Diclaimer: Blah blah, not mine, blah. All characters belonging to Kevin
Smith, King of Dialogue. Hope I did them justice.
Note: This is the fourth installment. . . the prequels to this are as follows: #1 Sound of Silence Screaming in my Ear (second one I wrote)
#2 Out of the Frying Pan (the first one I wrote)
#3 Waiting for the Other Shoe (third installment, third I wrote)
Epiphany
I raised my hand to knock on the door but hesitated. He'd sounded so odd on the phone, so unlike himself. He'd spoken in a rushed hush, rambling a bit at times. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my key chain. I frowned slightly at the fact that I still had the key, but shook my head and put it into the hole, turning and opening the door.
*I need to see you Banky. It's important. I can't go on like this, I just can't. I have to see you. Please Bank, please. Please see me.*
~Fuck, Holden, it's 2 o'clock in the morning~
*I have to see you, Bank. I can't take it.*
~Holden? Are you okay man? Are you crying?~
*I don't even know. . . I'm either laughing or crying, I don't even know anymore. Please.*
~Alright, Holden. . . I'll be there. It'll take me like 2 hours to get there, but I'll be there.~
*Thank you*
~Holden?~
*Yeah?*
~You're not going to do anything stupid before I get there, are you?~
I felt a shudder wrack through my body as I stepped through the door into the room I hadn't been in for two years. Shutting the door quietly behind me I looked around, trying to calm my stomach down. My eyes rested on the couch and I caught the top of his head. He didn't turn at the sound of the door, he didn't move an inch.
~Please don't let me find him dead, God. Please don't do that to me, I couldn't take that.~
Slowly, in a trance, I walked over to the couch, hesitating before I rounded the corner. He still hasn't moved. Finally I close my eyes and walk around in front of him, turning and facing him, steeling myself. Opening my eyes I almost fall down out of relief when I meet his eyes. I allow myself to laugh, praying it won't turn maniacal. "What the fuck, Holden," I said, sliding my keys in my pocket and sitting beside him. "You just let people come into your apartment and you don't even turn to see who it is?"
He smiled slightly and I sobered slightly, realizing maybe the hardest part wasn't over. "I knew it was you," he said quietly.
"Well, aren't you the fucking prophet," I said, smiling and putting my hand on his shoulder. When his eyes slid off of mine and began to stare at the void before his face I could literally feel the pain in him. I stood up, clearing my throat. "How about some coffee? I just drove two hours. . . "
"Two and a half."
I smile, relieved to see that he was still somewhat grounded in reality. "I just drove two and a half hours, then, and my fucking eyes are about to be glued shut."
"You know where it is," Holden said quietly, still not looking at me. "You know where everything is."
~Christ, what is this? Why is he all of a sudden speaking as if he's in post-traumatic stress syndrome?~
I nod, striding over to the kitchen, aware I was intentionally delaying what was to be the inevitable. I needed a moment to collect myself, shake the cobwebs off of my brain. I'd never been more scared in my life than I had been in that car ride over here. Convinced I'd find him beaten, broken, bruised, or dead. He'd never sounded like that before. In the tenure of our friendship he'd never uttered the word please, unless of course it was to be facetious. He'd never had to say please. He'd always known I was there. Surely he had to know that even after the year we didn't speak I'd still do anything for him.
The coffee was of course still in the same place as it always was. The coffee cups were in the same place as well. I laughed a little to myself, always having been amused by Holden's anal retentiveness and resistance to any form of change. As I waited for the coffee to brew I dug through the fridge, pulling out some cold cuts and the mayonnaise, making us two turkey sandwiches. Mine with mayonnaise, his with mayonnaise and mustard.
When it was done I piled the two sandwiches in my left hand, finagling the coffees in my right so I could carry it all in one trip. As I rounded the couch I was once again assaulted by the wave of sadness radiating off of him but grinned through it and sat down beside him. He'd tell me when he was ready.
He smiled and took the sandwich and coffee from me, setting the coffee on the table and peeking inside the sandwich. His smile widened and he looked at me. "You remembered the mustard."
I laughed, nodding my head. "Well, twenty years of fixing you sandwiches and you start to remember things, motherfucker."
"You always remember," Holden said quietly, setting the sandwich, untouched, on the table beside the coffee. I watched him and took a bite of the sandwich, not really hungry. "You've always been like that. Always remembering everything, never letting me down. Always there for me. . . "
When I see the tear fall I don't know why I was surprised or why it hit me like a ton of bricks. I should have been expecting it, what with the way he was acting and all. "Hey," I said, resting my right hand on his shoulder and leaning over to deposit the half-eaten sandwich on the table. "Hey, what's going on, Holden?"
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I fucked it all up, didn't I? I ruined it."
I swallowed the remains of the bite I had in my mouth, watching him, afraid to look away. "What did you fuck up, Holden? What did you ruin," I asked, speaking softly. Suddenly I realized I sounded like Sister Mary from school. Always so serene, always understanding, but always asking questions, always gathering the information. Taking it whether you wanted to give it to her or not, you never realizing it. I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Holden. . . "
"Us, Bank. Us, I ruined us."
For a moment my mouth wouldn't form words and all I could do is sit there and dumbly shake my head. "I'm here now, Holden. You didn't ruin us." I smiled at him, wishing he'd just fucking look at me. Sighing I continued. "You just put us on different paths. Derailed me for a little while. But I'm back on the track now."
"But that's just it," he said, his voice rising slightly and finally flicking his eyes to mine. Suddenly I wished he hadn't, the pain in those eyes was almost too much for me to take. "I derailed you. I hurt you. I fucked up. You, who was always there, always remembered the mustard, always the one reminding me to wipe my ass."
I laughed. "I don't remember ever having to remind you to do that. . . "
"It's a metaphor, Bank," he said quietly, shutting his eyes and shaking his head, rubbing furiously at his face. "You always caught my mistakes, didn't let me go out there into the real world and make an ass of myself."
"Well, if I remember correctly," Banky said, laughing, hoping to God I was reacting the right way. "Sometimes you did anyway."
"And me," Holden continued, as if I'd never said anything. "Never fucking learning!" He opened his eyes and the tears began to flow down his face. "Never fucking seeing." He laid his head back and let out a strangled sob, my heart clenching painfully. "I wasted so much time. Fuck, I lost you, Banky. I fucking lost you."
"Holden, I'm right fucking here," I said strongly, tightening my grip on his shoulder.
He shook his head, still not looking at me. "It's not the same, Banky. It'll never be the same. I fucked it all up. You moved out. You moved away. You walked out of my life and it's all my fault. I ruined us. It's all my fault."
I felt a lump form in my throat but shook my head, forcing my voice past it. "It's not all your fault, Holden. I had a part in it too."
"It's all my fault," he whispered. I don't think I've heard more pain encompassed by one person ever in my life.
"No, Holden. It's not all your fault. It's mine just as much."
"I did it all wrong, Bank," he said, finally looking at me. "I should have come to you. I threw 20 years down the fucking drain by not."
I shook my head, running my hand down his arm, trying to ease his pain, cursing myself for not knowing how. "But I should have too. I could have just told you. I. . . I didn't realize it at the time, but. . . I shoulda talked to you." I paused, taking a deep breath, admitting something I'd never admitted before. "I shouldn't have run away like I did. Like a fucking coward."
He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands, crying in earnest. "But ultimately, in the end, it wasn't what you did that ruined it," he said quietly. "It was me."
I ran my hand over his back, feeling my eyes fill with tears. "Don't do this to yourself, Holden. It's over and I'm still here. I'm sorry." He quieted slightly as I continued to rub his back, taking deep breaths. I felt a tear run down my face and reached up quickly to wipe it away. He was already in enough pain, he didn't need to see me crying. "I'm sorry I ran, Holden. I shouldn't have. I should have tried to understand."
He laughed slightly, shaking his head. "I don't think a better man than you exists, Banky." He took a deep breath and rubbed at his face again. "You have nothing to apologize for."
For a few minutes we sat in silence, him breathing deeply, trying to regain control, me continuously rubbing circles in his back, thinking. Finally I felt him rise up. He looked at me slightly, and I saw the old Holden in there, sheepishly apologizing for losing it like he had. I smiled at him. "What happened, Holden?"
Holden sighed, reaching up half-heartedly and making a cursory swipe at his tears. "I saw Alyssa at the premier of Bluntman and Chronic last week."
~Aha. So that's what this is.~
"Did you talk to her?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Yeah. . . no. Not really. We said hey. Asked how we were doing. Hugged. Kissed her on her cheek." He laughed slightly. "Didn't bother me. I was fine with seeing her. It was. . . it was good to see her."
I looked at him peculiarly for a moment, confused by his reaction. He sounded sincere. He said that without equivocation, without looking away from me. "So. . . so then what's. . . "
"Cause it finally dawned on me, Bank," Holden said, sitting up straighter and taking my hand in his. I watched him take my hand, uncertain where this was going but getting a bad feeling in my gut. "Suddenly it was so clear. . . it was like an epiphany."
I laughed nervously. "I don't like it when you have epiphanies, Holden."
He shook his head. "But this time I'm gonna do it right. This time I'm talking to you."
"Holden. . . "
"Shh," he said quietly, smiling and putting a finger over my mouth. "Let me get it out." Letting his finger drop from my mouth he cupped my cheek and, God help me, I think I leaned into it. "I finally saw what I should have realized a long time ago."
I shook my head and his hand dropped from my cheek. "Holden. . . "
"Bank," he said, and there he was. There was the Holden I'd known for all these years, looking at me as he always had when he was trying to say something and I kept interrupting. "Shut up."
I laughed, looking down at where he held my hand. "Sorry."
He took a deep breath and I looked back up at him, simultaneously dreading and anxiously waiting for him to continue. "I saw what had been in front of my eyes my whole life but I'd been unwilling to admit to myself." I saw him hesitate and almost interrupted again but he gave me that look again and I smiled and shut my mouth for good. "I love you, Banky," he said quietly, his hand back on my cheek. "I always have. You know that."
I nodded. "I know," I said quietly.
"But I never realized how, Banky," he continued, and suddenly I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to shut up, and take it back. I didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. "I never realized I was in love with you."
I shook my head, pulling back. "Holden, don't."
"Banky. . . "
"No," I said forcefully, untangling my hand from his. "Holden, you're upset, and your fucked up right now. Your mixing your feelings. Whatever you're feeling, it's not what you're saying. You're confused and. . . "
He shook his head and smiled at me. "Bank. . . "
I shook my head again, feeling my pulse quicken tenfold. "You're mixing your feelings for Alyssa into me, you're not thinking clearly. . . "
"I've never been more clear in my life," he said, locking eyes with me.
"No," I said, and damn it if a tear didn't fall then. "Holden, you can't mean this, you're not in your right mind. . . "
He reached out again and placed his finger over my mouth again and I shut my mouth. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I'm stone- cold sober and clear as a bell."
I felt another tear fall out of my eye and I cursed myself for being so fucking weak. "Holden," I choked out, hating that I sounded as weak as I felt. "Don't do this to me. . . "
Before I could even comprehend what he was doing he leaned forward and kissed me, and God help me. God help me, I wanted him. I wanted him and I still loved him. I felt a sob escape through my chest and I pushed him away. "Don't do this, Holden."
He grabbed both of my hands and positioned himself closer to me. He smiled at me and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. "I love you," he whispered, his face inches from mine. I closed my eyes and yet the tears still managed to fall. "I love you with everything in me. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that."
I shook my head, trying to not believe him. Trying to convince myself that he was just confused. This was not happening. I felt his breath on my cheek just before he kissed my cheek. I felt him kiss my forehead next, and suddenly the feelings I thought I'd left behind washed over me again and I was rendered helpless. By the time he made his way to my mouth again all of my emotions were at the surface again and I couldn't help it. I kissed him back.
It was the sweetest kiss I've ever felt in my life. Perhaps it was because it was the one kiss I'd always wanted and had never gotten. When he kissed me that night two years before it had been quick, rough. It had been without feeling, and it had been fleeting. This kiss was different. This kiss was full of emotion, slow and sweet. This kiss was him pouring his love into me and I felt drunk.
As if taken over by some unseen deity I felt my arms go around him, winding a hand in his hair, pulling him closer. I felt his tongue brush over mine and I shuddered. His hand was on my chest and I felt as if there was some sort of electricity going from his hand right to my heart. The kiss deepened, quickly becoming fervent and feverish. I pulled him against my body, finally giving in to all those years of yearning from afar. I felt him growl into my mouth and my entire body shuddered with pleasure.
His hand wrapped around the hair in the back of my head as he mashed my face into his. His other hand wrapped around to my back, holding me just as tightly as I held him. I could feel myself hardening, my breath hitching in my chest like hiccups. The kiss deepened further and I was out of breath, feeling as though if I never breathed again that would be just fine. The feel of his tongue on mine was pure heaven, like silk. My hand fluttered down his face, cupping his cheek, running my thumb across it. I felt myself leaning back into the couch, him positioning himself over me, us making out like two teenagers on his parents couch while they slept upstairs unaware of the soon to be X-rated movie about to take place in their basement.
Suddenly immense guilt filled me and I felt the peace that had enveloped me shatter into a million pieces like glass. I pushed against his chest and finally he released my mouth. I wasn't aware I was sobbing until he reached out and touched my cheek, wiping away the tears and hugging me to him. "Hey," he whispered. "Hey, it's alright."
"No, it's not alright," I muttered into his neck, the guilt ripping my heart in two. "I'm not fucking supposed to be doing this. I'm with Hoop now, Holden. I fucking love him."
He pulled back and looked at me, hurt. "Banky, you kissed back. Don't say you didn't want to do it. . . I know you wanted to do it. I would never force myself on you. . . "
I shook my head, pushing back from him, sighing when he wouldn't fully let me go. I reached up and wiped at my tears, as angry at myself as I'd ever been. "Fuck, Holden, I'm not saying I didn't want to do it. That's what makes it so bad." I looked at him and shook my head. "Fuck you Holden. Why? Why now? It's been 2 fucking years!"
"Fuck me?! Fuck you, Banky!" He sat back, finally letting me go. "You kissed back! You kissed back and you deepened it! You fucking wanted to!"
"I know," I moaned, burying my face in my hands, trying to will myself out of there. Trying to will myself to have been dreaming, cause at least I a dream I couldn't control what happened. "I know that."
His voice softened and I felt his hand on my back. "Banky, I'm sorry," he said. "I. . . the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."
"Fuck!" I balled my hands into fists and slammed them into my legs, more angry than I'd ever been in my life. "Fuck," I repeated, standing up.
"Banky, where are you going?"
I looked at him, all too aware that the tears were once again running down my cheeks. "I love him Holden. I have to go fix what I just did."
"But. . . " Holden sat there for a moment, collecting himself. "What about me, Banky? I. . . I just told you I loved you."
I smiled, reaching out and touching his face affectionately. "I know. And I guess what I just realized is that I'll always love you. But I can't be with you, Holden. It's too late for that. I love Hooper now, Holden. I've never been happier than I am when I'm with him." I took a deep breath. "He loves me, Holden, and it might not be in the same way as you do, but it's healthy. He accepts me, everything about me."
"I accept everything about you, Banky!" Holden yelled, standing up. "I always have, for 20 fucking years!"
I swallowed, for all the world wishing I could turn back time and that this had come before we'd spent two years apart. "It's been too long Holden. I'm happy with him. I can't throw it all away because you finally had your fucking epiphany," I said gently, smiling, trying to take the sting out of my words, knowing it wouldn't.
When he didn't say anything I turned and started walking towards the door. I made it all the way to the door without looking back. As I opened the door I looked back at him. "Goodbye Holden."
He stared at me and I wish he wasn't crying like that. I couldn't stand to leave him like that. "Did I fuck it up again? Did I ruin us again?"
I shrugged, licking my lips. "I don't know. I hope not." I smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "I'll always love you, know that. I'll never stop. I'll never be completely out of your life."
"Don't cut me out again, Banky," he said quietly, looking at me through his salty tears. "Please. I can handle not being with you if you don't completely cut me off."
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Opening them I looked at him again and tried to smile. "Give me a few days, Holden."
I started out the door but his voice stopped me again. "Good luck, Banky. I. . . I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it."
I smiled at him as the tears started again. "Thanks," I said, turning quickly and bolting down the stairs to my beat up old car.
~*~
It was 7:45 by the time I made it back to New York City, and 8 by the time I walked into our apartment. I didn't even have time to collect my thoughts because the instant I walked in the door I saw him sitting on the couch, eating Count Chockula and watching cartoons. I smiled to myself and walked over to him and kissed him on the forehead, dropping my keys on the table. He looked at me with such trust I felt like I would break right then. Instead I looked away and sat down next to him.
"Is he alright," he asked me, setting the bowl of cereal down and turning to face me.
I bit my lip, shrugging. "I hope so."
He frowned. "What do you mean, you hope so? I thought you just drove all the way the fuck down there to see him."
I nodded, still unable to look at him. "I did. He's alright."
He sat looking at me for a few moments and I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch. I felt him shift and heard the television click off. "Tell me," he said simply, and I knew he knew.
I felt a tear work past my closed lids and squeezed them tighter for a moment before opening my eyes and facing him. "He kissed me." He looked at me for a moment, his face emotionless. Unable to stand it I opened my arms and stared at him. "Please say something."
He blinked, still looking at me. "Did you kiss him back?"
I sighed heavily, closing my eyes. "Yes," I said, opening my eyes again, wanting to read his expression.
His face hardened slightly and when I reached my hand out for his he yanked his hand away. "And you wanted to."
"I got caught up in the moment," I blurted out. Looking at him I could tell he didn't buy it and I felt all the weight of the world crash down on me, making my entire body sag. "Yes, I wanted to."
He pinched his eyebrows together and the look of utter betrayal on his face broke my heart. "How could you, Banky? I gave you a way out a fucking year ago, how could you let me believe you loved me?"
I rolled my eyes back, my world coming apart at the seams and me with no thread to sew it back together. "I do love you, Hoop," I said quietly, knowing how pathetic and insincere that must have sounded.
He laughed a hollow laugh and shook his head. "So what are you doing here? Should the happy couple be celebrating their coming together?"
I shook my head. "Hooper, I love you. . . "
"But not like you love him," he said, standing up, taking whatever wind I had left in me with him. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I could just watch him looking at me with hurt, anger, and maybe even a little pity. "You never let him go did you? God, I'm such a fucking idiot."
"No, you're not," I said, leaning forward and taking his hand in mine, bringing it up to my cheek. "I did let him go. . . I have let him go. . ."
"You kissed him, Banky!"
"But I came back to you!" I stood, having found some sort of fight within myself. I wasn't going to let this man walk out of my life, not like this. "I came back to you."
"How generous of you," he said coldly, yanking his hand out of my grasp. "To deprive yourself of the love of your life for my sake. Really, it just, it touches me." He reached out and tapped my cheek, smiling at me bitterly. "Don't do me any favors, Banky."
He began to walk away from and in a last ditch effort I fell to my knees, pleading with him. "Hooper, please! I stopped! I stopped cause I love you! I'm happy with you! You've made my life worth living again! You saved me! I fucking love you, please don't shut me out! I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry," I said, cutting myself off with a sob.
I don't know how long I kneeled there after he continued to our bedroom, assumingly to pack. I got up and walked into the kitchen, my heart in my throat. Holden was wrong, he hadn't fucked anything up: I had. I'd fucked everything up, from when I left right up until now. Hell, before even that. My whole life maybe. I'd fucked myself 10 ways from Sunday and there wasn't shit I could do about it.
I grabbed beer out of the fridge and sank into the table. Staring at the beer the label swam before my eyes and I didn't have the energy to open it. Covering my face with my hands I tried to cry as quietly as I could, but I know they weren't as quiet as I would have liked them to be. I wished my tears were blood and I could bleed out, just fucking bleed out and die right there. Just die right there at the table with the beer in my hands like the pathetic man I'd become. The pathetic man I'd always been.
I don't know how long he'd been in the kitchen watching me. I only became aware of him when I heard the chair next to me scrape on the floor and opened my eyes to watch him sit down in front of me. He held out his hand and my hand dropped into his and I don't know how but it almost made the pain worse. He was sitting there looking at me with his infinite peace and ultimate fucking patience. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve him.
"How long did it take you to drive there," he asked softly.
I sniffed, using my free hand to wipe at the tears, not wanting to cry any more in front of him. I had to make it easier on him to leave me. "2 and a half hours."
He nodded, biting his lip. "And to drive back?"
I scrunched my eyebrows together. Why was he asking this? "A little less. . . I got stuck in the Lincoln tunnel on the way over there. 2 hours and 15 minutes maybe?"
He nodded, and I could see him thinking. "So you were only there for maybe an hour."
I nodded. "Yeah."
~What are you doing, Hooper? What are you thinking? Don't torture yourself like this. Don't think about it. Just leave. Just leave me. I don't deserve your understanding.~
He nodded, finally putting whatever was on his mind to rest. He looked at me and I was surprised to see him almost smiling. "It didn't last very long, did it?"
I frowned, shaking my head. "No. We. . . we talked for awhile. . . before."
He nodded, fiddling with my hand, playing with it almost. He ran his fingers down my palm, thinking. "He told you he loved you."
I closed my eyes, shaking my head again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night. "Hooper don't do this to yourself, just go. . . "
"Honey, are you kicking me out? Cause I seem to remember paying for half of this bitch. I'm on the lease too, ya know."
My eyes flicked open, staring at him. Had that been flippancy in his voice? Had that been playfulness? "I just. . . I don't want you to torture yourself by thinking about. . ."
"Did he kiss you, or did you kiss him?"
I sighed, hanging my head. "I told you, Hoop."
"Tell me again," he said calmly.
I looked at him, confused by his calmness. Was this how he dealt with things of this magnitude? What I had done was inexcusable, but here he was, being his infinitely understanding self. "He kissed me. . . but I kissed him back."
He nodded, and wrapped his hand around mine, smiling. "But you pulled away."
I nodded, staring at him in bewilderment. He couldn't possibly be smiling at me. "Y. . . yes, I pulled away."
"Why? Why did you pull away?"
"Because I love you," I said, spreading my hands wide. "Because I'm happy with you, because I didn't want to. . . I didn't want to lose you."
"Okay," he said, nodding and reaching out to wipe away a tear still on my face.
I frowned. "Okay?"
"Okay," he said again, leaning forward and kissing me softly.
I watched with dazed eyes as he sat back down, smiling at me. "But, I kissed him back Hooper. He kissed me first, but I kissed him back." I couldn't understand how he could accept this. "I'm as much to blame for this as him."
He laughed slightly, nodding. "I'm aware."
I shook my head. Surely I was loosing my mind. He must have already walked out the door and I was hallucinating this. Maybe my tears were blood and I had bled out and these were my dying dreams. "Hooper. . ."
He rose his eyebrows at me. "Are you telling me you didn't mean it that you loved me? That you didn't' mean it when you said you pulled back cause you loved me? Because you didn't want to lose me?"
"No, of course I meant it." I stared at him, still trying to figure out just what the fuck was going on. "But. . . you believe me?"
He laughed then, and this time it was a full on laugh. "Banky, you're many things, but a liar you're not."
I shrugged, smiling slightly. "I just, I know I wouldn't believe me."
He nodded, squeezing my hand. "Well, that's the difference between you and me Banky. You never had enough faith, least of all in yourself."
I finally allowed myself to believe this was an actuality. It wasn't as if this wasn't like Hooper. I'd fucked up before, never with another man, but with my temper of course we'd fought. He'd always understood me though, accepted me faults and all. I just couldn't comprehend how he could accept something like this. "Hooper, you have to believe me, I'm so sorry."
"I believe you."
"I'm sorry," I said again, squeezing his hand and leaning forward urgently. I had to let him know how sorry I was. "I fucked up, and I'm sorry, and it will never happen again. I love you so much."
"I know," he said softly, smiling and running his hand through my hair like he always did when I was upset, ruffling it up a bit. "And you sure as fuck better not, cause your ass is mind, Banky Edwards."
"In so many ways," I said playfully, laughing, overjoyed when he laughed as well. "You really understand? You're really okay with this?"
He shook his head from side to side, looking at me incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Of course I'm not okay with this." I must have looked frightened cause he smiled softly and cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "But I forgive you."
He leaned forward and I realized something. I was wrong earlier, Holden's kiss wasn't the sweetest kiss I'd ever felt in my life. This was. This was the sweetest, most amazing kiss I'd ever had in my life. Cause it came from love. It came from true, mutual, shameless, complete love. After all, *true love cannot be found where it does not truly exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does.* I read that in a book somewhere, by some author whose name I could never pronounce. Fitting though, isn't it?
* Quote from un-pronouncable author La Rouchefecou (Or something that's spelled correctly. What do you want, they said it, not spelled it!). . . stolen quite happily from Jason Lee's movie Kissing a Fool.
Note: This is the fourth installment. . . the prequels to this are as follows: #1 Sound of Silence Screaming in my Ear (second one I wrote)
#2 Out of the Frying Pan (the first one I wrote)
#3 Waiting for the Other Shoe (third installment, third I wrote)
Epiphany
I raised my hand to knock on the door but hesitated. He'd sounded so odd on the phone, so unlike himself. He'd spoken in a rushed hush, rambling a bit at times. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my key chain. I frowned slightly at the fact that I still had the key, but shook my head and put it into the hole, turning and opening the door.
*I need to see you Banky. It's important. I can't go on like this, I just can't. I have to see you. Please Bank, please. Please see me.*
~Fuck, Holden, it's 2 o'clock in the morning~
*I have to see you, Bank. I can't take it.*
~Holden? Are you okay man? Are you crying?~
*I don't even know. . . I'm either laughing or crying, I don't even know anymore. Please.*
~Alright, Holden. . . I'll be there. It'll take me like 2 hours to get there, but I'll be there.~
*Thank you*
~Holden?~
*Yeah?*
~You're not going to do anything stupid before I get there, are you?~
I felt a shudder wrack through my body as I stepped through the door into the room I hadn't been in for two years. Shutting the door quietly behind me I looked around, trying to calm my stomach down. My eyes rested on the couch and I caught the top of his head. He didn't turn at the sound of the door, he didn't move an inch.
~Please don't let me find him dead, God. Please don't do that to me, I couldn't take that.~
Slowly, in a trance, I walked over to the couch, hesitating before I rounded the corner. He still hasn't moved. Finally I close my eyes and walk around in front of him, turning and facing him, steeling myself. Opening my eyes I almost fall down out of relief when I meet his eyes. I allow myself to laugh, praying it won't turn maniacal. "What the fuck, Holden," I said, sliding my keys in my pocket and sitting beside him. "You just let people come into your apartment and you don't even turn to see who it is?"
He smiled slightly and I sobered slightly, realizing maybe the hardest part wasn't over. "I knew it was you," he said quietly.
"Well, aren't you the fucking prophet," I said, smiling and putting my hand on his shoulder. When his eyes slid off of mine and began to stare at the void before his face I could literally feel the pain in him. I stood up, clearing my throat. "How about some coffee? I just drove two hours. . . "
"Two and a half."
I smile, relieved to see that he was still somewhat grounded in reality. "I just drove two and a half hours, then, and my fucking eyes are about to be glued shut."
"You know where it is," Holden said quietly, still not looking at me. "You know where everything is."
~Christ, what is this? Why is he all of a sudden speaking as if he's in post-traumatic stress syndrome?~
I nod, striding over to the kitchen, aware I was intentionally delaying what was to be the inevitable. I needed a moment to collect myself, shake the cobwebs off of my brain. I'd never been more scared in my life than I had been in that car ride over here. Convinced I'd find him beaten, broken, bruised, or dead. He'd never sounded like that before. In the tenure of our friendship he'd never uttered the word please, unless of course it was to be facetious. He'd never had to say please. He'd always known I was there. Surely he had to know that even after the year we didn't speak I'd still do anything for him.
The coffee was of course still in the same place as it always was. The coffee cups were in the same place as well. I laughed a little to myself, always having been amused by Holden's anal retentiveness and resistance to any form of change. As I waited for the coffee to brew I dug through the fridge, pulling out some cold cuts and the mayonnaise, making us two turkey sandwiches. Mine with mayonnaise, his with mayonnaise and mustard.
When it was done I piled the two sandwiches in my left hand, finagling the coffees in my right so I could carry it all in one trip. As I rounded the couch I was once again assaulted by the wave of sadness radiating off of him but grinned through it and sat down beside him. He'd tell me when he was ready.
He smiled and took the sandwich and coffee from me, setting the coffee on the table and peeking inside the sandwich. His smile widened and he looked at me. "You remembered the mustard."
I laughed, nodding my head. "Well, twenty years of fixing you sandwiches and you start to remember things, motherfucker."
"You always remember," Holden said quietly, setting the sandwich, untouched, on the table beside the coffee. I watched him and took a bite of the sandwich, not really hungry. "You've always been like that. Always remembering everything, never letting me down. Always there for me. . . "
When I see the tear fall I don't know why I was surprised or why it hit me like a ton of bricks. I should have been expecting it, what with the way he was acting and all. "Hey," I said, resting my right hand on his shoulder and leaning over to deposit the half-eaten sandwich on the table. "Hey, what's going on, Holden?"
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I fucked it all up, didn't I? I ruined it."
I swallowed the remains of the bite I had in my mouth, watching him, afraid to look away. "What did you fuck up, Holden? What did you ruin," I asked, speaking softly. Suddenly I realized I sounded like Sister Mary from school. Always so serene, always understanding, but always asking questions, always gathering the information. Taking it whether you wanted to give it to her or not, you never realizing it. I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Holden. . . "
"Us, Bank. Us, I ruined us."
For a moment my mouth wouldn't form words and all I could do is sit there and dumbly shake my head. "I'm here now, Holden. You didn't ruin us." I smiled at him, wishing he'd just fucking look at me. Sighing I continued. "You just put us on different paths. Derailed me for a little while. But I'm back on the track now."
"But that's just it," he said, his voice rising slightly and finally flicking his eyes to mine. Suddenly I wished he hadn't, the pain in those eyes was almost too much for me to take. "I derailed you. I hurt you. I fucked up. You, who was always there, always remembered the mustard, always the one reminding me to wipe my ass."
I laughed. "I don't remember ever having to remind you to do that. . . "
"It's a metaphor, Bank," he said quietly, shutting his eyes and shaking his head, rubbing furiously at his face. "You always caught my mistakes, didn't let me go out there into the real world and make an ass of myself."
"Well, if I remember correctly," Banky said, laughing, hoping to God I was reacting the right way. "Sometimes you did anyway."
"And me," Holden continued, as if I'd never said anything. "Never fucking learning!" He opened his eyes and the tears began to flow down his face. "Never fucking seeing." He laid his head back and let out a strangled sob, my heart clenching painfully. "I wasted so much time. Fuck, I lost you, Banky. I fucking lost you."
"Holden, I'm right fucking here," I said strongly, tightening my grip on his shoulder.
He shook his head, still not looking at me. "It's not the same, Banky. It'll never be the same. I fucked it all up. You moved out. You moved away. You walked out of my life and it's all my fault. I ruined us. It's all my fault."
I felt a lump form in my throat but shook my head, forcing my voice past it. "It's not all your fault, Holden. I had a part in it too."
"It's all my fault," he whispered. I don't think I've heard more pain encompassed by one person ever in my life.
"No, Holden. It's not all your fault. It's mine just as much."
"I did it all wrong, Bank," he said, finally looking at me. "I should have come to you. I threw 20 years down the fucking drain by not."
I shook my head, running my hand down his arm, trying to ease his pain, cursing myself for not knowing how. "But I should have too. I could have just told you. I. . . I didn't realize it at the time, but. . . I shoulda talked to you." I paused, taking a deep breath, admitting something I'd never admitted before. "I shouldn't have run away like I did. Like a fucking coward."
He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands, crying in earnest. "But ultimately, in the end, it wasn't what you did that ruined it," he said quietly. "It was me."
I ran my hand over his back, feeling my eyes fill with tears. "Don't do this to yourself, Holden. It's over and I'm still here. I'm sorry." He quieted slightly as I continued to rub his back, taking deep breaths. I felt a tear run down my face and reached up quickly to wipe it away. He was already in enough pain, he didn't need to see me crying. "I'm sorry I ran, Holden. I shouldn't have. I should have tried to understand."
He laughed slightly, shaking his head. "I don't think a better man than you exists, Banky." He took a deep breath and rubbed at his face again. "You have nothing to apologize for."
For a few minutes we sat in silence, him breathing deeply, trying to regain control, me continuously rubbing circles in his back, thinking. Finally I felt him rise up. He looked at me slightly, and I saw the old Holden in there, sheepishly apologizing for losing it like he had. I smiled at him. "What happened, Holden?"
Holden sighed, reaching up half-heartedly and making a cursory swipe at his tears. "I saw Alyssa at the premier of Bluntman and Chronic last week."
~Aha. So that's what this is.~
"Did you talk to her?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "Yeah. . . no. Not really. We said hey. Asked how we were doing. Hugged. Kissed her on her cheek." He laughed slightly. "Didn't bother me. I was fine with seeing her. It was. . . it was good to see her."
I looked at him peculiarly for a moment, confused by his reaction. He sounded sincere. He said that without equivocation, without looking away from me. "So. . . so then what's. . . "
"Cause it finally dawned on me, Bank," Holden said, sitting up straighter and taking my hand in his. I watched him take my hand, uncertain where this was going but getting a bad feeling in my gut. "Suddenly it was so clear. . . it was like an epiphany."
I laughed nervously. "I don't like it when you have epiphanies, Holden."
He shook his head. "But this time I'm gonna do it right. This time I'm talking to you."
"Holden. . . "
"Shh," he said quietly, smiling and putting a finger over my mouth. "Let me get it out." Letting his finger drop from my mouth he cupped my cheek and, God help me, I think I leaned into it. "I finally saw what I should have realized a long time ago."
I shook my head and his hand dropped from my cheek. "Holden. . . "
"Bank," he said, and there he was. There was the Holden I'd known for all these years, looking at me as he always had when he was trying to say something and I kept interrupting. "Shut up."
I laughed, looking down at where he held my hand. "Sorry."
He took a deep breath and I looked back up at him, simultaneously dreading and anxiously waiting for him to continue. "I saw what had been in front of my eyes my whole life but I'd been unwilling to admit to myself." I saw him hesitate and almost interrupted again but he gave me that look again and I smiled and shut my mouth for good. "I love you, Banky," he said quietly, his hand back on my cheek. "I always have. You know that."
I nodded. "I know," I said quietly.
"But I never realized how, Banky," he continued, and suddenly I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to shut up, and take it back. I didn't want to hear anything else he had to say. "I never realized I was in love with you."
I shook my head, pulling back. "Holden, don't."
"Banky. . . "
"No," I said forcefully, untangling my hand from his. "Holden, you're upset, and your fucked up right now. Your mixing your feelings. Whatever you're feeling, it's not what you're saying. You're confused and. . . "
He shook his head and smiled at me. "Bank. . . "
I shook my head again, feeling my pulse quicken tenfold. "You're mixing your feelings for Alyssa into me, you're not thinking clearly. . . "
"I've never been more clear in my life," he said, locking eyes with me.
"No," I said, and damn it if a tear didn't fall then. "Holden, you can't mean this, you're not in your right mind. . . "
He reached out again and placed his finger over my mouth again and I shut my mouth. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. I'm stone- cold sober and clear as a bell."
I felt another tear fall out of my eye and I cursed myself for being so fucking weak. "Holden," I choked out, hating that I sounded as weak as I felt. "Don't do this to me. . . "
Before I could even comprehend what he was doing he leaned forward and kissed me, and God help me. God help me, I wanted him. I wanted him and I still loved him. I felt a sob escape through my chest and I pushed him away. "Don't do this, Holden."
He grabbed both of my hands and positioned himself closer to me. He smiled at me and I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. "I love you," he whispered, his face inches from mine. I closed my eyes and yet the tears still managed to fall. "I love you with everything in me. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that."
I shook my head, trying to not believe him. Trying to convince myself that he was just confused. This was not happening. I felt his breath on my cheek just before he kissed my cheek. I felt him kiss my forehead next, and suddenly the feelings I thought I'd left behind washed over me again and I was rendered helpless. By the time he made his way to my mouth again all of my emotions were at the surface again and I couldn't help it. I kissed him back.
It was the sweetest kiss I've ever felt in my life. Perhaps it was because it was the one kiss I'd always wanted and had never gotten. When he kissed me that night two years before it had been quick, rough. It had been without feeling, and it had been fleeting. This kiss was different. This kiss was full of emotion, slow and sweet. This kiss was him pouring his love into me and I felt drunk.
As if taken over by some unseen deity I felt my arms go around him, winding a hand in his hair, pulling him closer. I felt his tongue brush over mine and I shuddered. His hand was on my chest and I felt as if there was some sort of electricity going from his hand right to my heart. The kiss deepened, quickly becoming fervent and feverish. I pulled him against my body, finally giving in to all those years of yearning from afar. I felt him growl into my mouth and my entire body shuddered with pleasure.
His hand wrapped around the hair in the back of my head as he mashed my face into his. His other hand wrapped around to my back, holding me just as tightly as I held him. I could feel myself hardening, my breath hitching in my chest like hiccups. The kiss deepened further and I was out of breath, feeling as though if I never breathed again that would be just fine. The feel of his tongue on mine was pure heaven, like silk. My hand fluttered down his face, cupping his cheek, running my thumb across it. I felt myself leaning back into the couch, him positioning himself over me, us making out like two teenagers on his parents couch while they slept upstairs unaware of the soon to be X-rated movie about to take place in their basement.
Suddenly immense guilt filled me and I felt the peace that had enveloped me shatter into a million pieces like glass. I pushed against his chest and finally he released my mouth. I wasn't aware I was sobbing until he reached out and touched my cheek, wiping away the tears and hugging me to him. "Hey," he whispered. "Hey, it's alright."
"No, it's not alright," I muttered into his neck, the guilt ripping my heart in two. "I'm not fucking supposed to be doing this. I'm with Hoop now, Holden. I fucking love him."
He pulled back and looked at me, hurt. "Banky, you kissed back. Don't say you didn't want to do it. . . I know you wanted to do it. I would never force myself on you. . . "
I shook my head, pushing back from him, sighing when he wouldn't fully let me go. I reached up and wiped at my tears, as angry at myself as I'd ever been. "Fuck, Holden, I'm not saying I didn't want to do it. That's what makes it so bad." I looked at him and shook my head. "Fuck you Holden. Why? Why now? It's been 2 fucking years!"
"Fuck me?! Fuck you, Banky!" He sat back, finally letting me go. "You kissed back! You kissed back and you deepened it! You fucking wanted to!"
"I know," I moaned, burying my face in my hands, trying to will myself out of there. Trying to will myself to have been dreaming, cause at least I a dream I couldn't control what happened. "I know that."
His voice softened and I felt his hand on my back. "Banky, I'm sorry," he said. "I. . . the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."
"Fuck!" I balled my hands into fists and slammed them into my legs, more angry than I'd ever been in my life. "Fuck," I repeated, standing up.
"Banky, where are you going?"
I looked at him, all too aware that the tears were once again running down my cheeks. "I love him Holden. I have to go fix what I just did."
"But. . . " Holden sat there for a moment, collecting himself. "What about me, Banky? I. . . I just told you I loved you."
I smiled, reaching out and touching his face affectionately. "I know. And I guess what I just realized is that I'll always love you. But I can't be with you, Holden. It's too late for that. I love Hooper now, Holden. I've never been happier than I am when I'm with him." I took a deep breath. "He loves me, Holden, and it might not be in the same way as you do, but it's healthy. He accepts me, everything about me."
"I accept everything about you, Banky!" Holden yelled, standing up. "I always have, for 20 fucking years!"
I swallowed, for all the world wishing I could turn back time and that this had come before we'd spent two years apart. "It's been too long Holden. I'm happy with him. I can't throw it all away because you finally had your fucking epiphany," I said gently, smiling, trying to take the sting out of my words, knowing it wouldn't.
When he didn't say anything I turned and started walking towards the door. I made it all the way to the door without looking back. As I opened the door I looked back at him. "Goodbye Holden."
He stared at me and I wish he wasn't crying like that. I couldn't stand to leave him like that. "Did I fuck it up again? Did I ruin us again?"
I shrugged, licking my lips. "I don't know. I hope not." I smiled at him, trying to reassure him. "I'll always love you, know that. I'll never stop. I'll never be completely out of your life."
"Don't cut me out again, Banky," he said quietly, looking at me through his salty tears. "Please. I can handle not being with you if you don't completely cut me off."
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Opening them I looked at him again and tried to smile. "Give me a few days, Holden."
I started out the door but his voice stopped me again. "Good luck, Banky. I. . . I wish you all the happiness in the world. You deserve it."
I smiled at him as the tears started again. "Thanks," I said, turning quickly and bolting down the stairs to my beat up old car.
~*~
It was 7:45 by the time I made it back to New York City, and 8 by the time I walked into our apartment. I didn't even have time to collect my thoughts because the instant I walked in the door I saw him sitting on the couch, eating Count Chockula and watching cartoons. I smiled to myself and walked over to him and kissed him on the forehead, dropping my keys on the table. He looked at me with such trust I felt like I would break right then. Instead I looked away and sat down next to him.
"Is he alright," he asked me, setting the bowl of cereal down and turning to face me.
I bit my lip, shrugging. "I hope so."
He frowned. "What do you mean, you hope so? I thought you just drove all the way the fuck down there to see him."
I nodded, still unable to look at him. "I did. He's alright."
He sat looking at me for a few moments and I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch. I felt him shift and heard the television click off. "Tell me," he said simply, and I knew he knew.
I felt a tear work past my closed lids and squeezed them tighter for a moment before opening my eyes and facing him. "He kissed me." He looked at me for a moment, his face emotionless. Unable to stand it I opened my arms and stared at him. "Please say something."
He blinked, still looking at me. "Did you kiss him back?"
I sighed heavily, closing my eyes. "Yes," I said, opening my eyes again, wanting to read his expression.
His face hardened slightly and when I reached my hand out for his he yanked his hand away. "And you wanted to."
"I got caught up in the moment," I blurted out. Looking at him I could tell he didn't buy it and I felt all the weight of the world crash down on me, making my entire body sag. "Yes, I wanted to."
He pinched his eyebrows together and the look of utter betrayal on his face broke my heart. "How could you, Banky? I gave you a way out a fucking year ago, how could you let me believe you loved me?"
I rolled my eyes back, my world coming apart at the seams and me with no thread to sew it back together. "I do love you, Hoop," I said quietly, knowing how pathetic and insincere that must have sounded.
He laughed a hollow laugh and shook his head. "So what are you doing here? Should the happy couple be celebrating their coming together?"
I shook my head. "Hooper, I love you. . . "
"But not like you love him," he said, standing up, taking whatever wind I had left in me with him. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I could just watch him looking at me with hurt, anger, and maybe even a little pity. "You never let him go did you? God, I'm such a fucking idiot."
"No, you're not," I said, leaning forward and taking his hand in mine, bringing it up to my cheek. "I did let him go. . . I have let him go. . ."
"You kissed him, Banky!"
"But I came back to you!" I stood, having found some sort of fight within myself. I wasn't going to let this man walk out of my life, not like this. "I came back to you."
"How generous of you," he said coldly, yanking his hand out of my grasp. "To deprive yourself of the love of your life for my sake. Really, it just, it touches me." He reached out and tapped my cheek, smiling at me bitterly. "Don't do me any favors, Banky."
He began to walk away from and in a last ditch effort I fell to my knees, pleading with him. "Hooper, please! I stopped! I stopped cause I love you! I'm happy with you! You've made my life worth living again! You saved me! I fucking love you, please don't shut me out! I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry," I said, cutting myself off with a sob.
I don't know how long I kneeled there after he continued to our bedroom, assumingly to pack. I got up and walked into the kitchen, my heart in my throat. Holden was wrong, he hadn't fucked anything up: I had. I'd fucked everything up, from when I left right up until now. Hell, before even that. My whole life maybe. I'd fucked myself 10 ways from Sunday and there wasn't shit I could do about it.
I grabbed beer out of the fridge and sank into the table. Staring at the beer the label swam before my eyes and I didn't have the energy to open it. Covering my face with my hands I tried to cry as quietly as I could, but I know they weren't as quiet as I would have liked them to be. I wished my tears were blood and I could bleed out, just fucking bleed out and die right there. Just die right there at the table with the beer in my hands like the pathetic man I'd become. The pathetic man I'd always been.
I don't know how long he'd been in the kitchen watching me. I only became aware of him when I heard the chair next to me scrape on the floor and opened my eyes to watch him sit down in front of me. He held out his hand and my hand dropped into his and I don't know how but it almost made the pain worse. He was sitting there looking at me with his infinite peace and ultimate fucking patience. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve him.
"How long did it take you to drive there," he asked softly.
I sniffed, using my free hand to wipe at the tears, not wanting to cry any more in front of him. I had to make it easier on him to leave me. "2 and a half hours."
He nodded, biting his lip. "And to drive back?"
I scrunched my eyebrows together. Why was he asking this? "A little less. . . I got stuck in the Lincoln tunnel on the way over there. 2 hours and 15 minutes maybe?"
He nodded, and I could see him thinking. "So you were only there for maybe an hour."
I nodded. "Yeah."
~What are you doing, Hooper? What are you thinking? Don't torture yourself like this. Don't think about it. Just leave. Just leave me. I don't deserve your understanding.~
He nodded, finally putting whatever was on his mind to rest. He looked at me and I was surprised to see him almost smiling. "It didn't last very long, did it?"
I frowned, shaking my head. "No. We. . . we talked for awhile. . . before."
He nodded, fiddling with my hand, playing with it almost. He ran his fingers down my palm, thinking. "He told you he loved you."
I closed my eyes, shaking my head again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night. "Hooper don't do this to yourself, just go. . . "
"Honey, are you kicking me out? Cause I seem to remember paying for half of this bitch. I'm on the lease too, ya know."
My eyes flicked open, staring at him. Had that been flippancy in his voice? Had that been playfulness? "I just. . . I don't want you to torture yourself by thinking about. . ."
"Did he kiss you, or did you kiss him?"
I sighed, hanging my head. "I told you, Hoop."
"Tell me again," he said calmly.
I looked at him, confused by his calmness. Was this how he dealt with things of this magnitude? What I had done was inexcusable, but here he was, being his infinitely understanding self. "He kissed me. . . but I kissed him back."
He nodded, and wrapped his hand around mine, smiling. "But you pulled away."
I nodded, staring at him in bewilderment. He couldn't possibly be smiling at me. "Y. . . yes, I pulled away."
"Why? Why did you pull away?"
"Because I love you," I said, spreading my hands wide. "Because I'm happy with you, because I didn't want to. . . I didn't want to lose you."
"Okay," he said, nodding and reaching out to wipe away a tear still on my face.
I frowned. "Okay?"
"Okay," he said again, leaning forward and kissing me softly.
I watched with dazed eyes as he sat back down, smiling at me. "But, I kissed him back Hooper. He kissed me first, but I kissed him back." I couldn't understand how he could accept this. "I'm as much to blame for this as him."
He laughed slightly, nodding. "I'm aware."
I shook my head. Surely I was loosing my mind. He must have already walked out the door and I was hallucinating this. Maybe my tears were blood and I had bled out and these were my dying dreams. "Hooper. . ."
He rose his eyebrows at me. "Are you telling me you didn't mean it that you loved me? That you didn't' mean it when you said you pulled back cause you loved me? Because you didn't want to lose me?"
"No, of course I meant it." I stared at him, still trying to figure out just what the fuck was going on. "But. . . you believe me?"
He laughed then, and this time it was a full on laugh. "Banky, you're many things, but a liar you're not."
I shrugged, smiling slightly. "I just, I know I wouldn't believe me."
He nodded, squeezing my hand. "Well, that's the difference between you and me Banky. You never had enough faith, least of all in yourself."
I finally allowed myself to believe this was an actuality. It wasn't as if this wasn't like Hooper. I'd fucked up before, never with another man, but with my temper of course we'd fought. He'd always understood me though, accepted me faults and all. I just couldn't comprehend how he could accept something like this. "Hooper, you have to believe me, I'm so sorry."
"I believe you."
"I'm sorry," I said again, squeezing his hand and leaning forward urgently. I had to let him know how sorry I was. "I fucked up, and I'm sorry, and it will never happen again. I love you so much."
"I know," he said softly, smiling and running his hand through my hair like he always did when I was upset, ruffling it up a bit. "And you sure as fuck better not, cause your ass is mind, Banky Edwards."
"In so many ways," I said playfully, laughing, overjoyed when he laughed as well. "You really understand? You're really okay with this?"
He shook his head from side to side, looking at me incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Of course I'm not okay with this." I must have looked frightened cause he smiled softly and cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "But I forgive you."
He leaned forward and I realized something. I was wrong earlier, Holden's kiss wasn't the sweetest kiss I'd ever felt in my life. This was. This was the sweetest, most amazing kiss I'd ever had in my life. Cause it came from love. It came from true, mutual, shameless, complete love. After all, *true love cannot be found where it does not truly exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does.* I read that in a book somewhere, by some author whose name I could never pronounce. Fitting though, isn't it?
* Quote from un-pronouncable author La Rouchefecou (Or something that's spelled correctly. What do you want, they said it, not spelled it!). . . stolen quite happily from Jason Lee's movie Kissing a Fool.