I know the last few chapters have been HEAVY. It's time to switch things up a bit; we're going to check in with Mike now, going back to Memorial Day weekend and that boy he met on the street in Austin.
-o-
Mike
When I meet up with Jack and Jacey on the sidewalk in front of Charlie's, I can tell immediately something's bothering Jack. His usual confidence is nowhere to be seen. Somehow he seems even physically smaller than he usually does. When he immediately steps into my arms for a hug – something we really don't do often – it confirms my suspicions. Maybe things aren't going as well here as they seem. I ask him quietly if he's okay; but he puts me off. I figure he'll tell me later if there's something he wants to talk about.
Inside, we stand at a table with our drinks; eventually my concerns are alleviated somewhat. I chat with Jacey, but keep an eye on Jack. He barely says a word, sipping his drink and listening to our conversation; gradually he emerges from his funk, and when I return to them after getting another round of drinks, he and Jacey are practically crawling down each other's throats. Whatever was bothering him, either it had nothing to do with Jacey, or else it has passed now.
We have a lot of fun out on the dance floor. I don't mind the country music songs, and Jacey seems so used to them that he doesn't even comment; but it's obvious to me that Jack hates them. I can't help thinking to myself that if Jack and Jacey are serious, and if they end up living together here in Austin, Jack's going to have to learn to at least tolerate country music, in self-defense. The thought of him living here, maybe even developing a mild Texas accent as a result, makes me chuckle a little.
I notice a few guys at the club eyeing me, but none of them approach – which is fine with me because they all look like bottoms. When Jacey's friend suggests we go to another bar, one closer to my hotel, I'm all for it. I've been sort of hoping that I might hook up while I'm here, but it's not like I've really put myself out there till now. Maybe this other club will have some more aggressive tops.
Oilcan's may very well have guys who'd suit me better – I don't get the chance to find out. Standing on the sidewalk outside, my eyes alight on a familiar figure, one I've looked for so many times over the last five or six months in Chicago. I'm in mid-sentence, and immediately every thought in my head is replaced by a single question. Is that him?
He's standing in a group, as I am, talking and laughing with his friends. He's even more beautiful than my memory captured. His hair is glossy, reflecting the colorful lights that line this busy street. Even from twenty feet away his delicate features are stunning. He's wearing a tight t-shirt and his body is lean and lithe. It has to be him.
Jack's voice sharply saying my name startles me from my reverie. "Sorry," I tell him, realizing he must have spoken several times. "I thought..." I look back at the group and shake my head. "Hang on," I tell them. "Just...wait here, I'll be back." I step away, leaving Jack and Jacey waiting on the sidewalk as I approach the group slowly.
The instant his eyes meet mine, it's obvious he recognizes me. His eyes widen and his jaw drops. The rest of the group turn toward me, and a very quick glance tells me they're curious. It's not up to me to answer their questions – I only care about him.
He steps toward me, and god, his face is just gorgeous. His dark eyes are ringed with a fringe of black eyelashes...I'd begun to think I wouldn't see them again. He takes my arm and we step several feet away from his friends. "Hi," he breathes in wonder. "It's you."
I grin. "I was just thinking the same thing," I reply slowly. "Nicolas."
"Michael," he returns, a tiny smile on his lips. "You're here, in Austin."
"I'm visiting." I'm so stunned I barely know what I'm saying. "I've...I was hoping I'd run into you again sometime, but I guess I was looking in the wrong city."
His eyes light up. "Where are you staying?" he asks suddenly, stepping forward to take my hand.
The attraction between us crackles as strongly as it did that night in Chicago. "Just down the street, actually. The Hilton. Are you...would you like to...that is, if you're free..." I stumble over the words until I decide I don't care how I sound – I've been hoping for this for too long, to just let it go now. "Come to my hotel with me," I tell him earnestly.
His eyes flicker to my lips before he breathes in sharply. "Let me say goodbye to my friends," he murmurs.
I nod. "I have to do the same thing." I gesture to where Jack and Jacey stand on the sidewalk, slowly kissing.
Their reaction is one of surprise and some amusement. Jack teases me about working quickly; he has no idea I've been waiting for this for six months. I give them a quick hug and kiss goodbye, and then rejoin Nicolas.
As we walk east toward the hotel, I can't help asking him how he came to be here this weekend.
"My parents moved here a few years ago," he replies. "I stayed in Chicago with my brother, to finish my undergrad and do my master's degree. When you and I were...uh, together..." I smile a little to myself as he stumbles over the words. "...I was actually just about ready to move here."
"You said the house was yours," I press.
"It is; or rather, it was," he replies. "My brother and I owned it together. He bought me out when he got married last fall. I stayed in it while he and his wife went overseas for the first term – she was doing her masters in architecture and they lived in Europe for the term – and when they came back, I came here to work."
"I've been looking for you..." I murmur. "I know that probably sounds weird...but I have. I kept hoping I'd run into you at one of the clubs."
"If you're weird, I am too," he replies. "I've got a trip coming up to Chicago in two weeks. I was hoping I'd find you in the clubs, too. I've wished I knew your last name...I'd have called you."
We're quiet as we walk through the hotel's lobby and ride up the elevator. In my room, I admit something further.
"I drove past your house once, a few months ago," I tell him. "I saw a woman gardening out front. I figured you'd moved. I thought that was it; I thought I wouldn't see you again unless I happened to run into you somewhere."
"And here we are," he says softly. "A thousand miles away, and we ran into each other on 4th Street. What an amazing coincidence." He gently presses me against the wall, his hand stroking my short blonde hair as his nearly-black eyes smolder.
"I don't believe in coincidence," I whisper, sliding my hands down his back to tentatively cup his ass. His eyes flutter closed and he hums, barely audible. I lean in to press my lips gently to his beautiful mouth. He immediately responds, meeting my chaste kisses until bringing his tongue out to trace my lips. I open to him and groan as his tongue finds its way inside.
Eventually he draws me away from the wall. We kick off our shoes and climb onto the bed, where we continue to make out. After a while...minutes? Hours?...he breaks our kiss abruptly, pulling back a few inches to look into my eyes.
"Kouris," he whispers breathlessly, with a hint of Greek inflection as he says the name. "My name is Nicolas Kouris."
My heart blooms in my chest, feeling like it might climb its way out through my throat. "Mike Newton," I manage to reply.
"Newton," he repeats, his eyes half-closed with a look of relief – like he's finally found the answer he's searched forever for. "It's nice to finally meet you, Michael Newton." His lips find mine again, and I swear I could fly when he kisses me.
Nothing about this night is hurried, despite how much we've been hoping to find each other again. We shed our clothes gradually, one item after another hitting the floor until we're naked. Our bodies are tense, attuned to each other, anticipating and craving; welcoming each caress, every swipe of a tongue, every look. Nicolas goes down on me, and the feeling of being inside his hot, wet mouth is indescribable. He goes slowly, his tongue seeking out the places that make my hips twitch and my toes curl. He brings me near the edge twice; both times he backs off. "Not yet," he whispers, his shoulders shaking with chuckles when I groan pitifully.
After the second time, I insist that he allow me to return the not-quite favor. He replies by rolling onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He kisses me deeply, and I begin to wonder if he's going to let me suck him. When I start to frot against him, sliding my cock against his, he gasps, gripping my hips. He stills them briefly, but then he pulls me tighter, groaning as I slide against him again. "Ohhh," he moans. "Fuck...Michael...you're so good at that..."
"Let me show you what else I'm good at," I urge, and finally he capitulates, releasing my hips. I slide down his body and immediately engulf his beautiful slender cock in my mouth. His groin is bare, shaved clean; there is no bed of curls at the base when I take his length down my throat. I glide my fingertips over the area, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin.
I pay close attention, watching his signals; because there's no way I want him to come yet. He groans when I release him from my mouth. "No," I tell him. "I want you inside me, Nicolas. This gorgeous hard cock – I want to feel it fill me up. Now. Please." He pulls me up towards him, his tongue immediately sliding past my lips and exploring my mouth yet again. He rolls us, placing me on my back beneath him.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers, stroking my cheek as he gazes into my eyes. "I want you too." He climbs off me and picks up his pants off the floor; reaching into the pocket, he pulls out a condom and a small sample-sized tube of lubricant. He returns to me quickly, sheathing his cock and lubing us both. "Do you need my fingers first?" he asks.
"No. Just go slow."
He nods and lifts my legs, resting them on his shoulders. I am open and exposed, ready to be taken and filled by him. He looks directly into my eyes as he takes his cock in one hand and places it against my ass. "Are you ready, Michael?" he whispers. I only nod in reply, too full of anticipation to speak.
He starts to press into me, slick and hot, opening and stretching me. I gasp when the head of his cock slips past the breach, and he pauses, searching my eyes. I take a few deep breaths, relaxing my body, and nod at him. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my chest and to my lips before sinking a bit deeper inside me. He distracts me with kisses all over my face, neck and shoulders, inching a bit further with each until his smooth groin presses against my skin. He holds his upper body with his arms, closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure, relaxing his hips into my body. I can't help grinning.
He looks down to see my smile and returns it, leaning down for another slow kiss on the lips. "Come here," I mumble, pulling his body down against mine. He relaxes onto me and hooks his hands under my shoulders; and then he starts to thrust. It's slow, deep and so fucking intense, his face a fraction of an inch from mine. His eyes – fuck, they're so dark I can't see that there's any brown in them at all – they just look black to me. They're so wide and beautiful I could fall into them, and they are holding me captive, never straying from my gaze for a second. I thread my hands through his shaggy black hair, twisting it around my fingers, tugging slightly at the nape of his neck when he pulls out. All the while, my cock is trapped between us, sliding with our sweat-slicked bodies.
He shifts his hips slightly against mine, and suddenly he finds the spot deep within that makes me feel like the world has caught fire. A needy cry escapes me, and soon every thrust grazes that place, every glide of his body against mine has me hurtling inescapably toward release. My hands scrabble ineffectually against his back – seeking what, I don't know; maybe just a place to anchor myself before I fly into pieces. Only a few more thrusts will see me over the edge...and then Nicolas moans that he's so close...and I push against him...and ohmygodohmygod we're holding on tight and falling apart and thrashing together as we're buffeted by relentless surges of euphoria...crying each other's names and ohfuckNicolas...and it's so fucking good, even when it starts to give way to little aftershocks, gently rocking waves that bring us down easy...even when he no longer resides inside my body and we're just two people joined at the lips and arms and chest, panting for breath and being so fucking grateful for this night...falling asleep nestled against each other.
-o-
In the morning there is no awkwardness when we wake up; still snuggled together, he's spooning me now, his long lean body fitting perfectly into my more muscular lines. When I regain consciousness he's already awake, nuzzling my ear and gliding his fingertips lightly down my arm. His cock is hard, nestled against the crack of my ass...I reach to the night table where I have my own condoms, and wordlessly hand one to him. He chuckles into my neck, but he sure as hell doesn't turn it down, opening the packet and quickly putting it on. "Lube," he whispers, and though I'd love to be able to skip it, I know he's right. I grab the tube and he doesn't waste time, slicking us both; and then he's just slipping so easily into me, and it's so good when he wraps one arm over my shoulders, across my collarbone, and the other around my ribcage and pushes so deep. It's hard and fast and neither of us last long, especially when the hand on my ribs reaches down and begins to stroke my cock. I shudder against him as he milks me of my jizz; when he comes inside my ass, his teeth sink into my shoulder.
How I would love to just stay here, in this bed, in his arms, indefinitely. He doesn't seem too interested in releasing me, either. I turn to face him, resting my head on his chest. I honestly can't believe we're together, to begin with, but more than that...I so do not want to let him go. And the thought of falling again...so quickly, with someone I don't know at all...absolutely terrifies me.
"What is happening here?" I wonder out loud.
"This time yesterday I didn't know your last name," he muses.
"And now?" I prompt.
"And now I don't want to let you leave this bed...let alone leave the city," he whispers. "Is that crazy?" I lift my head to look at him, wondering if he's teasing me; but his expression is completely open and earnest, his dark eyes softened by his admission. "You said last night you don't believe in coincidence," he adds. "Maybe we found each other last night because we were supposed to."
"Maybe," I shrug, but I hesitate to add that I want to see him again. Faced with the possibility of moving beyond just a fuck, into the possibility of something more; I don't know if I could handle it if I got in deep again and it went to shit, like things did with Ethan.
My reply isn't exactly encouraging, and he hesitates before tentatively continuing. "I'm going to be in Chicago in two weeks. Can I see you when I visit?"
I want to – everything is telling me I should just say yes. He is not Ethan, I remind myself. Don't let one bad experience color everything that happens from now on. "Yes," I finally reply. "I'd really like to see you again."
-o-
Before I leave, we exchange contact information, and over the next two weeks we email a lot – once a day at first, then multiple times a day as the days go by; and we talk on the phone several times. Jack asks me about my 'hookup' once we're both back in Chicago; but I brush it off, at least for now. After I see Nicolas again in a few weeks, if things still seem okay, I'll tell him then; until then I want to keep my cards close to my chest. Every once in a while I get a wave of nerves in the pit of my stomach, worrying about trouble on the horizon; but I manage to talk myself out of moments of panic, keeping my perspective. I know there's nothing I've seen in Nicolas to give me pause. My instincts about him are that he is genuine, kind, and quite seriously interested in me.
For one thing, he is very open. There isn't a single question I ask him that makes him uncomfortable; he answers me immediately and unreservedly. He has a Master of Science degree in Biology from Loyola, where he also got his bachelor's degree; and now works at University Medical Centre in Austin. He's going on twenty-seven, older than I thought he was the first night I saw him.
During one nighttime phone conversation he tells me about his family – his parents Gus and Athena, his brother Leo ("short for Leonidas but please don't tell him I told you that," Nicolas laughs), who is four years older than him, and Leo's wife Sally. When I remark that Sally doesn't sound like a Greek name, he chuckles. "Nope," he says cheerfully. "That movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding? That was totally their wedding. Except my parents didn't care that Leo was marrying xenos. And Sally's parents aren't nearly that stiff. They jumped right into the family with both feet. We baptized them with ouzo."
Everything he tells me gives me the strong impression that he's not easily scared off. When he writes in one email about his coming-out experience, I can't help but thinking of him as a bit of a superhero. He knew at fourteen, and told his parents very early on...and they were not happy. His mother cried every time she looked at him. His father didn't speak to him for a week. Nicolas knew what he was, though, and refused to say he wasn't. Only Leo supported him, in defiance of their parents. Just a week after he told them, Nicolas had a serious accident; he was hit by a car while riding his bicycle. It was all very 'afterschool special', he writes. My parents realized I could have died, and decided it didn't matter what I was; I would still be their son regardless. They don't belong to PFLAG or anything; but they support me, and I think they've actually spoken up in the Greek community a few times when the "gay" subject comes up.
Are you ever angry with them for the way they reacted in the first place? I write back.
Nah. They had never considered the possibility before and they were shocked. They didn't know any gay people and they believed a lot of the stereotypes. They didn't understand why I thought I was gay. It was just lack of education, and fear. They know better now.
I'm impressed, and I tell him so when I write back to tell him about my own experience. I was in college when I came out, and it was difficult enough then, as an adult, to tell my parents the truth; I can't imagine what it was like as a young teen. My parents had a similar reaction to me coming out, and overall it took them longer to come around – I didn't have a near-death experience to speed up the process. My mom was the first one to call me; that only took about ten days. My dad took longer, closer to two months, even in spite of me trying to call him and my mom pleading my case at home; and even then, things were very stilted between us.
It was a long time before I felt he and I were truly back to the relationship we'd had before I came out. The day I was called to the bar, he shook my hand and then pulled me in for a hug. "I love you, son. I'm proud of you and who you've become. I'm sorry I've let things get in the way of showing it." I knew then that he finally had come to love and accept all of me.
However, as I confess to Nicolas when I'm writing about it, I still harbor some resentment toward Dad that, for several years, we couldn't have the easy relationship we'd always shared, the friendship I'd come to enjoy with him when I reached adulthood. Times when I would have leaned on him, would have sought and gladly accepted his advice, I didn't feel I could go to him.
I haven't told him of my resentment; since the day he told me he was proud of me our relationship has been excellent, both at work and in our family life. I haven't told anyone, actually; not my mom; not Ethan when I was with him; and not Jack since we became friends. But I find myself telling Nicolas without hesitation. His reply contains no judgment, only support and empathy.
A few days before he's due to come to Chicago, we make plans to go out for dinner on Saturday night – a real date. "Are you sure dinner is okay?" I ask him. "Won't your brother or you friends be upset?"
"They'll understand," he says, a smile in his voice, adding, "or they'll get over it. Either way."
-o-
On Saturday evening I meet him at the restaurant, an Italian place called Angelina. I've been here for brunch many times and occasionally for dinner. When we were making our plans earlier this week and I suggested this restaurant to Nicolas, he knew exactly where I meant, having been here for brunch often enough himself. They have decent food and though it'll likely be noisy enough that it won't be exactly relaxing, we'll be able to talk without being overheard.
I walk to the restaurant from my house. It's almost a twenty-minute walk; but it's a beautiful evening, and since we made this date I've been imagining walking hand-in-hand back to my house with Nicolas after dinner. Yes, I'm assuming he's going to come home with me. I know when we parted in Austin we said we weren't going to get too serious right away; but we have burned up the phone lines since then, and talked about so much. My heart thumps in my chest at the thought of being with him again.
By the time I'm crossing Broadway near Angelina, I'm so excited and nervous I feel like I could run a mile without breaking a sweat, solely on adrenaline. I catch sight of Nicolas waiting for me on the street in front of the restaurant. He's wearing deep blue slacks and a slim white v-neck shirt, and he looks so fucking sexy. He sees me at the same time and breaks into a wide smile. Again my heart pounds to see him; I didn't know how much I missed him until this very moment. He starts toward me, closing the distance between us twice as fast, and catching me in his arms. He kisses me immediately, not greeting me until he has released my lips and pulled me into a warm embrace.
"Hi," he murmurs into my ear.
"Hi," I reply breathlessly.
He kisses me again before releasing me from his arms; but catches both my hands in his, not letting go as we stand and gaze at each other for a moment. "It's so good to see you," I tell him. "You look gorgeous."
He smiles his brilliant, open smile. "You look good enough to eat." He releases one of my hands, reaching up to make a faux-adjustment to my collar. The gesture is mildly possessive, and it sends a little thrill through me. He strokes my cheek with one thumb before asking, "Shall we?"
Dinner is exactly as we expected. The food is good enough; the service is great; and the atmosphere is such that we can have a conversation that every person around us doesn't hear, despite the close quarters in the small interior. After dinner, though, when we step out into the refreshing evening breeze, and he reaches without hesitation to take my hand – that's when the best part of the night begins for me. He makes no secret of the fact that he is glad to be in Chicago in general and with me in particular. We're only two blocks from the lake here, and with the evening as beautiful as it is, we decide to head east first, for a stroll along the lake.
It's now getting close to ten o'clock. The sun has set behind the buildings of the city behind us, and the moon is rising over Lake Michigan in front of us. The lights surrounding Belmont Harbor are on, and we slowly stroll down to the tip of the little peninsula. No longer hand in hand – Nicolas slides his arm around my shoulders and holds me close as we walk. When we reach the end and sit on the concrete steps looking toward downtown, he pulls me closer still; and I rest my head on his shoulder. We sit quietly, looking at the city lights and at the moon shimmering on the rippling lake.
I feel perfectly content and just...happy. He makes me feel like there's simply nowhere else in the world he would rather be than holding me here in Lincoln Park. He kisses the top of my head, and I lift my face to his. We make out gently, slowly savoring the taste and feel of each other. Finally he whispers, "Can I take you home?" I nod, my breath catching in my throat. We walk back up as far as Lake Shore Drive, where he hails a cab, murmuring to me that he's far too impatient to walk back to my place. Since I've already had my walking-hand-in-hand fantasy fulfilled...and since I can't wait to get him naked...I don't protest at all.
The cab ride is very quick, and by the time I'm unlocking my front door, he's standing close behind me, reaching around to sink his hands into the front pockets of my pants, caressing my already-hardening cock. A fleeting thought crosses my mind, that I'm glad I didn't leave the porch light on tonight.
"I can't believe I'm only asking you this now," Nicolas mutters, "but do you live alone?"
I laugh out loud. "Yes," I assure him, ushering him inside. The lamp on the front hall table is on, and I give him a brief tour of the downstairs. Well – not a tour, so much, since we can see most of the downstairs from the front hall. I point in the general direction of the various rooms. "Off here is the living room; down the hall is the kitchen. It's an eat-in so it's pretty much the whole back of the house. There's a powder room and a laundry room off the kitchen." He nods politely; but I know his real interest, like mine, is not to be found on the ground floor. "If we go up the stairs..." I lead him up and at the top I point out the bathroom and my spare bedroom/office.
Finally, taking both his hands in mine, I back slowly into my bedroom, drawing him in with me. "And this is where I hide out from the world," I finish. He smiles softly, and I release one of his hands to turn on a small lamp on my dresser. Though the rest of the house is decorated to reflect the city and stay true to the era in which the house was built, I decorated this room solely for my own taste. It's decorated in cream and chocolate brown, with light walls and dark wood, various textures and a few punches of color. It's rich and warm, and very masculine – I love it.
Nicolas looks around approvingly. "It suits you," he smiles softly.
Feeling suddenly emboldened, I reply, "You suit me." It's not a strong statement, exactly; but it's the most declarative statement I've made since we met. Every time I talk to him, every time I read one of his emails, I feel drawn closer to him, more reassured of his integrity and sincerity. He has been so candid with me; and yet even in his very frank discussion of sensitive topics I have found nothing to offend or repel. Instead I've found a kindred spirit, someone intelligent, kind and funny; so loving; and yes, incredibly hot.
His eyes immediately fasten themselves to mine; and I can see that he is mildly surprised by my statement, but it's apparent he is also extremely gratified by it. "Michael," he says, his deep voice soft and welcoming as he draws me into his arms. He kisses me, murmuring my name several more times, and the attraction that has always been present between us begins to take over.
My last thought of a practical matter, before I'm caught up in our passion, is that tomorrow I intend to tell him why I've hesitated, about Ethan and the hurt of my last real relationship. I haven't talked to him about it before now. It's a heavy topic and I've been unsure if it was too soon to start cataloguing all my baggage for him. Now, I think it's fair to be honest with him about where I'm coming from.
We make love for hours, climaxing together and separately and resting between times, until the early hours of the morning. When we're too exhausted to go on, Nicolas wraps himself around me, spooning me as he did the last time we spent the night together.
-o-
As I promised myself, I tell him over breakfast about my last relationship and the damage it did to me; how for months it affected my ability to trust and my entire attitude towards people in general. He listens wordlessly, holding my hands across the kitchen table, his face portraying utter empathy. "I'm still not completely solid where trust is concerned," I tell him honestly, "and as much as it pains me to say it, since I've been getting closer to you, sometimes I get worried. What frustrates me, what I absolutely hate, is that it has nothing to do with you. You have never given me a reason not to trust you – not even once. It's the echoes of what happened with him...I remember his omissions and all those times I didn't know what was going on and...I panic a little."
"Of course you do," he finally says, his face etched with compassion. "I can't imagine what it must be like to try to start building trust with someone new after your trust has been so violated." He looks at the table for a long moment, his face sad. "So...what does this mean for us? Is this...are we moving too fast? Is that what you're saying?"
"No," I muse, "I don't think I am. I mean...I don't think we are moving too fast. I don't want us to slow down; I just don't want us to...speed up?" I rub my face in frustration. "I don't know what the fuck I'm trying to say," I grouse.
"Michael," he says soothingly, "it's okay. Maybe it's too early for us to define it in those terms anyway. I'm glad you told me. Hey – that's trust, right?" he adds encouragingly. I manage a smile and he moves around into the chair beside mine, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "Thank you for being honest with me," he tells me.
"Thank you for not running away screaming," I reply, leaning my head on his shoulder.
"Run away screaming because someone else was stupid enough to disrespect you and let you go?" he scoffs. "Not likely. That's his loss – I'm not about to make it mine." My heart swells a little with his statement and he adds, "Will you do something for me? Next time you're feeling freaked out or something's bothering you, will you tell me about it? Please?" I lift my head to look at him and his expression is so open, so guileless, that I immediately agree.
After we shower and dress, he insists that I come to his brother's house, where he's staying. I would have driven him home anyway, of course, but he wants me to meet his brother and sister-in-law. Maybe I should feel a little overwhelmed, but I don't. If anything it's an opportunity to see for myself that what he's told me about his family is true. Leo is practically Nicolas' twin, despite being older. He and Sally both welcome me warmly, even if they seem a bit surprised at first that Nicolas has brought me to meet them. The morning flies past and they prevail upon me to stay and have lunch with them.
When Nicolas walks me out to my car after lunch, he suggests something to me. "You might want to take some time to think about it," he cautions, "and that's okay; and you may say no, and that's fine too. But...well, I wanted to invite you to come to Austin for the Fourth of July weekend. It's my first summer in Austin; my parents have already been there a few years and they've gone to this one fourth of July celebration each year since they moved there, with fireworks and all that. It's supposed to be pretty great and...well, I would love to kiss you under those fireworks." He smiles and gives me a sheepish little shrug, as though he can't help himself. "So...don't answer right away, okay? Just, please give it some thought; and between now and then, we'll talk."
"Often," I add. I lean in for a final soft kiss, running my hands through those masses of thick black hair one last time, before releasing him. I get into my car and roll down the windows. He stands on the sidewalk at the passenger's side window; and I can see his hesitance to step back, let me drive away. "Call me when you get home," I tell him, and he doesn't reply, just makes a gesture to indicate an X over his heart.
-o-
The next weekend I have plans to go to a baseball game with Jack. I've decided it's time to confide in him about my developing relationship with Nicolas, now that I have a better sense of where we are and the possibilities we're both hoping for. I figure the game will be a good time to tell him about it.
Jack lets me know early on in the week that he's not planning to meet up for our usual Friday night game of basketball; he's expecting that he'll hear from Jacey that night since it'll be Jacey's weekend off. "Do not call me Friday night," he warns me, with the good-natured grin that has been on his face practically non-stop since he got back from Austin a few weeks ago. He has confessed to me that he's in love with Jacey – like I didn't already figure that out when Jacey was here for spring break, but I react appropriately when Jack tells me, replying that I'm thrilled for them both. I know this is a huge deal for Jack, after the years of carrying feelings for his good friend.
I expect to hear from Jack Saturday morning; by the time noon rolls around and he hasn't called, I'd better give him a call to find out if he wants me to pick him up for the game this afternoon. He answers and at first I'm not sure it's him – he sounds hoarse and absolutely awful. I assume he has come down with a cold or flu and he doesn't correct me; so I tell him not to worry about the game and to just stay home and rest. I decide to blow off the game myself – wouldn't be much fun to go alone anyway – and I pick up some of that soup he likes from the vegetarian diner at the end of his block.
Assuming he'll be asleep, I let myself into his apartment with the key he gave me for emergencies, setting the bag with his lunch on his dining room table. I turn to head to his bedroom but I realize he's resting on his stomach on the couch. Kneeling beside him, I am horrified at what I find. Jack, my strong, stoic friend Jack, in tears. Immediately I assume he must be in some sort of pain and I rack my brain for something that could come on quickly – appendicitis? Gall bladder? Kidney stones?
Instead I find, to my shock, that Jacey has ended things with Jack – not just ended them, but left Jack for someone else. In addition to this bringing back all the feelings from my own breakup, I can see that Jack is absolutely devastated – and I am just furious with Jacey. Aren't there any decent guys left in this world? I think to myself bitterly, as I listen to Jack tell me about Jacey choosing someone "local" over him, even defending him for the choice he made. I tell Jack how angry I am with Jacey, though it's not even one tenth of what I'd like to say. Knowing that Jack isn't yet really to be pissed off at Jacey, I leave it at that, silently promising to be available to him when he's ready to rage. I also decide, obviously, not to tell him about Nicolas yet – I want to give him time to recover first.
I end up spending the weekend there, sometimes taking care of Jack but mostly hanging out so he doesn't have to be alone. He does well – better than I did when I was in the same situation – but breaks down a few times. When I leave Sunday night I make him promise to call me during the week. I know he has also told his mom, too; and it's a comfort to me to know he has the support of her and his brothers as well.
-o-
As much as I try not to let it, Jack's situation rattles me. When I get home Sunday night and find I have a message from Nicolas, my stomach clenches and my legs feel weak. I sit on my bed with the cordless phone in my hands, staring at it for long moments. Another great person opening himself up to love, another cheating partner...
But...Next time you're feeling freaked out or something's bothering you, will you tell me about it? Please? With trembling fingers I dial Nicolas' number. He answers, sounding thrilled to hear from me as always. His message is from yesterday and he's been a little concerned since I haven't called him back till now. I tell him why I haven't been home, about what happened to Jack and that I've been taking care of him this weekend. Nicolas has heard a lot about Jack from me since he saw the two of them on the street outside Oilcan's in Austin, and he knows we're tight. When I tell him about the breakup, he empathizes with Jack; but somehow he also immediately senses where my mind has gone as a result.
"Michael, how are you doing with this?" he asks gently.
I didn't expect him to approach it so directly; but since he has opened the subject I'm not going to pretend I'm fine. "Uh..." I begin nervously. "I know it doesn't have anything to do with us...and yet I'm...well, I'm feeling freaked out." My heart is in my throat, so nervous that he's going to take this as a reflection upon him. "You said I should tell you when I having a moment of panic..." I finish lamely.
"I'm glad you told me," he says, his deep voice so reassuring and warm. "It must be difficult enough for you to see your friend go through this heartbreak, without it bringing up painful memories for you too." He says exactly the right thing; and I love that he doesn't say something that would sound like a defense, because he has nothing against which he needs to defend himself. He just knows, instinctively, what I need to hear, especially when he adds, "I wish I could be there right now to hold you, soothe away your tremors."
"H-how do you know I have tremors?" I stumble.
"I don't know," he replies. "I just do." Somehow, hearing that helps ease the anxiety I've been feeling, almost as if he actually was here holding me. He gets me. Even better, he seems to like what he sees.
I draw a breath, blow away the last of my tension, and take a leap. "So...about Independence Day...is your offer still good?"
-o-
The next two weeks fly past. I check in on Jack a lot, and we hang out several times, watching the Cubs or just talking. I keep giving him gentle encouragement to follow through on his original plans to go to Seattle for the Fourth; I know being with his group of loved friends would be a balm for his crumpled soul. I do allude to being away that weekend myself; but he seems to assume I'm going to my parents' cabin in the Wisconsin Dells, and I don't correct him. I know I have to tell him, soon – I don't want him to think I've been purposely keeping this a secret, and I definitely don't want him to find out by accident.
To my relief, he ends up going to Seattle after all, despite initially telling his friends there he's not going. His best friend's wife comes to Chicago on short notice, with the express intention of collecting him. In my head I picture a tiny woman physically wrangling Jack onto a plane – perhaps involving the pinching of an earlobe – and I can't help laughing even while I'm still on the phone with Jack. I'm very glad for his trip – I'm glad he'll have his friends around him this weekend, and if Kathleen is any indication, they'll lovebomb him while he's there. Everyone needs that once in a while.
For my part, I head off to Austin on Friday afternoon, and the weekend I have with Nicolas is about as close to perfect as I could hope. I stay at his house, a tiny place north of the university campus. He got some money when his brother bought him out of his share of the house in Chicago, and used it to put a downpayment on this place. It's exactly right for him, the perfect size for a single person, and in a nice neighborhood. It becomes our cocoon for the weekend; though we do venture out a few times, the humidity is awful – and since he didn't grow up here, I get a lot more sympathy from him on the humidity than I did from Jacey when I was here in May – so we stay in the air conditioning a lot. Somehow we manage to find some activities to keep us entertained while we're indoors.
Monday is Independence Day, and my last day in Austin. Nicolas' parents, Gus and Athena, invite us to their house for a barbecue, just the four of us. They are just as gracious and welcoming as Leo and Sally were; though it's obvious they're not surprised by Nicolas bringing me to meet them. After dinner the four of us go to the fireworks celebration Nicolas told me about. It's a free show held by the Austin Symphony every year on the fourth, outside the Long Centre for the Performing Arts.
People have brought their picnic blankets and folding chairs. Gus and Athena have folding chairs and we spread our blanket out beside them. The music begins around 8:30 and the four of us sit and listen, chatting with each other and just enjoying the evening. As it gets dark Nicolas tells his parents he wants to watch the fireworks from closer to the water, which has them exchanging a knowing smile. The chances that we'll find them again when it's over, in a sea of a hundred thousand people, is pretty slim; so I thank them for dinner, telling them how glad I am to have met them. Athena tells Nicolas to leave the blanket, that they'll take it with them and he can get it later. We say our goodbyes and then excuse ourselves.
Down along the shore, Nicolas hums with the music being played by the orchestra. I didn't know before now that he enjoyed classical music; but I'm glad he does. My parents are regular patrons of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and I grew up with an appreciation for it as well. Maybe when he comes to visit me again...I shiver a little, realizing that the thought of making future plans with him no longer makes me nervous; now it makes me eager.
He points out several things to me as we listen. "Michael, look at that;" or "Oh, Michael, there are loons on the lake!"
Finally I ask him, as I can no longer suppress my curiosity. "Why do you call me Michael?"
"Does it bother you?" he wonders, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair.
"No," I reply. "It's just that everyone calls me Mike. I think I introduced myself as Mike – I usually do, anyway. Do you not like the name Mike?"
"Mike is fine," he begins. "Mike's a good guy. Mike is the guy who's crazy about baseball. Mike's on your team when you're playing a game of pickup basketball. Mike has a great sense of humor and he's a lot of fun to be around. But Michael – Michael is strong and intelligent. He's confident and sexy; god, beautiful in ways others envy. Michael has great style; he's warm and sensitive, and so passionate. Michael...is the man I'm falling in love with."
At that moment we hear a dull thud, the sound of the first of the fireworks being launched; and almost immediately a flare of light explodes overhead, the popping sounds that accompany it reaching us a second or two later. I don't look up yet, though, my eyes glued to Nicolas'. He is watching me intently, carefully waiting to see if the gamble he's taken by telling me, has been a wise one. For my part, I feel the staccato beat of my heart more strongly than the force of the detonations. I lean in to claim his lips with sweet kisses – once, twice, a third time – before I wrap my arms around his waist and lean in to speak into his ear. I want to be sure he hears me.
Slowly, choosing my words carefully, I reply. "Michael is a man who wondered if he'd ever find the right person. Michael has stopped wondering...because Michael is holding Nicolas."
-o-
Awww, so much schmoop! I love Mike. I love Nicolas. I love everybody.
Speaking of love: CullenCoven helped me with the one Greek word I used in this chapter – using languages I don't know gives me agida and I'm grateful for her helping me out with the grammatical context. OnTheTurningAway helped me find a restaurant for the boys' date and is my go-to person if I have Chicago questions.
More love: BeCullen, melooza1 and mycrookedsmile purchased the drabbles I auctioned in the Fandom Gives Back fundraiser; those have now been published. BeCullen and melooza also went in together to win my one-shot auction; they've requested Spork (Star Trek, Spock/Kirk, the original slash couple, one true pairing, etc.) and that makes me very, very excited. Look for that story sometime in August. Thanks to everyone involved in The Fandom Gives Back – the organizers, the volunteers, the bidders, the people who donated merchandise and the authors; it was an amazing, exciting event and raised so much money for ALSF. Well done, everyone!
Finally: next chapter of DD will get back to Jackie, and I'm pretty sure it won't be posted for about two weeks. I am working on a FFFA entry for later in July so I need to balance my writing between the two. Big smooches to you all for your ongoing love and support.