’t know if I can be seen with you in public.”

  “Oh my god, I am famished,” Reid says. Joaquim takes a sticky menu when Reid hands it to him, but doesn’t bother to read it.

  “Onion rings,” Delia says, and Reid nods and puts the menu down. Joaquim observes the shorthand exchange and sits back. So often, he and Reid are alone; it’s a treat to watch Reid out in the world with others. Now, his eyeliner is thick and smudged, and his hair is a riot of messy spikes. He’s well and truly fucked, though he got ready after the fucking. It is a delicious look on him.

  Joaquim orders a beer. Their waitress is impatient and on the verge of unfriendly, but the bar is filling up and Joaquim hasn’t seen a single other server. Reid orders onion rings and potato skins, of all things.

  “You want anything else or just to share those?” Reid asks.

  “Those are good,” he says. Greasy food sits in his stomach sometimes; he’d rather have the beer.

  “Shel?”

  “Oh god, inventory rampage.” Delia says. She’s finished her second beer quickly enough to impress Joaquim. “Took hours.”

  “Sorry,” Reid says.

  “No, you’re not,” Delia laughs. Joaquim’s never heard her laugh. Either it’s the beer or she just needs time to warm up. Joaquim is compelled to draw people out when they’re like that. Delia exudes confidence, though. She doesn’t need to be anyone but herself.

  “Please don’t tell me he’s decided we need more personalized starfish lamps,” Reid says.

  “Excuse me, what?” Surely he heard that wrong.

  “These lamps,” Reid says. He gestures.

  “They have starfish embedded in the bases.” Delia says, and Joaquim nods. The lamps are the standard kitsch that’s popular here. “Only these are personalized with names at the base. Like, you can do that cheesy shit, ‘McMacken Family, 2007.’”

  “Eh?”

  “Family name, date they got married. Or kid’s name, birthdate.”

  “Like, who the hell is giving their kid a lamp with their birthday on it?”

  “Shel is so into this idea, I can’t believe it.”

  “We’ve sold maybe two,” Reid explains. “Shel is convinced it’s a thing, though.”

  So the conversation takes off, starting with Shel facts and grievances that are more affectionate than anything else before leading Delia’s most recent dating disaster, and then catching up on her friends. Reid doesn’t hang out with them, but he definitely is up to speed on who they are and all about their lives. Joaquim is comfortably separate from the conversation, happy to rest his arm on the back of Reid’s chair and nurse his beer. Every now and then he touches the back of Reid’s neck. He’s so beautiful, animated or upset or still. Reid’s like the ocean: unfathomable, constantly changing, stunning, and dangerous. Joaquim doesn’t think Reid will hurt him, but he could. Hell, he could hurt himself.

  The thought is sobering. Joaquim remembers Reid begging him to bite harder. Was that…? Was Joaquim somehow a part of that? Obviously, he didn’t think twice about it in the moment. He doesn’t understand Reid’s relationship to pain. Reid taps Joaquim’s finger where it’s wrapped around his beer bottle.

  “You there?”

  “Yeah,” Joaquim says, smiling when Reid does. Reid turns back to his conversation. Joaquim likes that Reid checks in every now and then, but doesn’t feel compelled to babysit or draw Joaquim in. From their conversations, he has the idea that this scene, played out with Felix, would end very differently. Joaquim breathes slowly and looks around the bar. He notices what people are wearing and the décor, the dim lighting and the scent of warm bodies in a room with closed windows. He pushes worries out of mind and marks them for later.

  “So what’s your deal?”

  “Pardon?” Joaquim tunes back in at the sound of Delia’s voice.

  “Reid told me you’re going for some, um, like. Diver master level? Something.” She waves that off.

  “An MSDT. Master Scuba Diver Trainer. Yeah, I’m almost done.”

  “Then what?”

  “Not sure,” Joaquim glances at Reid. “I guess I go where the wind takes me.” Delia pauses, beer halfway to her mouth. She shrugs and takes a sip, but Joaquim doesn’t miss the face she makes at Reid.

  “Minha vida,” Joaquim says when Sofia answers the phone.

  “Fuck that,” she says, sleep thick in her voice. He winces. “Don’t butter me up because it’s, fuck, midnight. Why are you awake? Why am I awake?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Joaquim sits heavily on the couch in the common room. He’s whispering so as not to wake the others. It’s way too late for the conversation he wants to have with her, and there’s no privacy here.

  “What’s wrong?” Rustling noises come through; she’s sat up. Joaquim takes in the dated colors and pattern of the carpet. He stands and walks down the hall to the heavy door to the outside and props the door open with a rock. Joaquim lets himself out into the muggy night.

  “So, um. Reid told me some of his stuff.”

  “His stuff? Carinho, you need to give me more than that.”

  “You know what I mean.” Joaquim kicks pebbles into the bushes.

  “Listen, you called me this late for a reason. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “He’s, he’s got this t
hing. Called cyclothymia. It’s a kind of mental illness?” He waits for her to speak. There’s nothing but silence. “That sounds awful. Like he’s crazy. He’s not.”

  “I wasn’t thinking like that. I was waiting. I’ve never heard of this.”

  “Yeah, right? I hadn’t either. He said it’s not commonly diagnosed. It’s like being bipolar? Or not, but that’s the closest comparison. He says it’s a mood disorder, so not like being depressed. Although sometimes he is depressed.”

  “This is a thing I should look up, yes?”

  “It might help, if you want to know more about the details so I don’t fuck it up.”

  “Are you scared because he has this?”

  “Well, no. I mean. I worry. But that’s not—”

  “Bebê, calm down. Take a breath. You told me you’re in love, right? Keep that in sight first.”

  “SoSo, I miss you so much.” Joaquim holds on to the door handle; the edges dig into his palm. He wants to ask her what to do about Reid hurting himself, or how he used to. Could still? He wants to talk about how, when they fucked, Reid seemed to like being hurt, and that only after had Joaquim stopped to think if he was perpetuating a harmful habit or desire. “I wanted to ask about some things, but I think maybe they’re too personal.”

  Her laughter is warm; he wants to wind the sound around himself—the comfort and hominess. “Yeah, I don’t need the sexy report.”

  He smiles. “We went out with his friend from work, Delia. Everything was great before, but then he was acting so weird on the way home. And I didn’t want to ask if he’s okay, because we had a fight about that already.”

  “About asking if he’s okay?” Sofia makes a noise. Frustration or disbelief? Her face is so expressive, and without it he can’t always translate her interpretation.

  “Yeah, it was a thing. A real fight.”

  “You never fight,” she says.

  “Reid is different. In a good way. I feel… so much more.” Joaquim blows out a breath. The stars are obscured by clouds. Rain is coming; he can smell it. “Anyway. He has a thing about people asking that, because of his family and how they treated him. Once we were calmer and he explained, it made sense. But how can I ask if everything is okay when it means something different to him? He thinks it’s about people not trusting him to take care of himself or assuming he’s having a mental breakdown.”