by R. Cooper
A few years ago Ally had sworn she wasn’t going to exhaust herself anymore baking and cooking for three days when she had perfectly capable adult children to help her, and of all of them, only Everett had shown any aptitude for baking, so it was Everett who would be up early on Christmas Eve to make all the sweet breads and rolls and desserts for Christmas, leaving the others to help with the cooking. He had every reason to collapse into bed while the night was still young. Nonetheless, Alex sat on the edge of the bed and said nothing while Everett stripped off his layers and replaced them with blue pajama pants and a fresh T-shirt.
His eyes met Alex’s in odd moments, so Everett had to be aware of how Alex could not stop staring at him, yet there was innocence on his face as he kicked off his jeans, as if they were still kids. Perhaps that was how Everett thought of him, but Alex couldn’t resent it, not when it was saving him again. He was embarrassingly flushed, too tense to sleep, trembling, and Everett was still smiling at him.
The heating vent to Everett’s room had never been fully functional, but that wasn’t why Alex shook. For all their closeness as children, as teenagers, it had been years since he had seen Everett’s long bare limbs, or his stomach, or the lines of his back as he moved. It was like seeing him for the first time in his man’s body, patches of hair and unknown muscle, enough to make Alex close his hands tight, as though he was holding on to a scrap of wax paper again.
Everett had always been tall, though he had only filled out toward the end of high school. His grace had been harder to achieve, but there was no sign that he’d ever been awkward as he bent and twisted and revealed almost every inch of himself as he dealt with his dirty clothes and grabbed his toothbrush to head down the hall.
Everett was a ridiculously brave child grown into a ridiculously brave man, with a glow of faith in his eyes that even Alex had failed to dim for long. It had been there by that very window, and in a hospital psych ward, in Alex’s apartment amid a pile of trash and stupid convenience store crap, and after hearing stories of drugs and sex with people Alex couldn’t even remember.
“If I drug my mind….” If he stayed drugged was what he had meant, but Everett had understood. They had finished each other’s sentences often enough. “What if I’m no longer me, afterward? What if I won’t have anything more to say?” He had only gone on medication reluctantly the first time, and when he’d stopped it, the depression had been a hundred times worse than before. Endless weakness and apathy mixed with thoughts that had been anything but rational, repeating over and over behind his eyes what a disappointment he was, reminding him of how much time Everett and people like him had already wasted on him.
His first thought, upon seeing Everett again after the awareness that he was alive, was the realization that the thoughts that had nearly destroyed him had nearly destroyed Everett too. But he hadn’t recognized until months later, while in therapy and on a high dose of lithium, that everyone had known that but him. It had been obvious to everyone else what he meant to Everett, but he had been blind to it.
He had let himself fall for Everett’s tricks and never let himself wonder why Everett had used them. He was not used to thinking of Everett as scared, but he must have been to use such obvious ruses. He might still be. If Alex didn’t make a move first, he might find out. He might use pilfered liquor and the idea of kissing practice, but Everett, if he still wanted him, would try. Alex only wanted him more for his bravery.
Even after Alex’s failed suicide, Everett had had to try, and Alex had let him. Their friendship, their bond, whatever others chose to call the link between them, meant a lot to Everett. He might have said anything to keep Alex going, but Alex had wanted to believe him and hadn’t cared.
“Write to me, even when I’m here. You’ll have something to say, I promise. And I’ll want to read it.” Everett would never say that it was when the words had stopped that he’d been worried enough to come to see him, that it was the lack of words that had made him break into Alex’s apartment and save his life. Everett had merely touched Alex’s shoulders and Alex’s face and sat holding his hand and asked him for letters, knowing that writing was breathing to him.
“Everett, you are a blessing,” Alex murmured as Everett came back into the room, and Everett stopped. His expression was a combination of startled and embarrassed. Alex had paid him many compliments over the years, but never anything so close to the truth. Alex held still, and then Everett moved again, and the moment was gone.
Everett turned away to pull up his socks, though he didn’t need to turn to do it. The room was small and the floor space limited with their luggage everywhere. There wasn’t even much room for him to turn.
“I’m really not. I’m actually very selfish. Greedy too.” The socks were also knitted. He ought to stop wearing every horrible gift he’d ever gotten just to be polite. If only it weren’t so endearingly Everett that he did.
“You really are.” Giving himself a year to stand on his own feet, while remaining in therapy and on his pills of course, meant real clear and rational thoughts came easily. Courage, however, had to be fought for.
Everett glanced over, taking a moment before grinning. “Am not.”
“Are too.” Alex was ready for him. Everett let out a small laugh before walking over and falling heavily onto the bed. It was a king size he’d had to get after another growth spurt in high school, but it rocked at his weight. His hand brushed Alex’s thigh, and Alex turned to look at him, breathing hard.
“So fucking wrecked.” Everett sighed at the ceiling, then angled his head to look at him. “And I’ve got a ton of baking to do in the morning.”
Alex nodded, enjoying another moment with Everett’s hand on him before remembering he had to get up. He had no reason to feel shy either, except for Everett’s eyes on him as he stood up and removed his clothes, which suddenly felt like a damn good reason, because unlike whatever he’d told himself during similar moments in the past, Everett was watching him. Everett was watching him, and he would not turn away unless Alex did.
Alex was used to stares, but not these, not from someone who knew every awful thing about him, from someone as remarkable as Everett. He couldn’t quite make himself look back as Everett had done, but he didn’t twist his body away. He’d gained some weight while on his meds and gained a bit more this last year, though he was still slim, but he had a feeling Everett approved, the same way he had a feeling Everett approved of his arms, his ass, his back, even his choice in sleepwear. When he was in warm, soft flannel at last and yet still bare before Everett’s hot gaze, he pulled out his toothbrush and his pill case and hurried down the hall to the bathroom where he could catch his breath and try not to think of what it would be like to look down at Everett and have Everett look back at him.
When he returned, Everett was still awake but under the covers on the side of the bed by the window, either knowing Alex’s worries and working to calm them, or just that tired. Alex paused. Everett was studying him.
“How are the side effects with the lower dose?” Everett was quiet.
“Not bad.” The safe question meant Alex could move again. He shrugged and put his things away. “Better.” He shut the door. He hadn’t had real tremors or trouble concentrating in a very long time, but he never wanted them again.
“That’s good.” Everett didn’t say anything else while Alex hesitated over the light switch then turned off the light and stumbled toward the bed. Ally must have made the bed that day since the sheets smelled clean. Everett’s side was already warm.
“I mean… that’s really good,” Everett added, in almost the same tone he’d used that afternoon, as if he had to repeat it to make it true. He moved, shaking his head. He let out a small, pained laugh. “I suppose it’s just… a part of me was always so happy to see you that I never minded taking care of you.”
Alex froze. Everett moved again, sliding away from him to almost the very edge of the bed.
“I told you I was selfish.” He laug
hed at himself again, unconvincingly, then stopped. He rolled over, and his eyes must have adjusted to the dark already because his hand found Alex’s arm. “But it’s good that you feel better. It really is.”
Everett pulled his hand back. “Now that you can do everything you’ve always wanted, go off, be famous, don’t forget about me. Okay?”
Alex hated the dark as he hated the cold. Everett was on his back, far away from him.
“Forget you?” Alex looked down at the vague shape of him and then climbed under the covers to hide his missing voice. That would be like forgetting his arm, or his heart, or his stomach.
But he always lost words when saying them directly to Everett, so he stared instead, not certain when Everett could ever have doubted what he had always thought had been so obvious.
There was some light coming in from the colored bulbs hanging in front of the window, and Everett was probably still studying Alex as Alex’s eyes got used to the shadows. Everett had done the same thing the night after graduation, drunk off his ass and lying on a blanket too far from shore to be seen by the other people out by the lake, complaining about how he was going to go off to school a virgin and staring into Alex’s face to see his reaction.
He could not have had any idea of how terrifying his unspoken offer had been to Alex, though Alex remembered stopping, his heart pounding, his cock already interested in everything Everett was suggesting. Alex had wanted him so much, would have blown him, fucked him, right there if he hadn’t also been sick with the idea that he would lose Everett when they went off to college, or go crazy on him, or that his family would throw Alex out for touching their son. Everett and his family had always said they only wanted Alex to do the right thing, and that had not meant seducing young, wasted Everett in the woods, he’d been certain of it.
“I could never,” he murmured at last, not even certain it was audible.
It didn’t matter that Everett had offered himself before, kissing practice, sharing stolen pornography and openly beating off. For the kissing and other things, Alex could have claimed the innocence of youth if asked, though it would have been a lie. He’d never been that innocent, and never about his feelings for Everett.
Everett exhaled noisily and then turned around. He shifted back, still not quite touching Alex although suddenly taking up more than his share of space. He grunted, unhappy, uncomfortable, and after a second’s pause reached behind him until he found Alex’s hand. He pulled on it until Alex’s arm was around him and their fingers were laced, and then he just as abruptly let go. Alex had the choice to either move back to where he had been, knowing Everett would let him, or to stay as he was and get comfortable too.
His fingers had been sticky, but Everett had been the thief, breathing life into him and taking that first kiss.
Alex waited, then shifted to surround Everett’s heat and carefully settle his head on his pillow. He stared at the outline of Everett’s head and the back of his neck. He thought about the lake and then Everett’s virginity and wherever he’d finally lost it. The wound had never stopped hurting, not in all these years.
“Are you this pushy with your lovers?” The safer word, “boyfriend,” momentarily escaped him, but at least his tone was whisper light.
“Not all of them.” Everett breathed into his pillow. It was impossible to tell if he was joking. Alex swallowed, but Everett wasn’t done. “I know you needed to see if you really are okay now, if you can handle things on your own, but I… I missed you.”
“I’m sor—” He almost said it. “Everett.”
“No, no, I’m proud. I know you never wanted to admit just how much it scared you.” He went silent, and Alex closed his eyes, then opened them. Everett had to hear his heart thundering against his ribs. “How is it, really?”
“Not as bright,” Alex answered immediately in the dark, thinking of both life without Everett and life without mania. Some things were forever gone, traded for the promise of stability. He mourned them, but not nearly as much as the lost years. “But not as terrifying. Everything looks different.” He could sense Everett’s mind working on that revelation, deciding on what to ask first.
“Bad different?” Everett whispered too.
“No.” Alex shook his head to reinforce that, and then because he was there and allowed to, he scooted closer until they shared a pillow too. Everett leaned into him and let out a long, shaky breath that could have held a prayer. “I feel like I can handle things. Like maybe I won’t slip if….” If he was without Everett, but Alex wasn’t verbalizing that particular terror now. “Good different.”
“Good.” Everett meant it this time. Alex listened to him breathing for a few more minutes, and then carefully slid in that last inch until they were shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and his words were damp against Everett’s skin.
He was so tired. Tired of wanting and not having, or of having and still wanting more. Of thinking of all the things his own mind had hidden from him. Tired of restraint and wishing and longing for just a moment like this in Everett’s room.
He wet his mouth and shaped out what he needed to say as the minutes ticked by.
“It’s been a year, Everett.” A long, dry year to end long, dry decades. There was a tree downstairs and dirty, thin snow on the ground, and he did not think he could wait much longer, even so scared that Everett had to feel his quivering.
If Everett still wanted him, here he was. But he could not say the words.
Everett gave a slow sigh and pushed back into him.
“I know,” he agreed, his voice husky, but he didn’t move. From the sound of his voice, he was headed to sleep, already half in a dream. Alex shut his eyes, and the cowardice made him speak when he knew Everett wouldn’t remember, as though once again he had plied Everett with whiskey until he’d passed out and then curled up beside him to whisper every secret desire into his ear.
“This might be awkward in the morning,” he exhaled to himself, though he wasn’t sure what he even meant, if the children should come in and find them like this, or if Everett would wake up and be horrified to find himself being spooned, or if Everett no longer wanted him, not in that way that his eyes had once promised, but then Everett gave a tired snort, awake after all.
“You think so?” he murmured, sleepily surprised, and pulled Alex’s hand back to his chest, this time without letting go.
Everett was gone, and the house smelled like bread dough when Alex woke up. It was Christmas Eve, and judging from the sounds, the kids knew it.
In the kitchen, there were a few people at the counters, meddling in Everett’s business, and several more at the breakfast nook, enjoying what looked like coffee and the remnants of scrambled eggs that Alex must have missed while he was dressing.
“I’m not decorating all those cookies for the neighbors,” Everett was protesting as he did every year, though his sisters and Robert would give up halfway through the dozens of sugar cookies. If the children didn’t finish all the frosting work, Everett would, somehow successfully conning Alex into helping him every time.
Alex took a seat next to Ty, who was getting the rundown on what to expect today and tonight and all the little traditions he was now a part of.
“There’ll be some drinking among the younger crowd tonight, but be warned, when the kids wake you up for presents, you will get up—as long as it’s after six. It’s the only rule my parents have ever made stick,” Rachel was explaining. Alex rolled his eyes. Molly was just as bad as the children. She never had a hangover or a need for normal rest, and she’d always be up and screaming, even bouncing into beds with people and singing, “It’s Christmas! Get up!” the entire time.
“The kids open one present tonight, and then in the morning, after they’ve woken the house, they can look through their stockings while adults get their coffee and reconcile themselves to being awake.” Everett appeared to scoot some cookies and a cup of coffee over to him. He smiled and ignored his mother scolding him about the idea of givin
g anyone cookies for breakfast. “He deserves a reward,” Everett told her, then quickly ducked back over to the other side of the counter.
Alex stared after him, fully awake now and almost electric to realize that Everett must have heard and understood him last night after all. The heat under his skin didn’t vanish when he realized Ty was watching him, but he cleared his throat and reached for the sugar bowl in the middle of the table without saying anything but good morning to everyone. They weren’t going to give him the time to be alone today that they had yesterday, he could tell from their talk of movie marathons and trips over to the mall and hands needed for last minute gift wrapping, but he couldn’t make himself mind.
“Will you be drinking tonight too? I didn’t know you could.” Ty turned to him, a whole new curiosity in his eyes that meant he’d either done some research last night or had asked Molly for more dirt. Alex shot her a glare. She waved her hands with false innocence.
The Faradays were family. His readers were, in a strange way, also family, considering what he shared with them, but Alex paused to stir his coffee and then chose not to answer.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Ty went on to cover the pause, maybe to apologize. “I’m just a big fan.”
“Of my work or of the stories about me?” His coffee was still too hot. He chose a cookie instead. No icing yet, just how he liked it. Icing dozens of cookies had given him a distaste for frosting that he laid at Everett’s door, though he already knew that Everett had only to give him a look through his eyelashes, and Alex would right in this spot turn bell- and tree-shaped sugar cookies into bright, sugary blobs.
He glanced over again and thought Everett might be smiling to himself. Alex had to remind himself he was speaking to someone else.
“They’re mostly true, or I assume they are. They’re a blur to me.” He must have spoken too loudly because Ally looked up, and Molly and Rachel went quiet. Robert was on the other side of the kitchen; he must have arrived earlier. He was listening too.
